Anatomy of a “Novel”

A lot of people have been asking me about my novel, and while it’s difficult to translate some aspects from Arabic to English, I’ll do my best. I’m afraid this post may be scattered and incoherent, but what the hey. The first language barrier comes with the title, which is “Ri’ayat al Shabab”. The phrase comes from the extended name of the Saudi FA, and it means something like “the cultivation of youth”. Of course, that would be a horrible title for a novel in its English mutation, so I’d have to change the whole name. I’m thinking “The Sport of Kings,” because there’s a futbol (soccer) motif running through the whole thing and also because it takes place in the “Kingdom” of Saudi Arabia.

I chose the futbol motif because I wanted to look at tribalism and racism, as well as “religion as an intellectual pursuit” vs. “religion as tradition”, and I feel that there is a mode of thinking that runs through all these strands: people tend to suspend rationality and simply become “fans” of whatever group they’re supposed to belong to. For example, I know people who are, in the literal sense, Muslims, but who have a severe distaste for religion. The fact that they don’t think highly of religion is not the point; the point is that when these same pseudo-Muslims come into contact with non-Muslims, they become, all of a sudden, very defensive of their religion. They identify with Islam in that context not because of the religion itself, but because of the dynamics of the “us-them” relationship. In other words, when in the company of non-Muslims, they become defined by what they are not. The only reason they are Muslims is because they are not non-Muslims. Double negative identity politics, or something. I apologize if I’m babbling incoherently.

That mode of thinking is decidedly “sports-fan”-like in my estimation. If you and I root for the same team, then we share a bond. And in Saudi Arabia, because of how strong tribalism is, this “sports-fan” mentality is even more pronounced. In America, I get the impression that fans don’t take their link to their team beyond a certain point. For example, let’s say John Doe is a Cavs fan, and really hates Kobe Bryant. If Team USA is playing, John Doe will probably applaud Kobe if he contributes to a Team USA victory. Similarly, English fans all gasped in horror on that May day in 2006 when Wayne Rooney was injured a few weeks before the World Cup. Fans of Chelsea, Liverpool, Arsenal and Tottenham didn’t care that Rooney played for Manchester United; he was an England player first and foremost (at least with the World Cup around the corner.)

So the novel starts with a group of Saudi guys hanging around smoking, playing cards, watching TV, and arguing about futbol. One guy, Yusif, defends Saeed Owairan, whom the others are attacking. Owairan is the creator of Saudi Arabia’s most glorious sporting moment: he scored a breathtaking goal in the 1994 World Cup that helped Saudi Arabia beat Belgium and qualify for the second round (YouTube it!). You would think that that would make him a national hero, but you’d be wrong. He played for a club called Shabab, which doesn’t have a large fan-base. Fans of other clubs continue (to this day) to trivialize Owairan’s goal, saying that it was pure luck. Yusif, one of my main characters, argues with his friends concerning this point.

Yusif, incidentally, feels superior to everyone around him. He speaks English fluently and is a voracious reader, and views his countrymen as some sort of tropical-fish-like curiousity. Although he has many friends, he is, in a way, isolated from them. That’s why he gets excited when he meets Hakim. Hakim has a Saudi mother, and his father is from Mauritania. He is Black, and he has lived almost all his life in the States. He therefore speaks broken Arabic, although his comprehension skills are better than his speaking skills. Yusif meets Hakim at the university where they both study English lit. Students at KSU must take some Arabic lit courses, so Yusif offers to help Hakim with that. Yusif wants to help Hakim, but he also feels that this (exotic?) Black man will open up doors to new worlds which are far removed from the dumb-Saudi-infested one he currently occupies.

They meet up at Hakim’s house a couple of times, where Yusif gives Hakim Arabic lessons. The syllabus is: Pre-Islamic Arabic Poetry, Modern Arabian Prose, and Literary Aspects of the Qur’an. (This is based on actual college courses, incidentally). When they aren’t talking about Arabic lit, they discuss basketball, movies…etc. Yusif is comfortable with the fact that HE is the teacher, but begins to feel uneasy when he realizes that Hakim is also a voracious reader. He’s used to being the undisputed intellectual ace among his friends, and he starts to view Hakim as a threat to his cereberal dominance.

