This review appears in full in Qantara:
Because it′s about memory, Describing the Past is about place rather than motion: from the vapours of memory, Zaqtan conjures the homes, people and smells of his characters′ youth. Then, instead of giving them adventures, he moves the reader around them. He′ll stop for a moment, drawing our attention to one aspect or another. Then he lets it go – and we move on. When two of his central characters discuss the third: &Primeshe stays there, suspended in the air, between his voice and the surface of the river[.]&Prime
The setting isn′t named, but it evokes the landscape around Karameh refugee camp, east of the River Jordan, where Zaqtan′s family moved when he was seven years old. There are many Proustian madeleines that conjure ghosts as the characters walk along the Sharia River, another name for the Jordan: the reeds, the tamarisks, the blackbirds, the sound of the water.
The book is about a moment in their youth, but it′s not a coming-of-age. There is no forward progress here. Instead, past and present are entangled in one another, as in quantum physics. The act of seeing the past changes the present and that, in turn, changes the past.
The Woman, Iraqi, and the Christian
None of the three core characters are given proper names. Our three storytellers are &PrimeI,&Prime &Primehe&Prime and &Primeshe&Prime.
Each of our three narrators describes their own life and the lives of the two others. The unnamed young woman—the &Primeshe&Prime—lives with her quiet elderly husband and her elderly mother, all three of them sleeping in the same bedroom. There are the two boys, the &PrimeI&Prime and the &Primehe&Prime, both of whom admire this &Primeshe&Prime. The boys are known as &PrimeThe Christian&Prime and &PrimeThe Iraqi&Prime, although neither is Christian nor Iraqi.
The name &PrimeThe Iraqi&Prime comes from the character′s eldest uncle, who &Primetalked constantly about his role in helping the Iraqi army towards the end of the 1948 war, north of the West Bank.&Prime The ′48 war was a story of loss and dishonour. Yet in the midst of that, there were five or six Iraqi regiments that had heroically protected hundreds of coastal towns. &PrimeThe Iraqi′s&Prime uncle, he says, spent a few weeks as a guide for one of their artillery regiments.
&PrimeThe Iraqi&Prime tells us that there are many reasons not to believe his uncle′s tale: &PrimeThere were wide and painful, overlapping gaps in the story.&Prime And yet: &Prime[T]he intense desire of the listeners to break apart the lost war into tiny heroisms, each holding a private victory, alongside my uncle′s piercing faculty for performance and effect, turned those doubtful events with one witness into rooted, living truth.&Prime
In order to improve the believability of his stories, the uncle salted his speech with more and more Iraqi vernacular. He listened to Iraqi music and news, imagined new roots for himself, and struck up friendships with big-rig drivers coming from Iraq, who gave him gifts from their country. The uncle even declared a desire to go back to Iraq.
&PrimeClearly,&Prime the nephew says, &Primehe had chosen the one point of victory in that impossible war and decided to become a participant in it – maybe because the defeat was so sudden and heavy, beyond what one could anticipate or handle.&Prime
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