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Gender Roles and Ideas

Posted by AWN # 3 on November 13, 2002 at 12:37:20:

Gender Roles and Ideas Of:
Portrayal of Men and the Male Sex in Arab Women’s Novels

by William D. Leavitt
Hampshire College

Arab Women Novelists
Mount Holyoke College
October 29, 2002
The Male Character in Arab Women’s Novels:
Often in literature author’s, particularly men, are criticized for falsely or inaccurately portraying or "writing" women. This debate has been historically confined to male authors, but is on occasion reversed and female authors are criticized for inaccurately writing men. Although it may sound like a fair trade—or at least the beginnings of one in the world of critics—these situations are limited to primarily European and predominately North American literature. Examining the portrayal of men and the male sex as a whole, by women, is an important if not essential undertaking in this modern world, but where is comes to a point of being absolutely crucial is when it is the women authors of a world where they are second class citizens only because of their gender. If the writing of men in Arab women’s novels can be understood at even the most basic level it may allow some insight into what these women think and assume consciously and subconsciously, about themselves and their position in society and about the inherent oppression that they deal with and resign themselves to—no matter how weak or extreme the degree of the oppression, ranging from Egypt to Saudi Arabia.
The purpose of this discourse is to first, examine and delineate the manner in which Arab women novelists portray or ‘write’ men; and second, to discuss the most relevant reasons why the women write them as they do. This will be accomplished by focusing mainly on three novels written by women from Jordan and Palestine with settings form Beirut to London.
* * *
The first of these three novels is Fadia Faqir’s, Pillars of Salt. This story is set in Jordan before and during the British occupation and Mandate. The book itself is broken into a number of chapters, each shifting between the voices of "The Storyteller", Maha, and Um Saad, and Faqir’s third-person. For purposes of ease in this discourse these short chapters will be grouped into eight natural sections, as each five or six chapters between Maha and Um Saad is set off by an interlude from The Storyteller, who himself appears nine times altogether. In this book there is a large spectrum men that Faqir writes, but in terms of relevance to the topic above we will focus on the following characters to illustrate how Faqir portrays the male sex: The Storyteller, who could be argued as not being a man, but with very little success, as it is undoubtedly Faqir’s intention to have the story’s told by The Storyteller to be from a male perspective. Also, the father and husband of Um Saad, although they are not main characters in the novel, are useful in illustrating the overall ideas that will be presented later. On Maha’s side of the story we will touch on Daffash, her brother, Maha’s father Sheik Nimer, and Harb, her once and always husband. Although there are these many different men in this novel that do well to illustrate different aspects of Faqir’s writing of the male sex, the most relevant is the character of The Storyteller, not only due to the intrigue he—and invariable Faqir—introduces in this novel, but because he provides such a universal prospective of what and how these tales may have been represented in Arab folklore. We will briefly touch on the other male characters mentioned before moving into The Storyteller alone.
Harb, Maha’s husband, who eventually dies, is the least oppressive of all the men in the novel, when dealing with women. He is, in fact, a more loving and kind person to Maha and her female friends than even other women themselves. Maha loves Harb very deeply, almost to a point of codependence, as every time she hears mentions of him she seems to be in a state of hypnosis. This is paramount in understanding the character of Harb, as about half the story is told by Maha and her internal monologue. The only other male character that stirs her heart is her father, but not in nearly as deep a manner as even the thought of Harb.
The only other man/male character that Maha shows or feels any love for is her farther, Sheik Nimer (she does love her son Mubarak very much, but as he is only a child he has no cultural bearing or direct influence over Maha in terms of the patriarchal society she lives in and the fact that he is only in the latter half of the story, so he is being set aside here). Her father is basically a good man and a tender loving father, however, he is still aware of his position as the dominant male (mostly in the earlier chapters) in Maha’s life and in his household in general, and in certain circumstances he is not on her side; Faqir reveals what a good father—in this Jordanian culture—is, as viewed by the "culture" in general (that is to say, the status quo). The character of Daffash, Maha’s brother, is a sobering one indeed. He is a serial rapist and a thief, yet, he is never jailed for either of these terrible series of deeds, in fact he is never more than verbally reprimanded by his father. He is a spineless traitor to his people and continually sells them and himself out to the encroaching and eventually occupying British army and businessmen. Not only is he the main antagonist against Maha, he is the embodiment of everything abominable that can occur in a man when he abuses the power he is given in a male dominated society.
Now to briefly touch on the character of Um Saad and the men in her life: her father, being the lesser of the two oppressive males she lives with throughout most of her life, is opposite Maha’s in more ways than one. He is ignorant of her needs as a developing child and typifies what a father who abuses his dominance over his children and his family (in a patriarchal society) can and will do. When Um Saad does eventually marry she is taken by a poor but shrewd butcher. Despite their marriage she never describes the relationship as one of a loving husband and wife. She is nothing more than his slave, and perhaps this is part of the culture of the lower classes of the time, but the absolute indignation with which he treats his wife is disgusting. The home life as dictated by the husband in this society, and in this case especially, is one of nothing more than coexistence with the continual belittlement of Um Saad for what is probably the reaffirmation of his (her husbands) position of power—however, this is not supposed to be a sociological analysis entirely, so let us leave it at that.
The male character from this novel that will be examined in some depth and perhaps the most interesting of all Faqir’s character’s and voices is that of the misogynistic Storyteller. Simply the fact that these inter and intra chapters exist is a choice that Faqir makes quite deliberately, but the voice and manner through which the Storyteller relays his tale is not only frustrating for any person of Western education, but anyone of a just nature. The demonization of the character of Maha is the first impression given of her by the Storytellers account and without the rest of the novel to prove that she is in fact an oppressed but strong and right-minded human being, the reader would be left thinking she is an awful witch and evil force through which the lives of these various men were corrupted. (1) The first mention this Storyteller makes of a female—in his first of nine appearances—namely Maha, is quite powerful: "…made out of our father Adam’s crooked rib, was cast out of heaven…I say that Maha was a shrew who used to chew the shredded flesh of mortals from sun birth to sun death… [she] was born when the first female child was buried alive by the tribe of Bani-Quraish…" (Faqir, 2-3). Not only is Maha described as a witch, but her mother is said to be of some gypsy blood and has bewitched Sheik Nimer (Maha’s father) and forced him to marry her. Despite these characterizations, The Storyteller launches into his tale of Maha and Um Saad and all the men in their respective lives. This first section does not yet allow the reader to understand the misogynistic ideas of this character until he/she has read the following section and sees Maha and her mother in their actual situation.