There are, by the way, two main characters. Yusif is one. The other is Thnayyan. They never meet. Their stories run parallel to each other. I guess this has to do with another motif: mental illness/schizophrenia/OCD. The novel is divided into two parallel stories. There’s also a division between the first half of the novel, which has a more comic tone, and the second half, which grows heavier and heavier. These divisions even come up in the two main characters names: The best futbol player in Saudi history is named “Yusif al Thunnyan”. In addition, the name “Thunyyan” is derived from the root “thana” which means “dual”.

Thunyyan is religious, but I use stream-of-conciousness to try and show how his mind is liable to wander during prayer; he ends up thinking about breakfast, about girls…etc. He has a strained relationship with his father, which has only gotten worse since the death of Thunyyan’s mother in a traffic accident. Throughout the first half of the novel, Thunyyan barely has any interaction with his father, who is extremely funny when dealing with others but distant with his son. Thunyyan spends the first half of the novel repressing his rage at the inconsiderate behavior which random strangers subject him to. People are constantly cutting him off in traffic, double-parking behind his car…etc. At the mid-way point he finally loses it and beats up a guy in the street. I describe the scene using sexual undertones.

Both Yusif and Thunyyan express horror (well, at least Yusif expresses it. Thunyyan, naturally, represses it) when they hear racist and triablistic remarks uttered by people around them. Yusif is friends with Ra’ad, who is a playa. Ra’ad smokes a pipe and has a silver cell phone he uses to spend hours talking to girls. Yusif feels conflicted with regards to Ra’ad’s womanizing; he feels appalled, but also strangely admires Ra’ad and even envies him. But back to the racist remark: While eating at Fuddruckers, Ra’ad asks Yusif if he’s still teaching that “abd”. “Abd” is a far more common, slightly less offensive version of the word “nigger”. Yusif, shocked, admonishes Ra’ad for using such vocabulary. But as the novel progresses, Yusif’s thoughts (stream-of -conciousness) begin to contain more and more racist content towards Hakim, his intellectual nemesis. As for Thnyyan, whenever he begins to admire a teacher (professor, religious lecturer…etc) his relatives spew venom because those teachers come from families which do not have the desired tribal pedigree. But unlike Yusif, who confronts, Ra’ad, Thnyyan simply gets acid reflux and remains silent. However, I should point out that although Thnayyan objects to those tribalistic remarks, he himself believes that people should stick to tribal ideals when they marry (an idea I personally do NOT prescribe to, by the by).

So anyway, that’s pretty much the first half of the novel. And although it may seem heavy, it’s actually laden with jokes and humorous situations, verbal games, and things like that. Like when the guys are sitting around in the opening scene, a hot Lebanese singer appears on TV, which causes one of them to scream and gesture wildly, proclaiming his undying lust for her. This sparks a conversation during which another guy poses a hypothetical: If you could spend a month-long vacation with this Lebanese singer (her name is Haifa), during which she would pleasure you in every way imaginable, including cooking you mini-pancakes and omelettes….but the price you have to pay is that you must agree to be raped by Andre the Giant, would you do it?

In the second half of the novel, the second semester is just starting. A scene with Yusif and Hakim ignites Yusif’s character arc. He is growing increasingly threatened by Hakim, especially now that he is no longer teaching him anything. They still remain outwardly very friendly, and in fact Hakim has no idea that Yusif is feeling threatened. When they start talking about books, Yusif is horrified to learn that Hakim has read and enjoyed James Joyce’s notoriously difficult Finnegans Wake. Then Yusif asks Hakim about religion. Previously there had been scenes that show that Hakim does have a spiritual side, and Yusif asks him about it. Hakim reveals that the basis of his faith is verse 82 of chapter 4 in the Qur’an entitled “Women”. The verse discusses the Qur’an itself, and its (and any book’s) claims to divinity:

