Read the World #1: My Pen Is the Wing of a Bird by Afghan Women
What a way to start off the StoryGraph Reads the World Challenge. As outlined in my earlier post, this short story anthology authored by 18 Afghan women was my pick for Afghanistan.
The stories in this book were written and collected before the Taliban returned to power; the book was published a year later in 2022. The fact that they are available for us to read is a marvel to begin with. Apparently, one of the stories had to be “written by hand, photographed and sent via WhatsApp messages through a chain of people” to reach the publisher. A couple of years ago, another book titled My Dear Kabul was published about the writers’ experiences under the Taliban, which I definitely intend on reading.
The book has no shortage of stories about bombings and female oppression. There are not very many happy endings. Even so, there is a remarkable diversity of experiences and insights. Set against mostly ordinary scenes, the characters are unexpectedly relatable for all their virtues and flaws and hopes and fears.
The prose style of this collection tends to be rather direct and simplistic, perhaps due to having been translated from their native Pashto and Dari. It took some time to get used to, but eventually I was endeared to it; I felt that it deepened my immersion and brought me closer to the core of the stories. Still, I can’t help but wonder how much more poetic the originals would be. With the current political climate, it remains uncertain if or when they will see the light of day.
I won’t be commenting on all 23 stories in the collection; here are a few highlights that I found particularly compelling or unique. (Spoiler alert for those who would like to experience the book for themselves.)
In Dogs Are Not to Blame by Masouma Kawsari, the protagonist is a sensitive young man who starts working as a petition writer. He is deeply beaten down by poverty and loneliness. His mother resents him, and the girl he loved (only from afar) has left to marry abroad. He yearns for nothing more than for someone to understand him, for once. His only solace is in caring for the dog dwelling near the toilet hole with her puppies. I was touched by his compassion — his capacity to give love despite having received so little.
The Late Shift by Sharifa Pasun is a striking tale. A news anchor delivers a report as rockets rain down around the building. Her detached demeanor and dogged determination are juxtaposed against the (completely reasonable) panic of basically everybody else, but even she finally cracks when she comes home to her sleeping son. I don’t think I can do this story justice by summarizing it. If there’s one story in this collection that’s most worth reading in full, I believe it is this one.
Similarly impressive is The Most Beautiful Lips in the World by Elahe Hosseini. Written from a second-person POV, the story is a fictionalized account of a young suicide bomber’s last moments before blowing up a wedding. Ostracized for her cleft lip and radicalized by her father, she wants nothing more than to reunite with her dead mother. Most heartbreaking is the part when that finally happens; I’ll just quote it in full.
You see your mother. She is standing just a few meters away. She does not laugh, does not smile at you. She does not talk. She just looks at you with disbelief, and her face glistens from a distance. Maybe it is wet with tears.
Suffice it to say that I was totally floored.
I Don't Have the Flying Wings by Batool Haidari is particularly unique in that it deals with a (likely) transgender narrator. For the first half of the story, they reminisce on family history and giddily put on their mother’s shawl and makeup. The fact that they are assigned male at birth is only implied but seems obvious in hindsight. The twist doesn’t come until the climax, when their father catches them cross-dressing and reacts in fury. I am especially disturbed by how the narrator admits that “the only time [they] know [they are] beautiful” is when the mullah touches their hair and admires their beauty. Very masterfully written.
My Pillow’s Journey of Eleven Thousand, Eight Hundred, and Seventy-Six Kilometers by Farangis Elyassi has a hell of a title. The narrator reluctantly immigrates to the US but becomes homesick and unable to sleep. She holds on to the hope that her pillow from home would let her sleep soundly once more. Upon bringing it to the US, however, she realizes that her “sleep was bound to the warm embrace of [her] country,” despite all its flaws. This one was particularly poignant for me; I have contemplated emigrating many times, but I doubt that I would feel at home anywhere else.
That concludes the first book I finished for this challenge. As of the time of writing, I’m still reading the second book, Broken April by Ismail Kadare for Albania. It’s a good one; I look forward to writing about it!