(2) In his second appearance The Storyteller accuses Maliha, Maha’s mother, of teaching Maha black magic and creating a terrible demon in her daughter. What is most interesting in this section is the portrayal of men by The Storyteller, who is himself being portrayed by the author. He paints the men as innocent and trebling and humble creatures subject to the horrible whims of the women in the world. The men in this society are the victims (in The Storyteller perspective) of abominable treatment and subjugation instigated by these women in their lives. It is this portrayal of men not just by Faqir (which is probably meant to be a source of constant irony in this novel) and The Storyteller, but by this facet of Arab culture in general that allows, at least in part, the men to suppress and coerce the women, for the men are afraid of their own positions in the world and will do anything—subscribe to any system—to keep them safe. An interpretation such as this is essential if these sexual boundaries are to be broken, but that is a broad goal, and for the moment we must judge this novel not on these basis’ alone.
(3) Again in section three of The Storyteller’s story Maha is a devilish creature and seduces Harb for her own sadistic and disgusting desires. What is interesting is that Harb is shown here by The Storyteller as merely a weak and impressionable man whereas when described by Maha or even Faqir herself, he is a heroic and not only physically, but mentally and emotionally forthright individual. Here it is almost necessary to think of The Storyteller as independent of Faqir as a whole, but the reader can not consciously forget that he is a creation of Faqir’s, a difficult duality, but essential nonetheless.
(4) When we next hear from The Storyteller he speaks of "…the most shameful part of out story. The part that shook Allah in His throne…" (Faqir, 85). The most chiding part of the irony in this section is that the women (particularly Maha) are played off as those responsible, or at the very least, the uncaring ones and the ones who take advantage of the death of Harb when what plays out in the perceived reality of Maha and those around her is that she is completely devastated when Harb dies and only love’s him more. It is Daffash, according to The Storyteller, that is led off by some evil seductress of the west. Daffash is an innocent Arab man only trying to make honest business with the foreign investors and is instead being taken advantage of. This is interesting as it clashes strongly with Faqir’s direct voice earlier in showing us Daffash as a rapist and sexual and social deviant.
(5) In this, the fifth section of The Storyteller the grief and torment Maha experiences are bastardized and illuminated in a graphic and sickening manner. The Storyteller leaves us with Maha as a possessed animal, disrespecting the body of her dead husband and cursing Allah for taking away her subject of torture. It is this eye within an eye framing that makes this Storyteller so vital and interesting in Faqir’s novel. Why is it that she needs this man to twist her tale around so viciously when she is trying to write an inherently feminine perspective? Is it that this is how Faqir presumes men perceive women? It is indeed all a question of perception, but not one that can be answered immediately or even directly by any academic analyses’; instead it needs to be a choice of the reader. This is one of the many reasons Faqir’s novel is so provocative when it is taken as more than just a superficial story about oppressed women.
(6) The grotesque imagery in this sixth appearance of The Storyteller concurrent and peripheral story is almost unbearable in its perversion of reality when the rest of the novel is considered, but we must look at it as subjectively as possible and find the aspects that are relevant to the portrayal of the male sex by Faqir. Here is the first time where a male individual in The Storyteller’s eyes is actually capable of evil deeds. Maha’s son Mubarak spits on people and looks on in greed, however, this boy is not independently capable of this evil, it is his birth that leaves him as such and is therefore Maha’s fault. This section also provides us with some insight into Faqir’s general sense of the male sex. As The Storyteller is Faqir’s source of eternal irony in this novel and it may be assumed that she does not agree that the individual’s moral distinction is based on his/her birth (in more modern terms the child’s genes), but is instead a result of the environment in which the child is raised.
(7) In his next telling, The Storyteller goes off on what can only be noted lightly as a tangent, but more accurately described as a nightmare, meaning no reality to it at all—only gross interpretive license taken. Again Maha is a fiend of some sort, this time she has ensnared the pasha and is vampirizing him and his resources. Here irony is again Faqir’s strongest tool in illustrating her various points and also her ability to have the reader react immediately and find that the male character she is illustrating is absolutely shameless and has not reservations what-so-ever in victimizing the female sex in his (The Storytellers) tale and using Maha as the sustained scapegoat for all of the valley’s (in which this story of Maha is set) troubles. Also the appearance of Daffash is a continuance of the contradiction of his character as told by the author and that of him as a meek and humble man as told by The Storyteller.
(8) In the second to last appearance of The Storyteller Maha is still a mystically evil spider-bee-shadow of some kind or another and eludes the brave attempts of Daffash to free the imprisoned and physically demolished pasha. Nothing in this section varies from the earlier spinnings of The Storyteller except that he begins with a different invocation to Allah. This act of invoking the gods (in this case the Muslim God, Allah) is and has been on of validation (historically speaking). From even Pagan times to those of the Ancient Greeks and even modern day storytellers, the invocation of higher power as an affirmation of their being right and having the true story, has been practiced. This, for the women in this novel, may not be a positive practice at all. As Faqir suggests, by her having The Storyteller begin each of his sections with an invocation, is that the men of her culture have historically and are presently using religion as a means of further oppression and validation of their oppression of the women.
(9) The final appearance of The Storyteller and, as it happens, the end of the novel sweeps out to reveal to the reader a desolate land that has been ravaged by a vengeful and angry god who is punishing the land for its sins—the sins the Maha has committed (according to The Storyteller). Maha has of course escaped and is living in great luxury and wealth that no mortal or humble human may fathom. And so ends the tale of The Storyteller, just another humble man in a world of dangerous elements and sins all brought to him by women such as the vicious Maha. It is most poignant that Faqir decides to end her novel as she does with the misogynistic Storyteller having the last word; however, it is perhaps appropriate that it ends as such, as the actual situation of Faqir is one where the man invariably has the last word.
