Arabia, imagined as an exotic land of mystery and intrigue, is deeply ingrained in the Western imagination; and even if there is more than a little bit of Orientalism in that conception of “Araby,” the stories brought together as The Arabian Nights, or as The 1001 Nights, have had a strong and lasting influence on the way people throughout the world tell and hear and write and read stories. And this Penguin Classics collection of The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1001 Nights, Volume 1 provides a good place to start.
The tales as we have them were probably set down and compiled sometime between the years 1450 and 1500. And the frame for these tales is a familiar one: a Sasanian king named Shahriyar learns of his wife’s infidelity, and decides in response that he will never suffer such a challenge to his sexual self-esteem again. Accordingly, every night for three years he sleeps with a virgin and then kills her the next morning. The storyteller tells us that “This led to unrest among the citizens” [yes, I would think so!]; and before long, every young woman of marriageable age has fled the city.
The desperate vizier, finding no eligible young women to satisfy Shahriyar’s appetites for sex and revenge, is forced to take his own daughters Shahrazad and Dunyazad to the king. Fortunately, however, Shahrazad is an intelligent, well-educated, and resourceful young woman; and on the night she is to be taken to Shahriyar she tells Dunyazad, “When I go to the king, I shall send for you. You must come, and when you see that the king has done what he wants with me, you are to say: ‘Tell me a story, sister, so as to pass the waking part of the night.’ I shall then tell you a tale that, God willing, will save us’” (pp. 9-10).
And Shahrazad’s bold tactic works. On what could have been yet another deadly wedding night in Shahriyar’s court, Dunyazad stops by the royal boudoir and requests a story; and Shahrazad tells the story, but stops at a high point of tension in the narrative. “‘What a good, pleasant, delightful and sweet story this is!’ exclaimed Dunyazad, at which Shahrazad told her: ‘How can this compare with what I shall tell you this coming night, if I am still alive and the king spares me?’ ‘By God,’ the king said to himself, ‘I am not going to kill her until I hear the rest of the story’” (p. 13). And thus the cycle begins: night after night, Shahrazad tells another story, always in such a way as to leave the king wanting to hear more, and thus preserving her own life and that of her sister.
It is a scenario apt to appeal to any author; like Shahrazad, writers tell stories in order to stay alive. And as the stories of Tales of 1001 Nights unfold, the reader learns a great deal – about the art of a well-told tale, and about the world of medieval and early-modern Arabia from which the tales came.
It is already well-known that The Arabian Nights often combines romance and intrigue, as with the story of the beautiful slave girl Anis al-Jalis, told on Night 34. Kindly and well-educated, Anis al-Jalis is purchased by al-Fadl, vizier to the sultan Sulaiman al-Zaini, for installation in the sultan’s household. But then Anis al-Jalis happens to see the vizier’s handsome young son Nur al-Din, “and his glance left her the legacy of a thousand sighs. Nur al-Din turned and noticed her, and he too was left a thousand sighs when he looked at her. Each of them was ensnared by love for the other” (p. 247). There are a lot of beautiful young women and handsome young men sighing for one another throughout this book.
Once the two young lovers have, as the book often puts it, “achieved union” – and yes, that means exactly what you think it means – things get complicated, as the vizier fears that he will be executed by the sultan for failing to deliver a slave girl to the royal household as scheduled. Will Anis al-Jalis and Nur al-Din, who love each other so desperately, get to stay together? Read the book to find out.
The stories often have a moral edge, as with the story of Aziz and Aziza, told on Nights 111 through 128. As Aziz tells it, he neglected his virtuous cousin Aziza, whom he was supposed to marry, because of his sexual obsession with a beautiful and mysterious woman of the city who kept sending him cryptic messages. Aziza, dying from her unrequited love for Aziz, and “shedding enough tears to rival a rain cloud” (p. 499), expresses her grief in one of the many passages of poetry that appear throughout the book:
After my cousin’s face, God has outlawed for me
All pleasures in this life that time can show.
