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The Return
From Man Booker Prize and National Book Critics Circle Award finalist Hisham Matar, a memoir of his journey home to his native Libya in search of answers to his father's disappearance. In 2012, after the overthrow of Qaddafi, the acclaimed novelist Hisham Matar journeys to his native Libya after an absence of thirty years.
When he was twelve, Matar and his family went into political exile. Eight years later Matar's father, a former diplomat and military man turned brave political dissident, was kidnapped from the streets of Cairo by the Libyan government and is believed to have been held in the regime's most notorious prison. Now, the prisons are empty and little hope remains that Jaballa Matar will be found alive. Yet, as the author writes, hope is "persistent and cunning".
This book is a profoundly moving family memoir, a brilliant and affecting portrait of a country and a people on the cusp of immense change, and a disturbing and timeless depiction of the monstrous nature of absolute power.
When he was twelve, Matar and his family went into political exile. Eight years later Matar's father, a former diplomat and military man turned brave political dissident, was kidnapped from the streets of Cairo by the Libyan government and is believed to have been held in the regime's most notorious prison. Now, the prisons are empty and little hope remains that Jaballa Matar will be found alive. Yet, as the author writes, hope is "persistent and cunning".
This book is a profoundly moving family memoir, a brilliant and affecting portrait of a country and a people on the cusp of immense change, and a disturbing and timeless depiction of the monstrous nature of absolute power.
256 pages, Hardcover
First published June 30, 2016
About the author
Hisham Matar
19 books1,188 followersHisham Matar was born in New York City, where his father was working for the Libyan delegation to the United Nations. When he was three years old, his family went back to Tripoli, Libya, where he spent his early childhood. Due to political persecutions by the Ghaddafi regime, in 1979 his father was accused of being a reactionary to the Libyan revolutionary regime and was forced to flee the country with his family. They lived in exile in Egypt where Hisham and his brother completed their schooling in Cairo. In 1986 he moved to London, United Kingdom, where he continued his studies and received a degree in architecture. In 1990, while he was still in London, his father, a political dissident, was kidnapped in Cairo. He has been reported missing ever since. However, in 1996, the family received two letters with his father's handwriting stating that he was kidnapped by the Egyptian secret police, handed over to the Libyan regime, and imprisoned in the notorious Abu-Salim prison in the heart of Tripoli. Since that date, there has been no more information about his father's whereabouts.
Hisham Matar began writing poetry and experimented in theatre. He began writing his first novel In the Country of Men in early 2000. In the autumn of 2005, the publishers Penguin International signed a two-book deal with him, and the novel was a huge success.
Hisham Matar began writing poetry and experimented in theatre. He began writing his first novel In the Country of Men in early 2000. In the autumn of 2005, the publishers Penguin International signed a two-book deal with him, and the novel was a huge success.
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February 15, 2022
ANATOMIA DI UNA SCOMPARSA
La foto sulla copertina è uno scatto di Diana Matar, moglie di Hisham Matar, che fa parte della serie Evidence. Così pure quelle che seguono.
Anatomia di una scomparsa è il titolo del precedente romanzo di Hisham Matar, a riprova che l’argomento gli batte dentro con urgenza particolarmente viva.
La scomparsa è quindi un tema che sta a cuore allo scrittore Matar, ma soprattutto all’uomo, che aveva nove anni quando la famiglia fu costretta a trasferirsi al Cairo per sfuggire al dittatore Gheddafi: il padre era uno degli oppositori di spicco e aveva messo in piedi gruppi di resistenza armata che istruiva militarmente nel confinante Ciad.
E dopo oltre trent’anni d’esilio, nel 2012, con lo scoppio delle cosiddette “primavere arabe” (approdate a poco o nulla, finite malissimo, sigh), Matar fa ritorno in patria, la Libia, insieme alla madre e al fratello, per cercare il padre, o anche solo sue notizie.
Hisham aveva quasi diciannove anni quando al Cairo suo padre fu sequestrato da casa dai servizi segreti egiziani che ‘regalarono’ il prigioniero ai libici, che lo rinchiusero in una delle loro mitiche prigioni (mitiche per quanto terribili).
Il nonno Hamed aveva combattuto contro gli italiani, il figlio Jaballa, il padre di Hisham, è il leader dell’opposizione al dittatore Gheddafi, arrivato al potere con un colpo di stato nel 1969 (ben visto dall’Italia che con l’ENI di Mattei metteva le mani su importanti risorse di petrolio e gas).
