These books are truly amazing. HIGHLY RECOMMEND. :-)

This is the first time, reading Naguib Mahfouz, that I was really able to understand how women could live in the world of the cloistered family harim--what they knew and didn't know, how they thought about their lives. These books are a miracle, a bridge into an utterly foreign way of life. What a writer, elegant prose, very well translated, so vivid and sensuous and clearly visualized.

One of the fun things about reading novels set in other cultures written by authors from those cultures (as opposed to observers trying to approximate the experience from a distance) is that you get exposure to other ways of life, ways of thinking and different routines that stem from differing priorities. Its one of the reasons I like watching Yasujiro Ozu films . . . even though most of them are fairly normal domestic dramas there's something about viewing the story through the eyes of someone who lives in that world and not with any consideration to "wow, this is different and exotic" even if I have to do some legwork to figure out what the cultural norms and customs are, since its not going to be handily explained to me but instead assumed I'm familiar with it already, which, if not able to put me completely in the mindset of another cultural point of view, at least takes me one step closer to figuring out how.

That said, its not like the world depicted in this trilogy, set in Cairo from about the time near the end of World War One to about the end of World War Two, is some kind of bizarre fantasyland that looks completely alien to Western eyes. People live in houses, shop at stores, families are still families and everyone is apparently under great pressure to get married as early as possible (unless your parents don't think your potential spouse is a good fit, in which case everyone tries to talk you out of it) if only so you can get to the important task of choosing your mistress. Oh, and everyone seems pretty religious but go to certain parts of this country and that won't seem too unusual. People are still people, no matter what.

I don't know if this of Naguib Mahfouz's most famous work outside of Egypt ("Children of Gebelawi", or "Children of the Alley" in the US might be better known, if only because it was banned in book form in Egypt and caused him to be nearly stabbed to death in 1994) but it was published here in a nice thick 1300 page hardcover, which is what probably caught my eye. Worst case its probably an extremely close second. In Egypt he was pretty well known, having written over thirty novels, as well as a variety of other stories and scripts and plays over the course of a really long career. These books were published in the 1950s and probably were a factor in his being awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1988 (thus far the only Arabic writer to have been so awarded). Quite a few of his books have been translated into English, with varying degrees of accessibility to American audiences as many of the books are critiques of Egyptian life and/or government (which didn't make him super-popular with authorities at times) or rely on an understanding of traditional Arabic narratives for the subtext.

A fledgling grasp of early 20th century Egyptian politics will probably be the stumbling block for most people in reading these novels, especially later as politics tend to be on the younger characters' minds quite a bit (of two brothers, one becomes a fundamentalist and another becomes a socialist, although they seem to get along pretty well and wind up sharing the same fate) but the earlier novels are no slouch when to comes to life-changing political events . . . during the years depicted here Egypt was in quite a state of flux, emerging from centuries of Ottoman rule to experiencing what the British did best to colonies in those days (i.e. making everyone mad) to getting some degree of independence but not enough, at least until the monarchy was abolished in 1952 (which happens after the trilogy finishes). And while the people who lived in Cairo could for the most part focus on their everyday lives, its not like they could pretend that none of this was going to affect them, at least not with British troops everywhere (the Australian troops seem to engender particular scorn for some reason) and so even the characters that are determined to be as apolitical as possible will eventually find that it isn't that easy.

The first novel, "Palace Walk" (Mahfouz actually composed the trilogy as one novel, but when his publisher balked at the size, he agreed to break it up . . . the chapters are numbered sequentially uninterrupted throughout though) is the one people are probably going to find the most fun, as all the main characters are together and everyone is fairly young and in their primes, with all the sorrows that will visit them down the line still far in the future. We meet al-Sayyid Ahmad, his wife Amina, their daughters Khadija and Aisha, sons Fahmy and Kamal and his son from an earlier marriage Yasin. Ahmad is a fairly prosperous shopkeeper and it won't take long for the reader to figure out that he pretty much rules the roost . . . every night he goes out to party with his friends and hang with his mistress of the moment while his wife obediently waits for him to stagger back home so he can order the whole family around, often yelling at them when they don't follow his will to the letter and keeping them at the very least in a low-level state of terror that he's going to bawl them out over something. Which is about every other chapter (it gets to the point where even his friends, who certainly aren't modern liberals by any stretch of the imagination, are like "Geez, buddy, dial it down a notch").

