Reviewed by Sarah Holswade

 "Praise be to God, Who has so disposed matters that pleasant literary anecdotes may serve as an instrument for the polishing of wits and the cleansing of rust from our hearts"—Ahmad al-Tifashi, The Delights of Hearts

As his father lies dying in a Beirut hospital in 2003, Osama al-Kharrat leaves his life as a Los Angeles software programmer to be by his side. Surrounded by family, Osama reflects on his past: both that which he recalls from childhood, and that which was passed on to him by his grandfather, a great hakawati.

The Hakawati paper edition: your purchase in part benefits Levantine Cultural CenterThe Hakawati: hardback editionWhen this novel appeared last year, New York Times reviewer Lorraine Adams enthused: "If any work of fiction might be powerful enough to transcend the mountain of polemic, historical inquiry, policy analysis and reportage that stands between the Western reader and the Arab soul, it's this wonder of a book—a book not about a jihadi but a hakawati (Arabic for storyteller)."

In The Hakawati (2008), Rabih Alameddine—a painter and author of the previous novels Koolaids, and I, the Divine subtly addresses the themes of death, love, and grief through the art of the story. He embraces the traditional fable format, and yet invites readers into a world where traditional "tales" such as that of Isaac and Ishmael are reworked and given new significance in the light of modern day events. History is meant to be examined from many angles, he tells us through his finely woven stories; not only is there no one singular version of events, but moreover, "what happens is of little significance compared with the stories we tell ourselves about what happens."

Rabih Alameddine: novelist, painterAs the father struggles for breath and grows weaker, the family's history, in all of its calamitous glory, unfolds in bits and pieces like brightly colored tissue paper-a thousand stories of love and loss and rebirth. And as with any family drama, secrets are exposed, fortunes are won and lost, and a number of memorable characters parade onto the scene. From the gay uncle at odds with his culture to the seductress neighbor with an obsession for emeralds, the characters in the al-Kharrat family drama instantly enter the reader's heart. While Osama ponders his relation to his country and to his family in a world that seems beyond his control, these events come together to form the backdrop over which politics and history are played out.

At the same time that the al-Kharrat family uses stories to sustain themselves through difficult times, Alameddine immerses the reader in other narratives, whipping through time and space to tell the tale of Fatima the slave, who goes in search of her destiny and ends up taming hell and bedding a jinni; and that of Baybars, the warrior prince of ancient Egypt. Along the way, many other personalities and events are woven in, creating a sparkling, if occasionally overwhelming, whirlwind of action and ideas. These tales become more and more intertwined with the narrative of the al-Kharrats as Osama remembers the storytelling tradition of his family, and the reader is left on the edge of his seat as the book skips back and forth between heroes, always just as they and their friends loom on the brink of some new challenge or difficulty.

After adjusting to the non-linear narrative and the cacophony of new story lines, which I did come to enjoy after I got my bearings (which took about 100 pages), the only aspect of this novel that I felt was lacking was the development of the main character himself. Osama remains enigmatic, and while he relates the stories of so many fabulous individuals from his past and present, he himself is without substance. The author hints that the book isn't supposed to be about the hero, and that, in fact, "the story of the king is the story of the people." Still, it is hard to relate to Osama's personal transformation when he remains emotionally void.

In the stories, Jews, Christians, Muslims, Druze, Arabs, Lebanese, Egyptians, Persians, Saudis, Armenians, Kurds, all play a part, and all are, ultimately, family.

At the same time, what is eloquently emphasized in this narrative is that people, regardless of their beliefs or political views, need to listen to each other and respect each other's perspectives. In the stories, Jews, Christians, Muslims, Druze, Arabs, Lebanese, Egyptians, Persians, Saudis, Armenians, Kurds, all play a part, and all are, ultimately, family. Prejudices are quickly disposed of when one looks below the surface and finds the human connections beyond the stereotypes. Through the myriad of stories, Alameddine allows us to laugh at our human weaknesses and take pride in our strengths as he weaves together a tale of love and tolerance. And his message is of great significance, especially given the enduring political tensions in Lebanon and the ongoing violence between Israelis and Palestinians. This book is beautifully written and sure to inspire.

"By nature," writes Alameddine in his acknowledgements, "a storyteller is a plagiarist. Everything one comes across—each incident, book, novel, life episode, story, person, news clip—is a coffee bean that will be crushed, ground up, mixed with a touch of cardamom, sometimes a tiny pinch of salt, boiled thrice with sugar, and served as a piping hot tale." The Hakawati is just such a concoction: a heart-warming brew that blends ancient Middle Eastern tales with the rich history of one contemporary Lebanese family, transporting readers to a realm where imagination rules triumphant and nothing is ever as predictable as it first appears. With a cast of characters that includes sultans, slaves, beauty queens, jinn, and car dealers, and encompassing events from the conquering of ancient Egypt to the 1967 Israel-Arab war, this book is a testament to the art of the story and the strength of the human heart.

Sarah Holswade is a writer in Los Angeles who is currently working on her M.A. in Social Anthropology. She serves as Levantine Cultural Center's public relations and community coordinator.