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Iraqi Novelist, Dodging Bombs, Writes to Clear the Fog of War Baghdad Is a Setting, and a Character, Too
(about 9 hours later)
BAGHDAD — On an evening just a few days before his novel would win a top Arabic literary prize, Ahmed Saadawi was relaxing with his writer friends at a Baghdad cafe, a place so special to him that he had written it into his book. BAGHDAD — ON an evening just a few days before his novel would win a top Arabic literary prize, Ahmed Saadawi was relaxing with his writer friends at a Baghdad cafe, a place so special to him that he had written it into his book.
About an hour after he left, a suicide bomber struck, wounding several of his friends and killing some others. It was a common enough experience for Mr. Saadawi — as it is for anyone who has lived for the last decade in Baghdad where the simple matter of timing can determine who lives and who dies. About an hour after he left, a suicide bomber struck, wounding several of his friends and killing some others. It was a common enough experience for Mr. Saadawi — as it is for anyone who has lived for the last decade in Baghdad, where the simple matter of timing can determine who lives and who dies.
“The most important thing that has happened to me is that I am still alive,” he said.“The most important thing that has happened to me is that I am still alive,” he said.
Yet as friends have died, or left the country, he has stayed.Yet as friends have died, or left the country, he has stayed.
“It’s an internal conflict for me,” he said, “between my need to write novels and be connected to the people, and my fear of death and desire to keep living.”“It’s an internal conflict for me,” he said, “between my need to write novels and be connected to the people, and my fear of death and desire to keep living.”
Mr. Saadawi, his bearing a mix of the stoicism, sadness and generosity that has come to define the collective Iraqi character, is at the vanguard of a small group of writers starting to interpret, through fiction, the trauma wrought from the American invasion of 2003. Mr. Saadawi, his bearing a mix of stoicism, sadness and generosity that has come to define the collective Iraqi character, is at the vanguard of a small group of writers starting to interpret, through fiction, the trauma wrought from the American invasion of 2003.
His surrealist novel, “Frankenstein in Baghdad,” for which he recently won the International Prize for Arabic Fiction, is the tale of a drunken scavenger who collects body parts from the city’s bombing scenes and stitches them together to form a body. The figure is then inhabited by a wayward soul who sets out to seek revenge for the victims. The body, referred to as “shesma,” an Arabic word meaning “what’s his name,” eventually kills innocents too, reflecting the madness and moral ambiguities of the war and its aftermath.His surrealist novel, “Frankenstein in Baghdad,” for which he recently won the International Prize for Arabic Fiction, is the tale of a drunken scavenger who collects body parts from the city’s bombing scenes and stitches them together to form a body. The figure is then inhabited by a wayward soul who sets out to seek revenge for the victims. The body, referred to as “shesma,” an Arabic word meaning “what’s his name,” eventually kills innocents too, reflecting the madness and moral ambiguities of the war and its aftermath.
“I am trying to bring together all of the elements of the Iraqi experience,” Mr. Saadawi said. “There are many messages. One of them is that with this war and violence, no one is innocent.”“I am trying to bring together all of the elements of the Iraqi experience,” Mr. Saadawi said. “There are many messages. One of them is that with this war and violence, no one is innocent.”
In a city with a grand, centuries-old cultural heritage, where streets and squares are named after long-dead poets, Mr. Saadawi, the first Iraqi novelist to win what is commonly called the Arabic Booker Prize, is Baghdad’s new literary star, his recognition having given inspiration to the city’s beleaguered creative class.In a city with a grand, centuries-old cultural heritage, where streets and squares are named after long-dead poets, Mr. Saadawi, the first Iraqi novelist to win what is commonly called the Arabic Booker Prize, is Baghdad’s new literary star, his recognition having given inspiration to the city’s beleaguered creative class.
“He has given us faith that Iraq is still alive, and we are the ones who can make change if we have the will,” said Ibrahim Abdul Jabbar, another Iraqi novelist.“He has given us faith that Iraq is still alive, and we are the ones who can make change if we have the will,” said Ibrahim Abdul Jabbar, another Iraqi novelist.
The prize also brought him $50,000 and a guarantee that the book would be translated into English.The prize also brought him $50,000 and a guarantee that the book would be translated into English.