This intriguing and often perverse telling of the lives of two women and the men in their lives, but most importantly the voice of a male Storyteller are what allow Faqir to create such a strong and often grossly realistic image of the male sex in her culture.
* * *
The second of the three novels we will examine is Leila Al-Atrash’s, A Woman of Five Seasons. This story takes place primarily in the city of Barqais (not an actual city, but suggestive of the country Kuwait), but also takes place in Damascus and various European city’s. The voice of narration in this novel is constantly changing from that of the main female character Nadia to her internal monologue to her husband’s voice to his internal monologue to the overall third-person narrator and occasionally to the voice of another party. What is so unique about this style of writing is that it allows the reader to have direct access to the thoughts of the main male character in the novel, Ihsan. Al-Atrash breaks her novel into five chapters and so we will examine the portrayal of the main male character Ihsan through the five chapters or Seasons, as well as a brief look at his brother Jalal (who plays an important role in his relationship between Ihsan and Nadia). Although there are many other male characters in this novel none are as important or as clearly written as Ihsan nor do they exhibit the evolution (or more accurately degradation) of character that Ihsan does. Also, from the character of Ihsan it can be clearly inferred that Al-Atrash’s portrayal of the male sex is concerned primarily with the weaknesses of the gender as a whole.
In the first season the reader sees that the character of Ihsan is one of a stalwart attitude and domineering nature—not only toward women, but in all his undertakings. In an early scene of the chapter we find Ihsan trying to wake his wife Nadia, however, instead of doing it in a gentle or comforting manner, he pushes all over her body and is trying to force himself upon her. This assertion of his masculinity—and due to the society they live in, his assumed dominance—is not out of the ordinary, as can be asserted by the tone throughout the scene, as written by Al-Atrash, and is just a part of life that Nadia is going to have to live with for the time being (there is the encroaching Western influence all throughout the novel that plays in at certain times). Also introduced in this early scene is Ihsan’s strange interest in hair that seems nothing more than a bizarre fetish in the beginning, but is later realized to be a carnally perverse source of lust. This interesting fact of the main male character is a planned flaw meaning that the author did not just drop it in for her own entertainment…that it has a purpose and that purpose is to animalize Ihsan and show the inherently competitive nature and primal instincts (his animalistic traits) by which he operates. This, in and of itself, provides some insight into the authors overall ideas of men, but it is too early in the critical analysis to introduce those. The next issue to be dealt with in the first season is that of Ihsan’s possessive attitude towards Nadia and its application to his business dealings. It is apparent that he married her initially to possess her so his brother Jalal could not. What is more, Ihsan is always in support of Nadia beautifying herself and at times even presses her to buy new clothes and improve her image, as it can only help his business dealings if he has (in the possessive sense of the word) an attractive and socialite wife. It may appear that Nadia has a relatively free and easy life, but she is always in the shadow of her husband here in the first season and he makes sure she is aware of it, telling her how to dress (not allowing her to wear red because he hates it) and how and where and with whom she is to socialize. Ironically, at the end of the chapter Ihsan—the misogynistic husband and ruthless businessman—quotes Haith of the Prophet, "Seek discretion to achieve your goals," (Al-Atrash, 23).
In the beginning of the second season we flashback to Ihsan’s childhood where he sees himself in a number of situations that merely foreshadow his current condition. He is riding away form his mother on his horse and she calls after him, "How I fear you from yourself…" (Al-Atrash, 27). Another scene has Ihsan pretending to cry during a race with his brother, his brother stops to see what is that matter and Ihsan sprints ahead. It is scenes like these that only go to confirm Ihsan’s unscrupulous nature and his inherent desperation to prove himself and seek validation though material means: whether those means be winning a boyhood race with his brother, making a large sum of money in a business deal, or marrying the woman that his brother lusted for, Ihsan is not satisfied with his manhood (i.e., masculinity) unless he is placing another individual—more often than naught his brother or his wife—below him in a disempowered position. Also in this season Ihsan first uses the word love when considering his wife, however, he uses it in such a detached and business-like denotation that it is almost impossible to believe he is "loving" her in the truest sense of the word. As it is noted by one of his male counterparts, whether there is really love there or not, she does "at any rate…obey [him] absolutely," which at this point is becoming less and less true. An interesting memory of Nadia’s comes out in this chapter, one where she recalls her mother telling her to let the man find the purest fragrance within her, in other words, to obey her husbands command. This goes to show that Ihsan is not being illustrated as a misogynist with the fault being all his own, his cultural roots and early social surroundings are somewhat to blame. Towards the end of the season Ihsan’s complete marital dominance over Nadia begins to slip slightly. Where he once had the final word he is now apathetic: for example, she reassumes her studies. He mocks her desire to learn, this being a way to reassure himself that he is emotionally in control of the relationship as well as the fact that he mocks his brother, for whom he has great contempt (stemming from the fact that Nadia wants to be with Jalal instead of him and because he is a misguided individual). It is interesting to think of Ihsan as the dominant male character in this novel as his personal character is necessary to the role he plays, but why does Al-Atrash need a man such as Ihsan at all? It can be inferred from this second season as well as those that follow that Ihsan is a conglomeration of the worst traits of men in a culture that is emerging on the new Arab-European frontier of business exchange (i.e., a frontier in the metaphorical sense of the word).
The third season of the novel brings with it a revolution for the character of Nadia and an epiphany at the end of the chapter that will dictate the rest of the story, or more accurately she will dictate the rest of the events of the novel (in terms of her marriage and interaction with Ihsan). Ihsan has become more distant and is always out of the country on business and is slowly losing his grip over Nadia. After a series of minor struggles for power in the relationship we find a crucial battle for the upper-hand in the debate over Ihsan’s gift of gold to Nadia. She demands that he change the gold into land, but he argues that property can be rendered worthless, yet she insists. In the end Nadia demands both the land and the gold she already has and invariably wins a great victory for her and an irreconcilable loss for Ihsan and his idea of male dominance. It is here that Ihsan's weakness is exposed to his wife and he is forced to admit it to himself. What is most interesting about this lose of Ihsan’s power is that Al-Atrash does not allow him to develop a renewed conscience or seek redemption, but she instead forces him even further down as seen in the next two seasons.
