quod vide

A friend of mine used to wander through history by following each q.v. in an enyclopaedia or historical dictionary. Each q.v. would lead to another entry, which would lead to another, and so on. Of course, these days q.v. has been largely replaced by the hyperlink. (Interestingly, while Wikipedia has a disambiguation page for QV, from which one can go to Cross-reference, that entry covers cross-referencing in hypertext.)

Last night I was struggling to get to sleep, and I decided (once again) to pick up a dry and difficult book. My choice was History of the Arabs by Philip K Hitti. However, the page I randomly opened it at (towards the end of the chapter on Abbasid society) was not dry at all. The paragraph I read was incredibly interesting, and nearly every line contained references that made me want to learn more. So today, just to satisfy my curiosity, I decided to add all the links I wanted when reading it in the book:

One of the most remarkable features of Christianity under the caliphs was its possession of enough vitality to make it an aggressive church, sending its missionaries as far as India and China. Al-Nadim reports an interesting interview which he himself held with one such missionary returned from China, whom he met in the Christian quarter of Baghdad. The famous stela at Sian Fu, China, erected in 781 to commemorate the names and labours of sixty-seven Nestorian missionaries, together with the affiliation of the Christian church in India, that of the “Christians of St Thomas” in Malabar on the south-west coast, with the patriarchate in Baghdad, bear witness to the evangelistic zeal of the East Syrian Church under the Moslems. It is also recognized that the existing characters of Mongol and Manchu are lineal descendants of the original Uighurian forms, which were certainly derives from the Syriac alphabet as used by the Nestorians.

...

On the subject of how one acquires information and ideas, The Economist has an interesting new site called Thinking Space that is worth a look:

The Economist Thinking Space asks people…where do you get your ideas? We invite you into the lives of some of our European Economist readers – it opens the door to their ‘thinking space’. Our diverse range of influential personalities share their thoughts, ideas, parts of their lives and the role The Economist plays in it. Users are also able to upload and tag images of their own spaces, to allow the site to become more inclusive and to grow, breaking away from the brand’s historical exclusivity.

a time for mystery

I've mentioned before that from time to time I like to read detective novels; I've just read two that I really enjoyed. The first was a Michael Dibdin novel, Vendetta (you can read about his book Ratking here), and the second was The Winter Queen by Boris Akunin.

Vendetta moves between Rome and Sardinia. I love many things about Michael Dibdin's books: the great characterisation, the insight into Italian society and especially Italian politics, and - something you don't really expect in a detective novel - the lovely descriptive passages he seems to casually throw in. Here is an example of that (chosen so as not to spoil the plot in any way):

Once again the thunder growled distantly, reminding Zen of the jet fighter which had startled him at the villa. There had been no hint of a storm then. On the contrary, the sky was free from any suspicion of cloud, a perfect dome of pale bleached blue from which the winter sun shone brilliantly yet without ferocity, a tyrant mellowed by age. The route to the villa lay along the same road by which he had arrived, but in this direction it looked quite different. Instead of a forbidding wall of mountains closing off the view, the land swept down and away, rippling over hillocks and outcrops, reaching down to the sea, a shimmering inconclusive extension of the panorama like the row of dots after an incomplete sentence.

Aurelio Zen is one of my favourite detectives, along with Ian Rankin's John Rebus. I'd recommend any of Michael Dibdin's Zen novels, particularly if you have an interest in Italy (and if you do, this website can recommend other English-language mystery novels set in Italy). Dibdin's work has been translated into eighteen languages - including Italian, which has to be a recommendation.

The Winter Queen (translated from the Russian by Andrew Bromfield) is the first book I've read by Boris Akunin (Grigory Chkhartishvili) and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Apparently the Erast Fandorin series of books are huge in Russia, as big as Harry Potter - and a film version of one of the books set a box office record there, beating Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. (The books seem to be popular in other countries, too, having been translated into more than thirty languages - and Paul Verhoeven, a little bizarrely, is set to make an English-language film version of The Winter Queen with Dan Stevens and Milla Jovovich.)

