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Normally, “fog of war” refers to the ambiguity and confusion encountered by military men, from commanders through ground soldiers, combatants during a war or battle. Yet the fog can envelop more than the military. There is also a fog of uncertainty and confusion in a city under siege or its inhabitants. Lebanese novelist Elias Khoury takes readers to that level in The Journey of Little Gandhi, a view of the life of average individuals in Beirut during the Lebanese civil war.
 Khoury’s style creates that fog of war sense. The pivot point of the story is Little Gandhi, or Abd Al-Karim, a shoe shine who is shot down in the street when the Israeli Army entered the city in September 1982. Much of his story — and that of many others — is relayed by Alice, an aging prostitute who is actually the main subject in which the narrator is interested. At least 30 different characters make an appearance, from an American University professor to an Episcopal priest to drug traffickers to Alice and Little Gandhi.
This melange means that regardless of whose particular story is being told at the moment and who may be relating it, we are presented a kaleidoscopic, multi-layered tale. One story flows into another story, akin to a person’s thought process moving unconsciously from one topic to another to another. Likewise, these stories can be firsthand accounts or hearsay four times removed. Just as in war and its aftermath, the truth, such as it is, can be difficult to discern. Yet this also presents difficulty for many readers.
By necessity, Khoury’s literary approach is confusing or labyrinthine, with no consistent linear narrative. To the contrary, The Journey of Little Gandhi is structured so as to render the narrative unstable and ambiguous. Yet that is the essence of the fog of war. Differing reports come from differing people. Motives and movements are confused. Uncertainty and confusion impact lives and decisions. That is exactly what is happening to the people of Beirut in Khoury’s tale. It is a city split between and among factions. “Everything in it fell apart.” So, rather than just wars and rumors of war, Khoury is telling us of lives and even rumors of life.
Originally published in Arabic in 1989, the book, translated by Paula Haydar, was published in the U.S. in 1994. Those familiar with Western categorizations of genres may call the book, now in newly released trade paper edition, so-called “magical realism.” Khoury, however, rejects that classification. There is no need for magical realism in Lebanese literature, he told one interviewer, because life in Lebanon was itself unreal and fantastic. In such circumstances, he says, literature “must put together two elements: seeing and inventing; it must tell the truth and lie; it must combine the real and the fantastic at the same level and at the same moment.”
The Journey of Little Gandhi certainly does that as it takes us on journey through recent Lebanese history. The question is whether readers will take the time on the journey to peel back the layers and try to grasp both reality and unreality.
This is the city of nothingness
Elias Khoury, The Journey of Little Gandhi
Bulletin Board
- My friend Michael at The MinusCar Project is partnering with the Sioux Falls Green Project to bring the documentary No Impact Man to Sioux Falls. The movie, which tells the story of Colin Beavan’s decision to completely eliminate his personal impact on the environment for a full year, will be shown at Augie’s Gilbert Science Center, Room 100, at 7 pm Tuesday, December 8, 2009. There’s also a Facebook page for additional info.
Blog Headline of the Week
Worthwhile Reading in the Interweb Tubes
Bookish Linkage
Nonbookish Linkage
- Ken Blanchard gives us his top one, top ten and top twenty-five best jazz albums. Naturally, the “most perfect jazz recording” ever heads the list.
- Harvard’s Bergman Center for Internet & Society has launched the Online Media Legal Network, “a network of law firms, law school clinics, in-house counsel, and individual lawyers throughout the United States willing to provide pro bono legal assistance to qualifying online journalism ventures and other digital media creators.” (Via.)
So toss away stuff you don’t need in the end
But keep what’s important — and know who’s your friend
Phish, “Theme From The Bottom,” Billy Breathes
A Russian court reduced by several months the sentence of a man who murdered and ate his mother — and dismissed a cannibalism charge against him — because “I was so hungry, I had to eat [the corpse].” (Via.)
But maybe it’s a cultural thing. “Russian police have arrested three homeless people suspected of eating a 25-year-old man they had butchered and selling other bits of the corpse to a local kebab house.”