The fourth and fifth seasons are basically just the completion of Ihsan’s downward spiral. At one point he meets a woman in Europe and follows her about until the two become involved in a highly sexual relationship. This is for Ihsan, as they say, ‘the final nail in the coffin’. He has allowed himself to be seduced and eventually blackmailed despite the fact that he avoided a similar plot against him earlier in the novel. The author shows no remorse for Ihsan and has him destroyed in every aspect of his life which he had formerly regarded as important. He falls out of grace with all the powerful businessmen of Barqais and is granted one final visit before being permanently exiled. It is in these last two seasons that Nadia continues her personal revolution and final detachment from Ihsan leaving her a completely independent woman in most complete sense of the word.
We will briefly touch on Jalal. The character of Jalal, the brother of Ihsan, is interesting in his role as a person Nadia initially loves and then is absolutely disgusted by. For the first half of the novel it is thought by Nadia that Jalal does indeed love her and that he wants to be with her for all the proper reasons of ‘love’, as she interprets it. However, when she and Jalal are finally left alone, after she has been married to Ihsan for years, the author makes Jalal’s character apparent as just that of another lustful man who has been holding a grudge against his brother all these years for taking the woman he wanted, but gave up for cultural restraints. It is an interesting comment that Al-Atrash makes when she turns Jalal against Nadia—that men in general are driven by their carnal desire and competitive nature only—but, is not surprising when the reader realizes what must happen for Nadia to become fully independent and aware of herself as a fully capable human being.
The male character’s in A Woman of Five Seasons are interesting to say the least; yet, they are all quite similar in their greed and their ignorance of the women which exist before and around them. The characters are well written and display, to a strong degree, the ideas that the author set out to display.
* * *
The third and final novel used to understand the portrayal of men by Arab women novelists is Liyana Badr’s, A Balcony over the Fakihani. This novel is actually three vignette’s grouped together all dealing with the story’s of different Palestinian people’s and families involved in various historical conflict’s in Lebanon, with an emphasis on the city of Beirut. The male character’s in this novel are vastly different from those of the prior two novel’s examined, but the fact that they are still being illustrated by and Arab woman leaves them as no less vital to the topic of discussion than those men in the other novels. Badr assumes a style all her own in the writing of her male characters and to illustrate this style two characters will be focused on specifically: Umar, from the second vignette and Abu Husain al-Shuwaiki, from the third. What is especially unique to Badr’s writing of these two men is that she allows an inter chapter for one and an entire vignette for the other, in which each is fully conscious and is the first-person voice.
First let us examine the character of Umar, from the second vignette of the novel, which also holds the title of the book, A Balcony over the Fakihani. In the first of the three sections in his inter chapter Umar is a kind and loving husband and father in the most universal interpretation of the idea of the ‘good father’. He treats his wife as his equal and does not oppress her in any manner that is apparent to the reader. He is also respectful of her wishes as he shows by not smoking around their child when she requests that he does just that. In the second section of his chapter he does come very close to becoming romantically involved (and may very well have bee, but we do not know for sure as there is too little information) with a foreign nurse when he is being treated for a mysterious illness somewhere in Europe. Despite his growing love of the woman, Umar acknowledges his marriage vows and his original love for his wife and forgoes personal torment to stay with his wife and abandon all chance of being with the nurse, Louisa. It is this personal sacrifice that typifies Umar’s character and gives the reader insight into the thoughts of the author and her possible motives for writing her men as she does. Why is it that the men in this Arab nation are not oppressing the women when they have ample opportunity to do so? It is possible that in the war torn land that the basic nature of the human being has taken over and is dictating the social interactions of the sexes, and cultural constraints are broken down. Umar in his third section is tormented by thoughts of Louisa, but as he is a strong and moral man and because he feels that he cannot leave his family alone in this land of death, destruction, and hatred. In the end Umar epitomizes the strength of the human will and for his gender, the strength that men can possess, in his overriding his desires.
The second male illustrated by Badr is another man living in Lebanon’s war torn capital of Beirut. In the third vignette entitled The Canary Sea, the character Abu Husain is another complete, but separate portrayal of the authors idea’s of the male in war torn society. In the first half of Abu Husain’s narration he speaks in an almost completely objective manner as he relates memories from his childhood up though the early years of the civil war and his actions as a Palestinian adult man. Badr must intend this man to be ‘just another face in the crowd’ as everything that the character tells the reader about himself can be read as not being unique to him as a character, but as a conglomeration of experiences that could have happened to any man of those circumstances In the second half of Abu Husain’s tale he does become slightly more personal, yet he still describes his experiences in a manner that seem far removed, almost as though he were looking back on the experience of war from far in the future, but able to recall the slightest detail. The simple plot line in this second half of this characters storytelling is interesting as it is juxtaposed with the graphic detail in which he depicts his experience of being shot and blown-up. What is even more interesting is that Badr does not give her character any definite signs of masculinity aside from the fact the he is a militiaman in a time period when the militia’s consisted of a male majority. He is a universal man in a universally plausible situation. The only real emotion that the author allows Abu Husain is when he is on his way to exile and he states, "Now I understand the secret of my tears," (Badr, 125) and even this line, for all its overtone of mysteriousness, is said in a passive and lost voice.
The male characters portrayed by the authors in these three novels are interesting and applicative in their respective contexts, but when compared to one another are vastly different and reach to the far ends of the spectrum when considering masculinity and the male condition in the novels of these Arab women.

Bibliography and Works Cited:
Al-Atrash, Leila. A Woman of Five Seasons. Brooklyn, New York: Interlink Books, 2002.
Ahmed. Leila. Women and Gender in Islam. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1992.
Badr, Liyana. A Balcony over the Fakihani. Brooklyn, New York: Interlink Books, 1993.
Faqir, Fadia. Pillars of Salt. Brooklyn, New York: Interlink Books, 1997.