Pages of a man verbally terrorizing his family for hundreds of pages would grow thin very quickly if Mahfouz didn't do an excellent job of depicting the family as an actual family in all their closeness and petty rivalries and intense affections. The women get the bulk of the attention here, mostly because Ahmad keeps them stuck inside the house all the time (with his daughters unmarried, he doesn't want them seen by other men and since their sole life-goal for them is to get married and have children, schooling after a certain point is only a thing for the menfolk), but that gives them plenty of time to chat. Before long we start to see how they all fit together, the fiery and sarcastic Khadija, the pretty and pleasant voiced Aisha, while their mom holds the household together. The boys at this stage aren't as distinctive . . . Fahmy is idealistic and Yasin is more like his dad than his dad would probably like, while Kamal is just adorable.

It’s the latter who probably makes this novel the most lighthearted of the set. He's about ten at the start and quite a few scenes are set through his eyes, requiring Mahfouz to not only write a child convincingly but also convey his view of the world, which is incomplete but also perhaps purer. He pulls this off staggeringly well, creating an expression of a child's joys and fears as Kamal basks in his family's affections while also growing more anxious as it seems that the togetherness he's known all his life is slowly coming to end as his sisters get married and move out of the house. He doesn't quite drench everything in a golden haze but instead gets the unabashed emotions of a child, where nothing is given to nuance . . . you either don't care at all or you care a hundred and ten percent. And Kamal cares about everything.

Along with that is something that becomes more rarer as the trilogy goes on . . . the family as a small unit, with their steady routines and habits. It almost feels like it will last forever until the first changes start coming and by the time the first daughter is married you realize how much is lost when it never becomes the same again, even when they're all together (it’s the feeling I had when, after we moved all my stuff out of my parents house before I was married, lying on what was now my old bed and realizing I was going to be a guest here from now on when I came by). Even when the kids come by without their spouses and/or kids, they're still just visiting. But the feelings displayed in those early stages have their own pull over the rest of the trilogy.

But before too long amidst all the living life starts to intrude and things start heading to the 1919 Revolution. With mass protests breaking out and English soldiers in the streets its only a matter of time before tragedy hits and of the all deaths in the series, it’s the one with that maybe hits the hardest. Not necessarily because its so early but because of how the shadow of the lost potential hangs over everything else. If things aren't the same after the kids start getting married, they really aren't the same afterwards, as Mahfouz shows the family eventually reconfiguring around the absence but never quite managing to close to gap, as if that's even possible. And there's still more books to go!

All this sets up how the rest of the trilogy, which is a somewhat inevitable but depressing at times progression that most of us would know as "life." He darts through the remaining family members as they start to grow up and form their own lives . . . Kamal is the focus at times as he has to decide what he wants to do at university but also falls in love. Some of his passages are endearingly over the top as he glorifies his crush internally (Mahfouz does a thing at times that is somewhat confusing where he represents a character's inner thoughts as dialogue . . . it can make conversations sometimes hard to follow if you're not paying close attention to who is speaking or just thinking stuff in between speaking) but we also get an overview of the political conflicts at play in discussions between him and his friends. Meanwhile, Ahmad is dealing with getting older and the fact that the perfect world used to frolic in is slowly fading away, both because of age and because times are changing. One of the fascinating contraindications of character the trilogy lays out for us to resolve for ourselves is how Ahmad, who is beloved as a fun-loving dude by all his friends, is so mean to his family (he seems to feel what he does is his duty and also for their own good), and some of the more interesting ironies in the book are how his kids eventually figure out the split personality and see that as partly an invitation.

More tragedy caps "Palace of Desire", both distanced and more acute, and the losses the family experiences only underscore how life at times puts us in a constant of adjusting, of trying to find a level to exist at before the bottom drops out again. As life changes each of the characters, you wind up remembering how they used to be and realize even more sharply how it'll never be that way again.

To that end, "Sugar Street" winds up being the starkest of the novels, a denouement in the same way that maybe all your life after a certain point is all denouement. The feeling is akin (if on a smaller scale) to the very late chapters of "Remembrance of Things Past" where you realize that people you've spent pages and pages with have grown very old and some things can't be held back forever. The decline is the sharpest for Ahmad, who not only has to deal with the vagaries of old age but also watching his world become smaller and smaller as his singing and dancing days recede further and further into the past. This novel is heaviest on the politics (in the background is the British essentially forcing the then-king Farouk I to either abdicate or allow the Wafd party to form a government . . . the latter is what happened but with almost everyone in Egypt seeing them and the king as British puppets in the aftermath did not bode well for continued stability) but there are times when its almost a relief from watching people either suffer from old age or die extremely prematurely (there's at least one childbirth that winds up killing both mother and child, and its rough). Ahmad's grandkids get more involved in their causes, Kamal becomes a deep thinker with a big head and giant nose (hey, the narrative keeps pointing it out for some reason), albeit an unmarried one, and life just grinds on.