Qualche anno dopo l’arresto, il padre scompare: l’avranno trasferito in un’altra ala di quello stesso carcere, oppure in un’altra prigione? Sarà morto il 29 giugno 1996 quando le guardie carcerarie trucidarono milleduecentosettanta prigionieri in una sola volta? È morto, o è vivo? Che fine ha fatto? Dov’è il corpo? Cosa resta di lui?
Scomparsa.
Assenza.
Che martella dentro quotidianamente, e quindi, diventando presenza. Costante.
Il dolore è un lavoro, dice giustamente Matar in questa sua bella autobiografia, che è anche una biografia, privata e collettiva, della sua famiglia (padre, madre, fratello maggiore di quattro anni, Hisham: ma poi circa duecento tra zii e cugini!) e della Libia, del suo popolo.
In questo suo magnifico memoir, premio Pulitzer 2017 (per la migliore biografia o autobiografia, uno dei sette premi Pulitzer che viene assegnato ogni anno), attraverso i ricordi del nonno, il padre paterno, dello stesso padre, suoi personali, racconta la storia della Libia a partire dall’arrivo degli italiani nel 1911, che adottarono subito sistemi ingegnosi, oltre che marcare architettonicamente il territorio: arrestarono cinquemila libici, uno ogni sei abitanti della capitale Tripoli, per deportarli.
Nei campi di concentramento? No, quelli nascono un po’ dopo, bisogna aspettare gli inventivi fascisti. No, i soldati mandati dal governo parlamentare italiano deportano i libici nelle isole Tremiti (c’è un cimitero libico a San Nicola), a Favignana, a Ponza, a Ustica.
Matar non spinge sul tasto brutalità italiana più di tanto: ricorda brevemente l’uso delle armi chimiche (bombe all’iprite, il gas mostarda), le deportazioni, le rappresaglie, persino sulle greggi, ben più che decimate per affamare la popolazione, l’esecuzione per impiccagione del capo della resistenza, Omar al-Mukhtar, alla quale la popolazione fu costretta ad assistere (pratica poi ripresa dal dittatore Gheddafi che faceva deviare il traffico affinché la gente fosse costretta a vedere i corpi penzolanti degli studenti impiccati nel giardino della cattedrale di Bengasi). Adotta un tono pratico, concreto, quasi smorzato. Però la botta arriva ugualmente, forse perfino più dura:
La storia lo ricorda come il fascista pagliaccesco, l’inefficiente buffone italiano che guidò una stolta impresa militare durante la seconda guerra mondiale, ma in Libia Mussolini sovrintese un genocidio.
Jaballa Matar era un uomo d’affari di notevole successo economico che mise la sua fortuna al servizio della causa contro la dittatura, diventando per forza dic ose un faro e un modello anche per i figli.
Si ha bisogno di un padre a cui ribellarsi – uccidi il padre, insegna la psicanalisi.
Ma se uno è figlio di un uomo fuori del comune, forse perfino un grand’uomo, che succede? Se quell’uomo, quel tuo padre, tuo papà, è ricordato e ammirato da un paese intero anche dopo un quarto di secolo che di lui non si sa più nulla…?
Che succede se è il figlio che sente la necessità e l’istinto di proteggere l’adulto?
Telemaco ha atteso per vent’anni, ma poi ha visto tornare suo padre, Ulisse è stato via da casa per vent’anni, ma poi ha fatto ritorno…
Hisham sono quasi quarant’anni che aspetta, senza sapere: Amnesty, Human Rights Watch, il governo britannico, quello libico, quello egiziano, giornali, appelli…
L’oblio che saremo.
Dalla pagina Wikipedia Crimini di guerra italiani:
Il 20 gennaio 1931 Cufra è rioccupata dagli italiani; ne seguirono tre giorni di violenze ed atrocità impressionanti che provocarono la morte di circa 180-200 libici e innumerevoli altre vittime tra i sopravvissuti: 17 capi senussiti impiccati, 35 indigeni evirati e lasciati morire dissanguati, 50 donne stuprate, 50 fucilazioni, 40 esecuzioni con accette, baionette, sciabole. Atrocità e torture impressionanti: a donne incinte venne squartato il ventre e i feti infilzati, giovani indigene violentate e sodomizzate (ad alcune infisse candele di sego in vagina e nel retto), teste e testicoli mozzati e portati in giro come trofei; torture anche su bambini (3 immersi in calderoni di acqua bollente) e vecchi (ad alcuni estirpati unghie e occhi).