Fernea, Elizabeth Warnock. In Search of Islamic Feminism. New York, New York: Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc.

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: : Gender Roles and Ideas Of: : Portrayal of Men and the Male Sex in Arab Women’s Novels : by William D. Leavitt : Hampshire College : Arab Women Novelists : Mount Holyoke College : October 29, 2002 : The Male Character in Arab Women’s Novels: : Often in literature author’s, particularly men, are criticized for falsely or inaccurately portraying or "writing" women. This debate has been historically confined to male authors, but is on occasion reversed and female authors are criticized for inaccurately writing men. Although it may sound like a fair trade—or at least the beginnings of one in the world of critics—these situations are limited to primarily European and predominately North American literature. Examining the portrayal of men and the male sex as a whole, by women, is an important if not essential undertaking in this modern world, but where is comes to a point of being absolutely crucial is when it is the women authors of a world where they are second class citizens only because of their gender. If the writing of men in Arab women’s novels can be understood at even the most basic level it may allow some insight into what these women think and assume consciously and subconsciously, about themselves and their position in society and about the inherent oppression that they deal with and resign themselves to—no matter how weak or extreme the degree of the oppression, ranging from Egypt to Saudi Arabia. : The purpose of this discourse is to first, examine and delineate the manner in which Arab women novelists portray or ‘write’ men; and second, to discuss the most relevant reasons why the women write them as they do. This will be accomplished by focusing mainly on three novels written by women from Jordan and Palestine with settings form Beirut to London. : * * * : The first of these three novels is Fadia Faqir’s, Pillars of Salt. This story is set in Jordan before and during the British occupation and Mandate. The book itself is broken into a number of chapters, each shifting between the voices of "The Storyteller", Maha, and Um Saad, and Faqir’s third-person. For purposes of ease in this discourse these short chapters will be grouped into eight natural sections, as each five or six chapters between Maha and Um Saad is set off by an interlude from The Storyteller, who himself appears nine times altogether. In this book there is a large spectrum men that Faqir writes, but in terms of relevance to the topic above we will focus on the following characters to illustrate how Faqir portrays the male sex: The Storyteller, who could be argued as not being a man, but with very little success, as it is undoubtedly Faqir’s intention to have the story’s told by The Storyteller to be from a male perspective. Also, the father and husband of Um Saad, although they are not main characters in the novel, are useful in illustrating the overall ideas that will be presented later. On Maha’s side of the story we will touch on Daffash, her brother, Maha’s father Sheik Nimer, and Harb, her once and always husband. Although there are these many different men in this novel that do well to illustrate different aspects of Faqir’s writing of the male sex, the most relevant is the character of The Storyteller, not only due to the intrigue he—and invariable Faqir—introduces in this novel, but because he provides such a universal prospective of what and how these tales may have been represented in Arab folklore. We will briefly touch on the other male characters mentioned before moving into The Storyteller alone. : Harb, Maha’s husband, who eventually dies, is the least oppressive of all the men in the novel, when dealing with women. He is, in fact, a more loving and kind person to Maha and her female friends than even other women themselves. Maha loves Harb very deeply, almost to a point of codependence, as every time she hears mentions of him she seems to be in a state of hypnosis. This is paramount in understanding the character of Harb, as about half the story is told by Maha and her internal monologue. The only other male character that stirs her heart is her father, but not in nearly as deep a manner as even the thought of Harb. : The only other man/male character that Maha shows or feels any love for is her farther, Sheik Nimer (she does love her son Mubarak very much, but as he is only a child he has no cultural bearing or direct influence over Maha in terms of the patriarchal society she lives in and the fact that he is only in the latter half of the story, so he is being set aside here). Her father is basically a good man and a tender loving father, however, he is still aware of his position as the dominant male (mostly in the earlier chapters) in Maha’s life and in his household in general, and in certain circumstances he is not on her side; Faqir reveals what a good father—in this Jordanian culture—is, as viewed by the "culture" in general (that is to say, the status quo). The character of Daffash, Maha’s brother, is a sobering one indeed. He is a serial rapist and a thief, yet, he is never jailed for either of these terrible series of deeds, in fact he is never more than verbally reprimanded by his father. He is a spineless traitor to his people and continually sells them and himself out to the encroaching and eventually occupying British army and businessmen. Not only is he the main antagonist against Maha, he is the embodiment of everything abominable that can occur in a man when he abuses the power he is given in a male dominated society. : Now to briefly touch on the character of Um Saad and the men in her life: her father, being the lesser of the two oppressive males she lives with throughout most of her life, is opposite Maha’s in more ways than one. He is ignorant of her needs as a developing child and typifies what a father who abuses his dominance over his children and his family (in a patriarchal society) can and will do. When Um Saad does eventually marry she is taken by a poor but shrewd butcher. Despite their marriage she never describes the relationship as one of a loving husband and wife. She is nothing more than his slave, and perhaps this is part of the culture of the lower classes of the time, but the absolute indignation with which he treats his wife is disgusting. The home life as dictated by the husband in this society, and in this case especially, is one of nothing more than coexistence with the continual belittlement of Um Saad for what is probably the reaffirmation of his (her husbands) position of power—however, this is not supposed to be a sociological analysis entirely, so let us leave it at that. : The male character from this novel that will be examined in some depth and perhaps the most interesting of all Faqir’s character’s and voices is that of the misogynistic Storyteller. Simply the fact that these inter and intra chapters exist is a choice that Faqir makes quite deliberately, but the voice and manner through which the Storyteller relays his tale is not only frustrating for any person of Western education, but anyone of a just nature. The demonization of the character of Maha is the first impression given of her by the Storytellers account and without the rest of the novel to prove that she is in fact an oppressed but strong and right-minded human being, the reader would be left thinking she is an awful witch and evil force through which the lives of these various men were corrupted. (1) The first mention this Storyteller makes of a female—in his first of nine appearances—namely Maha, is quite powerful: "…made out of our father Adam’s crooked rib, was cast out of heaven…I say that Maha was a shrew who used to chew the shredded flesh of mortals from sun birth to sun death… [she] was