Op Ed NY Times by Garfield on positive reviews

From Jalglish aka ex- Expat Nov. 30 2013

[attempted contribution to discussion of op ed by Garfield Nov. 29, on the merits of the "positive" review... alas I was too late, goddammit!]

As a lifelong part-time professional book reviewer and editor, I could bore you with volumes on the topic, but I’ll say this (hopefully briefly).

This topic is actually about censorship but no one has mentioned that ugly word... so I'll break the ice.

Ordering some kind of outcome for book reviews is equivalent to censorship and should always, by any self-respecting reviewer, be refused. Similarly, authors should never pick their reviewer. It may seem reasonable at first to reject the negative review on the basis of the statistical likelihood of “many good books” out there going unreviewed, but in fact reviewers aren’t statisticians and can only judge one book at a time. Suppose I read one poor book -- whose full failure isn’t apparent until the last chapter -- and at the end have to throw it on the pile of discards. What a lot of wasted effort added to the already gruesome amount of work involved in reviewing well and conscientiously! It’s a dishonest and exploitative editorial policy (and really makes me glad to I don’t use “Good Reads” or “Buzzfeed”).

At the same time, as a writer who wants to get published, my fate is tied to the title I review. Deep in the heart of the most conscientious reviewer – such as that of the character in ‘The Figure in the Carpet”—is an invisible conflict of interest between the critic’s desire for attention and his intellectual honesty. To resolve this, (if I can pick my book) I’ve always leaned toward authors I genuinely admire, but if assigned a title I must have total autonomy.

If these conditions aren’t met, you are either living in a tyrannical principality or similar country that – while professing a liberal press – actually doesn’t understand it in the least, especially the “critical” part. Alas the situation is all too common!

I usually sent back to contributors reviews that were shallow or too positive, with the comment, “Where’s the criticism?”

Post UAE life in USA

Oct 19 2013

Link to article/Ed Op in on coming collapse of Gulf monarchies in today's NYT that may be censored in the UAE...

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/10/20/opinion/sunday/down-with-the-king.html?pagewanted=2&hp

Saga of departure, Clearance etc from UAEU, UAE

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I write this out of a sense of gratitude to a whole flock of UGRU people who sent me advice on various visa problems that cropped up with my Philipino wife whom I needed to bring here for a visit so we could fly on together with our children to Turkey and the USA. So this deals with that problem plus my final clearance process from the university. I’ll leave out the packing and moving!

The first problem in our knot of dilemmas was my wife’s one-month tourist visa; many campus experts said I wouldn’t be able to sponsor her since my residence visa was close to expiry itself. In fact I was able to without problems, at Al Jimi immigration, a bureaucratic victory I described at the time. They issued me the visa, I sent it to my wife, and she used it to get into the country legally. (Later we’d pay a heavy price for getting the one-month rather than the slightly more expensive two month).

My wife’s tourist visa caused us a major problem when we applied for another tourist visa to Turkey where we have frequently gone for vacations and business in Bodrum. When she applied this time, however (in the past we got one day processing), the consulate turned us down, saying they couldn’t grant her a visa based on her visit visa to the UAE! They insisted that the only way they could grant the visa was for my wife to apply in her home country, the Philippines! Disaster! Or apparently. The rest of the family as US passport holders had no such problem of course. We had plenty of evidence of legitimate business in Turkey, onward tickets to the US, and her obvious mother- and wife- hood (arguing against a supposed illegal labor motive). After all our planning, our case fell on deaf ears. We were stunned, stymied, speechless.

After recovering from shock, we went back to the window to argue for our case. I showed the sympathetic but firm (& Tagalog speaking) clerk pages from Marivic’s passport sporting both UAE residence visas and Turkish tourist visas. We flourished once again our colorful medallioned marriage certificate… and mentioned that we’d have to sell the house if we couldn’t go there together. The clerk was obviously swayed by one or more of these pleas, and disappeared again behind the magic curtain where the power person was concealed.

We waited a few more agonizing moments before another women emerged from the same place, the mysterious god herself, and crisply asked us for Marivic’s passport, birth certificate and marriage certificate, then returned to the mystical place she occupied. She returned a few minutes later with the documents and the precious visa stamped into Marivic’s passport! Halas! Blessing Turkey and all its inhabitants but especially the good consul (who’d rushed back behind the screen to avoid our effusive thanks), we waited to leave the embassy before celebrating with the customary high and low fives. (Paul Fernandes of ETE hearing the story added that he thought the onward tickets to the US were the most compelling argument).

Now (if any readers are still awake) for the arduous fandango of “clearance.” Because I worked under the relatively light conditions of a visiting contract the last two years, I had a comparatively easy “clearance” or “cancellation” process; the visiting contract is quicker and less complex to disencumber oneself from than the full time one. But the main thing about leaving the UAE is to keep in mind that you can’t keep all the deadlines in mind at the same time especially when you have extra exigencies and the memory challenges I have (laugh).

The clearances – a list of about 6-8. But I never saw the list, so negotiated it bit by bit as these were made apparent to me.

Head of Dept (automatic by email)

Dean of College (automatic by email)

Library (do it yourself; plus pay the fine for a lost book).

