Kader Abdolah: The House Of The Mosque

[canongatebooks]

Given that Stewart's super-busy with real life, I thought I would start the thread on The House of the Mosque by Kader Abdolah.

Remember that following on from the discussion in this thread, you can pose questions to Abdolah on Lizzy's Literary Life - date of interview TBC, but likely to be sometime in the second half of February.

[Colette Jones]

Thank you, Canongate, for supplying the book.

I believe it will appeal to a lot of readers. For me, it was too much to cover in one book, especially when it got to the point of the revolution. Much of it after that point read like a newspaper rather than a novel, with too much happening in single paragraphs.

Having said that, it opened my eyes to a part of the world I don't know much about and I am glad I read it. There are other books somewhat similar which I didn't like and most other people did, such as Burnt Shadows and Half of a Yellow Sun, so my criticism should not be taken too much to heart! I hope someone else has read it and will add their opinions here.

[Eric]

My original questions still stand. I've only got up to page 180 (English version now, thanks to a donation), and am also busy with real life, so a month's respite will do not harm. I'll certainly comment on Lizzy's blog. Is anything more to be expected here? I thought today was link-up day.

[Eva S]

The House of the Mosque by Kader Abdolah is a novel of more than 400 pages, which follows the events of the 1979 Revolution in Iran through the concerns of a privileged family who have lived for generations in the building of the title.

I found the simple prose style gave the events a fable-like feel (as noted on the back cover quote), with particular moments having a filmic clarity.

This seemed apt for a book with so much to say about the cinema: containing a chapter with that title, having an imams denounce it as immoral and use it to provoke a riot, character Nosrat’s dangerous vocation as a cinematographer, and the opening chapters of the novel describing the old inhabitants of the mosque gazing at images of the moon landing in wonder. There were also so many explosions and getaways that I felt there was a wry comment being made on the contrast between Hollywood violence and the reality of life in turbulent times.

There were some beautiful moments and strong images. I loved the scene of the women at the mosque capturing birds, copying down their patterns for the house’s famous carpet designs, and setting them free again. I also enjoyed the story of Golebeh and Golbanu going to Mecca.

I did wonder what audience the book is aimed at – I felt that this book really worked as a fictionalised, accessible history of the revolution in Iran. In fact, I felt I was much more capable of having a basic understanding of the news reports of the death of Grand AyatollahMontazeri in December 2009 having read the novel. For that alone, I think there is value in reading the book. I even suspect that the cover image and colour scheme is designed to catch the eye of those interested in worthy travel writing.

However, as a work of fiction I’m less sure that it had power. The novel contained a lot of historical fact recounted like reportage. The writing referred often to older writings – the Koran, Persian myth – and I felt it was clear that Abdolah was using the fable-like feel of myth and the rhythm of a religious text/parable to sculpt his text. In a modern novel, though, I felt it meant I struggled to care for the characters as people, as fully rounded characters.

A lot of the character development seemed to be about Aqa Jaan, the leader of the mosque, waking up to the fact that his privilege (in his position and through financial comfort) will be of less use in modern times. There is also the material comfort offered to Aqa Jaan by Khan, even while they talk of handmaidens in paradise. This, for me, formed a very fairytale-like aspect of the conclusion to the novel that simply served to underscore the privilege of the family that we were reading about. I struggled, therefore, to sympathise with a character who I viewed as wilfully out of touch, although the suffering the character bears throughout the story is very sad indeed.

The story is heavy with superstitious and religious thinking, all of which weary me, in a world where women are guided by men. It is possible that this world is part of what is being exorcised in the course of the events of the novel: Shabhal, for example, says to himself that he cannot reason with Aqa Jaan because “Since his decision was based on faith and superstition, rather than on reality, further discussion was pointless.” This line serves to sum up all of the problems in Iran as depicted in The House of the Mosque – and also my frustrations with reading about the culture depicted in the book.