Born in 1973, Mr. Saadawi grew up poor in the Shiite-dominated slum of Sadr City, the son of a driving instructor. He turned to writing after graduating from a local teacher’s college. Married now, with four children, he says will use the prize money to retire the debts he racked up as he pursued fiction writing and his other passions: drawing cartoons and producing documentary films. BORN in 1973, Mr. Saadawi grew up poor in the Shiite-dominated slum of Sadr City, the son of a driving instructor. He turned to writing after graduating from a local teachers’ college. Married now, with four children, he says he will use the prize money to retire the debts he racked up as he pursued fiction writing and his other passions: drawing cartoons and producing documentary films.
“I’m not good with money,” he said.“I’m not good with money,” he said.
The years of conflict since the American invasion is territory already traversed by American servicemen-turned-novelists. Kevin Powers, an Army veteran, wrote the well-received novel “The Yellow Birds,” and a recent short story collection, “Redeployment,” was written by Phil Klay, a former Marine. The years of conflict since the American invasion is territory already traversed by American service members turned novelists. Kevin Powers, an Army veteran, wrote the well-received novel “The Yellow Birds,” and a recent short story collection, “Redeployment,” was written by Phil Klay, a veteran of the Marines.
For the Americans, though, turning their experiences into fiction is a retrospective act, because their war ended. For Iraqis like Mr. Saadawi, the war is still their present, haunting their reality even as they try to make the best of it — going to work in the morning, putting dinner on the table, watering the plants.For the Americans, though, turning their experiences into fiction is a retrospective act, because their war ended. For Iraqis like Mr. Saadawi, the war is still their present, haunting their reality even as they try to make the best of it — going to work in the morning, putting dinner on the table, watering the plants.
Mr. Saadawi’s cafe quickly reopened after the attack, not uncommon in Baghdad, where the window pane salesman sometimes shows up just hours after a bombing. The owner, Mazin Hasham, who lost his brother in the bombing, said on the day the cafe opened its doors again, “I’m too sad to read the book.”Mr. Saadawi’s cafe quickly reopened after the attack, not uncommon in Baghdad, where the window pane salesman sometimes shows up just hours after a bombing. The owner, Mazin Hasham, who lost his brother in the bombing, said on the day the cafe opened its doors again, “I’m too sad to read the book.”
Mr. Saadawi, who admires the spare prose of Hemingway, said of the cafe, “It was simple, and everyone went there.”Mr. Saadawi, who admires the spare prose of Hemingway, said of the cafe, “It was simple, and everyone went there.”
The novel reflects Mr. Saadawi’s belief that fiction is better suited than journalism and memoirs to convey the full emotional experience of living in a city where extraordinary levels of violence have become ordinary. “Things such as the lack of trust among people, the absence of law, the absence of security, increased fear,” he says. The novel reflects Mr. Saadawi’s belief that fiction is better suited than journalism and memoirs to convey the full emotional experience of living in a city where extraordinary levels of violence have become ordinary. “Things such as the lack of trust among people, the absence of law, the absence of security, increased fear,” he said.
Borrowing from another literary hero, Gabriel García Márquez, Mr. Saadawi deployed magical realism to great effect in “Frankenstein in Baghdad,” mixing fantasy and the city’s macabre reality.Borrowing from another literary hero, Gabriel García Márquez, Mr. Saadawi deployed magical realism to great effect in “Frankenstein in Baghdad,” mixing fantasy and the city’s macabre reality.
“The element of fantasy adds a touch of joy to the work, mitigating its cruelty,” he said in an interview with Mustafa Najjar, an Arabic literary critic.“The element of fantasy adds a touch of joy to the work, mitigating its cruelty,” he said in an interview with Mustafa Najjar, an Arabic literary critic.
Baghdad itself emerges as a formidable character in Mr. Saadawi’s novel, a hometown that he describes as a “dystopia,” and “hell on earth.”Baghdad itself emerges as a formidable character in Mr. Saadawi’s novel, a hometown that he describes as a “dystopia,” and “hell on earth.”
His Frankenstein rises from the grimy and cluttered streets of the Bataween district, which sprawls across central Baghdad between Tahrir Square and Firdos Square, where liberated Iraqis, with an assist from American Marines, dragged down a statue of Saddam Hussein in 2003. HIS Frankenstein rises from the grimy and cluttered streets of the Bataween district, which sprawls across central Baghdad between Tahrir Square and Firdos Square, where liberated Iraqis, with an assist from American Marines, dragged down a statue of Saddam Hussein in 2003.
