This is the story of Khaled the believing genius, which he caused to be written down in letters of gold by the most accomplished scribe in Nejed, that all men might remember it.
Khaled is a charming fairytale penned by one of the most popular American Romantic writers of the 19th century. His name was unfamiliar to me so his popularity proved not so long lasting. I initially thought the author was a lady named Marion and I only came across the name here on Goodreads when I mentioned I am interested in stories set in the Arab world. The comparison between this story and the Arabian Nights seems appropriate, and there may be a connection between the Burton translations and the renewed interest of the public in the romance of the desert, in beautiful dark haired beauties hiding behind the screens of the harem and in fierce warriors fighting for their attention, in genies flying across the night skies and in fabulous wealth hidden under the sands. Khaled has it all - love and danger and betrayal and supernatural intervention. Some may call the style old-fashioned and formal, I prefer to look at it as timeless storytelling. Here is how Zehowah - the princess of Riad in the kingdom of Nejed - is described in one of the opening scenes:
: Her eyes are as the deep water in the wells of Zobeideh when it is night and the stars are reflected therein. Her hair is finer than silk, red with henna, and abundant as the foliage of the young cypress tree. Her face is as fair as the kernels of young almonds, and her mouth is sweeter than the mellow date and more fragrant than 'Ood mingled with ambergris.
Princes from all over the world are coming to petition the sultan her father for her hand in marriage, riding on elephants and carrying magnificent gifts. Yet she is unimpressed looks upon them with a cold and critical eye. Someone else is watching over the events : a genie of the desert named Khaled. Without going into detail, Khaled makes a bargain with the Angel Azrael where he renounces his immortality and he is promised a soul, if only he can win the love of the beautiful Zehowah. She proves very hard to woo, and the poor genie tries everything in his (now mortal) power to demonstrate his true passion.
Her : Then love is indeed a fancy. For if you could not see me, nor touch me, nor hear me, what would remain to you but an empty thought?
and in another dispute: What is this love of which you talk? Is it a rich garment that you can wear? A precious stone that you can fasten in your turban? A rich carpet to spread in your house? A treasure of gold, a mountain of ambergris, a bushel of pearls from Oman? Why do you covet it? Am I not beautiful enough? Then is love henna to make my hair bright, or kohl to darken my eyes, or a boiled egg with almonds to smooth my face?
Him : Love is the first mystery of the world. Death is the second. Between the two there is nothing but a weariness darkened with shadows and thick with mists. What is gold? A cinder that glows in the darkness for a moment and falls away to a cold ash in our hand when we have taken it. But love is a treasure which remains. What is renown? A cry uttered in the bazaar by men whose minds are subject to change as their bodies are to death. But the voice of love is heard in paradise, singing beside the fountains Tasnim and Salsahil. What is power? A net with which to draw wealth and fame from the waters of life? To what end? We must die. Or is power a sword to kill our enemies? If their time is come they will die without the sword. Or is it a stick to purify the hides of fools? The fools will die also, like his master, and both will be forgotten. But they who love shall enter the seventh heaven together, according to the promise of Allah. Death is stronger than man or woman, but love is stronger than death, and all else is but a vision seen in the desert, having no reality.
I believe you see why I'm calling the novel Romantic: exotic locations, heroic figures, predestination, wars and passionate discourses. Reading the novel with modern eyes, I was impressed mostly by two aspects:
- the book was written before we started the stereotypes of the Arabs as dirty, uncultured, religious maniacs. I don't know where Crawford did his research, but the society described in Khaled rings true, both in the importance of religion in the everyday life of the Muslim, and in the Bedu raiders rigid moral codes. The portrait of women shows the restrictions imposed on them by the system, but also the respect and consideration that is due to them as a matter of course. Zehowah is strong minded and independent, even dominating in conversation and logic Khaled with his belief that a strong arm, faith and courage are enough for a man. I believe I learned more about the country and its people here that I could reading a recent thriller with suicide bombers and depraved oil sheiks.
- two other writers , Washington Irving writing also in the 19th century and recently Wilfred Thesiger writing in the 1940's, remarked on the generosity and integrity of the desert people. Both stress the fact that what we consider now chivalry arrived in Europe from the Arabs by way of the Crusades and of the Moorish kingdom of Al Andalus. Khaled is another example that reinforces the thesis embraced by these two writers. The only complaint I might make about his character is a resignation in the face of adversity and a too strong belief in predestination. The two are related, leading to an attitude that 'what is written is written, and a man can do nothing to change what the God has in store for him. Many people consider this aspect one of the crucial differences of mentality between the East and the West, between a life of contemplation and one of action, between a gardener and a conqueror.
I guess that's enough rambling on my part. I recommend reading the story and not try like me to read too much hidden meaning in the text. It's a fairytale after all. My favorite passage is a song (a kasid) by Zehowah, a metaphor about love as a precious pearl lost at the bottom of the sea by a fisherman who was too concerned about the dangers and the pain he had to go through to get his hands on it. I didn't quote the kasid because it is rather long, and it is better appreciated in the context where it is sung.
For a similar type of story I recommend The Tales of the Alhambra by Washington Irving.