To conclude: I felt that The House of the Mosque was worth reading, although predominantly as an exploration of the culture and history rather than as a strong novel. I’m willing to concede that this says more about my taste in books than anything else! I’m not motivated to pick up Abdolah’s earlier work, My Father’s Notebook, but am keen to see how this writer develops. I will also be interested to see what others have to say about the book.

Many thanks again to Canongate for providing me with a copy of The House of the Mosque.

[Eric]

As I have said, I'm only up to page 180 in the English version, having changed language horses in midstream at about page 140 once someone kindly sent me the English version. I did not detect any significant changes in tone and style between the Dutch original and the English translation, so Susan Massotty must have done a good job. The English transliteration of Farsi seemed more successful somehow that the Dutch one, reflecting what I presume to be different letters (because I do not know anything about the Persian language).

With regard to the content, I subscribe to almost all of what Eva S has detailed in her thorough reply: about the fable feel, the cinematic aspect, its success as a work of fiction, and so on. I also struggled to care about the characters, sometimes having to think hard who they were during the first few chapters. Not being familiar with Iranian names, I sometimes had to flick back initially to find out whether that person was a man or woman!

I suspect that anyone wanting to understand the period when the Shah was overthrown could also read a history book on the subject, in parallel with reading this book.

Eva is also right about the heavy religious overtones-undertones. For those of us that are not conversant with the ins and outs of the Islamic religion, Shiite or Sunni (and the differences between these), this is rather hard to get into.

Also the poem quotes are rather mysterious, as most of us will not be able to place them in a literary or religious Iranian context.

And the way women are treated, often sidelined and used as servants, jars with our European liberal thinking on the role of women in society. The "grandmothers" had to do an awful lot of sweeping just to enable them to go to Mecca.

One thing that still fascinates me, and I may not get a satisfactory answer to when we quiz the author on Lizzy's blog, is how a Marxist (as I believe Abdolah was at the time), who was thus a materialist, and against both the Shah and the Ayatollah, ended up writing such a fairy-tale-like book about that epoch.

With regard to the author's development, he is no beginner. He has already published quite a few books in Dutch. It just seems that this is the first (?) to appear in English. From what I could see at a cursory glance in the local library here in the Netherlands, most of his fictional books adopt this fable-like tone.

Abdolah came as a refugee to the Netherlands in 1988 and his first book was published there, according to the Wikipedia, in 1993. Since that time he has published two collections of short-stories plus a volume retelling traditional Persian tales, four novels (including this one), an autobiography, plus four books of his newspaper columns. He has also recently translated the Koran into Dutch in a translation which makes it accessible to he Dutch reader, another achievement of his that it would be fascinating to ask about.

[Colette Jones]

Originally Posted by Eva S

However, as a work of fiction I’m less sure that it had power. The novel contained a lot of historical fact recounted like reportage.

Absolutely, and as you say, much of the character development was centred around Aqa Jaan rather than one of the revolutionaries, which is one of the reasons I don't think the book worked very well once the revolution started, and perhaps there should have been more than one book here.

Someone remind me of the dedication at the front of the book - it was something like "To Aqa Jaan so I can let him go". I do wonder, despite the fable-like feel of the writing, how much of this is fiction. It lost its fictional feel for me when the revolution (and therefore, reportage) started.

[Colette Jones]

Lizzy's Q&A post is up.

[LizzySiddal]

Thanks Colette.

Honestly I'm more scatterbrained than a scatter at the moment ... studying for a professional qualification and literature and posting and blogging are not mixing well ...

Anyway questions are requested by end of 10.2. (Wednesday). The author is uncertain of his English and wants time to prepare the answers before the final Q&A is posted on the 24.2.2010. Which is only fair.

[canongatebooks]

If there are no objections, I will transfer the questions to Abdolah that have been posed on this thread over on Lizzy's Literary Life.

[Eric]

In today's issue of the Swedish daily Svenska Dagbladet (SvD) there was a review of one of Kader Abdolah's books, now in Swedish translation.

