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The Beggar has revealed itself to be a necessary book for me. Especially for the week I just experienced. There was much more doubt and despair on tap than any ennui. The protagonist of this novella suffers from an “illness “. He no longer finds anything to have meaning, nothing elicits feeling. He is a wealthy Cairo attorney and he is simply indifferent. There is a jagged stream of consciousness throughout this disturbing narrative. The protagonist’s condition is a stand-in for the Egyptian Revolution of 1952. The perceived failure of its utopian promise.

Much of the novel occurs from sunset until dawn, the clamor of a smoky, lurid nocturnal reality becomes a welcome refuge for our addled barrister. He abandons most of his respectable trappings and yet he clings to his eldest daughter: herself a poet.

The narrative takes a turn when a close friend is released from prison, a revolutionary who never betrayed the protagonist despite torture and 25 years of confinement.

The pacing of The Beggar is astonishing as are the images. A whiff of orange blossoms here and an odd query there: do you believe in god? One aspirant for his devotion tells him I speak from the heart. His curt reply: the heart is only a pump.

I loved this work and find myself hungering for more Mahfouz. ( )

Mental health issues in 1960s Egypt.

So, my initial thoughts prior to the discussion in two days time:
This book is about a guy who is having some sort of a break-down. If it happened in this day and age he would be considering going to a shrink rather than a GP, he certainly had the money to do so.
Apparently there are a lot of political allegories and this is what I hope will be clarified at the book group as I don't know a lot about Egyptian politics at the time.
I really felt for his friend Othoman who has been in jail for 20 years and is horrified to see how complacent his friends have become while he was away. I also felt for his wife, Zeinab, who had been rejected by her Christian family when she decided to marry a Muslim.....and his daughter.....in fact everyone except Omar, the protagonist. He needed help, true, but he just couldn't appreciate the destruction he was leaving in his wake.

Edit: (8th Jan) - I just found a review in Amazon US by 'Gio', who proposes that "Omar.... is a stand-in for the author in asking those questions: what is worthwhile? does God exist? if so, what is He? what do I do now, having done nothing of worth so far? what would it be like to be truly happy? why do I care so much about happiness?"
This makes a lot of sense to me, so many books are in some way semi-autobiographical, why shouldn't Naguib Mahfouz do the same thing?

Book group discussion tomorrow.....
Well, firstly, I didn't get much clarification regarding the political allusions. There was suggestion that his friends represented aspects of Egyptian life - Mustafa as the reasonably contented TV journalist, Othoman as the zealous objector, Omar himself as the dissatisfied well-to-do lawyer who would have preferred to follow his artistic talents.
Secondly, for such a thin volume there seemed to be an awful lot of differing opinions about the book.

*possible spoilers ahead*
Omar in his desperation turns to promiscuity but his improvement is short-lived. Then he feels brief happiness in a startling sunrise; finally he abandons his old life completely to live a hermit-style existence.

A rather strange novel that definitely benefited from being able to discuss it with others. ( )

I have not read enough of French literature to say for sure, but I suspect that the over-brooding, angst-ridden, search-for-meaning (or identity) novel has its roots in French literature. Mahfouz wrote his novel in Arabic, but his literary influences were largely French ones.

Omar, a successful, wealthy, well-respected lawyer in Cairo, has reached a psychological crisis point in his middle-age. His despair and search for meaning turns him from his work, his family and eventually his friends. Once a young idealist in the 1930s trying to bring about socialist change, he now seems to fear irrelevancy more than anything ("irrelevancy" is the word used in the foreward). Of his other friends from his youth, one is a successful journalist and the other has spent almost 20 years in prison (they drew lots as to who would carry the bomb that day).

There is a fair amount of philosophy (Mahfouz is fond of philosophy) in Omar's conversations with his friends and in his questioning thoughts - bits about art, science, religion, the meaning of life...etc. In his prose, Mahfouz moves oddly about, and one has to stay sharp. I'm sure Omar's midlife crisis is also meant to be an allegory for Egypt's midlife crisis also.

