Palace Walk

“Your father’s a harsh, frightening man. Everyone knows he’s that way.”

Reading this novel is like jumping into cultural ice water; from the first page, you’re immersed with startling intensity in early 1900s Muslim-Egyptian domestic life. The story centers on a household that does “not allow human emotions,” wherein the tyrannizing husband never smiles or laughs at home, where his wife never leaves the house nor disobeys him—“her known stance toward him was blind obedience”—and where his children only see their father at breakfast and live in fear of his “domestic rage.” Yet, his wife and children love and respect him. In fact, they worship him. What they don’t know, however, is that when their patriarch is away from home, he has a secret life, wherein he is known for smiling, and laughing, and singing, and for being a partier and womanizer.

“The members of his family did not know him as others did.”

“A life of deception and hypocrisy?"

The plot focuses on changes in the household and in the relationships between its members that follow from the children growing up and becoming connected—through attraction or marriage—to people external to the family. The tyrannizing patriarch’s sons have growing desires for women, his daughters must be married, and all of this threatens to pull back the curtain on the outside world and to undermine his control of his family.

“Does our happiness mean so little to him?”

“In any case, there was no alternative to suppression of her emotions, because in this family that was an ingrained custom and a moral imperative established by threat of paternal terror.”

In the novel, the women are among the most upstanding, honorable, and altruistic characters. The way the author contrasts the female characters’ lives and the male characters’ views of them is a brilliant strategy for declaring war on misogynism through literature. The female characters, through their thoughts, actions, and suffering, give the lie to the negative views that underpin misogyny. Yet despite all the good the women do for them, and all they live through, the male characters express extremely negative views of them:

“Every woman is a filthy curse.”

“You’re just a woman, and no woman has a fully developed mind.”

OTHER MEMORABLE QUOTES:

“The way love can disregard fears, however, is an age-old wonder. No fear is able to spoil love’s development or keep it from dreaming of its appointed hour.”

“But he’s a man, and men will always have enough defects to blot out the sun.”

“You should be serious about serious things and playful when you play.”

" سيان أن احيا أو أن أموت ، الإيمان أقوي من الموت ، والموت أشرف من الذل ، فهنيئاً لنا الأمل الذي هانت إلي جانبه الحياة ، أهلاً بصباح جديد من الحرية ، وليقض الله بما هو قاض "

Delicious story of a master storyteller, about a patriarch Ahmed and his family in Cairo, around and shortly after the first world war. The man lives a double life: at home very strict and even cruel, his children and his wife tremble for him, but outdoors he is amiable and he leads a dissolute life, with music, wine and women. But throughout the story some cracks appear in the man's reputation and it ends up dramatically.

This book seems to offer a beautiful introduction to the Arab culture, specifically in the Cairo setting; and at the same time it is intertwined with the political events of that time, the struggle against the British occupation. Mahfouz handsomely bestowes humor and self doubt upon the, in our eyes, reprehensible character of Ahmed. This is only the first part of the Cairo-trilogy; I hope to read the other parts soon.

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She told him frankly that he was excessively conservative in his treatment of his family. It was abnormal.

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When I started reading this I was immediately reminded of nineteenth century classics such as Middlemarch or Trollope's Palliser Novels, a story where 'the marriage plot' is supreme and where an extended family's dramas play out against a background of political change. But reading the introduction after I'd finished, I see that Mahfouz himself cites The Forsyte Saga as one of his influences (a series I haven't yet read but I have seen the TV miniseries) and that's illuminating since those books chart the final throes of a late Victorian middle-class patriarch and his family's move into modernity. It's an apposite model for this book, only here the story is doubly fascinating for the insight into an Egyptian family in Cairo in the last years of both WW1 and the British Protectorate.

I see from the reviews that many people loathe the father, Ahmad Abd al-Jawad, for his tyranny over his family as well as for what has been read as hypocrisy in keeping his wife and daughters constrained within the house while he goes out at night drinking with his mistresses (of which there are quite a few across the book) - but he's actually a far more complex character than this. I don't want to give spoilers but the deep and rounded nature of Ahmad's personality is one of the highlights of the book.