La foto sulla copertina è uno scatto di Diana Matar, moglie di Hisham Matar, che fa parte della serie Evidence. Così pure quelle che seguono.
Anatomia di una scomparsa è il titolo del precedente romanzo di Hisham Matar, a riprova che l’argomento gli batte dentro con urgenza particolarmente viva.
La scomparsa è quindi un tema che sta a cuore allo scrittore Matar, ma soprattutto all’uomo, che aveva nove anni quando la famiglia fu costretta a trasferirsi al Cairo per sfuggire al dittatore Gheddafi: il padre era uno degli oppositori di spicco e aveva messo in piedi gruppi di resistenza armata che istruiva militarmente nel confinante Ciad.
E dopo oltre trent’anni d’esilio, nel 2012, con lo scoppio delle cosiddette “primavere arabe” (approdate a poco o nulla, finite malissimo, sigh), Matar fa ritorno in patria, la Libia, insieme alla madre e al fratello, per cercare il padre, o anche solo sue notizie.
Hisham aveva quasi diciannove anni quando al Cairo suo padre fu sequestrato da casa dai servizi segreti egiziani che ‘regalarono’ il prigioniero ai libici, che lo rinchiusero in una delle loro mitiche prigioni (mitiche per quanto terribili).
Il nonno Hamed aveva combattuto contro gli italiani, il figlio Jaballa, il padre di Hisham, è il leader dell’opposizione al dittatore Gheddafi, arrivato al potere con un colpo di stato nel 1969 (ben visto dall’Italia che con l’ENI di Mattei metteva le mani su importanti risorse di petrolio e gas).
Qualche anno dopo l’arresto, il padre scompare: l’avranno trasferito in un’altra ala di quello stesso carcere, oppure in un’altra prigione? Sarà morto il 29 giugno 1996 quando le guardie carcerarie trucidarono milleduecentosettanta prigionieri in una sola volta? È morto, o è vivo? Che fine ha fatto? Dov’è il corpo? Cosa resta di lui?
Scomparsa.
Assenza.
Che martella dentro quotidianamente, e quindi, diventando presenza. Costante.
Il dolore è un lavoro, dice giustamente Matar in questa sua bella autobiografia, che è anche una biografia, privata e collettiva, della sua famiglia (padre, madre, fratello maggiore di quattro anni, Hisham: ma poi circa duecento tra zii e cugini!) e della Libia, del suo popolo.
In questo suo magnifico memoir, premio Pulitzer 2017 (per la migliore biografia o autobiografia, uno dei sette premi Pulitzer che viene assegnato ogni anno), attraverso i ricordi del nonno, il padre paterno, dello stesso padre, suoi personali, racconta la storia della Libia a partire dall’arrivo degli italiani nel 1911, che adottarono subito sistemi ingegnosi, oltre che marcare architettonicamente il territorio: arrestarono cinquemila libici, uno ogni sei abitanti della capitale Tripoli, per deportarli.
Nei campi di concentramento? No, quelli nascono un po’ dopo, bisogna aspettare gli inventivi fascisti. No, i soldati mandati dal governo parlamentare italiano deportano i libici nelle isole Tremiti (c’è un cimitero libico a San Nicola), a Favignana, a Ponza, a Ustica.
Matar non spinge sul tasto brutalità italiana più di tanto: ricorda brevemente l’uso delle armi chimiche (bombe all’iprite, il gas mostarda), le deportazioni, le rappresaglie, persino sulle greggi, ben più che decimate per affamare la popolazione, l’esecuzione per impiccagione del capo della resistenza, Omar al-Mukhtar, alla quale la popolazione fu costretta ad assistere (pratica poi ripresa dal dittatore Gheddafi che faceva deviare il traffico affinché la gente fosse costretta a vedere i corpi penzolanti degli studenti impiccati nel giardino della cattedrale di Bengasi). Adotta un tono pratico, concreto, quasi smorzato. Però la botta arriva ugualmente, forse perfino più dura:
La storia lo ricorda come il fascista pagliaccesco, l’inefficiente buffone italiano che guidò una stolta impresa militare durante la seconda guerra mondiale, ma in Libia Mussolini sovrintese un genocidio.