born when the first female child was buried alive by the tribe of Bani-Quraish…" (Faqir, 2-3). Not only is Maha described as a witch, but her mother is said to be of some gypsy blood and has bewitched Sheik Nimer (Maha’s father) and forced him to marry her. Despite these characterizations, The Storyteller launches into his tale of Maha and Um Saad and all the men in their respective lives. This first section does not yet allow the reader to understand the misogynistic ideas of this character until he/she has read the following section and sees Maha and her mother in their actual situation. : (2) In his second appearance The Storyteller accuses Maliha, Maha’s mother, of teaching Maha black magic and creating a terrible demon in her daughter. What is most interesting in this section is the portrayal of men by The Storyteller, who is himself being portrayed by the author. He paints the men as innocent and trebling and humble creatures subject to the horrible whims of the women in the world. The men in this society are the victims (in The Storyteller perspective) of abominable treatment and subjugation instigated by these women in their lives. It is this portrayal of men not just by Faqir (which is probably meant to be a source of constant irony in this novel) and The Storyteller, but by this facet of Arab culture in general that allows, at least in part, the men to suppress and coerce the women, for the men are afraid of their own positions in the world and will do anything—subscribe to any system—to keep them safe. An interpretation such as this is essential if these sexual boundaries are to be broken, but that is a broad goal, and for the moment we must judge this novel not on these basis’ alone. : (3) Again in section three of The Storyteller’s story Maha is a devilish creature and seduces Harb for her own sadistic and disgusting desires. What is interesting is that Harb is shown here by The Storyteller as merely a weak and impressionable man whereas when described by Maha or even Faqir herself, he is a heroic and not only physically, but mentally and emotionally forthright individual. Here it is almost necessary to think of The Storyteller as independent of Faqir as a whole, but the reader can not consciously forget that he is a creation of Faqir’s, a difficult duality, but essential nonetheless. : (4) When we next hear from The Storyteller he speaks of "…the most shameful part of out story. The part that shook Allah in His throne…" (Faqir, 85). The most chiding part of the irony in this section is that the women (particularly Maha) are played off as those responsible, or at the very least, the uncaring ones and the ones who take advantage of the death of Harb when what plays out in the perceived reality of Maha and those around her is that she is completely devastated when Harb dies and only love’s him more. It is Daffash, according to The Storyteller, that is led off by some evil seductress of the west. Daffash is an innocent Arab man only trying to make honest business with the foreign investors and is instead being taken advantage of. This is interesting as it clashes strongly with Faqir’s direct voice earlier in showing us Daffash as a rapist and sexual and social deviant. : (5) In this, the fifth section of The Storyteller the grief and torment Maha experiences are bastardized and illuminated in a graphic and sickening manner. The Storyteller leaves us with Maha as a possessed animal, disrespecting the body of her dead husband and cursing Allah for taking away her subject of torture. It is this eye within an eye framing that makes this Storyteller so vital and interesting in Faqir’s novel. Why is it that she needs this man to twist her tale around so viciously when she is trying to write an inherently feminine perspective? Is it that this is how Faqir presumes men perceive women? It is indeed all a question of perception, but not one that can be answered immediately or even directly by any academic analyses’; instead it needs to be a choice of the reader. This is one of the many reasons Faqir’s novel is so provocative when it is taken as more than just a superficial story about oppressed women. : (6) The grotesque imagery in this sixth appearance of The Storyteller concurrent and peripheral story is almost unbearable in its perversion of reality when the rest of the novel is considered, but we must look at it as subjectively as possible and find the aspects that are relevant to the portrayal of the male sex by Faqir. Here is the first time where a male individual in The Storyteller’s eyes is actually capable of evil deeds. Maha’s son Mubarak spits on people and looks on in greed, however, this boy is not independently capable of this evil, it is his birth that leaves him as such and is therefore Maha’s fault. This section also provides us with some insight into Faqir’s general sense of the male sex. As The Storyteller is Faqir’s source of eternal irony in this novel and it may be assumed that she does not agree that the individual’s moral distinction is based on his/her birth (in more modern terms the child’s genes), but is instead a result of the environment in which the child is raised. : (7) In his next telling, The Storyteller goes off on what can only be noted lightly as a tangent, but more accurately described as a nightmare, meaning no reality to it at all—only gross interpretive license taken. Again Maha is a fiend of some sort, this time she has ensnared the pasha and is vampirizing him and his resources. Here irony is again Faqir’s strongest tool in illustrating her various points and also her ability to have the reader react immediately and find that the male character she is illustrating is absolutely shameless and has not reservations what-so-ever in victimizing the female sex in his (The Storytellers) tale and using Maha as the sustained scapegoat for all of the valley’s (in which this story of Maha is set) troubles. Also the appearance of Daffash is a continuance of the contradiction of his character as told by the author and that of him as a meek and humble man as told by The Storyteller. : (8) In the second to last appearance of The Storyteller Maha is still a mystically evil spider-bee-shadow of some kind or another and eludes the brave attempts of Daffash to free the imprisoned and physically demolished pasha. Nothing in this section varies from the earlier spinnings of The Storyteller except that he begins with a different invocation to Allah. This act of invoking the gods (in this case the Muslim God, Allah) is and has been on of validation (historically speaking). From even Pagan times to those of the Ancient Greeks and even modern day storytellers, the invocation of higher power as an affirmation of their being right and having the true story, has been practiced. This, for the women in this novel, may not be a positive practice at all. As Faqir suggests, by her having The Storyteller begin each of his sections with an invocation, is that the men of her culture have historically and are presently using religion as a means of further oppression and validation of their oppression of the women. : (9) The final appearance of The Storyteller and, as it happens, the end of the novel sweeps out to reveal to the reader a desolate land that has been ravaged by a vengeful and angry god who is punishing the land for its sins—the sins the Maha has committed (according to The Storyteller). Maha has of course escaped and is living in great luxury and wealth that no mortal or humble human may fathom. And so ends the tale of The Storyteller, just another humble man in a world of dangerous elements and sins all brought to him by women such as the vicious Maha. It is most poignant that Faqir decides to end her novel as she does with the misogynistic Storyteller having the last word; however, it is perhaps appropriate that it ends as such, as the actual situation