I liked the historical detail in The Winter Queen, which is set at the end of the nineteenth century, and its humour (for example, Russian roulette is called "American roulette"). The chapters have titles such as "In which serious unpleasantness lies in wait for our hero" and "In which the narrative takes a sharp change of direction".

Here's an atmospheric passage (again chosen so as not to give away the story):

September in Moscow is sated and indolent, trimmed with gold brocade and ruddy cheeked with the maple’s crimson blush, like a merchant’s wife from the Zamoskvorechie district decked out in her finest. If one marries on the final Sunday of the month the sky is certain to be a translucent azure and the sun will shine with a sedate delicacy, so that the groom will not perspire in his tight starched collar and close-fitting black tailcoat, nor will the bride freeze in that gauzy, ethereal, enchanting concoction for which no appropriate name even exists.

Incidentally, the name of the original Russian novel is Azazel (you can find it in full, alongside other novels, on Akunin's official website) - which is the same as another book recently recommended to me, by Egyptian author Youssef Ziedan.

For some wonderful suggestions of translated crime fiction, by someone who has read far more widely than I have, check out Jost A Mon, where Fëanor has been doing some very dedicated research:

First Month - Second Month - Third Month - Fourth Month - Fifth Month

While I am still in the mood for mystery, I am going back to a classic - Murder on the Orient Express (even though I know exactly 'whodunit'). At the suggestion of Eyad, I am going to try it in Arabic (perhaps alongside the English), as it is apparently fun to read. (And who knows, I might write about it in Arabic afterwards.)

prizefighting

There are those with whom a conversation is more like a fight. They are unskilled at listening, and every word you utter is an opportunity for them to launch into an argument of their own, large statements that sweep away any sense you were hoping to convey.

Such people are not stupid; indeed they often possess a sharp intelligence that has tricked them over many years into believing they understand what you are going to say before you have said it.

Some people will never learn anything, for this reason, because they understand everything too soon.

Not only do they understand everything too soon, but their identity is bound to asserting themselves forcefully. They are their opinions. Without the chance to state what they think, to give you their version of the world, to persuade you of their perspective, they will gradually dissolve in front of you, their face and limbs crumbling, evaporating, dissipating.

There are those with whom a conversation is more like a fight. But I am not a fighter.

…

Yesterday a friend, a once close friend whom I haven’t seen in some years, invited me to come again to a book group I had attended on one occasion. He said, “But this time you must talk. I know, you have more to say than any of us, but you just watch. It’s like what I do with my kids; I sit and observe them playing, and let them make their mistakes.”

I am not a fighter.

what's the point of learning to type in arabic?

Welcome to Maren:

Lack of access to an Arabic keyboard or lack of familiarity with one are two of the most common problems preventing Arabic users from communicating in their own language.

Microsoft Maren is a Windows extension that comes to the rescue, allowing you to type Arabic in Roman characters (Romanized Arabic, Arabizi, Arabish or Franco-Arabic) and have it converted on the fly to Arabic script.

Maren integrates seamlessly with Windows and works in most Windows applications and websites.

Mohamed Marwen Meddah at StartUpArabia puts Maren in context:

Users around the Arab world widely use romanized Arabic in instant messaging and on social networking sites, and Microsoft’s Maren is following in the footsteps of Yamli and Google’s Ta3reeb in offering these users the possibility to have whatever text they type converted into Arabic.

Up to this point Yamli has been the user favorite in the region, with a number of portals integrating their service, a Firefox toolbar extension that many people were glad to get and even an unofficial Yamli extension called Arabzi that exists for MSN Messenger. Yamli also uses its transliteration technology as a basis to enrich and provide better Arabic search online.

What Microsoft’s Maren offers as a plus is the possibility to integrate the transliteration technology into Windows, and use it everywhere, not just online through a browser; so basically users can use Maren while typing in a Word document or on Instant Messenger or any other Windows application.