In the end we have to find a point to stop because it'll either last forever or end with everyone gone, and Mahfouz seems to use the passing of one of the family as a good breaking point to draw things to a graceful close, perhaps suggesting in the process that they were central engine all along. Its not a happy ending in the strict sense and certainly far away from the scenes in the early stages of the family singing together . . . everyone is grieving for different reasons, for losses recent and distant, people are imprisoned and there's a palpable sense of tension in the air as Egypt staggers toward independence (by way of a military coup abolishing the monarchy) . . . its contemplative but also matter of fact. Its fitting that its ending scene is people going to buy clothes at the store. Life goes on, even if not all of us go on with it.

There's a lot in these pages and it says something about how well that Mahfouz weaves his characters and their times together that you eventually feel that you've grown with them, so that even expected deaths are shocking, leaving a hole that never quite closes. You live with these people, you live in their times, their frustrations and their desires, their hopes and the dwindlings of those hopes. In a way its almost uncomfortable, feeling too much like actual life in all its messiness, of better times gone by and paths not taken and how if you don't take care of yourself you get to spend your last years watching everyone go off and do interesting things (at least until the government decides they don't like it). There's a twitchy peacefulness about it, where people are content to put their hands in the fate of God and let life take them where it will, but at the same time wondering, "shouldn't it be better than this? should it hurt this much?" Its Mahfouz's ability to balance both the acceptance and the struggle that makes the book feel so honest. We want to live and we want everyone we love to live as well, we want to live with the notion that somehow all the better days can be recreated if wait long enough, that for a moment everyone past and present is out there ready to walk in the door for another holiday, another birthday or anniversary, not even as they were but as they would be. We don't want to live in old photographs, we want to be able to take new ones with the old and expanded cast. And if there's anything that Mahfouz captures, its that yearning, the never quite frayed hope that it could still happen and the quieter recognition that it never will again, not in that way, and that somehow the combination of the two makes that it all even happened in the first place that much sweeter and miraculous, even if it was never long enough, or near enough as we wanted it to be.

من أحب الأعمال إلي قلبي.

I read this series right after 9/11 trying to understand a bit more of the culture behind, thanks to a college class. The assignment was only to read Palace Walk. About 1/2 way through the book, I ran out and bought the other two. The quality of the writing, the story...this entire series is a classic and a must read.

دعنا نتفق أنّ كتابة مراجعة سريعة لهذه الرّواية محض ظلم ، فهي بحاجة لعشرات الصّفحات حتّى تغطّي بعض النّقاط الرّئيسة فيها ! تخ��ّل فقط الرّئيسة .
في ظنِّي هاجس الثّلاثيّة الأكبر تمثّل في محاولة الفكاك من السّلطة بكافّة أشكالها؛ الأبويّة ( المجتمعيّة ) والدّينيّة والسّياسيّة لكن فعليًّا الحرية مفهوم معقّد فرديًا ومجتمعيًا .

حاولتْ بعض الشّخوص بخطوات عاثرة أن تفهم وتتعلّم لتتجاوز همزة القطع إلى نظرية في الحرية ، منها شخصيّة كمال ( التي أحببتها جدًّا ) فقد تمثِّل الفلسفة باعتبارها خطابًا ملحًا لإعادة النّظر في كلّ شيء في كلّ شيء!
بين القصرين مركز ثقل الرّواية لكن حتّى لو أنّ الجزأين التاليين تابعان إِلا أنّ فيهما يتمركز الرّهان الجمالي للرّواية .

والله هناك كلام كثير يمكن أن يقال .. لاختصر عليك الأمر بفكرة لذيذة :
ستبقى الرّواية ماثلة في ذهنك بكامل أحداثها وفكرها منذ أن فتحت أمينة عينيها لتشعل المصباح لسي السّيد حتّى إغلاقهما وقول عائشة : لا تريد أن تصحو ..

From Powell's website: "A student of philosophy and an avid reader, [Mahfouz] has been influenced by many Western writers, including Flaubert, Balzac, Zola, Camus, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, and, above all, Proust." (!)

