Arab-Israeli literature

The Arab-Israeli conflict is rarely out of the news: the facts and fiction of what is happening in the Middle-East are often disputed by journalists more experienced than me. Recently, I decided to make a concerted effort to read more fiction by Arab and Israeli writers. I am not an academic but enjoy reading and I would not even dignify my literary intentions by saying I had a methodology. I simply started with a couple of books by well-known writers – Amos Oz from Israel and Egypt’s Naguib Mahfouz.

Of course, one writes in Hebrew and the other in Arabic and I was relying on English translations. Nor did I hasten to read every book by those two authors; both gave me a little taste of what I wanted and I moved on from there. Never the less, it was very interesting to note that both Oz and Mahfouz were very disparaging about British rule in the Middle East when they still controlled much of the region. Mahfouz’s Cairo trilogy is particularly good in its detail about Egyptian life before independence – though you would need quite a bit of free time to enjoy the three books. A more recent and shorter book, Karnak Café, describes what happened after independence and is well worth reading. (Alaa Al Aswany’s novel, The Yacoubian Building, about life, love and politics in contemporary Cairo is also first class.)

I have just finishing two new novels translated from Hebrew: Let It Be Morning by Sayed Kashua and Homesick by Eshkol Nevo. Kashua lives in an Arab village in Israel and his book deals with the life and failing career of an Arab-Israeli journalist who returns from an Israeli city to live in his Arab village which is within Israeli borders. It is a superb read in which Kashua’s characters show what it is like to be an Arab-Israeli living in the Jewish State. They belong to no side; are distrusted by every one and even have the luxury of looking down their noses at Palestinians from the Occupied Territories.

Israeli-Arabs may be second-class citizens in their own state but they are better off economically than their cousins in the West Bank and Gaza. Passivity, co-operation and even collaboration do not guarantee them any rights. The strength of Kashua is that he is not afraid to show Arab-Israelis, warts and all. Yes, they are – usually – good people but even good people can become vindictive and violent; the mob is there; the criminals who masquerade as freedom fighters are there too.

Eshkol Nevo’s novel concerns a Jewish couple, Noa and Amir, living in village that “was emptied of its Arab inhabitants in 1948”. (That passive voice is very telling!) Gradually, they come to know their neighbours and the tragedies that have beset their lives. Nevo’s novel is not as good as Kashua’s, simply because the epistolary nature of its narrative is difficult to follow. Kashua tells a story in the traditional manner whereas Nevo prefers to jump from character to character and let their accumulative voices move the narrative along. It does not work well.

That said, I am glad I read them both as they offered differing and challenging views of life in Israel – and yes there are echoes of our situation in theirs. No one is inherently bad and no one is inherently good. They are people, caught up in political situations, who react with fear and anger towards their situation and have to live with the consequences.

If any readers can suggest any other fiction from the region worth a look, I would welcome them.