The fact that the tool is installed on the user’s machine also means that the solution is available to the user even when he’s offline, and it could even be a bit faster than other solutions that have to send requests back to a server.

While Maren is a useful tool, I understand the sentiment of an Egyptian friend who wrote on Twitter:

This video is what prompted her comment:

I think there is a big difference between aiming a transliteration tool at people without access to an Arabic keyboard (as Yamli does), and assuming that Arabic speakers don't know how to use an Arabic keyboard - and shouldn't have to learn. While it is true that many Arabic speakers find it difficult to type in Arabic, perhaps because they have always used the Roman keyboard, or never have much occasion to write in Arabic, there are also plenty of people who have no problem at all using the Arabic keyboard and type Arabic with ease.

It seems a bit insulting that Microsoft markets Maren as "coming to the rescue" because the Arabic keyboard is just too hard. Personally I don't write a huge amount in Arabic, but I do send emails and search using Arabic terms all the time. I have resorted to tools like Yamli when I am without an Arabic keyboard but I can't manage for long without one. I know plenty of people who type Arabic (using an Arabic keyboard) as well as English; I feel it is a perfectly natural situation for many, and is perhaps related to their educational and cultural environment.

However, it seems some agree with Microsoft's premise, and even take it a step further. I received some responses (condensed here) from Jeremy Bicha, an American based in Bahrain:

I don't think the Arabic keyboard has a good layout & it's better to type in English/French, etc. than designing & learning a new one…What helps a person more in 2009? Typing in Arabic or being able to type in any Western language? & with tools like Yamli or Microsoft Maren, that's enough to type in any language in the world…with only so much time to teach students, what is most useful, profitable?

So what do you think? Is it worth the effort of learning how to type on an Arabic keyboard, or should Arabic speakers take the easy route and just use the Roman keyboard when typing? Is this an issue of having respect for one's language and culture, or simply a question of practicality?

learning a lesson

As we follow the shepherd into a small remote village in the South Hebron Hills, the atmosphere is calm, yet the pace is quick. The father prepares the feeding troughs so that the sheep may supplement the grass they just ate. One of the children prepares bread, one fetches water from the cistern, and six sit near the entrance of the house, smiling. [...] As their mother emerges from the cave, moving quickly as she works to prepare the house and the meal for unexpected guests, she speaks firmly with her children. As I repeat her words in my head, trying to translate them, two children emerge with a thin mattress and pillows for us to sit on. I then understand the firm tone came from the mother's annoyance with the children for not looking after the guests. [...] As we enter the family's dwelling, which is a cave, the children are to my left eating in the small kitchen area. The rest of the cave has been vacated for us, the guests. We sit and are immediately served freshly baked bread, tomatoes, green beans, onions, and lamb. This lamb was not store bought, but this sheep was born and raised in these hills by the family. Now this goat will be used to feed guests who have spent no time caring for the sheep. During the meal, every time we momentarily stop eating, we are immediately commanded to keep eating. [...] These people don't need to learn anything. They don't need to learn about modern economics, simple living, democracy, the West, or the peace process. The opposite is true, we all need to learn from these people. The graciousness, kindness, and love of their hospitality is something that could change the world, if we only listened.

Photo credit: Jill Granberg

happiness

We assume that the question of happiness is a question of my happiness or, more properly, of my relation to my happiness. But why? Why doesn’t it make much better sense to live in such a way — to act kindly, fairly, courageously, decently — in such a way that happiness is something that others might ascribe to you after you are gone?

fatenah

Fatenah is billed as the first Palestinian animation film:

Inspired from a true story. “Fatenah”, a Palestinian woman who lives in Gaza Strip. Her simple wishes were her consolation in the absurd living situation around her. But when she discovers a lump near her breast, she will start a journey to save her dreams.