Jaballa Matar era un uomo d’affari di notevole successo economico che mise la sua fortuna al servizio della causa contro la dittatura, diventando per forza dic ose un faro e un modello anche per i figli.
Si ha bisogno di un padre a cui ribellarsi – uccidi il padre, insegna la psicanalisi.
Ma se uno è figlio di un uomo fuori del comune, forse perfino un grand’uomo, che succede? Se quell’uomo, quel tuo padre, tuo papà, è ricordato e ammirato da un paese intero anche dopo un quarto di secolo che di lui non si sa più nulla…?
Che succede se è il figlio che sente la necessità e l’istinto di proteggere l’adulto?
Telemaco ha atteso per vent’anni, ma poi ha visto tornare suo padre, Ulisse è stato via da casa per vent’anni, ma poi ha fatto ritorno…
Hisham sono quasi quarant’anni che aspetta, senza sapere: Amnesty, Human Rights Watch, il governo britannico, quello libico, quello egiziano, giornali, appelli…
L’oblio che saremo.
Dalla pagina Wikipedia Crimini di guerra italiani:
Il 20 gennaio 1931 Cufra è rioccupata dagli italiani; ne seguirono tre giorni di violenze ed atrocità impressionanti che provocarono la morte di circa 180-200 libici e innumerevoli altre vittime tra i sopravvissuti: 17 capi senussiti impiccati, 35 indigeni evirati e lasciati morire dissanguati, 50 donne stuprate, 50 fucilazioni, 40 esecuzioni con accette, baionette, sciabole. Atrocità e torture impressionanti: a donne incinte venne squartato il ventre e i feti infilzati, giovani indigene violentate e sodomizzate (ad alcune infisse candele di sego in vagina e nel retto), teste e testicoli mozzati e portati in giro come trofei; torture anche su bambini (3 immersi in calderoni di acqua bollente) e vecchi (ad alcuni estirpati unghie e occhi).
July 23, 2016
In the United States, I first heard of the overthrow of Qaddafi on our nightly news, just pieces here and there, atrocities committed by the regime just lightly touched on. So this book was very eye opening to me, the details were anguishing to read. First book I have read about Libya, or even set in Libya.
The author's father was a very successful businessman, quite wealthy and against the Qaddafi regime, he put his money into the overthrow of this corrupt and abusive government as he and extended family members fought to out the dictator. Janelle Mata had timescale from Tripoli and take his family to Cairo after he and his activities became noticed by the Libyan dictator. But nowhere was far enough, one son almost kidnapped at school and he himself kidnapped off the streets of Cairo and taken to Abu Salim Prison. After Qaddafi's ousting and capture he and his wife, return to Libya to find out if his father could have survived. Other extended family members had been imprisoned along with his father and then released.
Don't know what to say to the abuses of these dictators, the imprisonments, the torture, where lives have no value. Words are useless, understanding will never come we can only read and bear witness. Hear what they are saying, educate ourselves if you will. Eloquently written, with many instances of Libyan history to present a background, the author follows a trail from family members to others. The stories he hears are beyond appalling, why do men do this to men? How can life be held so cheaply? Hard book to read, disheartening, but informative. Well written and well presented.
ARC from Netgalley.
The author's father was a very successful businessman, quite wealthy and against the Qaddafi regime, he put his money into the overthrow of this corrupt and abusive government as he and extended family members fought to out the dictator. Janelle Mata had timescale from Tripoli and take his family to Cairo after he and his activities became noticed by the Libyan dictator. But nowhere was far enough, one son almost kidnapped at school and he himself kidnapped off the streets of Cairo and taken to Abu Salim Prison. After Qaddafi's ousting and capture he and his wife, return to Libya to find out if his father could have survived. Other extended family members had been imprisoned along with his father and then released.
Don't know what to say to the abuses of these dictators, the imprisonments, the torture, where lives have no value. Words are useless, understanding will never come we can only read and bear witness. Hear what they are saying, educate ourselves if you will. Eloquently written, with many instances of Libyan history to present a background, the author follows a trail from family members to others. The stories he hears are beyond appalling, why do men do this to men? How can life be held so cheaply? Hard book to read, disheartening, but informative. Well written and well presented.