Many wonderful writers have taken me to exotic locales, but one who has been in my thoughts a great deal lately is Naguib Mahfous. Thanks to this man, who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1988, I feel a special kinship with the people of Egypt. They are more than the TV images of a deadly riot after a soccer game or a street filled with an angry mob. I don't mean to say that those images don't tell a story in their own right, but rather that, having read Mahfouz's Cairo trilogy, it's easy for me to empathize with the individuals who make up the crowd.
The first book in the trilogy, Palace Walk, set in the period during and immediately following World War I, introduces us to the family of el-Sayyed Ahmed Abd Gawad, a successful merchant; his wife, Amina; their two daughters, and three sons. I found it both fascinating and frustrating to spend time with Amina as she waited for her husband to come home after an evening out drinking with his friends. Here's how the book begins:
"She woke at midnight. …Habit woke her at this hour. It was an old habit she had developed when young and it had stayed with her as she matured. She had learned it along with the other rules of married life. She woke up at midnight to await her husband's return from his evening's entertainment. Then she would serve him until he went to sleep."
Mahfouz goes on to describe Amina and her home, making the reader a silent companion as she goes out onto the balcony to watch for her husband. We accompany her into the "closed cage formed by the wooden latticework" and stand beside her, watching her turn her face "right and left while she peeked out through the tiny, round openings of the latticework panels that protected her from being seen from the street." When, finally, she hears "the tip of his walking stick strike the steps of the stairway, she held the lamp out over the banister to light his way."
It would be hard to imagine a life and attitude more different from mine than Amina's. Yet, due to the skill with which Mahfouz drew his setting, I vicariously live her life and respect her attitude, even if I only partially understand it.
Palace of Desire, the second book of the trilogy, takes place mostly in the 1920s and shows the effect of modern influences and political turmoil on the various family members. Kamal, the youngest son, goes to college and falls in love. He meets people whose ideas challenge the orderly world in which he grew up. Sugar Street covers the period from roughly 1935 through the end of World War II. As in the Palace Walk, Mahfouz draws his setting with exquisite detail, so that I absorb the culture and feel a part of this household.
I take vicarious part in the rapidly changing social and political climate of Egypt from World War I through the 1950s. I watch as the old ways disappear and a new world, seemingly without rules, takes its place, bringing unique challenges to each individual. Perhaps the most poignant for me was the plight of Amina. I turned the pages of the first book, longing for changes to occur that would give her some freedom, some control over her own destiny, only to realize that, after a lifetime of knowing exactly what was expected of her, freedom was a bewildering concept. Taken as a whole, the three books helped me understand a little better why change does not come easy in that part of the world. Having been given a glimpse into the life of one Egyptian family, I look into the faces in the crowds in the street and wonder where each member of that family would be in this situation.

أنهيت السكرية أخيرا بعد سنتين لبدئي في بين القصرين.. لا جديد يذكر، منتهى المثالية والاتساق.

I just finished reading the three books and this audiobook was a delightful revisiting of the highlights.

Palace Walk (a reread in preparation of reading the rest of the trilogy)
A quiet, yet gripping story of change, culture and tradition. Told with humor and warmth the story portrays a country in a time of turmoil & upheaval. The old ways are changing, the future is uncertain.
The story of the Abd al-Jawad family mirrors the changes in the country. The family strives for and are compelled to follow the stringent ways of tradition and obedience but they show their individuality & minds in small, hidden ways that threaten to transform tradition.
The reader is drawn into this family. I look forward to continuing with the trilogy.
4-stars

Palace of Desire
The story of the Abd al-Jawad family continues, as does Egypt's rise to independence. Wonderfully told; Mahfouz has a way with words and can paint scenes in one's mind.
This book focusses on desire: Kamal desires Aida; Ahmad, afraid of losing his youth and virility, desires Zanuba; Yasin just desires women. The country desires independence and freedom.
This book, as entertainment, lags a bit behind Palace Walk because of the lamenting of lost love and the talk of politics. Also, the women are kept hidden from us, as they are from society but when they peek out they are delightful.
Despite this, this is a wonderful read; full of life, uncertainty, confusion and desire. Egypt and society are in flux, forever moving and no one is on solid footing. Whereas the men of Ahmad's generation found a balance between duty and fun, the generation of Yasin & Kamal has lost that balance of duty & dignity and seem to be searching for some meaning.
An interesting quote relating to the changing times:
"Do you think you can rule the young people of today in the old-fashioned way? These youngsters are used to demonstrating in the streets and confronting the soldiers."
4-stars

Sugar Street
Hmmm.....there is even more splintering from tradition....or perhaps changing tradition to a new way of Life. The al-Jawad family has certainly grown in many directions.
This book was the least entertaining of the three with lots of politics and self-realizations of short-comings.
3-stars