Surrounding him are his young family: three sons, two daughters, three of whom get married in the book and so bring spouses to the extended family. Inter-generational politics are frequently fraught as the generations, as is their wont, fail to understand each other, tensions made more sharp by the fact of living in the same household. The seriousness is often tempered by humour especially from charming young Kamal, the baby of the family. It's especially fascinating to see life through the eyes of the female characters: they no more want or expect to go outside, have an education, or do anything other than marry and have children than Jane Austen's heroines dream of becoming doctors or lawyers. All the same, there are small moments of subversion such as when a husband takes his wife out to a scandalous night show, or when a woman asks for her own divorce. Patriarchal power may not be collapsing but it's certainly being snipped away at.

But alongside this story of a family, is a more figurative portrait: the sometimes brutal behaviour of the head of the family can be read as a comment on British colonialism which has its own patriarchal edge. The attempts by the sons to assert their independence away from their father's conservative values, work as a stand in for Egypt and the country's search for its own national identity. This doubled reading comes to the fore especially in the final third when, after the 1918 armistice, agitation for Egyptian independence becomes acute, and the revolution in the streets is matched by a number of crises in the family.

The ending is unsatisfyingly unfinished but I understand that that's because what is now The Cairo Trilogy: Palace Walk / Palace of Desire / Sugar Street was originally one book - deemed unpublishable, Mahfouz was forced to divide it into three volumes (that Victorian structure again). So this is merely chapter one with the story continuing in Palace of Desire.

Originally published in Arabic in 1956, this novel was written by Egyptian writer Naguib Mahfouz, winner of the 1988 Nobel Prize in Literature. It is the first book of the Cairo Trilogy that was translated into English in 1990.

The setting of the novel is Cairo during and just after World War I, 1917 to 1919. Most of the story focuses on the life of one family living on a street named "Palace Walk," and toward the end the plot spreads to include demonstrations and protests leading up to the nationalist revolution of 1919.

The story provides a thorough description of a time and place as well as providing intimate character development of household members including three sons, two daughters, a maid servant, the wife, and a tyrannical husband. They are all observant Moslems, but the husband/head of household drinks alcohol and is an adulterer living a duplicitous life requiring strict conservative conduct at home and a gregarious personal life for himself outside the home.

This all takes place in an environment where the women of the family are required to not venture outside the home. When an official inquiry is received regarding a possible marriage proposal for the younger of the two daughters, the husband is puzzled why and how such an interest could exist because theoretically his daughters have never been seen by any men outside the household. We as readers know that the daughter's outline has been glimpsed through the slats covering a second story window. It doesn't take much of a view of the female form in this environment to enflame carnal passion.

The story follows the family through several crises which conclude in marriage of some of the children, birth of some grandchildren, and some marriage separations. Eventually family members become involve in the surrounding political agitation caused by the expectation that the British protectorate end and Egypt become an independent state. This part of the story is based on historical occurrences making this part of the book a historical novel.

The following short review of this book is from the June 10, 2017 PageADay Book Lover's Calendar:

Set against the backdrop of Egypt's struggle for independence after World War I, Palace Walk follows the family of al-Sayyid Ahmad. Al-Sayyid Ahmad likes to drink and stay out listening to music while his devoted wife, Amina, stays at home awake, ready to serve him at a moment's notice. You also meet his well-protected daughters, Aisha and Khadija, and his three sons, Fahmy, Yasim, and Kamal. The challenges the family faces reflect what's happening in Egypt during this tumultuous time in history. After Volume I, you'll be eager to follow Sayyid's family for two more generations in Volumes II and III.
PALACE WALK, by Naguib Mahfouz (1990; Anchor, 2011)

الله عليك يا عم نجيب
لو ينفع اكثر من خمس نجوم كنت حطيت

Two years ago, I spotted Palace Walk in a bookshelf and thought that this might be an interesting read because the last time I encountered a story that has something to do with Muslim culture was in Khaled Hosseini's The Kite Runner and that was it. Still, I always strive to expand my preferences and immerse myself on literature that is more culturally diverse than I'm more used to. In all honesty, I also selected to buy this particular book because of the Nobel Prize Awardee label attached to it. So trusting that alone, I essentially went blind purchasing this novel, not knowing what to expect. I didn't even research about the book afterwards, and only done so once I finally finished it last night during a four-day Holy Week vacation at a beach resort.

