The International Prize for Arabic Fiction—also known as the Arabic Booker—was announced yesterday as a sort of kick-off for this year’s Abu Dhabi International Book Fair.
This is the second time Jaber has been shortlisted for the prize, which, when you think about the fact that this is only the fifth iteration of the award, is pretty remarkable.
Here’s a bit about the book and Jaber himself:
After the 1860 Civil War in Mount Lebanon, a number of fighters from the religious Druze community are forced into exile, travelling by sea to the fortress of Belgrade on the boundary of the Ottoman Empire. In exchange for the freedom of a fellow fighter, they take with them a Christian man from Beirut called Hanna Yacoub; an unfortunate egg seller who happens to be sitting at the port. The Druze of Belgrade follows their adventures in the Balkans, as they struggle to stay alive.
Lebanese novelist and journalist Rabee Jaber was born in Beirut in 1972. He has been editor of Afaq, the weekly cultural supplement of Al-Hayat newspaper, since 2001. His first novel, Master of Darkness, won the Critics’ Choice Prize in 1992. He has since written 16 novels, including Black Tea, The Last House, Yousif Al-Inglizi, The Journey of the Granadan (published in German in 2005), Berytus: A City Beneath the Earth (published in French by Gallimard in 2009) and America, which was shortlisted for the International Prize for Arabic Fiction in 2010.
And from the press release:
As well as winning 50,000 US Dollars, Rabee Jaber is guaranteed an English translation of his novel, as well as increased book sales and international recognition. In the past five years, all winners of the Prize have secured English publishing deals for their novels, with three former winners—Youssef Ziedan, Abdo Khal and Mohammed Achaari—to be published in English in 2012.
Ed Nawotka’s piece in Publishing Perspectives is the first mention I’ve seen of this, but on Tuesday, the six finalists for the 2010 International Prize for Arabic Fiction (aka, the “Arabic Booker”) were announced. Each finalist received $10,000 and the winner gets an additional $50,000.
Here is the shortlist with the author’s country in parenthesis:
A Cloudy Day on the West Side by Muhammad Al-Mansi Qindeel (Egypt)
Beyond Paradise by Mansoura Ez Eldin (Egypt)
America by Rabee Jabir (Lebanon)
She Throws Sparks by Abdo Khal (Saudi Arabia)
The Lady from Tel Aviv by Raba’i Madhoun (Palestine)
When the Wolves Grow Old by Jamal Naji (Jordan)
Hopefully someone will put up sample translations from all of these in the not-too-distant future. If/when somebody does, I’ll be sure to link . . .
The winner will be announced in early March, at the same time as the Abu Dhabi International Book Fair.
Founded in 1960 by such creative pioneers as George Perec, Raymond Queneau and Italo Calvino, the Oulipo, shorthand for Ouvroir de littérature potentielle, came about in when a group of writers and mathematicians sought constraints to find new structures and. . .
There’s little to say about a series of prose poems that willfully refuse to identify pronoun antecedents. Or perhaps there are a million things. The poems in Morse, My Deaf Friend— the chapbook by Miloš Djurdjević published by Ugly Duckling. . .
The Crimson Thread of Abandon is the first collection of short fiction available in English by the prolific Japanese writer and all-around avant-garde trickster Terayama Shūji, who died in 1983 at the age of 47. This collection would be important. . .
Last year, NYRB Classics introduced English-language readers to Catalan writer Josep Pla with Peter Bush’s translation of The Gray Notebook. In that book, Pla wrote about life in Spain during an influenza outbreak soon after World War I, when. . .
“Your bile is stagnant, you see sorrow in everything, you are drenched in melancholy,” my friend the doctor said.
bq. “Isn’t melancholy something from previous centuries? Isn’t some vaccine against it yet, hasn’t medicine taken care of it yet?” I. . .
What to make of Vano and Niko, the English translation of Erlom Akhvlediani’s work of the same name, as well as the two other short books that comprise a sort of trilogy? Quick searches will inform the curious reader that. . .
The opening of Jón Gnarr’s novel/memoir The Indian is a playful bit of extravagant ego, telling the traditional story of creation, where the “Let there be light!” moment is also the moment of his birth on January 2nd, 1967. Then. . .