ARC from Netgalley.
August 23, 2022
There are several reasons to choose this book:
-beautiful prose.
-thoughtful, philosophical content about a son's relationship to an absent father.
-a memoir that illustrates how political events shape the lives of a nation's people.
-details about life under the Libyan dictator Qaddafi.
Themes are smoothly and thoughtfully interwoven. This is not merely a book about historical events. It is not only one man's, the author's, struggle to come to terms with the uncertainty of his father's death and his own guilt in failing to save him. The book is both.
The author has lived for a long time in London, Manhattan, Cairo and Tripoli. Where is home? This is another theme of the book. He is Arab and Western. He is extremely well educated. He is a teacher of literature, an architect, an author and is willing to reveal his inner thoughts. His experiences are movingly told with just the right amount of background information so the reader understands the Libyan context, but he doesn't go off on long tangents about history or politics. You learn, you understand and you are engaged.
The author narrates the audiobook. It is read very slowly, which I liked. This gave me time to appreciate the poetry of his lines and to jot down Arabic names of which I am unfamiliar. Fluent in both English and Arabic, there are no mispronunciations. This is an exception to the rule that author’s should not read their own book! He does a very good job. There is a technical problem with the audiobook. At one point a section of the book is read twice!
The author is clearly both his father's and his grandfather's descendant. All three are/were poets, politically active, upstanding moral human beings with high principles. Fascinating people to read about! With this under my belt, I will read the author’s novel In the Country of Men, which I think can be more fully understood having read his memoir first.
**********************
*In the Country of Men 4 stars
*The Return: Fathers, Sons, and the Land in Between 4 stars
*Anatomy of a Disappearance TBR
*A Month in Siena TBR
-beautiful prose.
-thoughtful, philosophical content about a son's relationship to an absent father.
-a memoir that illustrates how political events shape the lives of a nation's people.
-details about life under the Libyan dictator Qaddafi.
Themes are smoothly and thoughtfully interwoven. This is not merely a book about historical events. It is not only one man's, the author's, struggle to come to terms with the uncertainty of his father's death and his own guilt in failing to save him. The book is both.
The author has lived for a long time in London, Manhattan, Cairo and Tripoli. Where is home? This is another theme of the book. He is Arab and Western. He is extremely well educated. He is a teacher of literature, an architect, an author and is willing to reveal his inner thoughts. His experiences are movingly told with just the right amount of background information so the reader understands the Libyan context, but he doesn't go off on long tangents about history or politics. You learn, you understand and you are engaged.
The author narrates the audiobook. It is read very slowly, which I liked. This gave me time to appreciate the poetry of his lines and to jot down Arabic names of which I am unfamiliar. Fluent in both English and Arabic, there are no mispronunciations. This is an exception to the rule that author’s should not read their own book! He does a very good job. There is a technical problem with the audiobook. At one point a section of the book is read twice!
The author is clearly both his father's and his grandfather's descendant. All three are/were poets, politically active, upstanding moral human beings with high principles. Fascinating people to read about! With this under my belt, I will read the author’s novel In the Country of Men, which I think can be more fully understood having read his memoir first.
**********************
*In the Country of Men 4 stars
*The Return: Fathers, Sons, and the Land in Between 4 stars
*Anatomy of a Disappearance TBR
*A Month in Siena TBR
January 3, 2018
Hisham Matar’s revered Father, businessman and wealthy ex-Libyan Jaballa Matar, was a financier hero of several mysterious and failed Libya liberation movements fighting against the alpha male dictator Muammar Qaddafi. Muammer Qaddafi had engineered a coup in Libya in 1969 overthrowing Libya’s monarch, and he soon began a campaign of torture and terror to kill any possible political competition.
Very male author Hisham Matar, the respected masculine writer of this award-winning very masculine-gendered book, had manfully loved, admired, and pined away for his masculine missing Father for decades.
All of you who prefer living in a world without women except for the females who cook or serve meals silently can relax now, as I will follow the male author Hisham Matar’s example from here forward and pretend no women live or have ever existed in Libya, New York City, Rome, Nairobi, London or Cairo as Matar details for us his masculine-gender only autobiography and award-winning memoir, ‘The Return’.