“If it had been from any other than God they would have surely found therein much discrepancy”

Yusif becomes doubly intrigued. He considers the possibility that maybe Hakim is on to something. But mainly, he sees this as a perfect opportunity to re-establish his intellectual dominance. If he can find an unequivocal error in the Qur’an, he will not only shatter the basis of Hakim’s faith, but he will also prove, once and for all, that he is more intelligent. Yusif’s behavior grows more and more erratic as the novel progresses. His eyes are black and he grows increasingly hostile (in thought alone) towards Hakim. And his thoughts also become more and more racist, he can’t stomach the possibility that this “Black” man will triumph over him in this self-imposed battle, of which Hakim is, for the most part, oblivious. Also, there are numerous references to chess. Hakim is the “Black” king whom Yusif wants to kill.

Yusif’s begins to exhibit symptoms of OCD, because he is so fixated on finding an “error” in the Qur’an. For example, while sitting with his friends, at one point he stares into space for a few minutes and then suddenly blurts out: “I finally had a wet dream!” an unexpected exclamation which amuses his friends greatly. His parents are also concerned and try to get to the bottom of it. His mother is convinced that her son is the victim of the “evil eye”.

Thunyyan’s relationship with his father also comes into focus. At the beginning of the semester, Thunyyan’s class start discussing Nathaniel Hawthorne’s “The Scarlet Letter”. The class discuss how the scarlet A that Hester Prynne wears is a result of two things: her adultery, and her failure to reveal the name her child’s father. The prof asks what her sin was, and Thnayyan blurts out: “She did nothing wrong…” and then pauses before adding: “except adultery.” When he goes home, his father is reading a newspaper, and Thnayyan relives in slow motion the events of the accident that led to his mother’s death. Thnayyan was driving. He resents his father because he feels that he blames him. And maybe Thnayyan blames himself a little, as well. He tries to look his father in the eye, but, as is repeated many times prior, he always avoids looking at him. Thnayyan starts to speak in a defiant tone, saying: “I did nothing wrong,” but then he breaks down and starts crying. He feels that he has lost his manhood because he would have liked to sob in front of anyone else. Just not him.
Thnayyan’s father walks over and wipes his son’s hair. Through internal monologue, we see how difficult even this small gesture is for him. We also see that maybe he does blame his son. Also, Thnayyan’s father sees his wife’s death as a “castration” of sorts. He is now a eunuch.

I’m glossing over lots of stuff, but there is one event towards the end that makes Thnayyan begin to understand his father’s psychological make-up. They go to a wedding. The way weddings work in Saudi Arabia is you go into a large room full of men only (the women have a separate, much more enjoyable and festive function). Everyone shakes the groom’s hand. So Thnayyan’s father notices that the groom is extremely nervous. He gets a look in his eyes that Thanyyan has seen before: his father is about to say something funny, so he strains, trying to listen. Thnayyan’s father leans in close to the groom and says something which is untranslatable, but which literally means “May you tear her up in good health!”It is a crude reference to the groom’s wife-to-be. But the remark is also very funny. So the groom looks at Thnayyan’s father in shock for a second and then bursts out laughing. Thnayyan begins to see that this is how his father expresses himself: even when he wants to do something kind (relieve the groom’s nervousness), he does it in a way that could be construed as cruel (a crude, vulgar, albeit funny remark).

As for Yusif, I want to keep his end of the story open-ended.

I think I made a mistake in my first draft by having too many transitions between Yusif and Thunyyan. I guess it makes the two stories harder to follow and gives the whole an undesirable jerky quality. What do you think?

I know a lot of you read my blog and then fail to comment (you know who you are! That includes you, Mr. Enaya.) But I would appreciate any feedback. I’m in the re-writing stage at this point, so any suggestions would be helpful. I’m still open to making massive changes before sending it to the publisher. Please share your thoughts. I’m waiting.