Help desk – (equipment issued; none for me)

Itisalat (have to go there, pay any bills, and apply for it and pick up the next day)

(no utilities or house contract/landlord issues since put up in hotel)

Immigration (cancellation of residence visa done by HR)

This latter is required before you get your last pay deposited.

There is no published info on the process that I know of, so you may not have abundant information about the process as you proceed. For example, after I thought I had qualified for the final, liberating residence visa cancellation – HR told me I had to show them my wife’s flight ticket. In fact my wife’s visa was/is an airport visa so this requirement was a mistake and slowed down my clearance by a day or so. It’s my fault that I didn’t point this out to them myself. The process turns you into a passive automaton though with no will of your own.

Meanwhile bills had to be paid – the moving company dunned me yesterday for the completion of payment, and when we leave the Danat Hotel we’ll have to cough up 20 days of hotel bills!

My residence visa cancellation finally came thru yesterday although why it took so long I can’t explain but perhaps because the item passed between the university visa section and the gov’t office in Al Jimi. With the salary drop still in suspense, this formality wasn’t an academic issue. Finally a few days before flight day, an email message from HR announced the long awaited salary payment, which was less than I expected. Will it show up in my bank today, and if not, when? Fortunately our plane tickets were already paid for; we had to get them early, ahead of time, to qualify for my wife’s reduced visa overstay fine (called an “outpass”).

Yes, yet another bureaucratic snarl! You see, my wife went over her nonrenewable 30 day visa on July 5 and in principle was accumulating fines – dhs 100 per day!

For this, we learned, there is another bureaucratic procedure called the “outpass”—a stop gap measure which allows the overstayer to pay a portion of the fines provided the overstay isn’t more than a week. We learned about this and put it into practice in time.

We only had to pay 5 days of fines, about ½ the normal amt – of dhs 100 per day. All this trouble came from my parsimoniously not having gotten my wife a two-month visa at the beginning. It doesn’t always pay to be a cheapskate!

So far these procedures alone wouldn’t have been so overwhelming; we had another very important job, however, during the same few weeks my wife and children were here: to apply for and obtain my younger daughter’s Philippines passport.

Why so, many asked. Well the fact is Marisol was born in this country and could have been registered as a Philippines citizen at that time (2008); instead we registered her as an American citizen since that seemed the obvious choice, never considering whether dual citizenship would be advantageous for her.

During the last two years, however, while we were compelled to live apart, wife & daughters in the Philippines and me here, we discovered that Marisol became liable after a few months or so to a stiff visa overstay penalty that ran as high as $100 per month! (my other daughter is a dual citizen, having been born in the Philippines, afterward coming here and being registered as a citizen in the US). We didn’t want to burden Marisol or ourselves with such a financial burden in the future should we, or she, spend long periods in the Philippines. My wife informed me that according to Philippines immigration laws, children can stay on their entrance visa one year; but they must renew and get an extension visa every two months (more than $100). The fee goes up progressively with each extension, plus penalties for lateness, (sometimes as much as dhs 100 per day!)

The duration from application to pick up was as promised, about one month. This speaks well of the efficiency and reliability of the Philippines Embassy in Abu Dhabi.

We picked up Marisol’s precious document yesterday and celebrated with a blowout at Luce.

So those are some of the recent joys of from the bureaucratic world of visas and passports in the UAE.

Diary – July 12 (more suspense)

On departure day, two problems: sill haven’t rid our selves of all our excess property (framed photos for example) –second, no pay deposit appears in my account. Today is Friday and it’s Ramadan (we say welcome to this additional confusing factor we’ve had so many puzzles to resolve, the day wouldn’t feel right without a dozen more impossibilities), so can’t expect to do much business today. We need to change dirhams into dollars before we leave since the national currency is worthless outside the country. Saturday maybe but we’ll be gone if we catch our flight tonight though the flight is actually at 2:00 am tomorrow.

It’s the last day of our 17 day (!!!) extended stay at Danat. Thank god they’re giving us a break here on the room rate! Danat agreed to the “company rate” of 300/day, which is close to pure charity. That means we owe 4800 for the room, plus extras such as room service food last night. Though with only 7000 left in our account, it looks like we will have to use savings to finance our departure.

We’ll have to use credit or debit.

Our next communiqué should be from Istanbul, Turkey, a big inshallah from now! Wish us luck. No better yet pray!

 (also published on Mid East Review of Books: www.mideastbook.blogspot.com)

Ma Jian's follow up to Beijing Coma is powerful expose

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(note to readers: this piece is still looking for a publisher.; any hints or constructive criticism would be appreciated)

The Dark Road

By Ma Jian

NY: Penguin Publishers 2003/published June 13, 2013

360 pp.

You have to hand it to Chinese novelist Ma Jian – for a writer in exile it’s as though he’s never left. The author of the ultimate novelistic takedown of a tyrannical government, Beijing Coma, Ma is still on the case, tracking the same culprit. And despite his distance, he’s amazingly tuned into today’s China – his novel equals or outdoes the lurid stories daily pouring out of China—detailing corruption, dystopic pollution and human tragedy on a scale that beggars belief.

