Peripatetic Persian's Picaresque Peregrinations
The son of an Isfahan barber leads an exciting life of endless adventure, a total rollercoaster existence in which his fortunes rise and fall like a wood chip on the waves of Fate. Written by an English diplomat in 1824, HAJJI BABA reminded me more than a little of such 18th century British classics as "Tom Jones", "Moll Flanders", or "The Vicar of Wakefield" in that it is composed of a very large series of picaresque tales full of deus ex machinas, lucky breaks and unbelievable encounters. Oh, yeah, not to mention fortuitous flipflops of Fate. Hajji Baba proves a thief, bandit, pimp, quack, adulterator of goods, forger of signatures, petty tyrant, liar, imposter, show-off, suspected murderer, dreamer, schemer, and always a shlemazl, full of false piety, fake sincerity and an opportunist to the nth degree. I might have left out the traits portrayed in one or two incidents here because this dude had a genius for shooting himself in the foot. Frankly, his love life was a disaster. Despite all this, I enjoyed the book as a kind of colorful old tale, written in the highly stilted and stylized language of several yesteryears before the last !
What you should under no circumstances think is that this story bears more than the slightest relationship to anything Persian, anything to do with the nation of Iran. With this in mind, you can sit back and enjoy a rollicking British tale. It is, as others have pointed out, a prime example of "Orientalism"---a style or an intellectual current in which Westerners stereotype Orientals (particularly, in Edward Said's writing, those of the Muslim world) as all similar, unscrupulous, dirty, ignorant of truth and lacking strong character, and certainly in need of a `strong, guiding hand' which would no doubt be available from Europe (or---let's see---where else ?). Such writings provided the underpinnings of colonialism and are, sadly, far from dead, although in different guises now. By placing his picaresque tale in Persia, Morier could exhibit his knowledge of certain customs, dress, food, and bits of vocabulary while titillating contemporary English readers with glimpses of harem life as he (and they) imagined it. The last chapters make indirect fun of Persians by showing their ignorance of Europe, while "we", the more worldly wise readers, "know" the Persians thanks to having read this novel. Morier thereby set up the backdrop for his next book, in which Hajji Baba visits England. My edition came with a large number of Orientalist illustrations too, brimming with "the exotic" or more bluntly put, the phoney. But you don't have to throw the baby out with the bathwater. This is adventure, 18th century style. If that intrigues you, give HAJJI BABA a try.
I bought this book over 50 years ago in Ithaca, New York, but never got around to reading it till now. I wonder what I would have thought of it then.