Review
"Intriguing.... Dostoyevskyan.... Mahfouz's brilliance lies in portraying the mixture of good and evil in human character.... Mahfouz was Egypt's Balzac." —The New York Times
Product Description
In Naguib Mahfouz's suspenseful novel a bitter and ambitious nihilist, a beautiful and impoverished student, and a corrupt official engage in a doomed ménage à trois.
Cairo of the 1930s is a place of vast social and economic inequities. It is also a time of change, when the universities have just opened to women and heady new philosophies imported from Europe are stirring up debates among the young. Mahgub is a fiercely proud student who is determined to keep both his poverty and his lack of principles secret from his idealistic friends. When he finds that there are no jobs for those without connections, out of desperation he agrees to participate in an elaborate deception. But what begins as a mere strategy for survival soon becomes much more for both Mahgub and his partner in crime, an equally desperate young woman named Ihsan. As they make their way through Cairo's lavish high society their precarious charade begins to unravel and the terrible price of Mahgub's Faustian bargain becomes clear.
Translated by William M. Hutchins
Cairo of the 1930s is a place of vast social and economic inequities. It is also a time of change, when the universities have just opened to women and heady new philosophies imported from Europe are stirring up debates among the young. Mahgub is a fiercely proud student who is determined to keep both his poverty and his lack of principles secret from his idealistic friends. When he finds that there are no jobs for those without connections, out of desperation he agrees to participate in an elaborate deception. But what begins as a mere strategy for survival soon becomes much more for both Mahgub and his partner in crime, an equally desperate young woman named Ihsan. As they make their way through Cairo's lavish high society their precarious charade begins to unravel and the terrible price of Mahgub's Faustian bargain becomes clear.
Translated by William M. Hutchins
About the Author
Naguib Mahfouz was born in Cairo in 1911 and began writing when he was seventeen. A student of philosophy and an avid reader, his works range from reimaginings of ancient myths to subtle commentaries on contemporary Egyptian politics and culture. Over a career that lasted more than five decades, he wrote 33 novels, 13 short story anthologies, numerous plays, and 30 screenplays. Of his many works, most famous is The Cairo Trilogy, consisting of Palace Walk (1956), Palace of Desire (1957), and Sugar Street (1957), which focuses on a Cairo family through three generations, from 1917 until 1952. In 1988, he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, the first writer in Arabic to do so. He died in 2006.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
1
The sun had begun a slow descent from its heavenly apogee, and over the university's magnificent dome its disc appeared to be bursting into the sky or returning from its rounds. It flooded treetops, verdant earth, silver-walled buildings, and the great avenue running through the Orman Gardens with rays gentled by frigid January, which had tempered their flame and infused them with benign compassion. Standing at the head of two rows of lofty trees lining the avenue, the dome resembled a god before whom worshipful priests kneel for afternoon prayer. The sky was clear except for some thin, far-flung clouds at the horizon. A chill breeze shook the trees, and their leaves responded with moans and sighs.
Bewildered kites circled overhead and down below--engrossed in separate discussions--groups of students walked along, spilling from the university campus onto the avenue. Then, in the midst of these young men, appeared a group of no more than five female students who advanced diffidently, exchanging confidences. The presence of women at the university was still a novelty that evoked interest and curiosity, especially among the first-year students, who began to exchange glances as they whispered to each other, although their voices occasionally rose loud enough to reach their comrades' ears.
A student asked, "Doesn't even one of them have a face worth seeing?"
Another answered rather sarcastically, "They're ambassadors of learning, not of passion."
A third remarked with censorious zeal as he examined the appearance of the spindly young women, "But God created them to be ambassadors of passion!"
The first youth guffawed and--motivated by a spirit of mischievous defiance--observed, "Remember we're at the university, a place where you're not allowed to mention God or passion."
"It's very logical that God wouldn't be mentioned, but passion?"
One of them responded in a reportorial tone more professional than scholarly, "This university is God's enemy, not nature's."
"What you say is true and you derive no pleasure from their sickening appearance, but this is merely the first installment of the fair sex. They'll be followed by others. The university is a new trend that will soon catch on among females. If you keep your eyes on tomorrow, it won't be long in coming."
"Do you think young women will accept the university as readily as they have the cinema, for example?"
"More readily. You'll see young women here quite unlike this sorry lot."
"And they'll press against the young men mercilessly."
"Mercy in such circumstances would be reprehensible."
"They won't try to behave, because a strong person doesn't bother to be well behaved."
"Perhaps passions will flare up between the two sexes."
"How beautiful that would be!"
"Consider the trees and the thickets: love arises there as spontaneously as maggots in jars of mish cheese."
"My Lord! Will we live to see this happy age?"
"You'll be able to wait for it if you choose."
"We're just starting and the future is dazzling."