It is a neighborhood of vice, the sort of urban landscape that often draws writers’ attention. There are prostitutes. There are drugs. There is booze, barbershops and cafes, where old men spend afternoons drinking tea, smoking and playing dominoes. There are immigrants: Sudanese who once gave the area the nickname “the African ghetto,” and Arabs from Egypt.It is a neighborhood of vice, the sort of urban landscape that often draws writers’ attention. There are prostitutes. There are drugs. There is booze, barbershops and cafes, where old men spend afternoons drinking tea, smoking and playing dominoes. There are immigrants: Sudanese who once gave the area the nickname “the African ghetto,” and Arabs from Egypt.
“Each country has a Bataween,” said Jamal al-Masry, who works at a coffee shop and came here from Egypt in the 1990s. He didn’t realize that he had inspired one of Mr. Saadawi’s characters and that his coffee shop was an important place in the novel.“Each country has a Bataween,” said Jamal al-Masry, who works at a coffee shop and came here from Egypt in the 1990s. He didn’t realize that he had inspired one of Mr. Saadawi’s characters and that his coffee shop was an important place in the novel.
“Bataween is a place for fun,” he continued. “You can find anything you want here. Hookers, drugs, alcohol. You have freedom here.”“Bataween is a place for fun,” he continued. “You can find anything you want here. Hookers, drugs, alcohol. You have freedom here.”
But it has a history that tells of a past Baghdad, a tapestry of different sects, faiths and ethnicities. Once Jews lived there, and then Christians, before the city became unwelcoming for them.But it has a history that tells of a past Baghdad, a tapestry of different sects, faiths and ethnicities. Once Jews lived there, and then Christians, before the city became unwelcoming for them.
“Bataween was a great place when the Jewish were here,” said Ali Shamikh, who was smoking a cigarette while getting a straight-razor shave in a barbershop on the street where most of the novel’s action takes place. “The Christians came after, and it remained a great place until the ‘90s. When the Christians started to leave it became a place for sinners.” “Bataween was a great place when the Jewish were here,” said Ali Shamikh, who was smoking a cigarette while getting a straight-razor shave in a barbershop on the street where most of the novel’s action takes place. “The Christians came after, and it remained a great place until the ’90s. When the Christians started to leave, it became a place for sinners.”
Baghdad’s literary life plays out every Friday, the Muslim Sabbath, as a sort of rollicking street fair on Mutanabbi Street, for centuries the home of the city’s booksellers. On a recent Friday, a man was looking for “Frankenstein of Baghdad” to take with him to Malaysia, a common vacation spot for Iraqis because it is one of the few countries where they do not need visas. Like everyone else, though, he could not find one. Baghdad’s literary life plays out every Friday, the Muslim Sabbath, as a sort of rollicking street fair on Mutanabbi Street, for centuries the home of the city’s booksellers. On a recent Friday, a man was looking for “Frankenstein in Baghdad” to take with him to Malaysia, a common vacation spot for Iraqis because it is one of the few countries where they do not need visas. Like everyone else, though, he could not find one.
One bookseller, Abbas Jasim, said: “Everyone comes here asking me for a copy of this novel, but we are out of it now. The demand is too big.”One bookseller, Abbas Jasim, said: “Everyone comes here asking me for a copy of this novel, but we are out of it now. The demand is too big.”
Up the street, Mr. Saadawi sat in the front row of a packed little auditorium, waiting to take the stage in a ceremony honoring him and clearly relishing his new fame. He snapped a selfie before giving some brief remarks, and then hung around until everyone who wanted a picture with him got one, a wide smile on his face the whole time. He also told those who could not find the book among the street’s stalls that they could download a free copy online.Up the street, Mr. Saadawi sat in the front row of a packed little auditorium, waiting to take the stage in a ceremony honoring him and clearly relishing his new fame. He snapped a selfie before giving some brief remarks, and then hung around until everyone who wanted a picture with him got one, a wide smile on his face the whole time. He also told those who could not find the book among the street’s stalls that they could download a free copy online.
Baghdad’s cultural life has been degraded over decades of dictatorship, sanctions, invasion and occupation. Writers today say that it is impossible to earn a living as an author.Baghdad’s cultural life has been degraded over decades of dictatorship, sanctions, invasion and occupation. Writers today say that it is impossible to earn a living as an author.
Mr. Saadawi, though, offered a simple message to his fellow writers, saying, “all you need is a desk and a pack of cigarettes.” Mr. Saadawi, though, offered a simple message to his fellow writers, saying, “All you need is a desk and a pack of cigarettes.”