I wish I knew whether his heart, like mine,
Is melting in the burning heat of love. (p. 500)
Aziza, even as she wastes away from love for Aziz, helps Aziz to interpret the signs that the mystery woman sends, and Aziz eventually “achieves union” with the woman. But the woman turns out to be a daughter of Delilah (warning!), and Aziz pays a very high price for forsaking Aziza’s true love because of his sexual passion for Delilah’s daughter. At the end of this cycle of stories, a sorrowful and repentant Aziz, mourning the death of Aziza, laments the results of his bad choices: “I cannot think of anyone except my cousin. I deserve everything that has happened to me for having neglected her in spite of the fact that she loved me” (p. 521).
The stories often flow into and out of each other, framing one another and taking their characters into subsequent generations, as with the tale of Qamar al-Zaman – a story cycle that starts on Night 170 and, when combined with the stories of his ancestors and descendants, goes all the way to Night 237. The handsome young prince Qamar al-Zaman and the beautiful young princess Budur are briefly brought together by a jinniya (genie) princess and an ‘ifrit (demon); the two fall desperately in love with one another, but live in far-apart kingdoms and do not know how to find each other; Budur in particular seems ready to die for love. Fortunately, Budur has a good and kind foster-brother named Marzuwan, a world traveler who tells his sister, “I shall explore all the lands to find a cure for you. It may be that God will allow me to succeed” (p. 731).
Do Marzuwan’s good offices help Qamar al-Zaman and Budur to find each other? I will say only that the story of these two lovers develops into a multi-generational saga with storytelling elements that look back to classical Greek texts like Euripides’ Hippolytus on the one hand, and forward to works like William Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night on the other.
And if what you want is simply to read a “canonical” Arabian Nights story – one of the tales that have become a part of our popular culture – then skip ahead to page 929 of this 982-page book for “The Story of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves Killed by a Slave Girl.” This story – a later addition of questionable origin, and not an “official” or “numbered” canonical entry among the Tales of 1001 Nights – tells of an impoverished woodcutter named Ali Baba. In the course of his daily wood-gathering work in a Persian forest, Ali Baba happens to observe a group of thieves who access the cave that contains their treasure in the following manner: “After [the leader of the thieves] had made his way through some bushes, this man was clearly heard to utter the following words: ‘Open, Sesame.’ No sooner had he said this than a door opened” (p. 932).
Open, Sesame, indeed. A doorway thus opens to a world of adventure, for all of us. What stood out to me from this return to the story of “Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves” was the story’s rich characterization and powerful sense of poetic justice. Ali Baba’s simplicity of character and goodness of heart, even after he has become a rich man by taking treasure from the thieves, contrast with the selfish and conniving nature of his brother Qasim; and Qasim’s greed and selfishness lead directly to his downfall. And what may surprise the reader who returns to this story after a long time away from it is the courage and resourcefulness of Marjana, an enslaved woman in Ali Baba’s household; Marjana’s incisive observations make her aware of the danger that Ali Baba and his family face from the vengeance-minded thieves, and she takes decisive action to protect the family and stop the thieves once and for all. The tale could almost have been called “The Story of Marjana.”
The pleasures of reading The Arabian Nights include looking on as King Shahriyar, listening to Shahrazad, starts to realize that he has done wrong in seeking to revenge himself upon all women for the way in which one woman wronged him. This element of the tales may serve as a vindication of the humanizing power of storytelling. Don’t all of us finish a good story wanting to be more like the good people in the story, and less like the bad ones?
This edition of Tales of 1001 Nights – with a glossary, a chronology of the tales’ compilation, maps, suggestions for further reading, and a helpful introduction – sweeps one away into a fascinating world of mystery and intrigue. I took up this copy of The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1001 Nights, Volume 1 in the context of a visit to friends in the United Arab Emirates. It feels good to have read Night 1 through Night 294; now, I look forward to hearing Shahrazad continue to weave her storytelling magic on Nights 295 through 1001.