All in all, this is a good trilogy. It tells of Egyptian life, customs, beliefs and family through 3 generations. I did feel, though, at a bit of a disadvantage that kept me from perhaps engaging with the story as much as I would have liked to. The culture is fascinating on one hand and unfamiliar on the other. There seems to be duplicity in the men (pious by day; lustful at night); the characterization of women as either saintly or in some way wanton; the depiction of woman as commodities (only once was a woman seen as someone with thoughts & ideas).
I feel as if this is a great story and that by not being a part of the culture myself I missed parts of what were being said. However, I enjoyed this family, its characters and the direction that their futures were taking. They are a wonderful family to spend some time with, even if we don't always see eye to eye. These are good people leading honest lives.

رواية واحدة أم ثلاث؟
الجميع يعلم قصة الثلاثية التي وردت على لسان نجيب محفوظ نفسه، بأنه ذهب لسعيد السحار برواية أكثر من ألف صفحة اسمها بين القصرين لنشرها، فاعتذر السحار لاستحالة نشر كتاب بهذا الحجم. لا أذكر من الذي اقترح تقسيم الرواية لثلاثية ( لعله يوسف السباعي) فخرجت بين القصرين لثلاثية: بين القصرين ( حيث يعيش أحمد عبد الجواد وأسرته) و قصر الشوق (ياسين) والسكرية ( أسرة شوكت) . ولعل اسم روايتي قصرالشوق والسكرية هو أكبر دليل على أنها كانت رواية واحدة، فلا قصر الشوق تدور في قصر الشوق فقط حيث مازالت الحكاية الأصلية تدور في بين القصرين، ولا السكرية تتعلق بابني خديجة فقط.لكن نجيب كما يبدو أراد الإشارة للحقبة العمرية أكثر منها لمكان القصة. فقصر الشوق عن الأبناء والسكرية عن الأحفاد.

لكن السؤال الذي يطرح نفسه: هل كان التقسيم الزمني داخل الرواية الأصلية موجودًا بهذا الشكل ؟ أعني أنه بعد وفاة فهمي قفزت الأحداث خمس سنوات فإذا بكمال في الثانوية العامة والبنات أنجبن؟ وهل فجأة بوفاة سعد زغلول (نهاية قصر الشوق) قفزت الأحداث ثمانية أعوام فإذا بالأحفاد كبروا وصارت الأحداث في أواخرالثلاثينات ؟

لو كان ذلك هو الوضع الأصلي فكأن هذه الرواية خلقت فعلاً لتكون ثلاثية ونجيب لا يدري.

بين القصرين قد تبدو ثقيلة بعد سبعين سنة من كتابتها ومئة عام من أحداثها. ولكن ثقلها خاصة في نصفها الأول هو نفس ثقل مشهد الحفر ووضع الأساسات لمنزل سيبدو بعد الانتهاء منه في غاية الروعة. ولن يتخيل من يشاهده كم كان منظر المكان ثقيلاً على العين أثناء وضع اللبنات الأولى. فنجيب في نصف بين القصرين الأول يضع أساس الأسرة التي ستدور حولها روايته في ربع قرن. ثم ينطلق مع الأحداث في النصف الثاني من الرواية خاصة اثناء ثورة 1919 لينهيها بمشهدين من أروع ماكتب في تاريخه: مصرع فهمي

“ هم بالهرب أو التراجع أو حتى التحول عن موقفه ولكنه لم يفعل شيئاً،ما وقوفك وقد تشتت الجمع؟! في خلاء أنت،اهرب..صدرت عن ذراعيه وساقيه حركة بطيئة وانية متراخية .ما أشد الضوضاء ،ولكن بما علا صراخها؟ هل تذكر؟ ما أسرع ماتفلت منك الذكريات.ماذا تريد؟أن تهتف؟أي هتاف؟أو نداء فحسب.. من؟ما؟ في باطنك يتكلم،هل تسمع ؟هل ترى؟ ولكن أين؟ لاشئ ، لاشئ ، ظلام في ظلام ،حركة لطيفة تطرد بانتظام كدقات الساعة ينساب معها القلب..تصاحبها وشوشة . باب الحديقة . أليس كذلك؟يتحرك حركة تموجية سائلة ، يذوب رويداً ، الشجرة السامقة ترقص في هوادة،السماء.. السماء؟ منبسطة عالية، لا شئ إلا السماء هادئة باسمة يقطر منها السلام .“

