Celestial bodies A novel

Jūkhah Ḥārithī

Book - 2019

"In the village of al-Awafi in Oman, we encounter three sisters: Mayya, who marries after a heartbreak; Asma, who marries from a sense of duty; and Khawla, who chooses to refuse all offers and await a reunion with the man she loves, who has emigrated to Canada. These three women and their families, their losses and loves, unspool ... against a backdrop of a rapidly changing Oman, a country evolving from a traditional, slave-owning society into its complex present"--Publisher marketing.

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Subjects
Genres
Historical fiction
Domestic fiction
Published
New York : Catapult 2019.
Language
English
Arabic
Main Author
Jūkhah Ḥārithī (author)
Other Authors
Marilyn Booth (translator)
Item Description
First published in Oman in 2010.
Physical Description
xi, 243 pages : genealogical table ; 21 cm
ISBN
9781948226943
Contents unavailable.
Review by Booklist Review

Altharthi makes literary history as the first female Omani author to be translated into English and as author of the first novel written in Arabic to win the Man Booker International Prize. She shares that extraordinary success with translator and Oxford professor Booth, who reveals, I like very much that Jokha does not write for readers who do not know Oman: she does not try to explain things. Indeed, Althari's unique structure demands vigilant participation as it is more jigsaw puzzle than linear narrative, and the skeletal family tree provided proves useful. Set against Oman's rapid shifts during the twentieth century from slave-owning nation to oil-rich international presence are three generations of an upper-class Omani family: Salima, who survived a difficult childhood, and her husband, Azzan, who can't resist the pull of the moon (goddess); their three (surviving) children dutiful Mayya, book-obsessed Asma, and waiting Khawla and Mayya and her husband Abdallah's children: independent London, irresponsible Salim, and Muhammad, who has special needs. Most memorable perhaps is enslaved Zarifa, excluded from the family tree yet integrally bonded. Omnisciently narrated chapters are interrupted, with an obvious font-shift, by businessman Abdallah's first-person, mostly in-flight monologues. Pieced together, a robust village emerges, of alliances and betrayals, survival and murder, surrender and escape. Patient readers will be seductively, magnificently rewarded.--Terry Hong Copyright 2010 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Alharthi's ambitious, intense novel--her first to be translated into English and winner of the 2019 Man Booker International Prize--examines the radical changes in Oman over the past century from the perspectives of the members of several interconnected families. With exhilarating results, Alharthi throws the reader into the midst of a tangled family drama in which unrequited love, murder, suicide, and adultery seem the rule rather than the exception. She moves between the stream-of-consciousness musings and memories of businessman Abdallah as he flies to Frankfurt and vignettes from the lives of those in his family, the slaves who raised him under the rule of his abusive father, and the members of the large family he married into. These include, among many others, a wife who apparently loves her sewing machine more than him, her two conflicted sisters, a father-in-law conducting a torrid love affair with a Bedouin woman, and an unhappy physician daughter. The scenes establish the remarkable contrasts among the generations, whose members are united primarily by a fierce search for romantic love. The older generation has grown up with strict rules and traditions, the younger generation eats at McDonald's and wears Armani jeans, and the members of the middle generation, particularly the women, are caught between expectations and aspirations. The novel rewards readers willing to assemble the pieces of Alharthi's puzzle into a whole, and is all the more satisfying for the complexity of its tale. (Oct.)

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Library Journal Review

The first book by a female Omani author to be translated into English, Alharthi's eloquent tale garnered the first Man Booker International Prize for a book originally written in Arabic. Marilyn Booth shares the prize for her translation, and Laurence Bouvard's expressive narration accentuates the lyricism of the text, infused throughout with poetry and proverbs. Amid rapid societal change--slavery in Oman was abolished in 1970--a privileged Omani family seeks brides for three daughters: Mayya, despairing of true love, accepts her groom resignedly; Asma marries dutifully, hoping for fulfillment through motherhood; Khawlah scorns a multitude of proposals to wed her unpromising choice. Following the brides' fortunes but also revisiting several past generations, Alharthi acknowledges some burdensome history and gives voices, narrated convincingly by Bouvard, to many among the forgotten, enslaved, and downtrodden. The nonlinear narrative structure, flickering backward and forward in time, both challenges and rewards readers, as alternating points of view--an omniscient narrator and Mayya's husband Abdallah, literally scarred by his past--contemplate moments of joy and illumination, mysterious deaths, lost dreams, acts of brutality, adherence to customs now under scrutiny. VERDICT Given its literary significance, innovative writing, and cultural insights, this is a highly recommended purchase.--Linda Sappenfield, Round Rock P.L., TX