About the book we've been reading, there was a comment, made in passing:

”Huset vid moskén” har utsetts till den näst bästa holländska romanen någonsin.

Which translates as:

"The House of the Mosque" has been chosen as the second best Dutch novel ever written.

[Colette Jones]

Originally Posted by Eric

In today's issue of the Swedish daily Svenska Dagbladet (SvD) there was a review of one of Kader Abdolah's books, now in Swedish translation.

About the book we've been reading, there was a comment, made in passing:

Which translates as:

"The House of the Mosque" has been chosen as the second best Dutch novel ever written.

By who? Or should that be "By whom?"

Seriously, do NOT answer the second question - I am only joking there. But I would like to know who they are referring to as choosing The House of the Mosque as one of the top two Dutch novels ever written... and does it tell you what the first is?

[Amoxcalli]

Oh, yes. It was a while ago. I believe a selection of Dutch authors and publishers were asked to make a top 5 or something to that extent. The House of the Mosque come out second.

First was The Discovery of Heaven by Harry Mulisch.

I don't know the details of this list however. Should be findable through Google, no doubt.

[Eric]

Colette's question was also my implied one: which is the best Dutch novel ever?

Surely not "The Discovery of Harry Mulisch By God". Although it is intriguing that God finally discoved a being superior to Himself called Harry Mulisch.

And the greatest question of all is: which dumb marketing manager has been trying to launch this piece of nonsense with Mulisch first, and Abdolah second? Have these people actually read any other Dutch literature from the past century or so, let alone that of the yore of Vondel and Bredero. (Before you ask, I haven't read these last two either. Not my flagon of gin.)

[Amoxcalli]

Don't shoot the messenger!

Turns out it was voted by "the masses" after all:

Verkiezing ‘Beste Nederlandstalige Boek Aller Tijden’ - shortlist | Boekendingen… (Dutch, but there's a Google Translate option in the top left corner)

Ignoring the fact that no list can please everyone and that I haven't read half of what's commonly considered to be the Netherlands' best literature, my thoughts:

I quite liked The House of the Mosque, at least partially because I was born in the area and have visited Iran once. I'm fascinated by its history and literary tradition, so at least the setting could please me. That said, from a literary point of view, it wasn't that great. I've read far better novels and the content of the novel was only just enough to keep me reading. Certainly not worthy of a top ten spot in such a list. The critic Gerrit Komrij wrote an excellent blog entry on the novel (albeit in Dutch):

Lucifer in het hooi: Wat de paus gemist heeft

Haven't read Bernlef's Hersenschimmen. Hence, no opinion.

I've read Nooit meer slapen by Hermans and I thought it was quite appalling. I believe that every novelist has at least some sense of poetry in his or her work. A certain eloquence that makes the prose a joy to read. I can read a work that focusses on characters or plot or whatever and makes this eloquence of secondary importance, but I'd like it to be there. I like beauty in writing. Hermans seems to be driven by an utter hatred to destroy all things beautiful in prose. It's not just unpoetic, it's anti-poetic. Couldn't stand the writing. I haven't read De donkere kamer van Damokles and I don't see why I should. Quite a terrible style.

I'm ashamed to admit I haven't read The Discovery of Heaven yet. I find it quite an intriguing title though, and I may give it a read in the near future. Only thing holding me back at the moment is the size. I've almost finished Het verdriet van België, so I think I'll read a few regular-sized novels before I pick up another "mammoth".

Multatuli's Max Havelaar is a classic. Some novels are called classics, but don't deserve that title at all, but I don't think this is one of them. It was written a great while ago, but is surprisingly post-modern in its structure. Nevertheless, it isn't very well-written. I've got mixed feelings about it. When I read it, it felt a bit like the first draft of a revolutionary and world-changing novel.

Nescio. I've read these works (De uitvreter, Titaantjes, Dichtertje) but the collection wasn't a memorable read. Quite frankly I don't remember anything in particular about the stories. Didn't do much for me.