But my emotional reaction to this book is to earnestly wish that Omar would get his head out of his posterior and get on with it. I found the whole crisis thing to be incredibly selfish, self-indulgent, and narcissistic (is that redundant?) - while he's out racing his car and banging whores and contemplating the meaning of life, he has left his children fatherless and his wife unexpectedly pregnant and alone. Did Mahfouz intend this reaction in his readers, I think not and I do not think women in general were his intended audience.

Still, I enjoyed Midaq Alley though was tepid about The Day the Leader was Killed, but this will not put me off The Cairo Trilogy when I get around to it.

First posted 3/2012 elsewhere on LT

La réussite fait-elle le bonheur? Omar al-Hamzâwi a toutes les marques de la réussite : une famille qui l'aime, une profession bien vue, des amis qui l'estiment, mais force est de constater qu'il n'est pas heureux. Il part dès le début du roman, à la quête de ce bonheur, à la quête de sa vérité personnelle et à la quête de sa raison d'être. Le style sobre, l'écriture simple et l'intrigue linéaire font de ce livre une lecture facile, mais les sujets, eux, sont à multiples facettes : la santé, la richesse et la famille qui marquent traditionnellement le bonheur sont remis en question pour l'épanouissement personnel, la contemplation et la spiritualité.
Ce sont maintenant des idées courantes - crise d'existentialisme, dépression et remise en question, mais Mahfouz traite du sujet avec justesse. En fait, Omar ne m'a pas inspiré compassion, mais curiosité : alors que nous passons tous par cette période, comment lui s'en sortira? Son entourage se mue en fonction de ses décisions et de ses humeurs, ses amis le conseillent et se moquent, sa famille souffrira et se reconstituera - une étude minutieuse sur l'état d'âme. ( )

Published in 1965, The Beggar is, on the surface at least, the story of Omar’s midlife crisis. While less overtly political than Naguib Mahfouz’s other works, this novella takes on the biggest “political” issue of all – the meaning of life. Omar’s tale is a metaphor for the “midlife crisis” of modern Egypt, 17 years after its 1952 revolution, as both Omar and the country search for meaning after achieving worldly success.

The story reunites three childhood friends all engaged in the same struggle to find the deeper purpose of their adult lives: Othman was a bomb-throwing rebel back in their earlier days. Now, out of prison after 20 years, he is trying to adjust to an Egypt that has adopted the socialist ideals he fought for in his youth. He fights to channel his revolutionary zeal in a post-revolutionary bureaucracy.

Mustafa was an idealistic playwright who sold out and is now the host of a popular radio program sponsored by a snack food company. He embodies the discord between artistic endeavors and modern commerce.

Omar had been an aspiring poet with stars in his eyes, before he became a lawyer and real estate developer. Now, in his 40s, he is bored with his matronly wife and completely indifferent to his law practice. He cannot even get worked up over the news that the government is going to nationalize the apartment buildings he owns.

In an effort to recover from this enervating “illness, ” Omar seeks stimulation in the usual combination or wine, women, and song. His reprehensible behavior – abandoning his pregnant wife for a series of trysts with showgirls – demonstrates how the pursuit of mindless, easy entertainment can lead to ruin.

The title comes from a passage in which Mustafa questions whether Omar’s crisis is caused by “suppressed art.” Omar supposes that art may be the solution, but not the cause. Then both wonder whether they would be better off, metaphysically, if they were scientifically inclined, rather than artistically, because science would offer answers that art cannot. Mustafa concludes that they cannot find the solution to Omar’s crisis, stating, “Since there is no revelation in our age, people like you can only go begging.”

The biggest problem is not the content, but the presentation. Mahfouz’s writing style is difficult to follow. He changes verb tenses at random, he uses dialog without identifying the speakers, and he changes the point of view over and over. Often Omar is referred to as “he” and “you” and “I” all in the same passage or even paragraph. It is hard to tell if these are intentional techniques or translation problems, but they are distracting.

These technical problems aside, The Beggar is full to the rim with metaphors and moral issues. It would be a good choice for a high school English class as there is plenty to chew on for such a short book.

First posted on Rose City Reader. ( )