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

Omani author Alharthi's novel, the first by a woman from that country to be translated into English, won the 2019 International Man Booker Prize with its sweeping story of generational and societal change.The book opens with a betrothal in a well-to-do Omani family. Mayya, a serious girl who excels at sewing, obediently marries the son of Merchant Sulayman although she's secretly in love with a young student just returned from England. Later she surprises everyone by naming her firstborn daughter London. The story alternates between third-person chapters and ones narrated by Mayya's husband, Abdallah, a businessman whose childhood was marred by his father's cruelty and mother's mysterious death. Through the complex, interwoven histories of the two principal families and their households and their town of al-Awafi, we witness Oman's shift from a slave-owning, rural, deeply patriarchal society to one in which a girl with the unlikely name of London can become a doctor, marry for love, and obtain a divorce. The great strength of the novel lies in the ways this change is shown not as a steady progression from old to new but as a far more complicated series of small-scale transitions. Abdallah was largely raised by his father's slave Zarifa, whose mother gave birth to her on the day slavery was supposedly abolished at the 1926 Slavery Convention in Geneva. Zarifa is sold as a teenager by Shaykh Said to Merchant Sulayman and later married off to a slave kidnapped from Africa who screams "from the depths of his sleep, We are free people, free!" Both her husband and son leave Oman, and although Zarifa eventually follows, her heart remains in al-Awafi. The narrative jumps among a large and clamorous cast of characters as well as back and forth in time, a technique that reinforces the sense of past and present overlapping. In an image that captures the tension between old and new, a family uses its satellite dish as a trough for livestock. Salima, Mayya's mother, herself a kidnapped teenage bride, thinks sadly as she prepares the next of her daughters for her traditional arranged marriage, "We raise them so that strangers can take them away." But the daughter in question, Mayya's sister Asma, welcomes wedlock, because "marriage was her identity document, her passport to a world wider than home." A richly layered, ambitious work that teems with human struggles and contradictions, providing fascinating insight into Omani history and society. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Mayya, forever immersed in her Singer sewing machine, seemed lost to the outside world. Then Mayya lost herself to love: a silent passion, but it sent tremors surging through her slight form, night after night, cresting in waves of tears and sighs. These were moments when she truly believed she would not survive the awful force of her longing to see him. Her body prostrate, ready for the dawn prayers, she made a whispered oath. By the greatness of God -- I want nothing, O Lord, just to see him. I solemnly promise you, Lord, I don't even want him to look my way . . . I just want to see him. That's all I want. Her mother hadn't given the matter of love any particular thought, since it never would have occurred to her that pale Mayya, so silent and still, would think about anything in this mundane world beyond her threads and the selvages of her fabrics, or that she would hear anything other than the clatter of her sewing machine. Mayya seemed to hardly shift position throughout the day, or even halfway into the night, her form perched quietly on the narrow, straight-backed wood chair in front of the black sewing machine with the image of a butterfly on its side. She barely even lifted her head, unless she needed to look as she groped for her scissors or fished another spool of thread out of the plastic sewing basket which always sat in her small wood utility chest. But Mayya heard everything in the world there was to hear. She noticed the brilliant hues life could have, however motionless her body might be. Her mother was grateful that Mayya's appetite was so meagre (even if, now and then, she felt vestiges of guilt). She hoped fervently, though she would never have put her hope into words, that one of these days someone would come along who respected Mayya's talents as a seamstress as much as he might appreciate her abstemious ways. The someone she envisioned would give Mayya a fine wedding procession after which he would take her home with all due ceremony and regard. That someone arrived. As usual Mayya was seated on that narrow chair, bent over the sewing machine at the far end of the long sitting room that opened onto the compound's private courtyard. Her mother walked over to her, beaming. She pressed her hand gently into her daughter's shoulder. Mayya, my dear! The son of Merchant Sulayman has asked for your hand. Spasms shot through Mayya's body. Her mother's hand suddenly felt unbearably heavy on her shoulder and her throat went dry. She couldn't stop imagining her sewing thread winding itself around her neck like a hangman's noose. Her mother smiled. I thought you were too old by now to put on such a girlish show! You needn't act so bashful, Mayya. And that was that. The subject was closed and no one raised it again. Mayya's mother busied herself assembling the wedding clothes, concocting just the right blends of incense, having all the large seat-cushions reupholstered, and getting word out to the entire family. Mayya's sisters kept their views to themselves and her father left the matter in her mother's hands. After all, these were her girls and marriage was women's business. Excerpted from Celestial Bodies by Jokha Alharthi All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.