Among the effects of the recession is one I never thought possible. It’s prompting people to volunteer for jury duty. (BTW, I’ve actually been on jury duty this month but so far it has amounted to watching a 25-minute or so video on the legal system and juries.)
In the don’t believe every advertising slogan you see category, “a lawyer you can trust” is sentenced to prison for misappropriating $1.99 million from a client’s account.
Law And More thinks that, rather than celebrating Thanksgiving, Nov. 26 should be declared a National Day of Self-Pity for “lawyers, law students, and college students whose parents are pushing them toward law school.”
The most valuable lesson man has learned from his dog is to kick a few blades of grass over it and move on.
Robert Brault
There’s a certain rhythm and inner warmth when you see an old friend after a number of years. While I’ve never spoken to Leo Kottke in my life, seeing him perform Thursday night at the Orpheum Theater had that feel.
I first became acquainted with Kottke in the mid-70s through his albums Greenhouse, Ice Water, and My Feet Are Smiling. His tremendous fingerstyle playing and, yes, even his voice (which he described in the liner notes to a 1969 album as akin to “geese farts on a muggy day”) enthralled me. I’ve seen Kottke perform solo three or four times over the years, all in small venues. Too much time had passed since the last one, though, and over the last two years or so I’ve had an increasing desire to see him perform again. In fact, his 2005 reworking of one of my favorite songs he does is the second most played tune on my iPod. So visiting with an old friend is the best way to describe how seeing him Thursday night felt.
There’s the initial assessment of the distance time can create. Is this the person you remember? Then you do some catching up, with new tunes being the equivalent of “here’s what I’ve been doing lately,”) and, of course, some reminiscing through older songs. And with Kottke’s dry, often self-deprecating humor punctuating his quirky spontaneous soliloquies, the relationship quickly is as comfortable as ever. After all, some affinity is required to feel you understand where someone is coming from when a commentary on song titles involves a discourse on the variety of ants in the world and one ant taking over a neighboring anthill by asking an existential question.
Yet you also realize the years have gone by far too fast. You’re struck by the fact that there seems to be a significant number of “older people” in the theater. You don’t remember seeing that much gray hair in the audience the last time — or on you and him. It evidences how long it’s been since you saw each other and you regret it’s been that long. Worst of all, two hours, plenty of mirth and some 15 tunes end up flying by so, so, so fast.
So, thanks for stopping by Leo. It was wonderful to visit with you again. I promise I’ll try not to let as much time pass by before we next get together.
If you aren’t really hooked on your instrument this job would be a hell on earth. But if you are, it’s the best.
Leo Kottke, The Performing Songwriter, May-June 1994
In the scheme of life, the universe and everything, it’s no big deal. But it does kind of piss me off so you’ll have to forgive this rant as I vent a bit.
When I post a bunch of links in Weekend Edition or Friday Follies, I use “Via” to link to whomever led me to the material. I figure I shouldn’t take credit for something someone else brought to my attention. If nothing else, it is simple courtesy.
So it raises my eyebrows when a major and (no longer) respected book blog comes here because I linked to it, sees something else in the post, clicks on that link and shortly thereafter writes about it — without mentioning how it came across the information. You know, the courtesy thing. Then, of course, other noted book blogs and aggregators do their own posts or repeat the information, all giving credit to the “mighty” book blog that found it here first.
I know this is endemic in the blogosphere and maybe I (and others) are following rules or traditions that are outdated or to which many are oblivious. But to me, attribution integrity is more important than scrambling for blog hits or ranking.
I know I need to do what I tell my kids: “Get over it.” But I’m just saying.
… bloggers agreed on the highest ethical priority: proper attribution of information that came from other sites.
John Timmer, “Blogger ethics: proper attribution > accountability“
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Disclaimer 
Additionally, some links on this blog go to Amazon.com. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases. There is no additional cost to you. Contact me You can e-mail me at prairieprogressive at gmaildotcom.
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