Ma’s latest book also comes out almost to the day on the 24^th anniversary of the events that inspired that novel, the Tiananmen Massacre.

Yes, up to the minute topical it is, but more than that it is an epic tale of human survival in conditions not much more propitious than in Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. It is also a far-ranging expose of the disaster China has become – at least its rural sector --under predatory pseudo-Communist capitalism.

The tale sets off with a violent government raid on a peasant village in Hubei Province that just happens to be the home town of the great sage Confucius to whom quite a few of the townsmen owe allegiance. Ma portrays the insurrectionary spirit of the peasants with verve, reminding us of the student uprising in Beijing Coma. They are quickly crushed however, by bonus-crazed government thugs (“family planning officials”) who punish them with beatings, forced abortions, fines and imprisonment. The heroes of the story, Kongzi, a poorly paid school teacher and his wife Meili (they also have daughter) decide to flee downriver in a boat to seek reproductive freedom and a better life.

The Dark Road is indeed an intense, bleak journey into the heart of a modern totalitarian nightmare but one that never flags in its boisterous narrative energy. It puts you in the skins of its tormented protagonists as they suffer and endure through a disturbingly amoral, violent and smelly landscape. I didn’t say it was a pleasant book, but it’s still hard to put down due to Ma’s storytelling zest. Ma’s narrative technique is varied and resourceful. Most of the time we are in the breathless  present tense in which the story moves inexorably forward.

The resourceful but unlucky characters never fulfill their dream but their tumultuous journey reveals a country, or at least the countryside, seriously run amuck. While the cities may provide a semblance of good living to Chinese nowadays, rural China is shown to be chaotic, criminal and dystopically corrupt.

In their flight, the persecuted family meets numerous communities of like-minded souls – refugees from the family planning laws – living in temporary riverside slums in southern China. Through them we learn how general the problem is and how difficult it is for the unprivileged poor to cope with the drastic conditions. Unfortunately, the only system that functions well is the police state with its well-paid agents, escalating fines and work-camp prisons.

Both Meili and Kongzi are astute and practical, discovering many lucrative trades as they head toward “Heaven township.” But the trouble is their illegal status doesn’t allow them to remain long in any one place. The other problem is the toxic nature of the environment itself which threatens to poison their poultry and offspring.

From the banks of the newly industrialized Yangtse to the electronic waste (“ewaste”) camps of Guangxi and Guangdong (Guiyu is the actual city Ma depicts), the desperate family manages to survive on odd jobs, native industry and wit. The adventures of the wife Meili are especially revealing after she is caught without a permit, imprisoned and –briefly—trafficked to a brothel. She comes to a deeper understanding of China and what her true place as a peasant is in it, accepts this and learns from her experiences. She is typically for a Chinese woman as tough as nails, has good business sense (as does Kongzi), and attracts helpful male authority figures (without betraying her husband); one sees she could easily realize her simple ambitions of living in a brick house with electronic conveniences, a big screen TV and fewer children.

Unfortunately, Meili’s dreams are undone by her biological destiny. It is her uterine anxiety that drives the story as government and husband compete for possession of her womb. Ultimately both pose about the same threat to her sanity and safety.

Her real difficulties begin when she is caught by the dreaded family planning officials and is given a forced abortion. This is probably the most horrific scene in the novel. Ma’s naturalistic observation of every gory detail in the operation including the gratuitous cruelty of the medical staff performing it, would make Zola proud. You are astonished that such an act can be legal anywhere in the world. Ma wants us to be morally outraged, and we are.

(Yes, probably a lot of non Chinese who approve of this policy out of concern for world demographics will have to rethink their position).

After this, Meili lives in a constant state of terror that a new pregnancy will result in the same life threatening state sponsored cruelty. A measure of her desperation is that she has an IUD fitted unbeknownst to her husband. When she inevitably does get pregnant again – husband Kongzi doesn’t give up his sexual nor his Confucianist tinged (a son!) obsessions easily—the embedded IUD causes brain damage and deformity. Cruelly, the father gets rid of the female child –“Waterborn” in a way never explained (we suspect sold to child beggar exploiters).

She hopes that after they reach their destination “Heaven Township” named ironically for its severe pollution that sterilizes women so they won’t conceive ( a ‘heaven’ to her) she will cease bearing, but this hope too goes for naught as Kongzi insists on his male right to copulate, procreate and finally produce a son in spite of all the chemicals.

Paterfamilia Kongzi, is less developed as a character, perhaps because as a member of the Kong clan he has a fixed position in Chinese society. He is after all the 76^th direct descendent of Confucius (and never lets you forget it). Still he has positive qualities, such as his high literary culture peculiar to China (that Ma no doubt sympathizes with). Exasperated by the disintegration of cherished traditional Chinese values; he constantly quotes Tang dynasty couplets and other literary masterpieces showing his adherence to an older, more cultured China that subsists despite the nearly universal degradation and prostitution. He also takes advantage of the neo-Confucianist trend recently publicized in China, and goes back to his job of schoolmaster although in an illegal camp.