In addition to reading Magneto Testament (which I just finished under an hour) Palace Walk has filled my humid, sea-drenched days with unexpected humor and entertainment each time I turn its pages, because this was actually a witty book filled with cultural and psychological insights on a lifestyle and struggle I was never very familiar with, but could very much deeply relate to nonetheless. It was rather shocking for me then, to be this insatiably riveted about a novel that mainly derives its drama and development from one family that's composed of some of the most well-rounded, compelling and sympathetic characters I have ever come across in literature.

I was mistaken to believe this is going to be an intimidating and difficult novel to peruse through (much like The Kite Runner which could be gruelling and depressing at times). I really thought this would be challenging in a sense that its exploration or themes would be dark and serious but I was pleased to have been misled by that first impression. Palace Walk is an utter delight, and a novel I can definitely say is very much character-centered in its approach and exposition. Writer Naguib Mafouz found his story's core strength and purpose by ensuring that these characters that readers would get to spend time with are always engaging and vibrant that we never stopped caring about them for a second. I may not always agree with certain characters' habits, temperament and actions but Mafouz has shown brilliant calibre because he managed to infuse just the right details concerning their personal lives that readers can't help but sympathize with them anyway.

Set in 1917 in Cairo, Egypt during the first World War, the novel could have stressed and divulged more on the political climate which had engulfed the place and its constituents at the time, but in all honesty we never truly touch upon that until the last hundred pages or so of this five-hundred-paged book. What the writer chose to dwell on instead is the Abd al-Jawad family who is the integral part of the overall narrative structure for Palace Walk. The author spent a great majority of the story tackling the inner conflicts and dynamics present within this household with the father al-Sayyid Ahmad, his doting and subservient wife Amina, and their three sons (Yasin, Fahmy and Kamal) and two daughters (Khadija and Aisha). Their individual roles, personalities and relationships with each other never fail to be a source of not only endless amusement for me, but also substantial reflections about social issues.

As awfully entertaining Palace Walk has been in the way the writer dwelt with much of the interactions and scenes using wit and humor, Mafouz was also able to tackle general sensitive issues with sheer elegance and understanding, and they concern mostly of the submissive parts that women in general play during that time as dictated by their religious practices, as well as the pronounced gender dichotomy and bias that are so ridiculous through our modern perception by now. Now I have never considered myself a staunch feminist but it did make me wonder if there are particular scenarios in this book that might possibly offend me if I did view it as a feminist in the first place (which, by the way, I never claimed to be).

My own socio-political leanings aside, I was still very much appalled with the fact that the Muslim women in this book are not allowed to go to school or learn issues from the outside world. Their needs must always coincide with the men in their family, and their duties and fulfilment should always be centered around domesticity and homemaking. I think this has always been the case though some Islam-based countries have started to radically change these old-world practices. But taking into account the times this book was written in, I suppose I can understand why this is the way women are portrayed because it's an honest depiction of the lives they led at the time. Regardless, I believe Mahfouz has written these themes with surprising optimism that blended so well with the tactful way he approached the issue. I never felt bad for the women.

In fact, I developed genuine admiration for them with the way they managed to find the smallest joys even if I can't for the life of me imagine living such a heavily restricted existence where I'm not allowed to study in school, form my opinions and speak my mind, make my own choices and find a career other than being a housewife and mother. I try to avoid contextualizing my modern sensibilities as I read Palace Walk though, and doing so has made me enjoyed the novel and the characters a lot more.