Having finished their general comments, they began to analyze the girls individually with bitter mockery and stinging sarcasm.
Four young men walked along together slowly. They were also conversing and had probably listened with interest to the prattle of the other students. These were final year students who were almost twenty-four, and their faces shone with pride in their maturity and learning. They were not blind to their importance--or put more precisely--they were inordinately conscious of it.
Ma'mun Radwan remarked critically, "All boys talk about is girls."
Ali Taha responded to his companion's critique, "What's wrong with that? We're two halves of a whole and have been seeking each other since eternity."
Mahgub Abd al-Da'im commented, "Don't hold it against them, Mr. Ma'mun. It's Thursday, and for male students Thursday is always a day to enjoy the ladies."
Ahmad Badir, who was both a student and a journalist, smiled gently and declared oratorically, "Brothers, I invite you to state your ideas about women in a few brief words. What do you say, Mr. Ma'mun Radwan?"
The young man was perplexed. Then he smiled and asked, "Are you trying to tempt me into the type of discussion I've criticized?"
"Don't try to squirm out of it. Come on. Just a few words. I'm a journalist, and a journalist never wearies of discussion."
Ma'mun Radwan realized that evading Ahmad Badir would be difficult and yielded. "I say what my Lord said. If you want to know my personal take on it: woman is man's solace in this world and a level path toward solace for the next."
Ahmad Badir turned to Ali Taha and with a nod of his head asked his friend to speak. The young man said, "A woman is a man's partner in life, so they say, but--in my opinion--it should be a partnership with identical rights and obligations."
Turning toward Mahgub Abd al-Da'im, Ahmad Badir asked jocularly, "And what does our dear devil think?"
Mahgub Abd al-Da'im replied theatrically, "Woman is . . . the safety valve on the boiler."
They all laughed as they normally did when they heard one of his notions. Then they asked Ahmad Badir, "And you, what do you think?"
The young man replied dismissively, "A journalist should listen and not speak, especially nowadays."
2
They turned at the avenue's first intersection and headed toward the governorate building. Ma'mun Radwan was the tallest, although Mahgub Abd al-Da'im was almost as tall. Ali Taha was of medium height and stocky, and Ahmad Badir was quite short with a very large head. Ma'mun Radwan wanted to conclude their day's pursuits in the best possible way before greeting the day of rest. So he said in his tremulous voice, which seemed to rise straight from his heart, "Talking about women has distracted us from the topic at hand. What's your final word on the debate we just attended?"
The debate had been about principles: whether they are necessary for mankind or should be dispensed with. Addressing Ma'mun Radwan, Ali Taha said, "We both agree that man needs principles. They're the compass guiding the ship."
Mahgub Abd al-Da'im said calmly and gravely, "Tuzz."
Ali Taha, however, ignored him and continued to address Ma'mun. "Although we differ about the nature of these principles. . . ."
Shrugging his shoulders, Ahmad Badir observed, "As always!"
Ma'mun, whose eyes glittered with a fleeting light when he was excited--as at present--remarked, "All we need are the principles that God Almighty decreed."
Mahgub Abd al-Da'im commented as if astonished, "I'm stunned that a man like you believes in legends."
Ali Taha continued, "I believe in society, in the living human hive. Let's respect society's principles--on condition that we don't sanctify them--because they ought to be renewed, from one generation to the next, by scholars and educators."
Then Ahmad Badir asked him, "What principles does our generation need?"
He responded enthusiastically, "Belief in science not a spirit world, in society not paradise, in socialism not competition."
Mahgub Abd al-Da'im's critique of this statement was, "Tuzz, tuzz, tuzz."
So Ahmad Badir asked him, "And you, Mr. Mahgub: What do you have to say about the debate?"
He replied calmly, "Tuzz."
"Are principles necessary?"
"Tuzz."
"Not necessary?"
"Tuzz."
"Religion or science?"
"Tuzz."
"For which of them?"
"Tuzz."
"Don't you have some opinion?"
"Tuzz."
"Is this 'tuzz' an opinion?"
Mahgub replied with feigned calm, "It is the ultimate principle."
Ma'mun Radwan turned to Ali Taha and said, more to state his opinion than to influence anyone, "God in the heavens and Islam on the earth. These are my principles."
Ali Taha smiled and repeated Mahgub Abd al-Da'im's previous comment, "I'm stunned that a man like you believes in legends."
Mahgub chortled, "Tuzz."
Casting a swift look at the others as they walked along, he said, "Amazing! How can a single hostel house all of us? My head is full of hot air, Mr. Ma'mun's noggin is a flask with ancient legends sealed inside it, and Ali Taha is a display of contemporary myths."
The other two ignored his comment, because they never knew when he was serious or joking and because it was tedious to debate with him, since by clowning around he evaded their attempts to pin him down.