و مشهد السيد أحمد عبد الجواد في طريقه للمنزل بعد تلقيه الخبر:
“ينبغي أن يخرج من حيرته، فإنه لا يدري حتى كيف يحزن، يود لو يخلو إلى نفسه ولكن أين؟ سينقلب البيت جحيماً بعد دقيقة أو دقيقتين، وسيلحق به الأصدقاء فلا يدعون له فرصة للتفكير.. متى يتأمل الخسارة التي مني بها.. متى يتهيأ له أن يغيب فيها عن الدنيا جميعا؟ يبدو هذا بعيداً. ولكنه آت لا ريب فيه، وهذا قصارى ما يجد من عزاء في راهنه. أجل سيأتي وقت يخلو فيه إلى نفسه ويفرغ إلى حزنه بكل كيانه. هنالك ينعم النظر في موقفه على ضوء الماضي والحاضر والمستقبل، أطوار حياته كلها من طفولته وصباه إلى ريق شبابه، وما أثار من آمال وما خلف من ذكريات مطلقاُ لدموعه العنان حتى يستنفدها عن آخرها، حقاً إن أمامه فسحة من الوقت يحسد عليها فلا داعي للجزع، انظر إلى ذكرى الملاحاة التي نشبت بينهما عقب صلاة الجمعة أو ذكرى ما دار بينهما هذا الصباح من استعطاف وعتاب، كم يستغرقان من وقت تأملاً وتذكراً وشجناً؟ كم يستهلكان من قلبه؟ كم يهيجان دموعه؟ كيف يجزع والأيام تدخر له كل هذه السعادة؟ رفع رأسه المثقل بالفكر فلاحت لعينيه المظلمتين مشربيات البيت فذكر أمينة لأول مرة حتى أوشكت أن تخونه قدماه. ما عسى أن يقول لها؟ كيف تتلقى الخبر؟ الضعيفة الرقيقة التي تبكي لمصرع عصفور! أتذكر كيف هملت دموعها لمقتل ابن الفولي اللبان؟! ماذا تصنع لمقتل فهمي؟ مقتل فهمي؟! أهذه هي نهايتك حقاً يا بني؟ يا بني العزيز التعيس! أمينة.. ابننا قتل.. فهمي قتل.. يا له… أتأمر بمنع الصوات كما أمرت بمنع الزغاريد من قبل؟ أم تصوت بنفسك؟ أم تدعو النائحات؟! لعلها تتوسط الآن مجلس القهوة بين ياسين وكمال متسائلة عما أخر فهمي، سوف يتأخر طويلاً، لن تريه أبداً.. ولا جثته، ولا نعشه، ياللقسوة، سأراه أنا في القصر أما أنت فلن تريه، لن أسمح بهذا.. قسوة أم رحمة؟ ما الفائدة؟ وجد نفسه أمام الباب فامتدت يده إلى المطرقة ثم تذكر أن المفتاح في جيبه فأخرجه وفتح الباب ثم دخل.. ترامى عند ذاك إلى سمعه صوت كمال وهو يغني بعذوبة: زوروني كل سنة مرة حرام الهجر بالمرة.“

في عشق الأب الجبار وعقابه

مهما كانت توجهات القارئ فإنه سيقع في حب أحمد عبد الجواد. بورعه المختلط بفسقه. وحزمه المختلط بهذره. وقسوته المختلطة بطيبته.وكبريائه المختلط بتواضعه. وهي حالات ليست فقط تتعلق بوجود مع أسرته أو مع الأصحاب. بل حالات تختلط عليه في ذات اللحظة. فتراه غاضبًا كالبركان ثم يهدأ ويبدأ في الابتسام من ذات الموقف. يستغفر الله لو قال لفظًا به بعض التجديف وهو جالس مع غوانيه. يتعذب من أجل ابنته ولا يسعه إلا إغلاظ القول لزوجها لعرضها على طبيب نساء.

