Review by Library Journal Review
In the Judeo-Christian tradition, Hagar (pronounced with a hard g) is the banished other, but in the Islamic tradition (pronounced with a soft g), she is an honored presence, founder of Mecca in her wanderings. Baghdad-born al-Jubouri knows banishment herself-she fled Iraq for Germany in 1997 after having appeared on the government's list of renegade writers, returning directly after the regime's fall-so it makes sense for her to speak in the guise of Hagar. In spare, vivid, and poundingly heartfelt language, she shows us her country before the occupation by U.S. troops and afterward. Though political observation is inevitable (After the occupation, the Tigris "escapes// the Green Zone's eyes/ the Palace's eyes/ the invader's grunts"), this is no mere polemic but a meditation on how a country and its people change after a momentous event, reflected through observation of the physical ("photographs," "my mouth") and the less tangible ("love," "freedom," "my grave"). Loneliness before the occupation "arrested our sleep/ our secrets/ our restlessness" and afterward "escapes from our beds to our bodies." VERDICT Given Iraq's millennia-long history, it's not surprising that these poems have a timeless, haunting quality, and they offer not just enormous pleasure but understanding.-Barbara Hoffert, Library Journal (c) Copyright 2011. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.