Rabih Alameddine: The Hakawati

All families tell their histories in stories that circulate from one generation to the next. We gather together at events, such as births, marriages, deaths and reaffirm ourselves as a family by telling the family stories: "this is how I met your mother," "this is how you got your name," "this is how we survived the war," "this is what happened when your grandfather went on the journey of his life." And even though we may hear those stories over and over in our lives (and many of us have favorite relatives who tell them) we never get tired of recalling these tales. They ground us in a shared history and celebrate our unique identity as a family.

I have just finished reading Lebanese author Rabih Alameddine's brilliant and sumptuous novel, The Hakawati (roughly translated as "story teller") and am simply in awe of its genius and scope. Like all great epics (and at over 500 pages, this is a huge epic tale) it hangs on the arc of a simple narrative: Osama al-Kharrat is returning home to Beirut after years of living in America to attend his dying father. The immediate and extended family have gathered together to console Farid al-Kharrat in the hospital (including a funny and poignant scene when the matriarch aunt insists on holding the final feast of Ramadan with the entire family inside Farid's intensive care room). It is an emotionally complicated and wrenching time and the family stories begin to tumble out. Now, something of an outsider due to living in the United States, Osama serves as a compassionate narrator compiling the family tales of four generations.

And oh what stories they are, packed with all the ingredients a robust and determined family deserves. There are the secret histories, of children born from illicit affairs, the love at first site of star-crossed lovers who persevere, the rags to riches tales, the sacrifices, humiliations, and triumphs of a family mythically born to endure. There is as much humor as there is tragedy, as much strength in the men and women as there are weaknesses. Their stories also read as a political and social description of a troubled geographical area -- where nation-state histories have torn apart communities, threatening families and friendships. Within the mingled generations of Osama's family are the turbulent histories of Druze, Maronites, Kurds, Armenians, Turks, and Jews.

But wait, there's more. Alameddine layers the already powerful story of a Lebanese family with mythic and epic tales from the Arabian Nights, the Old Testament, the Koran, Homer, Shakespeare, and many other epic traditions of the region. The story of a family expands to include an elaborate cultural tapestry of the middle east as well. Here is the tale of Baybars, the first Slave King of the Mamlukes, of Fatima, the courageous slave girl who survives a terrifying encounter with Afreet-Jehanam, Demon of the Underworld, and becomes his paramour, and of Othman, a thief married to Layla, formerly a "luscious dove" prostitute, whose marriage of wit, cunning, and intelligence propels them from the streets to the ranks of royalty. Ancient tales of wise peasants and foolish kings, faithful love and cruel betrayals are blended seamlessly with the tales of Osama's family.

Alameddine's writing exceeds the demands of delivering such an extravagant masterpiece of family and fable. It is rich and sensual, sharply comic and satiric, and deeply moving. I lost a few days, completely engrossed in a story that moved with the daring speed of a magic carpet. The novel opens with a one word request: "Listen," and it is repeated over and over as characters, both modern and ancient insist on sharing their stories. And listen we must, enchanted and captivated by a most extraordinary story teller.