When they could see the student hostel at the corner of Rashad Pasha Street, Ahmad Badir said goodbye and set off for the newspaper where he worked in the evening. The other three continued to the hostel to prepare for their Thursday night excursions.
3
The hostel at the corner of Rashad Pasha Street was an imposing fortress with an extensive, circular courtyard at its heart. Each of the building's three stories was a circular series of suites of rooms that opened onto a narrow corridor overlooking the court. The three friends occupied adjoining rooms on the second floor. Ma'mun Radwan went to his cramped chamber and began to change clothes. His room was furnished with a small bed and a wardrobe on the opposite wall. Between these, beneath a little window, there was a medium-sized desk with books and reference works on it. The young man loved books passionately. Thus the moment his eyes fell on Lalande's dictionary of philosophy, his lips relaxed into a delicate smile that revealed his love and enthusiasm. All the same, he lost no time. He performed his ablutions and then the afternoon prayer. Next he donned his best clothes and left his room for the street. He carried his trim body in an attractive military fashion as he set forth. He was slender without being emaciated and so light-skinned that his complexion was shot with red. His best feature was his large black eyes, which shone with a luminosity that bespoke insight, beauty, and intelligence. He marched forward, his focus distracted b...
The sun had begun a slow descent from its heavenly apogee, and over the university's magnificent dome its disc appeared to be bursting into the sky or returning from its rounds. It flooded treetops, verdant earth, silver-walled buildings, and the great avenue running through the Orman Gardens with rays gentled by frigid January, which had tempered their flame and infused them with benign compassion. Standing at the head of two rows of lofty trees lining the avenue, the dome resembled a god before whom worshipful priests kneel for afternoon prayer. The sky was clear except for some thin, far-flung clouds at the horizon. A chill breeze shook the trees, and their leaves responded with moans and sighs.
Bewildered kites circled overhead and down below--engrossed in separate discussions--groups of students walked along, spilling from the university campus onto the avenue. Then, in the midst of these young men, appeared a group of no more than five female students who advanced diffidently, exchanging confidences. The presence of women at the university was still a novelty that evoked interest and curiosity, especially among the first-year students, who began to exchange glances as they whispered to each other, although their voices occasionally rose loud enough to reach their comrades' ears.
A student asked, "Doesn't even one of them have a face worth seeing?"
Another answered rather sarcastically, "They're ambassadors of learning, not of passion."
A third remarked with censorious zeal as he examined the appearance of the spindly young women, "But God created them to be ambassadors of passion!"
The first youth guffawed and--motivated by a spirit of mischievous defiance--observed, "Remember we're at the university, a place where you're not allowed to mention God or passion."
"It's very logical that God wouldn't be mentioned, but passion?"
One of them responded in a reportorial tone more professional than scholarly, "This university is God's enemy, not nature's."
"What you say is true and you derive no pleasure from their sickening appearance, but this is merely the first installment of the fair sex. They'll be followed by others. The university is a new trend that will soon catch on among females. If you keep your eyes on tomorrow, it won't be long in coming."
"Do you think young women will accept the university as readily as they have the cinema, for example?"
"More readily. You'll see young women here quite unlike this sorry lot."
"And they'll press against the young men mercilessly."
"Mercy in such circumstances would be reprehensible."
"They won't try to behave, because a strong person doesn't bother to be well behaved."
"Perhaps passions will flare up between the two sexes."
"How beautiful that would be!"
"Consider the trees and the thickets: love arises there as spontaneously as maggots in jars of mish cheese."
"My Lord! Will we live to see this happy age?"
"You'll be able to wait for it if you choose."
"We're just starting and the future is dazzling."
Having finished their general comments, they began to analyze the girls individually with bitter mockery and stinging sarcasm.
Four young men walked along together slowly. They were also conversing and had probably listened with interest to the prattle of the other students. These were final year students who were almost twenty-four, and their faces shone with pride in their maturity and learning. They were not blind to their importance--or put more precisely--they were inordinately conscious of it.
Ma'mun Radwan remarked critically, "All boys talk about is girls."
Ali Taha responded to his companion's critique, "What's wrong with that? We're two halves of a whole and have been seeking each other since eternity."
Mahgub Abd al-Da'im commented, "Don't hold it against them, Mr. Ma'mun. It's Thursday, and for male students Thursday is always a day to enjoy the ladies."
Ahmad Badir, who was both a student and a journalist, smiled gently and declared oratorically, "Brothers, I invite you to state your ideas about women in a few brief words. What do you say, Mr. Ma'mun Radwan?"
The young man was perplexed. Then he smiled and asked, "Are you trying to tempt me into the type of discussion I've criticized?"
"Don't try to squirm out of it. Come on. Just a few words. I'm a journalist, and a journalist never wearies of discussion."
