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A review by joaniemaloney
Guapa by Saleem Haddad
4.0
A day in the life of Rasa, a young man reeling from his grandmother discovering him in bed with his lover, Taymour. There was always a danger of their relationship being revealed but he was lulled into not believing that it would be in this manner, so abruptly and possibly without much of a goodbye. Everything was a balancing act before, with both men careful to play their respective roles and not let anything slip in public:
Rasa's entire life consists of: his job as a translator, which he started with his friend Basma and doesn't pay well; his only familial relationship to his grandmother with his father having died of cancer and his mother having left before that; his affair with Taymour and the nights they get to spend together before the man leaves as dawn breaks; and his best friend, Maj, who he hangs out with at their favourite bar, Guapa, and hasn't been able to contact, fearing he's been taken away by the police. With one careless mistake, everything is unraveling at the seams.
There is so much longing on every page, not just for Taymour but for some sort of change in his life, his home, his country. In more youthful times, he had hopes of being a part of a revolution and tearing down the old ways, but that now is all but quashed, whether in the minds of the revolutionaries or violently by the government. The ones who still have the strength to fight on, to be attacked and attack themselves, impose more limits over how the population should live, and Rasa can't possibly belong to those groups either. Having failed at making anything of himself when he studied in America, Rasa has returned to live with his grandmother. He feels stuck. There's frustration over the rules and graces society imposes on him, and also frustration at himself being unable to go along and play the part of the man, living the life everyone expects of him, with a better job, a marriage with a wife and children. He's lost.
It's a very intimate read. The narrative almost lazily shifts here and there but it works. There's a clarity to the story of Rasa's life that is told, and the desire he so desperately feels for any connection, any sense of belonging, infuse these pages with urgency. The past and present, and the uncertain future, is pieced together with patience and a steady hand. Both Teta [his grandmother] and society's presence lingers throughout, forever trapping Rasa and limiting his decisions, continually unable to break free in any aspect of his life for fear of the consequences.
Quite a gem of a debut! I regret not listening to Fairouz (listening to this as I'm finishing up this review) or Oum Kalthoum as I was reading it.
'I began to go out with him to his social events. At dinner parties we sat beside each other. At the table he paid me no attention, but under it I would feel his foot brush mine. It would withdraw but soon enough it would be back. I admired the way he conducted himself, flitting between roles so naturally. He had that cool disinterest and controlled boom of a laugh that all successful society men have. He could be among a crowd of admirers and one quick glance my way would remind me where his heart was.'
Rasa's entire life consists of: his job as a translator, which he started with his friend Basma and doesn't pay well; his only familial relationship to his grandmother with his father having died of cancer and his mother having left before that; his affair with Taymour and the nights they get to spend together before the man leaves as dawn breaks; and his best friend, Maj, who he hangs out with at their favourite bar, Guapa, and hasn't been able to contact, fearing he's been taken away by the police. With one careless mistake, everything is unraveling at the seams.
'I loved Taymour because he was from here, because everything in him reminded me of everything here, because to love him was to love this city and its history. And yet I couldn't love him because he was from here and so held ideas of how to be and how to love, which would never fit in with the love that we shared.'
There is so much longing on every page, not just for Taymour but for some sort of change in his life, his home, his country. In more youthful times, he had hopes of being a part of a revolution and tearing down the old ways, but that now is all but quashed, whether in the minds of the revolutionaries or violently by the government. The ones who still have the strength to fight on, to be attacked and attack themselves, impose more limits over how the population should live, and Rasa can't possibly belong to those groups either. Having failed at making anything of himself when he studied in America, Rasa has returned to live with his grandmother. He feels stuck. There's frustration over the rules and graces society imposes on him, and also frustration at himself being unable to go along and play the part of the man, living the life everyone expects of him, with a better job, a marriage with a wife and children. He's lost.
It's a very intimate read. The narrative almost lazily shifts here and there but it works. There's a clarity to the story of Rasa's life that is told, and the desire he so desperately feels for any connection, any sense of belonging, infuse these pages with urgency. The past and present, and the uncertain future, is pieced together with patience and a steady hand. Both Teta [his grandmother] and society's presence lingers throughout, forever trapping Rasa and limiting his decisions, continually unable to break free in any aspect of his life for fear of the consequences.
Quite a gem of a debut! I regret not listening to Fairouz (listening to this as I'm finishing up this review) or Oum Kalthoum as I was reading it.