of Faqir is one where the man invariably has the last word. : This intriguing and often perverse telling of the lives of two women and the men in their lives, but most importantly the voice of a male Storyteller are what allow Faqir to create such a strong and often grossly realistic image of the male sex in her culture. : * * * : The second of the three novels we will examine is Leila Al-Atrash’s, A Woman of Five Seasons. This story takes place primarily in the city of Barqais (not an actual city, but suggestive of the country Kuwait), but also takes place in Damascus and various European city’s. The voice of narration in this novel is constantly changing from that of the main female character Nadia to her internal monologue to her husband’s voice to his internal monologue to the overall third-person narrator and occasionally to the voice of another party. What is so unique about this style of writing is that it allows the reader to have direct access to the thoughts of the main male character in the novel, Ihsan. Al-Atrash breaks her novel into five chapters and so we will examine the portrayal of the main male character Ihsan through the five chapters or Seasons, as well as a brief look at his brother Jalal (who plays an important role in his relationship between Ihsan and Nadia). Although there are many other male characters in this novel none are as important or as clearly written as Ihsan nor do they exhibit the evolution (or more accurately degradation) of character that Ihsan does. Also, from the character of Ihsan it can be clearly inferred that Al-Atrash’s portrayal of the male sex is concerned primarily with the weaknesses of the gender as a whole. : In the first season the reader sees that the character of Ihsan is one of a stalwart attitude and domineering nature—not only toward women, but in all his undertakings. In an early scene of the chapter we find Ihsan trying to wake his wife Nadia, however, instead of doing it in a gentle or comforting manner, he pushes all over her body and is trying to force himself upon her. This assertion of his masculinity—and due to the society they live in, his assumed dominance—is not out of the ordinary, as can be asserted by the tone throughout the scene, as written by Al-Atrash, and is just a part of life that Nadia is going to have to live with for the time being (there is the encroaching Western influence all throughout the novel that plays in at certain times). Also introduced in this early scene is Ihsan’s strange interest in hair that seems nothing more than a bizarre fetish in the beginning, but is later realized to be a carnally perverse source of lust. This interesting fact of the main male character is a planned flaw meaning that the author did not just drop it in for her own entertainment…that it has a purpose and that purpose is to animalize Ihsan and show the inherently competitive nature and primal instincts (his animalistic traits) by which he operates. This, in and of itself, provides some insight into the authors overall ideas of men, but it is too early in the critical analysis to introduce those. The next issue to be dealt with in the first season is that of Ihsan’s possessive attitude towards Nadia and its application to his business dealings. It is apparent that he married her initially to possess her so his brother Jalal could not. What is more, Ihsan is always in support of Nadia beautifying herself and at times even presses her to buy new clothes and improve her image, as it can only help his business dealings if he has (in the possessive sense of the word) an attractive and socialite wife. It may appear that Nadia has a relatively free and easy life, but she is always in the shadow of her husband here in the first season and he makes sure she is aware of it, telling her how to dress (not allowing her to wear red because he hates it) and how and where and with whom she is to socialize. Ironically, at the end of the chapter Ihsan—the misogynistic husband and ruthless businessman—quotes Haith of the Prophet, "Seek discretion to achieve your goals," (Al-Atrash, 23). : In the beginning of the second season we flashback to Ihsan’s childhood where he sees himself in a number of situations that merely foreshadow his current condition. He is riding away form his mother on his horse and she calls after him, "How I fear you from yourself…" (Al-Atrash, 27). Another scene has Ihsan pretending to cry during a race with his brother, his brother stops to see what is that matter and Ihsan sprints ahead. It is scenes like these that only go to confirm Ihsan’s unscrupulous nature and his inherent desperation to prove himself and seek validation though material means: whether those means be winning a boyhood race with his brother, making a large sum of money in a business deal, or marrying the woman that his brother lusted for, Ihsan is not satisfied with his manhood (i.e., masculinity) unless he is placing another individual—more often than naught his brother or his wife—below him in a disempowered position. Also in this season Ihsan first uses the word love when considering his wife, however, he uses it in such a detached and business-like denotation that it is almost impossible to believe he is "loving" her in the truest sense of the word. As it is noted by one of his male counterparts, whether there is really love there or not, she does "at any rate…obey [him] absolutely," which at this point is becoming less and less true. An interesting memory of Nadia’s comes out in this chapter, one where she recalls her mother telling her to let the man find the purest fragrance within her, in other words, to obey her husbands command. This goes to show that Ihsan is not being illustrated as a misogynist with the fault being all his own, his cultural roots and early social surroundings are somewhat to blame. Towards the end of the season Ihsan’s complete marital dominance over Nadia begins to slip slightly. Where he once had the final word he is now apathetic: for example, she reassumes her studies. He mocks her desire to learn, this being a way to reassure himself that he is emotionally in control of the relationship as well as the fact that he mocks his brother, for whom he has great contempt (stemming from the fact that Nadia wants to be with Jalal instead of him and because he is a misguided individual). It is interesting to think of Ihsan as the dominant male character in this novel as his personal character is necessary to the role he plays, but why does Al-Atrash need a man such as Ihsan at all? It can be inferred from this second season as well as those that follow that Ihsan is a conglomeration of the worst traits of men in a culture that is emerging on the new Arab-European frontier of business exchange (i.e., a frontier in the metaphorical sense of the word). : The third season of the novel brings with it a revolution for the character of Nadia and an epiphany at the end of the chapter that will dictate the rest of the story, or more accurately she will dictate the rest of the events of the novel (in terms of her marriage and interaction with Ihsan). Ihsan has become more distant and is always out of the country on business and is slowly losing his grip over Nadia. After a series of minor struggles for power in the relationship we find a crucial battle for the upper-hand in the debate over Ihsan’s gift of gold to Nadia. She demands that he change the gold into land, but he argues that property can be rendered worthless, yet she insists. In the end Nadia demands both the land and the gold she already has and invariably wins a great victory for her and an irreconcilable loss for Ihsan and his idea of male dominance. It is here that Ihsan's weakness is exposed to his wife and he is forced to admit it to himself. What is most interesting about this lose of Ihsan’s power is that Al-Atrash does not allow him to develop a