Ma'mun Radwan realized that evading Ahmad Badir would be difficult and yielded. "I say what my Lord said. If you want to know my personal take on it: woman is man's solace in this world and a level path toward solace for the next."
Ahmad Badir turned to Ali Taha and with a nod of his head asked his friend to speak. The young man said, "A woman is a man's partner in life, so they say, but--in my opinion--it should be a partnership with identical rights and obligations."
Turning toward Mahgub Abd al-Da'im, Ahmad Badir asked jocularly, "And what does our dear devil think?"
Mahgub Abd al-Da'im replied theatrically, "Woman is . . . the safety valve on the boiler."
They all laughed as they normally did when they heard one of his notions. Then they asked Ahmad Badir, "And you, what do you think?"
The young man replied dismissively, "A journalist should listen and not speak, especially nowadays."
2
They turned at the avenue's first intersection and headed toward the governorate building. Ma'mun Radwan was the tallest, although Mahgub Abd al-Da'im was almost as tall. Ali Taha was of medium height and stocky, and Ahmad Badir was quite short with a very large head. Ma'mun Radwan wanted to conclude their day's pursuits in the best possible way before greeting the day of rest. So he said in his tremulous voice, which seemed to rise straight from his heart, "Talking about women has distracted us from the topic at hand. What's your final word on the debate we just attended?"
The debate had been about principles: whether they are necessary for mankind or should be dispensed with. Addressing Ma'mun Radwan, Ali Taha said, "We both agree that man needs principles. They're the compass guiding the ship."
Mahgub Abd al-Da'im said calmly and gravely, "Tuzz."
Ali Taha, however, ignored him and continued to address Ma'mun. "Although we differ about the nature of these principles. . . ."
Shrugging his shoulders, Ahmad Badir observed, "As always!"
Ma'mun, whose eyes glittered with a fleeting light when he was excited--as at present--remarked, "All we need are the principles that God Almighty decreed."
Mahgub Abd al-Da'im commented as if astonished, "I'm stunned that a man like you believes in legends."
Ali Taha continued, "I believe in society, in the living human hive. Let's respect society's principles--on condition that we don't sanctify them--because they ought to be renewed, from one generation to the next, by scholars and educators."
Then Ahmad Badir asked him, "What principles does our generation need?"
He responded enthusiastically, "Belief in science not a spirit world, in society not paradise, in socialism not competition."
Mahgub Abd al-Da'im's critique of this statement was, "Tuzz, tuzz, tuzz."
So Ahmad Badir asked him, "And you, Mr. Mahgub: What do you have to say about the debate?"
He replied calmly, "Tuzz."
"Are principles necessary?"
"Tuzz."
"Not necessary?"
"Tuzz."
"Religion or science?"
"Tuzz."
"For which of them?"
"Tuzz."
"Don't you have some opinion?"
"Tuzz."
"Is this 'tuzz' an opinion?"
Mahgub replied with feigned calm, "It is the ultimate principle."
Ma'mun Radwan turned to Ali Taha and said, more to state his opinion than to influence anyone, "God in the heavens and Islam on the earth. These are my principles."
Ali Taha smiled and repeated Mahgub Abd al-Da'im's previous comment, "I'm stunned that a man like you believes in legends."
Mahgub chortled, "Tuzz."
Casting a swift look at the others as they walked along, he said, "Amazing! How can a single hostel house all of us? My head is full of hot air, Mr. Ma'mun's noggin is a flask with ancient legends sealed inside it, and Ali Taha is a display of contemporary myths."
The other two ignored his comment, because they never knew when he was serious or joking and because it was tedious to debate with him, since by clowning around he evaded their attempts to pin him down.
When they could see the student hostel at the corner of Rashad Pasha Street, Ahmad Badir said goodbye and set off for the newspaper where he worked in the evening. The other three continued to the hostel to prepare for their Thursday night excursions.
3
The hostel at the corner of Rashad Pasha Street was an imposing fortress with an extensive, circular courtyard at its heart. Each of the building's three stories was a circular series of suites of rooms that opened onto a narrow corridor overlooking the court. The three friends occupied adjoining rooms on the second floor. Ma'mun Radwan went to his cramped chamber and began to change clothes. His room was furnished with a small bed and a wardrobe on the opposite wall. Between these, beneath a little window, there was a medium-sized desk with books and reference works on it. The young man loved books passionately. Thus the moment his eyes fell on Lalande's dictionary of philosophy, his lips relaxed into a delicate smile that revealed his love and enthusiasm. All the same, he lost no time. He performed his ablutions and then the afternoon prayer. Next he donned his best clothes and left his room for the street. He carried his trim body in an attractive military fashion as he set forth. He was slender without being emaciated and so light-skinned that his complexion was shot with red. His best feature was his large black eyes, which shone with a luminosity that bespoke insight, beauty, and intelligence. He marched forward, his focus distracted b...