It looks really interesting, both visually and in terms of its story (and incidentally is sponsored by the World Health Organization). For more information see here.

dürrenmatt, pasolini, and the country that nobody knows

Today I visited the Centre Dürrenmatt Neuchâtel, which is named after Friedrich Dürrenmatt, the Swiss playwright (and it seems visual artist, too). He and Max Frisch were probably the most influential Swiss writers of the last century. When I heard about the centre, I was confused as to why it would be in Neuchâtel, seeing as Dürrenmatt was a Swiss German, and Neuchâtel is in the French-speaking part of the country. However, I learned that Dürrenmatt actually lived in Neuchâtel for 38 years, and died here in 1990. His former home has been integrated into the building housing the Centre Dürrenmatt Neuchâtel, which was designed by Mario Botta, the Swiss Italian architect who also designed the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.



Dürrenmatt's most famous plays in translation are The Visit and The Physicists (I have read neither but have seen the latter). One of his novellas was adapted for a film starring Jack Nicholson some years ago.

At the moment there is little on display in Centre Dürrenmatt Neuchâtel regarding Dürrenmatt himself; instead a fantastic exhibition has just opened about Pier Paolo Pasolini, the Italian film director (and so many other things). It is set up as a multi-screen montage of extracts of his films, with an exhibition about his life and work. It was quite affecting, given the size of the screens, the volume of the soundtrack, and the nature of much of Pasolini's work (let's just say some of it is not appropriate for family viewing).


I not only enjoyed the exhibition, but also the experience of being in a multilingual environment where there was a sense of culture transgressing linguistic boundaries. When I went to buy a ticket at the entrance of the centre, the woman working there apologised that she spoke "only" French, German and Italian (and in fact as we chatted, kept jumping between French and German very naturally). In the exhibition, Pasolini's work and film extracts were in Italian (and his own language, Friulian), with explanatory information in French and German.

Family and friends aside, I enjoy coming back to Europe for linguistic (as I have mentioned before) and cultural reasons, but I am always realistic about the limits of my enjoyment. I know that if I moved back I would quickly feel very frustrated, even by quite understandable things. When chatting to the Swiss lady at the front desk about the Pasolini exhibition, she asked me where I lived; I told her, and she apologised and said she had never heard of Bahrain. No doubt most of the world would have the same reaction, and I'm not at all surprised (Bahrain is tiny), but I just feel weary at the thought of living somewhere where my previous life would require the minutest explanation, beginning with a map.


Photo credits: CDN

persepolis

Just before coming to Switzerland I read Persepolis, the graphic novel by Marjane Satrapi:

Persepolis is Marjane Satrapi's wise, funny, and heartbreaking memoir of growing up in Iran during the Islamic Revolution. In powerful black-and-white comic strip images, Satrapi tells the story of her life in Tehran from ages six to fourteen, years that saw the overthrow of the Shah's regime, the triumph of the Islamic Revolution, and the devastating effects of war with Iraq. The intelligent and outspoken only child of committed Marxists and the great-granddaughter of one of Iran's last emperors, Marjane bears witness to a childhood uniquely entwined with the history of her country.

In the original French Persepolis is divided into four books, which in English were combined to make two volumes. The English book I read (see image) contains the first two parts, and I have just read the last two in French in a "monovolume" containing all four. These cover Satrapi's teenage years in Vienna, and return to Iran. (The books were of course made into a film a couple of years ago - the trailer is here.)

Persepolis is totally engaging, and one of those biographical accounts (like Wild Swans) through which historical events gain substance by making you understand their impact on people's lives. I loved the format; I haven't read many graphic novels - the last one I remember is the excellent Palestine by Joe Sacco - but think I should make more effort to do so. I also want to read more books by Iranian authors, particularly given what is happening right now. I remember reading a novel translated from Persian some years ago, but am ashamed to say I cannot remember either the author or the title of the book. Any recommendations for must-read Iranian novels?

This is how Persepolis begins:

en vacances

I'm in Switzerland visiting family (my brother lives here). The weather is beautiful, the scenery is stunning, the food is good, and I have two cute little nephews to play with. What more could you ask for on holiday? Here are a few pictures.