renewed conscience or seek redemption, but she instead forces him even further down as seen in the next two seasons. : The fourth and fifth seasons are basically just the completion of Ihsan’s downward spiral. At one point he meets a woman in Europe and follows her about until the two become involved in a highly sexual relationship. This is for Ihsan, as they say, ‘the final nail in the coffin’. He has allowed himself to be seduced and eventually blackmailed despite the fact that he avoided a similar plot against him earlier in the novel. The author shows no remorse for Ihsan and has him destroyed in every aspect of his life which he had formerly regarded as important. He falls out of grace with all the powerful businessmen of Barqais and is granted one final visit before being permanently exiled. It is in these last two seasons that Nadia continues her personal revolution and final detachment from Ihsan leaving her a completely independent woman in most complete sense of the word. : We will briefly touch on Jalal. The character of Jalal, the brother of Ihsan, is interesting in his role as a person Nadia initially loves and then is absolutely disgusted by. For the first half of the novel it is thought by Nadia that Jalal does indeed love her and that he wants to be with her for all the proper reasons of ‘love’, as she interprets it. However, when she and Jalal are finally left alone, after she has been married to Ihsan for years, the author makes Jalal’s character apparent as just that of another lustful man who has been holding a grudge against his brother all these years for taking the woman he wanted, but gave up for cultural restraints. It is an interesting comment that Al-Atrash makes when she turns Jalal against Nadia—that men in general are driven by their carnal desire and competitive nature only—but, is not surprising when the reader realizes what must happen for Nadia to become fully independent and aware of herself as a fully capable human being. : The male character’s in A Woman of Five Seasons are interesting to say the least; yet, they are all quite similar in their greed and their ignorance of the women which exist before and around them. The characters are well written and display, to a strong degree, the ideas that the author set out to display. : * * * : The third and final novel used to understand the portrayal of men by Arab women novelists is Liyana Badr’s, A Balcony over the Fakihani. This novel is actually three vignette’s grouped together all dealing with the story’s of different Palestinian people’s and families involved in various historical conflict’s in Lebanon, with an emphasis on the city of Beirut. The male character’s in this novel are vastly different from those of the prior two novel’s examined, but the fact that they are still being illustrated by and Arab woman leaves them as no less vital to the topic of discussion than those men in the other novels. Badr assumes a style all her own in the writing of her male characters and to illustrate this style two characters will be focused on specifically: Umar, from the second vignette and Abu Husain al-Shuwaiki, from the third. What is especially unique to Badr’s writing of these two men is that she allows an inter chapter for one and an entire vignette for the other, in which each is fully conscious and is the first-person voice. : First let us examine the character of Umar, from the second vignette of the novel, which also holds the title of the book, A Balcony over the Fakihani. In the first of the three sections in his inter chapter Umar is a kind and loving husband and father in the most universal interpretation of the idea of the ‘good father’. He treats his wife as his equal and does not oppress her in any manner that is apparent to the reader. He is also respectful of her wishes as he shows by not smoking around their child when she requests that he does just that. In the second section of his chapter he does come very close to becoming romantically involved (and may very well have bee, but we do not know for sure as there is too little information) with a foreign nurse when he is being treated for a mysterious illness somewhere in Europe. Despite his growing love of the woman, Umar acknowledges his marriage vows and his original love for his wife and forgoes personal torment to stay with his wife and abandon all chance of being with the nurse, Louisa. It is this personal sacrifice that typifies Umar’s character and gives the reader insight into the thoughts of the author and her possible motives for writing her men as she does. Why is it that the men in this Arab nation are not oppressing the women when they have ample opportunity to do so? It is possible that in the war torn land that the basic nature of the human being has taken over and is dictating the social interactions of the sexes, and cultural constraints are broken down. Umar in his third section is tormented by thoughts of Louisa, but as he is a strong and moral man and because he feels that he cannot leave his family alone in this land of death, destruction, and hatred. In the end Umar epitomizes the strength of the human will and for his gender, the strength that men can possess, in his overriding his desires. : The second male illustrated by Badr is another man living in Lebanon’s war torn capital of Beirut. In the third vignette entitled The Canary Sea, the character Abu Husain is another complete, but separate portrayal of the authors idea’s of the male in war torn society. In the first half of Abu Husain’s narration he speaks in an almost completely objective manner as he relates memories from his childhood up though the early years of the civil war and his actions as a Palestinian adult man. Badr must intend this man to be ‘just another face in the crowd’ as everything that the character tells the reader about himself can be read as not being unique to him as a character, but as a conglomeration of experiences that could have happened to any man of those circumstances In the second half of Abu Husain’s tale he does become slightly more personal, yet he still describes his experiences in a manner that seem far removed, almost as though he were looking back on the experience of war from far in the future, but able to recall the slightest detail. The simple plot line in this second half of this characters storytelling is interesting as it is juxtaposed with the graphic detail in which he depicts his experience of being shot and blown-up. What is even more interesting is that Badr does not give her character any definite signs of masculinity aside from the fact the he is a militiaman in a time period when the militia’s consisted of a male majority. He is a universal man in a universally plausible situation. The only real emotion that the author allows Abu Husain is when he is on his way to exile and he states, "Now I understand the secret of my tears," (Badr, 125) and even this line, for all its overtone of mysteriousness, is said in a passive and lost voice. : The male characters portrayed by the authors in these three novels are interesting and applicative in their respective contexts, but when compared to one another are vastly different and reach to the far ends of the spectrum when considering masculinity and the male condition in the novels of these Arab women. : Bibliography and Works Cited: : Al-Atrash, Leila. A Woman of Five Seasons. Brooklyn, New York: Interlink Books, 2002. : Ahmed. Leila. Women and Gender in Islam. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1992. : Badr, Liyana. A Balcony over the Fakihani. Brooklyn, New York: Interlink Books, 1993. : Faqir, Fadia. Pillars of Salt. Brooklyn, New York: Interlink Books, 1997. : Fernea, Elizabeth Warnock. In Search of Islamic Feminism. New York, New York: Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc.

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