Though touted as a novel with a cause, that of exposing the horrors of the one child policy in China (as laid down by Deng Xiao-ping), this is not, fortunately, a single issue book. Ma’s focus is on his earthy average Chinese characters who are richly observed and whose passions, follies and ambitions drive the story. That they occasionally serve as mouthpieces for his views is not a serious fault since he is breaking powerful government censorship that prevents ordinary Chinese from speaking out.  

Ma’s last book, Beijing Coma, was a rare achievement for a mere novel, an encapsulation of a part of Chinese history the Chinese government refused to recognize, the Tiananmen Massacre of 1989. Writing the book defied the official Communist revision of the democratic uprising – and reading and owning the book gave each reader a subversive gift of censored knowledge. The Dark Road may not be on the same level of epic political masterpiece but does show that Ma is versatile in his selection of characters and theme and ingenious enough to convey precisely on skin level the China he has been exiled from.

Ma’s portrayal of modern China, though apocalyptic, is far from totally negative. Ma shows thru the survival of his imperfect yet sympathetic characters that there is something deeper and more enduring in China than the shallow money culture that is as pervasive as the pollution. Throughout the novel, Ma hints at aspects of China that transcend the crass materialism: the folk religious practices that Meili indulges in, her belief in Buddha, her husband’s stalwart Confucianism and love of Tang couplets that he teaches to his daughter show that sojmething of the Chinese spirit survives beyond the filth of their daily life. More simply, Ma shows how his wretched characters, no matter how poor, manage to feast together on their beloved deep-fried meatballs and dumplings.

Ma’s own view of his characters is rooted in non tragic Buddhism as he makes clear by allotting portions of each episode to the view of the “infant spirit” who after three tries is finally born successfully. The author combines cyclical and non cyclical visions of human destiny of his Chinese characters in a way some may find masterful, others simply puzzling. As for me, I remained captured by Ma's spiritual views of Meili and Kongzi since they provided a needed respite from the nearly unbearable harshness of his portrait of the monstrous dystopia China has become.

A Memoir by Madeleine Godard, Montpellieraine

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A friendly review of Memoire de l’Ombre: Une Famille Francaise en Algérie 1868-1944

By Madeleine Touria Godard

Paris: L’Harmattan, 2009. 301 pp. 29 Euros.

Quelle ne fut pas ma surprise, par un matin ensoleillé de découvrir dans ma boite à lettres d’Amsterdam, une envelope aux allures anonymes: elle contenait un portrait photographique ancien. J’avais reçu auparavant, d’une relation éloignée, un arbre généalogique de la branche paternelle de ma famille, obscure jusque là, mais je l’avais égaré sous ces monçeaux de papiers si soigneusement classés, qu’on ne les consulte qu’en de rares occasions. J’avais cependent relevé la fréquence de prénoms desuets et de patronymes aux sonorités germaniques, vraisemblablement alsaciennes, mais ces inconnus familiaux m’indifféraient alors, leur passé n’effleurant en rien mon présent.

So begins expertly the superb family saga Memoire de l’Ombre by Madeleine Godard, world traveler, poet and essayist (born in Algiers, Algeria).

(First a short confession!) This book has been on my shelves nearly three years! If I take it out now, can the reason be anything but guilt? I’ll confess there’s not a little of that quantity in my motives but also genuine interest in work well done that deserved more attention than I could give it when it was published. Unfortunately, these days, I have little time to read let alone review anything.

Now a short digression. It struck me this afternoon that what I really liked doing in my free time was thinking & talking about books, but hate sitting in my dreary hotel room trying to discipline myself into some boring routine—while fantasizing about the great outdoors – such as the fun to be had at the Hilton or Danat swimming pools – and so this afternoon, exasperated by my confinement in the drab Arab business hotel room -- I took Memoire de l’Ombre and my writing equipment to the Hilton, and after ordering a cool pint of Stella sure enough rediscovered my enthusiasm for this book. Indeed, how dreadful it is to read in a desolate, lonely Poesque chamber… how enlivening on the contrary to bring a text into daily life at its best – the Hilton family pool which in response to the first really scorchingly hot day of this not particularly cool “spring” was absolutely buzzing with joyous splish-splashing and other acquatic activities for which less clothing is de rigueur whether one’s dress code is Muslim, Catholic or protestant.

French culture is perhaps more lively than most precisely for that reason – that it allows a mixture of fun, work and play in the same place – the street café. Other countries have tried to imitate it but it only exists truly in France.

The fact is that Memoire de l’Ombre is worth one read at the very least and here I am giving it a second at the swimming pool. That must say something about the solid appeal of the tome.

First, why should I, why should anyone be interested in Memoire de l’Ombre? The fact is it is not simply a family memoire – of which we find so many these days – rather it is the narration of a long personal exploration by the author into (for her) mysterious wartime events suffered by her parents with the key event being the death of her father during WWII in Algeria. [This setting, or one just next door, produced one of the greatest romances of all time, Casablanca.] Godard who was born toward the end of that cataclysm has always nourished a huge amount of curiosity about the circumstances of that event which reshaped so much of the world – and not only her small part of it in France.

As she already knew, however, from her mother's lifelong silence on the question, participants of that era, whether military or not, are often reserved about discussing it frankly with those who didn’t experience it. Why this is so depends – but often it seems the horrors of WWII were so intense that they are indescribable to non participants, and upsetting to those who try to recount them.

