Yasmina Khadra

Months ago, I read a commentary by the bibliophile Alberto Manguel, who suggested that many of the world's best author's are writing in languages other than English. Manguel gave the 2007 Massey Lectures entitled "The City of Words," a series which I listened to in podcast form. After my brain finished exploding with his ideas, I bought a copy and read it many times over. So, when I read that Manguel thought English readers overlook non-English novels to their detriment, I started keeping my eyes open.

Enter Yasmina Khadra, who is actually a former Algerian army officer named Mohammed Moulassehoul. He now lives in France and has published several novels in French. His novel "The Attack" grabbed me by the throat in my lovely local independent bookstore.

I know lots of people whose opinions are set when it comes to suicide bombers, religious fundamentalism and the state of Israel vs. the Palestinian diaspora. Reading this book took away the stale political arguments and brought to life the human complexities of the situation, the suffering and blindness on both sides. Very, very interesting read, and I suggest anyone who thinks they know "how the feel about that situation" pick up "The Attack" and then reconsider.

Here's what Khadra has to say about the Arab world:

It's a pity that you do not have access to our culture. The Arab world is not just a postcard with dunes and caravans, nor is it only terrorist attacks. The Arab world is more generous and more inspired than yours. Do you know that El Moutannabi is humanity's greatest poet since the dawn of time? … It's a pity that you do not know anything of it. I was initially inspired by mine. I have had the chance to get maximum benefit from a double culture, Western and Eastern, without ever losing sight of where I come from.

To close, verses from El Moutannabi:

Every day you load up fresh
and journey to glory, there to dwell
And our wont is comely patience
were it with anything but your absence that we were tried
Every life you don’t grace is death
every sun that you are not is darkness.

(Arberry, Poems 5)

Bon appetit!