For me to futher illustrate this gender dichotomy for this review, let's take the mother Amina as an example. She is one of my top favorites and I find her to be impressive in spirit and character. She is virtuous and steadfast in her devotion to her philandering husband, and possesses a naturally curious mind that never truly realizes its potentials only because of the limitations that precede her gender. Her only means to learn about new information is through her sons who adore her enough to include her in their intellectual debates and discussions some of the time.

It was mentioned later on that there are women who are allowed by their husbands to go outside every once in a while, but Amina's husband al Sayyid-Ahmad is just too much of a conservative and controlling patriarch that wants to dominate everyone in his household. The thing that really pisses me off about this man is that he's a hypocrite. He maintains a false façade around his family while living a completely hedonistic life when he's around his co-workers and multiple lovers. Later on I began to pity him because he was always so concerned about keeping up appearances that his children have only known how to fear him and not love him. That's I think is the greatest tragedy for a father but I don't think he will ever realize this, nor is it a concern of his.

As for the children, I really loved the eldest daughter Khadija and the youngest Kamal. Khadija is definitely relatable because she is opinionated and shows a lot of intelligence which sadly only gets to shine through her deflective use of sarcasm to cover up her insecurities. Much of her conflict revolves around being unmarried at twenty and the preference of suitors and potentials husbands to her younger sister Aisha whom I find only remarkable in beauty and not in personality. Kamal, on the other hand, is inquisitive and playful, always living in his imagination and daydreams which makes him often a problem for his family. I love him very much though because of his inclination to learn and his outward sunny disposition even if his father disapproves of him, as well as his affectionate relationships with his mother and sisters which I hope will stay the same even when he grows older.

The older two sons, Yasin and Fahmy, are well-written characters themselves. Yasin is the son from al-Sayyid Ahmad's first marriage and he is probably the closest one who mirrors his father in a lot of ways, mostly his unflattering and vain qualities such as the way he perceives women and wrongly asserts his morality for the sake of a false sense of masculine security. Again, as much as I dislike both of these men, I can understand why they believe they have a right to live their lives according only to their pleasure and whims, with callous disregard of the way their loved ones would feel. Meanwhile, Fahmy is the second son who is an aspiring lawyer and is very much interested to involve himself in the inner workings of politics which I think could lead to some potentially disastrous results especially since they are living during wartime. I like Fahmy enough because aside from Kamal who is still fairly young, he doesn't seem to be that preoccupied with lustful adventures unlike his father and brother, and finds more satisfaction in scholarly matters.

Still, the truth remains that the gender dichotomy that their culture and society permeates is harmful in this sense, I believe. Though the men are free to be who they want to be, they are still equally oppressed because they also feel that they have to play parts that serve to hide who they are and how they feel inside, all for the sake of machismo and patriarchy.

Basically, the selling point of this novel is that it's well-balanced; there are light and funny parts, as well as serious discussions about religion and political strife; all the while the author himself took much care and sensitivity in regards to the way he characterized his protagonists in the context of their own belief systems that may not always be agreeable but were articulated authentically enough to merit some contemplation. This book is also part of a trilogy, and I will certainly pick up the next two books because I am intrigued and invested on the world that Mahfouz has created. Palace Walk excels in the exploration of the day-to-day pressures, self-reflection and relationships of its characters. As a reader, I can't help but care about their welfare even with Yasin and al-Sayyid Ahmad whom I only have lukewarm feelings for. I was able to celebrate the joys and despair the losses that these characters experienced as I glided comfortably through the pages, and I think that alone makes this novel very commendable and worth the read.

Overall, Palace Walk is humorous, insightful and easily enjoyable. If you like character-centered plots and family drama in general then this book might appeal to you. It doesn't take itself that seriously and when it does, it can be warm and sublime in a lot of aspects, allowing readers to appreciate and value the richness of their own beliefs and idiosyncrasies as contrasted or reflected by the Abd al-Jawad family's own.

RECOMMENDED: 8/10

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