The last three works on the shortlist I haven't read, although Gerard Reve's De avonden has a good reputation and I've heard mostly positive reactions on the novel from the people around me.

Some works or authors I'd liked to have seen on this list are Couperus, Boon, Japin and Komrij. However, like I said, I've not even nearly read enough to make any statements about the "best Dutch-language novel of all time". I think Japin's novels are very well-written and his themes and settings are always interesting. I'm also a big fan of Komrij (his prose more than his poetry, though). He masters the written word in a way Mozart mastered music. Very eloquent.

That's quite enough for a single a post, I think. Discuss?

[Eric]

Amoxcalli, thanks for drawing our attention to the Gerrit Komrij review. The central criticism that Komrij makes involves language: the language of didacticism plus flowery poetry (though Komrij admits this could be on account of Abdolah's translations of the poems). His key phrase is "Pietje Bell in Senedjan". I too found something of a boy's adventure in the novel.

Komrij's most biting criticism reads:

Er bestaat een boek van Azar Nafisi dat ‘Lolita lezen in Teheran’ heet. Tijdens de revolutie, lezen we, werden in Iran ondergronds Nabokov, Joyce, Austen verslonden. Niet de christelijke Anne de Vries van ‘Bartje’. Niet de Chris van Abkoude van ‘Pietje Bell'.

Omgekeerd zijn we in Nederland wel tot zo’n Veluwse grofschrijver, alias Kader Abdolah, veroordeeld.

There exists a book by Azar Nafisi called "Reading Lolita in Tehran". During the Revolution, we read there, people lapped up Nabokov, Joyce and Austen underground. Not the Christian Anne de Vries with his [sic!] "Bartje". Not the Chris van Abkoude van "Pietje Bell".

On the other hand, we in the Netherlands are now saddled with such a hack from the Veluwe area, i.e. Kader Abdolah.

So, and quite rightly in my opinion, Komrij compares "The House of the Mosque" with two boys' books. That is also how I read the Abdolah book. Whatever 6,500 Dutch readers say, I trust Komrij's judgment a great deal more.

[Amoxcalli]

I agree, Komrij is spot on in this case (he isn't always, but often enough for me to keep an eye out on his reviews, but that's another story altogether), although I must admit it didn't bother me as I was reading the novel itself. I enjoyed the read, but it felt a little empty after the last page. I prefer a novel that doesn't end. One that starts after the last page. Kafka's Metamorphosis did that for me, as did Respected Sir by Mahfouz.

It's not that really disliked this novel. It's a very decent, but light read. Could've been worse, and I don't feel it was a waste of my time.

[Eric]

I think I'm more or less on the same wavelength as you, Amoxcalli. I was swept along by some chapters where there was action, but there seemed to be too much myth and not enough reality.

I cannot equate the Iran of old ladies sweeping their way to Mecca, plus the intricacies of Abdolah's plot, with the nasty murderous atmosphere that must have held sway in 1979, and indeed today, with tensions being ratcheted up every day (will Iran get the Bomb?). I love myth and fantasy in the right context, but I think that the average Dutch reader (the ones that vote in online polls, anyway) must be a bit naïve to equate Abdolah's fairy-tale or boy's book with literature of genius that reflects the realities of Iran, past and present. Give me "Lolita" any day!

It is disturbing that atheïst-Marxist Abdolah continues to produce all this myth, and even translate the Koran, while not believing in it as a religious book. We in the West are starved of sober factual things about Iran; believing myths about a country you know nothing about is dangerous. We Western people cannot comprehend the religious dimension of Iran at all; even the nationalist dimension is pretty puzzling. We're not sure what Iran, anno 2010, has to be so proud about. I don't think that Kader Abdolah is bringing us any closer to an understanding of the Iranian mentality. He's a bit of a circus master with a good story to tell.

[LizzySiddal]

Author interview now published. Thanks, Eric for your questions.