By Heart is a series in which authors share and discuss their all-time favorite passages in literature.
Though the Persian story collection One Thousand and One Nights has been famous for centuries, today, few people dare to actually read it. Its unwieldy length (several thousand pages), expansive narrative structure, and uneven quality make cover-to-cover completion a foreboding prospect--plus, no definitive version exists. Also known as The Arabian Nights, the set of folktales was passed down orally until the 9th century and then compiled into an array of differing written versions and translations. Storytellers and scribes added, subtracted, and altered individual stories for ages, so even if you wanted to read the "whole thing," the question remains: Which one?
One thing all versions share, however, is a sophisticated narrative device: the famous frame story of Shahrazad, a brilliant woman forced to marry a bloodthirsty king who kills his wife each night and marries a new one in the morning. Shahrazad outsmarts the king by telling him a story each night before he goes to sleep; she ends each tale on a cliffhanger in order to maintain suspense within an episodic structure--and, of course, to keep her husband hooked and herself alive. The inventive framing tends to eclipse the rest of the individual stories, though, in cultural consciousness. We tend to remember Shahrazad--or, more popularly, Scheherazade--but very few of the stories she tells.
This is why Hanan Al-Shaykh's new edition (with an introduction by Mary Gaitskill, an American master of writing about sexual violence) is such a gift. To prepare it, Al-Shaykh read three Arabic editions in full--including the "authoritative" edition, prepared by scholar Muhsin Mahdi, from a 14th-century Syrian source (as well as its English translation). Her goal in trucking through nearly 8,000 pages: to distill the very best into a single, approachable volume. "It took me nearly a year and a half to choose," she told me, "because all the stories are like jewels. It took me a long time to think and to wander."
Ultimately, she chose 19 of her favorite stories to weave together for two editions--one in English and one in Arabic. Though the book is similar in structure to Mahdi's source text, Al-Shaykh changes story order and plot details to bring out new thematic resonances. She also brings the modern fiction writer's gift for psychological complexity to the rich-but-streamlined quality of the originals. "The original [tales] are very repetitive," she told me. "They're very imaginative, but they use flat and direct language. I wanted to go deeper into the characters, move beyond the bare details, and give everything more depth. And I just wanted the writing to shine." Though Al-Shaykh refers to her version as a "retelling," not a translation, you can read through knowing you're getting the very best of The Arabian Nights.
Hanan Al-Shaykh, award-winning journalist and author of the novels The Story of Zahra, Women of Sand and Myrrh, and Beirut Blues, spoke to me by phone from the south of France. She told me why she loves these stories--and how they dramatize the power literature has to make us feel more deeply, think more clearly, and become better people.
Hanan Al-Shaykh: I first encountered the One Thousand and One Nights when I was very young, a child growing up in Beirut. They were dramatized on the radio for about one year, I remember, and I loved to hear about the merchants, the traders in the markets, jealous men, and demons, and the wickedness of women like "Delilah the Wily"--I adored her.
Naturally, I wanted to read the stories, but I couldn't get to them. Some men kept the book in their houses, but they locked them up in cupboards. Men didn't want women or children to read One Thousand and One Nights. A friend to me her father kept his edition locked up because if anyone finished all the stories, that person would drop dead. We didn't know then, and I know now, that the book was kept hidden because of the stories' explicit sexuality.
So, though I knew some of the stories, I did not truly read the One Thousand and One Nights until much later. In fact, not many Arabs really know the stories. It's a long book--2,000 pages--and it's not available everywhere. It's seen by some as vulgar, and many are turned away by the archaic language. Like most Arabs, I assumed the text was dated, psychologically simple, and hard to read. But later I discovered the beauty of it: I felt right away it is one of the most important and complex historical origins of literature.
The theme of all the Arabian Nights is the oppressor and the oppressed. We see this tension play out through powerful Djinns locked in bottles, kings and their servants, parents and children--but mostly through women's battle for survival in a world ruled by men. This is why the women of the stories are so wily: because cunning and trickery are the first recourse of the weak. These female characters become cunning to overcome the men who oppress them. They fight to make their own choices and live according to their beliefs about freedom, sexuality, and love.
I recognized these qualities in my mother, who, in her own way, reminded me of the characters I used to hear about on the radio. She was forced to marry my father when she was 14 years old. Later, she had a lover. And she conspired to see her lover all the time, although the family suspected and knew about her affair. She defended it and was so crafty that they would never be caught together. Like Shahrazad, my mother found her own way through craftiness, tricks, wiles, by being very intelligent and also a magician, in a way.
And the women in these stories in fact do find their own way--again and again, we watch as the powerless become powerful, and the strong become weak. We see this contradiction at work inside Shahrayar, the all-powerful king. He rules absolutely but his enormous love for one woman, his wife, is his vulnerability. When he discovers that she's been unfaithful, it drives him to the point of madness, his love becomes hate, and his strength becomes weakness. And he makes a bloodthirsty pronouncement:
"I, Shahrayar, shall each night marry a virgin, kissed only by her mother. I shall kill her the following morning and thereby protect myself from the cunning and deceit of women, for there is not a single chaste woman on this earth!"
This statement of total dominance--Shahrayar's vow to bend a whole kingdom to his mad will--is, ironically, a testament to his wife's enduring emotional power over him. And slowly, he succumbs to another usurpation in the form of Shahrazad's beguiling stories. She was supposed to be his prisoner, another of his wives to be used sexually and murdered in the morning. But I believe that he becomes her prisoner--because he was addicted to his stories, to her voice, to sitting up with her through the night.