ونجيب الذي يبدو كأنه يحب عبد الجواد مثله مثل أبنائه الذين يضيقون بطغيانه ويعبدونه. إلا أنه على مدى الثلاثية سينتقم منه شر انتقام. ما بين فقد ابن وإلحاد آخر وخزي الثالث يتقلب الرجل في خزيه الشخصي وتلاعب زنوبة به ثم تقضي عليه بزواجها من ابنه وإنجاب حفيدته الوحيدة التي لن ينالها العقاب. بين الموت والسجن والشذوذ ستعاقب تلك الأسرة التي فقدت مجدها مع فهمي كما فقدت البشرية شطرها الطيب بموت ابن آدم وبقاء ذرية القاتل. ستتعذب عائشة رمز الجمال كما كان فهمي رمز الطيبة والأخلاق،كي لا يبقى في المزاود إلا شر البقر. وستشهد الثلاثية أحمد عبد الجواد حبيس المنزل وأمينه تنطلق لتزور بناتها وقبر ابنها وأولياء الله. فنجيب الذي يبدو للبعض لا يتحدث إلا عن الفسق والفساد، إلا أنه يبدو دائمًا كالجلاد لأبطاله، فلا تني لو ركزت على نهايات أعماله أن تدرك أنه – وياللسخرية- كاتب أخلاقي في المقام الأول

كمال ورحلة الشك

قصر الشوق تتحدث في الأغلب عن كمال وتحوله من متدين عاشق لملحد معذب. من شخص لا يطيق فكرة أكل آل شداد للحم الخنزير وشربهم البيرة، إلى سكير وزبون أبدي لبيوت الدعارة. لخص نجيب تحو��ه هذا في التأملات التي كتبها يوم ميلاده. وقت كتابة تلك التأملات كان كمال قد أصبح لا ديني. مازال حائرًا في فكرة الرب لكن سيطرت عليه فكرة أن العلم والفلسفة هما النجاة من الجهل والخرافة فكان بينه وبين أبيه حديثًا طريفًا نظرًا لنشره مقال عن نظرية دارون وأن الإنسان منحدر من القردة: “حقًا لقد تعذب كثيرًا ولكنه لن يقبل أن يفتح قلبه من جديد للأساطير والخرافات التي طهره منها، كفى عذابًا وخداعًا، لن تعبث بي الأوهام بعد اليوم، النور النورَ، أبونا آدم! لا أب لي، ليكن أبى قردًا إن شاءت الحقيقة، إنه خير من آدميين لا عدد لهم، لو كنت من سلالة نبي حقًا ما سخرت منى سخريتها القاتلة!"
لذلك كانت تأملات كمال عن الخلق. خلقه هو من نطفة ، نطفة قذفت بها رغبة بريئة في اللذة أو حاجة ملحة إلى العزاء أو صولة هياج بعثتها سكرة غاب فيها الرشاد أو حتى مجرد إحساس بالواجب نحو الزوجة القابعة في البيت.

وبعدها تطور النطفة لعلقة تمامًا كما يصورها القرآن. ليخرج منها إنسان أتخم بالعقائد. وعشق عشقًا إلهيًا فلما زال زلزلت عقيدته الرئيسية. فعشق كمال لعايدة أشبه بعشق الإنسان لربه في عليائه حتى تلك اللحظة التي يدرك فيها أنه مجرد إنسان وضيع لن يبلغ خالقه فيروم التحرر من ربه. حتى أن كمال في السكرية تمنى لو أنه قابل عايدة فقالت له أنها أحبته لكنها لم تستطع مخالفة أسرتها، حينها والرأي لكمال كانت حياته كلها لتصبح ذات قيمة في نظره ولهان كل عذابه وسنين وحدته، وربما- في رأيي- لعاد للإيمان بالله. تمامًا مثل الإنسان الذي لو اطمأن لوجود ربه ورضاه عنه لتغير سلوكه وهدفه وحياته كلها.

كمال صور حيرته التي كانت جزءً من حيرة محفوظ نفسه على مايبدو في ذلك المقطع الذي يحمل السؤال: هل تؤمن بوجود الله؟

هو لم يجب ولكنه أصر على التحرر من الخرافات والتمسك بالعقل. ذلك الذي قاد محفوظ نفسه في رحلة عنيفة لا نعرف متى أنهاها. مع عرفة عندما عرف أن جده الجبلاوي مات راضيًا عنه أم جعفر الراوي الذي أعلن عن عجزه عن الكفر بالله. أم شطا الحجري الذي أعلنها واضحة وصريحة: هيهات أن تتزعزع ثقتي به؟