The author moreover is not only interested in the personal stories of her relatives but also in the broader context of world history, such as WW II and French colonialism in Algeria, in which their destinies were worked out. Some of her most interesting material deals with how, when and why the French colonized northern Africa: the project began in the early 19^th century as a result of quite a few causes, but an important one was--an aggressive government colonial policy to allay unemployment in Alsace and restore national pride after the disasters of the Franco Prussian War.

Godard traces in detail the path of that side of her family who originated in Alsace, migrated to Algeria, established themselves and became part of the French colonial community. Her father Edouard Dard was the grandson of one of the original settlers. The other side of her family came from Brittany, not a colonial family at all –rather a normal middle class family that reluctantly approved of their daughter Anne’s decision to move to Algeria to teach in a French government school. The author’s parents met in Algeria, fell in love, got married and had two children (Paul-Edmond and Madeleine).

Using historical French military archives and voluminous family correspondence, Godard recounts both her parents’ courtship and romance and the wartime events flying thick around them.

She is motivated by a desire to uncover what was for her a deep mystery – the taboo her mother placed on speaking of anything concerning the war and particularly her father; more specifically the facts of her father’s death were kept from her. This is the “Memoire de l’Ombre” of the title. After her mother’s death in France, a relative who happened to be a historian contacted her with hints of the existence of archives – containing both family and French Colonial documents—that might be of interest to her. These documents included a complete record of her mother’s correspondence with her father.

The author in fact tells us in her foreword that the whole book is an endeavor to meet her father for the first time. What she discovers is that her father was in charge of an Algerian battalion, trained them (he spoke French and Arabic), was moved close to the battle-lines in France, but after the French defeat by the Nazis was sent back to North Africa. Edouard died of TB while being treated in a wartime military hospital. She has a faint memory of visiting him but of course didn’t understand what it was all about. 

She deals gingerly and with a light hand with the romance of her parents recounted thru the huge correspondence they sent each other. They reveal themselves as sensitive, literate (both were deeply interested in literature), optimistic, brave and humorous. She also uncovered the medical records of her father and is able to put together a painfully complete account of his final days.

Godard’s historical research is far from superficial to my mind – it filled me in on many aspects of history (recent and otherwise) I was totally ignorant of –especially the rich description of lives of both French and indigenes during the French colonial period in Algeria; secondly and just as gripping WW II’s disastrous affects on France and its colony Algeria, which France, after a bloody civil war, finally liberated in 1962.

In the aftermath of these cataclysms – Godard describes her own distanced feelings toward that period; though a descendent of the pied noir tribe, famous for their “ultraist” sentiments, she has never sympathized with the ex-colonial rightists; first, Godard didn’t live in Algeria long enough to remember it well; second, her parents, as we see here, were always on the liberal side of politics in Algeria. Edouard, in an internal wartime report, recommended Algerian Independence.

(If I'm any judge of French style) the book is crisply and concisely written; the author maintains a distanced point of view, keeping her personal comments to a minimum; yet when necessary does allow herself to enter the story. After all, as the daughter of the two subjects portrayed, she is a part of the story. Godard also shows herself the heir of her parents’ literary leanings, including a treasury of literary references, particularly of poetry produced during the resistance period.

As for the greatest mystery in the book at least for the author—the reasons for her mother’s strict censorship of all knowledge of her father and his death, the author comes to realize that part of the silence came from a touchingly human motive: her mother’s refusal to accept the simple fact of his death.

The Writers’ Market – evil conspiracy against quality or readers’ friend?

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(warning: unedited, may contain grammatical gaffes & unintentional boasting)

The phrase “writers market” seems to be set off a storm every time I mention it in Al Ain. I have seen dignified professors splutter incoherently or wax apoplectic when I mentioned that the writers market might not be all bad. So I fear I may make a whole lot more trouble by dealing with this subject again in greater detail, explaining why I think it’s not such a bad thing. First there are two views of the writers market, one amateur, the other professional. Amateur writers are unpublished or hardly published writers who may have sent in a ms or two, been rejected, and gotten dejected and given up. If they give up at this stage, then they may develop a grudge against those who are published and ascribe it to an unfair writer’s market that doesn’t care for true literature or the authentically individual values they represent.

Professional writers [or semi-professional among whom I count myself as a part-time free-lancer with over 100 paid publications] on the other hand, view the writer’s market differently; for them it is a fact of life that can be seen, alternatively, as a necessary evil, a useful challenge (like the sonnet form) or a positive good that rewards them. Writers’ attitudes toward the market probably vary wildly but one would imagine in line with their degree of publishing success.

What is the writers market? It is the result of the competition of writers for the limited attention of editors and the even more restricted publishing space they command (whether paying or not) in periodicals, newspapers and books. All serious writers want to get published, but there are almost always more ambitious writers in any given market niche then can be accommodated in available space; therefore not all can be published, and editors may have the luxury of choosing between more or less talented, prepared and dedicated contributors. From the standpoint of editors (where I have been), competition improves the product and is to be encouraged. Is the writers market good for the writers, you may ask. I would argue that the market is a great teacher of effective style (concision, directness and vividness), organization and dramatic presentation. Writers who incorporate these iconic (ever since Strunk & White) qualities in their prose and deal with significant subjects have an excellent chance.

