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A review by archytas
The Palace of Angels by Mohammed Massoud Morsi
4.5
The two short stories and novella in this book build upon each other in this exploration of humanity under occupation. At its peak, the book is simply magnificent: Twenty Two Years to Life, the second story in the volume, would rate among the top works I've read this year (and it has been a *good* year). Morsi perfectly blends narrative, characterisation and descriptive detail to tell and engrossing and affecting story. He takes the reader on an emotional journey that feels real enough to smell the sea salt and the olive groves, to feel the tedium of checkpoints and the electric thrill of touching someone you're attracted to.
Morsi's stories also showcase tender masculinity. His protagonists are motivated by deep love, even when that takes them to places we don't want them to go. This isn't just romantic love, but filial love, best friendship and the depth of a father's deep love for a child. Morsi's protagonists are also propelled by their vulnerability: characters trying to hang on to a sense of self in the face of humiliation, but also the crippling vulnerability that love and desire bring us to. So while much of this material covers events we associate with masculinity - violence and drug smuggling among them - Morsi upends a narrative often imposed on Arab men in a way that is joyous, and absolutely never didactic. The book celebrates the bonds we create while exploring the world of emotion and potential hurt that come with that. Writers are often praised for writing complex female characters, but it is worth acknowledging that literature can be short on nuanced male characters as well.
On a literature-induced high by the end of Twenty Two Years to Life, I was a little disappointed in the eponymous novella. This may be partly simply because it was a romance, a genre which seems to repel me more as I get older and crustier. (Morsi lingers on those moments of uncertain attraction, beautifully capturing the excitement and fear of reciprocated flirting while this middle-aged reader mutters "oh for god's sake you barely know each other" under her breath). But I also wasn't sure that the huge ambition of the story - Morsi has a lot to say here - was entirely carried through the execution. There is a lot of plot, and it moves forward in sometimes abrupt jumps, and there is a reliance on coincidence that sits slightly awkwardly with the deep realism of the portrayals of people and settings. However, Adnan is such a compelling real person, and the world's he moves in, especially the crumbling Palace of Angels, that the story has stayed with me for longer than I expected.
Finally, just to note that the depth of research here is admirable. Some will see this as a political book. However, all literature is about evoking our empathy to better understand ourselves and the societies we live in. Morsi is working hard to bring us in to the realities of Palestine and Israel, including uncomfortable truths of many types. While there is a lot of hate in the book, there are no villains. Hate exists entwined with love. He is also working to show the qualities that might be a path to better futures. I hope it gets a broader audience, including those who might shy away from wanting to see the perspectives of the occupied.
Morsi's stories also showcase tender masculinity. His protagonists are motivated by deep love, even when that takes them to places we don't want them to go. This isn't just romantic love, but filial love, best friendship and the depth of a father's deep love for a child. Morsi's protagonists are also propelled by their vulnerability: characters trying to hang on to a sense of self in the face of humiliation, but also the crippling vulnerability that love and desire bring us to. So while much of this material covers events we associate with masculinity - violence and drug smuggling among them - Morsi upends a narrative often imposed on Arab men in a way that is joyous, and absolutely never didactic. The book celebrates the bonds we create while exploring the world of emotion and potential hurt that come with that. Writers are often praised for writing complex female characters, but it is worth acknowledging that literature can be short on nuanced male characters as well.
On a literature-induced high by the end of Twenty Two Years to Life, I was a little disappointed in the eponymous novella. This may be partly simply because it was a romance, a genre which seems to repel me more as I get older and crustier. (Morsi lingers on those moments of uncertain attraction, beautifully capturing the excitement and fear of reciprocated flirting while this middle-aged reader mutters "oh for god's sake you barely know each other" under her breath). But I also wasn't sure that the huge ambition of the story - Morsi has a lot to say here - was entirely carried through the execution. There is a lot of plot, and it moves forward in sometimes abrupt jumps, and there is a reliance on coincidence that sits slightly awkwardly with the deep realism of the portrayals of people and settings. However, Adnan is such a compelling real person, and the world's he moves in, especially the crumbling Palace of Angels, that the story has stayed with me for longer than I expected.
Finally, just to note that the depth of research here is admirable. Some will see this as a political book. However, all literature is about evoking our empathy to better understand ourselves and the societies we live in. Morsi is working hard to bring us in to the realities of Palestine and Israel, including uncomfortable truths of many types. While there is a lot of hate in the book, there are no villains. Hate exists entwined with love. He is also working to show the qualities that might be a path to better futures. I hope it gets a broader audience, including those who might shy away from wanting to see the perspectives of the occupied.