الثلاثية وقراءة أخرى

تبدو قراءة الثلاثية في تلك المرحلة من العمر مختلفة، منذ عشرين عامًا كانت رواية بها متعة وكآبة وتشعر معها بالحيرة من قسوة محفوظ القدرية و قرارات أبطاله المدمرة. لكن الآن وأنا في مرحلة أحمد عبد الجواد العمرية في بين القصرين وأشعر بهصرة الألم لفقده ابنه الحبيب. أشعر بقهر الرجال حقًا ليس لبراعة محفوظ في الوصف ولكن أيضًا لأنني صرت أفهم أكثر ما ذلك الشعور، وما فعل محفوظ إلا أن عبر عني كما عبر عن أحمد عبد الجواد. ثم أجدني في عمر كمال أحمد عبد الجواد في السكرية أعيش وداعه لكل شيء طيب أو قبيح. الأصدقاء، الحبيبة، الدين، مقهى أحمد عبده، الأفكار التي يؤمن بها ولا يلبث ان ينبذها، البارات، ماخور جليلة، ثم وداعه للأب الجبار لتبدأ مرحلة الأب اللطيف الصديق،ثم يودعه للأب القعيد الضعيف، ثم وداع للأب ككل.يبدو الحزن هنا يتسرب بطيئًا كما الحياة. لكن وداع أمينة كان قاهرًا صادمًا.

“ لم يكن يتصور أن موتها سيحمل قلبه هذا الألم كله، ألم يألف الموت بعد؟..بلى، ولديه من العمر والتجربة ما يقيه الجزع، ولكن لذعة الفراق الأبدي موجعة، ولعله مما يلام عليه قلبه أن رغم ما كابد من ألم يتألم كالقلب الغض. كم أحبته، وكم أحبت الجميع، وكم أحبت كل شيء في الوجود، ولكن هذه السجايا الطيبة لا تعيها النفس إلا عند الفراق، ففي هذه اللحظة الخطيرة تزدحم ذاكرتك بصور وأماكن وأزمنة وحوادث يهتز لها من أعماقه، وها هي يخالط نورها الظلام، وتمتزج فيها زرقة الفجر بحديقة السطح، ومجمرة مجلس القهوة بالأساطير، وهديل الحمام بأغنيات حلوة، وكان حبًا رائعًا أيها القلب الجاحد، ولعلك تقول غدًا بحق إن الموت استأثر بأحب الناس إليك، ولعل عينيك أن تدمعا حتى يزجرك المشيب. والنظر إلى الحياة كمأساة لا يخلو من رومانتيكية طفلية والأجدر بك أن تنظر إليها في شجاعة كدراما ذات نهاية سعيدة هي الموت. ثم سائل نفسك إلا تضيع حياتك هباءً. إن الأم تموت وقد صنعت بناءً كاملًا فماذا صنعت أنت؟”
وهكذا تنتهي الثلاثية بأمينة كما بدأت بأمينة .أمينة هي أصل الوجود. هي الأرض الطيبة التي أنبتت الشهداء والضائعين والمقهورين. بينما يبدو أحمد عبد الجواد كعابر ألقى بذوره في أرضين. ياسين نبتة محملة بالخزي وأبناء أمينة الذين يحملون من الأب الكثير لكن يحملون أيضًا من الأم صفة الحب. ومن العجيب ألا يبقى من تلك الذرية إلا عبد المنعم الإخواني، وكريمة ابنة الفاسق والعوادة. هذه هي الذرية وهكذا رأى محفوظ مصر التي لم يبق في مزاودها إلا شر البقر، لا فهمي ولا كمال ولا عائشة ولا حتى أحمد الشيوعي. وإن كان ثمة أمل فهو أن كمال بدأ يفيق من رحلته الفلسفية بعد أن ودع عايدة وحسين شداد وبدور واسماعيل لطيف. ربما تمثل تلك الرحلة الفلسفية ضرورة لبناء حياة رائعة ومستقبل أسرة طيبة.

لم أكن أتخيل وأنا أعيد قراءة الثلاثية بعد عشرين عامًا أن هذا سيكون تأثيرها في. شعرت بتفاهة كل شيء من الحياة ذاتها ولحظات السعادة التي لا تدوم إلى تفاهة الكتابة وإحساس بأن بعد هذه النوعية من الأعمال تبدو كثير من الكتابات كأنها لا شيء. رحلة بسيطة لأسرة صغيرة في خضم أحداث ثلاثين عامًا من تاريخ مصر بين حربين وملكين وزعيمين وكثير من الإحباطات والآمال الضائعة والراحلين والقادمين. تلك الرحلة التي تبدو عادية ولكن كأن بها سر الوجود. فنجيب محفوظ لم يلخص الكون فقط في الحارة، وليس الكون هو الله والأنبياء والتاريخ. الكون يمكن تلخيصه في الإنسان، في أحمد وأمينة وكمال وياسين وخديجة وعائشة وفهمي، كل منهم داخل أسرته هو مجرة منفصلة داخل مجموعة أكبر داخل كون هو الوطن.