What the writers market is not: simply crass commercialism or an evil conspiracy against quality. The writers market is more likely a sorting out device that eliminates a lot of unreadable slush from the bookshelves. Since the writers market is inevitable – the fledgling writer would do better to accept it & study hard the kind of writing he or she wants to do--in examples he most admires --and try hard to imitate and surpass that genre.

I remember in one of the first things I ever published, an interview with theater people in Madison, Wisconsin, the editor complimented me on the technique I used to summarize conversations. Well, I confessed, I got it out of your own magazine.

What do writers want? Most say they want people to read them. It’s actually much easier to get published then to be assured of a readership because after publication you never know who if anyone reads your stuff anyway. If you have a good and careful editor (these are increasingly hard to find these days) you don’t need another reader. One editor who reads, criticizes and accepts your work is enough.

Still I hear aspiring, dissatisfied writers grousing: “Who needs an editor? If X or Z at the ABC Review doesn’t like my stuff, so what? I’ll circumvent, cut out and utterly forget about editors with their rotten commercial standards and incom-prehensible demands. By building my own community of readers.”

That actually may make some sense in this local and fairly corrupt environment where the publishing world is very circumscribed and limited and where neophytes will have a tough time getting started. I heard Alexander McCall’s slick & convincing presentation on building a community of readers. He has a chance of doing that since he is already published and has a readership.

For all the variations on self-publishing, I’ll only say this: is it really publishing? Once again, I’ll hold out for traditional publishing and state that you can’t say you are truly published until someone else publishes you. The reason for this is practical & philosophical. We almost never see our own creations clearly. Our children are always the most interesting, the most beautiful, the most intelligent; our story, our novel, our poem is the most moving, the most wonderful etc etc. Of course. The thing is though that because it is ours we can’t see it clearly. I always see on the page what I think is there, not what is really there. Whereas any editor worth their chili peppers can see much that I cannot.

Self-publishing means unedited, including this casual essay (I’m sure it’ll be obvious).

The intrinsic difficulty of the task of writing well and comprehensibly so as to truly inform & entertain a reader is often underestimated by beginning writers. It is in fact very hard to put together a piece of writing that succeeds on all levels, style, syntax, content, organization etc. Scratch “very hard” – say impossible. That’s why publishing has always prospered as an organization wherein some write, others copyedit and others research. This is why all writers even great ones need tons of editing.

Accepting the writers market and the need for editing to get your product to market (and not seeing those as bad words) is simply common sense and maturity for the professional writer who should be happy to find work in a creative, competitive field. IMHO the need to be read by millions, become famous and rich is a false ambition for writers who would do better in my opinion by looking for steady employment in his or her selected specialties and genres.

Lastly, I can sympathize with people who try to get started in this environment with its very limited chances in the English language press anyway, particularly in Al Ain. I have published in the main journals of Dubai and Abu Dhabi but don’t plan to much more of it. First, the limitations on content make writing the simplest thing a boring exercise in self-censorship. Then among editors, low standards, little competence and and not much interest in their job – so no meaningful feedback about what you write. I have only had one positive experience. To find out which editor it is, you can check my Mid East Books Blog website.
Finally, my recognition that self-publication is necessary in a corrupt or otherwise defective writers market -- ie. censored -- is shown by this email.

"Dubai Lit Fest" celebrates 5th annual book blast

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Dubai Lit Fest (Mar 7-9) –rough notes

The fifth edition of the Emirate Airlines International Literature Festival (whh I’ll call the Dubai Lit Fest for short) with its clever “Villain Vs Hero” motif was far too complex and multi-faceted to sum up in a few simple sentences. There was more of everything, more books, more publishing categories, more genres and subgenres, more events, more workshops etc. More nationalities and more people stuffing the rooms and aisles of the Intercon annex where the Fest is held. With as many as a half-dozen things going on at the same time from 9 to 9, the single spectator was hard-pressed figuring out what was going on and how best to spend his time. Yes, more of everything except a few minor amenities.

It all challenged one’s attention to the point of Hamletian indecision or, worse, nervous exhaustion. Meanwhile one's body--due to the lack of anything resembling a comfortable place to sip coffee, browse and schmooze--suffered more banal pains.

But what about the old charge against the Lit Fest that it emphasizes trash at the expense of quality literature? Is there any truth to this scurrilous rumor? Unfortunately, in my opinion, there is more than a smidgen. The clear stars of the show, as revealed by size of venue, audience numbers, and book stack dimensions (not to mention program cover font size) were the Archers, Rankins, Deavers, La Plantes et al. These giants of pulp fiction with their thunderous mobs of fans may have overshadowed the quality literature scene- but did not crowd it out altogether.

The Nigerian novelist-poet (and Booker Prize winner) Ben Okri was probably the most celebrated literary writer there and was featured in several sessions (that I didn’t see). A writer I knew of from a select literary magazine was there, Geoff Dyer, with an odd ball reputation (Yoga for People who can’t be bothered to Do it), but sadly got a small audience for a very droll session on his opposition to genre. A well –regarded young British novelist Chris Cleave, who writes on sports themes, made his second appearance. One enthusiastic fan gave him high praise (she was his wife).

Besides these we found many other types of literary, sub literary and non literary activities in nonfiction, (history), self-help, cooking (Italian, French, Asian & Lebanese), children’s books (as always splendidly represented), not to mention too many workshops (writing poetry, drawing, screen-writing etc). One major type that wasn’t present in force was original travel writing (only the copycat Steps of Thesiger).

News, newsmen & newswomen were very popular at the fete – The controversial American anchor man Dan Rather was there (touting his My Life in the News) talking to Nik Gowing, Abdel Bari Atwan and “Mrs Moneypenny” in the Breakfast News session and several others. Rather seemed to have plenty of compatriot fans who lined up to get a signature and something we rarely saw from the legendary newsman during his years on TV- a smile. His iconic voice, as I can attest, is entirely intact. [It occurred to me later, that Rather, with his checkered career may have been the perfect example of the Fest’s hero-villain theme.]

The international aspect of the fete was accentuated. Judging by appearances the DubLit Fest has always been mainly a British show – and if this is the case – more power to British publishers and authors for taking advantage of the opportunity. But where were the giants such as Barnes, Boyd, McEwan, Thubron and company? It would also have been good to see more major Yankee literary talent on display (e. g. Roth, DeLillo, McCarthy, Theroux etc.). Next in order are Arab and Arab Gulf writers & publishers followed by Indians and a sprinkling of French and other European countries. Overall, I’d say the fest had a more cosmopolitan character than in the past.

My favorite session on Thursday was the evening event “The English Language –Villain or Hero?” It was a lively, energetic and wit-sparking discussion of the dilemmas caused by the all-conquering English language, which has become for all practical purposes a world language. Leslie McLoughlin, a Harvard professor & well-known translator of Arabic moderated the session (his just published “Confessions of a Translator” was the subject of another session). The two major speakers were our own Abdulla Dabbagh, representing the literary critical point of view and Eugene Rogan, professor of history at Oxford and author of the recently published (and best-selling)“The Arabs – A History.”

Dabbagh, former chair of English Dept at UAEU and a widely published literary comparatist, described how “English has imposed itself on the world,” starting with this region in which Arabic and Arabic language studies are suffering but put the dominance of English in a “wider perspective.” He went through the history of world languages finding that at one point Arabic, French and Latin had all served this purpose. He also detailed the multiple attempts by scholars to invent a “universal language” that would serve the whole world. None of these, he commented, has ever truly caught on. In the meantime, English has continued to grow to the point where it would be hard to find a competitor.

Dabbagh described how once when Sigmund Freud came to the UN to give a speech, he spoke in German. Nowadays, he said, this would be unimaginable.

[Dabbagh also participated in two other events – the Lost in Translation?” discussion with four other speakers which dealt with the specific problems of putting Arab writers and texts into English and “Shakespeare and the Arab World,” a discussion with Dr Yousef Aydabi about the Bard’s debt to Middle Eastern ideas.]

The historian Eugene Rogan also described English as a villain “that threatens every language in the world.” “The beast is out,” he warned. He described how recently traveling to Ireland – where the official language is the charming Gaelic tongue – he heard none of this lilting language but only English. (Someone has calculated that as many as 500 languages are disappearing from the world every year).

As English becomes the required second language, Rogan warned, “the need to learn other languages will be reduced to nil.” As a result, those of us confined to English will “miss others’ views of ourselves… we won’t have a clue about how the rest of the world thinks.”

None of the experts however felt that English would become some kind of Orwellian monster (such as the evil shrinking dictionary in Orwell’s frightening 1984) that would exert dictatorial control over language or people. On the contrary, the ability of English to absorb and create new vocabulary (8,500 words per year on average) is probably one of its greatest strengths.

McLoughlin concluded with the point that he did not feel the rise and conquest of English as a linguistic phenomenon was identical to the aggressive political motivation identified by Edward Said as “Orientalism.”

A lively Q & A followed but as usual had to be cut short due to time constraints.

(second thoughts as I left the session were as follows: those “conquered by English” often get unexpected benefits; first as we see in India and the Philippines where sects and island have created mutually incomprehensible dialects – bridged by the lingua franca of English – and (in the case of the Philippines) an employable skill; second advantage is bilingualism considered to be improve the brain’s learning powers, and lastly a tactical advantage of the bilingual over the monolingual in competitive situations.)

In a excellent and well-attended session the next day, the American historian Eugene Rogan who teaches modern Arab history at Oxford, discussed his widely praised The Arabs – A History (Penguin, dhs 85) with a moderator whose name I can’t recall. Rogan described his youth growing up in the Middle East in family of professionals. Learning Arabic at an early age, Rogan immersed himself in the culture and languages of the region, especially Egypt and Lebanon. He described how in doing the research for this volume --which emphasizes the modern period -- he interviewed as many living witnesses as possible to accurately portray the point of view of the region. His purpose was to make history newsworthy and fresh, and judging by the critical praise he received, it seems he succeeded. On style, the historian explained how his editor helped him transform his academic style to a more readable style for the general reader that allowed a more personal point of view. “She taught me how to use strong topic sentences for each paragraph,” Rogan said, and maintain a personal tone throughout a long story. This volume has also been updated to reflect the events of the Arab Spring, which Rogan calls the “Revolutions of 2011.”

I ducked in briefly on one of Jeffrey Archer’s many sessions –to see what the pulp phenomenon {and the Lit Fest’s true headliner) looked like. I expected to be disgusted and was in fact turned off by the man, by his style and content alike. He recounted in broadly comic strokes the fate of his first novel (Kane & Abel), getting laughs for the tale of how his first interview on US TV flopped, but I kept hearing numbers in his speech patterns which always reverted to “millions” or “thousands” or “minutes.”

A man with a quick mind but with nothing in it, I mused.

Archer responded to Antony Horowitz’s questions about his work habits, and where he gets his characters from; the villains come from the political scene, he explained, and the strong women from his mother and Margaret Thatcher, his political mentor.

Ducking out just as quickly as I’d ducked in, breathing sighs of disgust and relief. But it inspired a refresher course in negative vocabulary: grossly insipid, jejunely trite?

Korky Paul must be one of the most deservedly popular figures at the Lit Fest – his delightful children’s series Winnie The Witch that he illustrates for the stories of co-author Valerie Stevens are some of the finest beginning books for kids I know. I didn’t go to any of his sessions, but saw him frequently out in the hall finishing his mural for the 5 year celebration of the festival. The middle-aged Brit was friendly and eager to hear his books were well liked. Later, seeing the long lines of 5-6 year-olds waiting to greet him at the signing desk, I realized what joy his books must give that readership. [I have to admit, I like them quite a bit too!]

William Dalrymple always seems to be a big draw at the Lit fest with his India themed travel and history writing. This year he presented and read passages from his new history of the British defeat in Afghanistan (“Return of a King”). A resident of India and heir of one of the participants in the disastrous campaign, Dalrymple had a vivid, well-researched tale to tell of British folly in a country still giving grief to its would-be invaders. Accompanied by beautiful period illustrations, the author just barely managed to finish recounting the suspenseful epic which left one survivor out of 18,000.

The annual Orwell lecture was delivered by the Indian diplomat and litterateur Shashi Tharoor. Recently considered for the position of UN Secretary General, Tharoor is also the author of numerous novels such as the satirical The Great Indian Novel. Dressed in a tie-less Nehru-style suit, Tharoor was eloquent, witty and charming –winning over his large audience with an optimistic vision of the contemporary world that relegated Orwell’s main worries about individual freedom and the threats of tyranny to the background.

Tharoor didn’t completely dismiss totalitarian threats (Islamism for example can be seen in that light) in the contemporary world but generally painted a rosy picture in which, yes, social media and the Internet have loosened up controls over expression.

Tharoor cited India’s multicultural society with its traditions of tolerance as an example of how countries can overcome binary thinking, in which Muslims, Hindus and Christians generally live peacefully side by side; he also feels India’s rich culture and history help Indians maintain their identity and resist the pressures of globalization and cultural colonization.

Thanks to these factors, India doesn’t have to fear globalization. “We will never be ‘cocacolonialized,’” he quipped.

In the brief Q & A session, Tharoor revealed he was a cricket fan --  and the last question dealt with cricket. A bit ironic in a lecture that supposedly dealt with Orwell?

As he was rushed out by handlers, I elbowed a quick query: “Sir,” I asked, “while it’s true that in this country, we do not live in extreme Orwellian repression such as [that of] Big Brother… still the conditions of human rights & freedom of expression are far from perfect…” As Tharoor was disappearing into the wing, I insisted, “Sir, couldn’t you say something about that?” Tharoor replied as he retreated: “I can’t because I work for the government!”

Reeling in shock, I wandered back to the signing desk area trying to comprehend.

An idea formed in my befuddled mind, and I got in line. When the line of fans finally dwindled to me, I asked with as friendly a smile as I could muster, “Sir, with all due respect, if you are someone who can’t speak his mind, should you be the one giving the Orwell Lecture?”

The elegant, youthful-looking diplomat looked up at me with just as friendly a smile, and spreading his hands in the classic  “Helpless” position he said, “I would be very happy to talk about that under different circumstances.”

When I told this story to another book maven, a UK citizen working in Saudi Arabia, he said, “The Orwell Lecture has never really worked all that well at this event, has it?”

When I told it to Geoff Dyer, he quipped, “You’re a dangerous person. We should call security.”

A more serious criticism--it would be nice to have a few more amenities such as a sitdown coffee shop for browsing and schmoozing.  Yes, they have one for “friends of the Lit Fest” but it would be nice to have one for the hoi polloi as well. Also I wonder if the organizers of the Lit Fest view book fans as entirely spiritual beings with few biological needs such as for food and drink and with legs and spines so solid as to never need a chair or seat to rest on. The price of dhs 60 is not exorbitant but a bigger student discount would be neat.

A special thank you to “Kelly” in the press section who kindly gave me press credentials so I could attend so many of these sessions.