‘The Return’ mostly is sort of a masculine-gender only literary diary of masculine Hisham Matar manfully searching for his missing masculine Father, Jaballa Matar, the masculine-gender idol of all his yearning. Hisham manfully questions, calls and visits manly Libyan men and masculine-gender Libyan relatives who were involved with his masculine Father. Through flashbacks, we also learn a bit about Libya’s infamous alpha-male Qaddafi dictatorship.
Hisham Matar was born in New York City where only masculine-gendered people apparently live. The Libyan diplomat Jaballa Matar and family returned to Libya when masculine-gender Hisham was three. When masculine Hisham was nine, the Matars fled to men-only-matter Egypt because of Libya's dictator Qaddafi’s political oppression. Masculine-gender Hisham finished growing up in men-only-matter Egypt until he went to London to attend school and university at age 15. While Hisham was in London at age 19, he received word Jaballa had been kidnapped from Cairo by agents of Muammer Qaddafi, butch masculine-gender Libyan leader-for-life (which actually worked out to be 42 years). The kidnapping of Jaballa occurred in 1990. Except for two letters, the masculine Matar family in Egypt never heard from Jaballa again.
So masculine-gender Hisham wrote this male-angst memoir about his one admired manly masculine-gender parent and about some of Libya’s recent history, despite that his, ugh, female mother has apparently hung about for all of his life so far, although only in the background making sure manly Matar had Libyan olive oil wherever the family lived. Matar appreciated her (ugh) ability to find Libyan olive oil.
Some of the surviving masculine-gender Matar relatives were imprisoned with masculine Jaballa in the infamous butch Libyan prison, Abu Salim. Jaballa was imprisoned and tortured after being kidnapped from men-only-matter Egypt. Abu Salim was attacked by anti-Qaddafi rebels in 2011 when Qaddafi was overthrown and all of the masculine-gender prisoners who were still alive were released. They all spoke of a massacre of masculine-gender prisoners in 1996. Manly Hisham suspects his still missing masculine-gender Father met his death in this massacre of prisoners.
Libyans initially were happy about macho Qaddafi’s coup. However, Qaddafi soon followed in the footsteps of all butch African and Middle-eastern leaders and established a strict masculine kleptocrat dictatorship with male theocratic pretensions. He staged a number of political purges of important rich male Libyans. Many Libyans went into exile in the men-only-matter country of Egypt after fleeing Libya. Jaballa made his home in Egypt with a lot of loyal male relatives, raising his two boys single-handed, apparently, without any women helping or even many existing apparently (mother mentioned as confined to the kitchen). These male relatives and male friends, and some masculine-gender Qaddafi supporters, are the only people who matter in every chapter in the book.
There is an occasional mention of Matar’s wife, Diana. Diana is an artist and companion, so he puts her name into the book more often than mentions of his mom, but never with any implied or actual importance.
Not once did Matar mention any other women except the brief sentences about his agent, mother and wife ghosting through occasionally in all of these hundreds of pages and pages and pages of different men meeting, drinking, eating and talking about history, grief, death and politics in different countries. You know what I mean, important talk and memories only those humans with brains know and retain - stuff women could not possibly understand or have any knowledge about, since whatever any woman may have heard, seen, experienced or witnessed is completely beyond any female's mental capacity to process.
I happen to know that women do exist in Libya, Egypt, London and New York City, including women who suffered in prisons and who fought against cruel political oppression or who have feelings they express about their imprisoned husbands, fathers and sons. I suspect Matar's Mom and Diana actually have opinions and sufferings. Maybe the Pulitzer judges are ok with this author’s overt sexism and sneaky hidden literary suppression by omission of any recognition of the sufferings of Matar women in the family, but I am not. This book is unforgivably oppressively sexist. Matar didn’t even feel it necessary to write of the Matar women or give them a voice in his memoir to speak of his family’s tragedy. Matar gives the impression he feels women are only brainless uncaring sheep, particularly when mentioning his mother. Women are apparently too unimportant or unaware for any inclusion or mention in these pages about the Matar family grief and losses experienced in these horrific civil wars and atrocities.
This book is not recommended by me. It is sexist garbage, oppressing and politically suppressing women by omission even as it condemns the oppression of Libya’s men.
Very male author Hisham Matar, the respected masculine writer of this award-winning very masculine-gendered book, had manfully loved, admired, and pined away for his masculine missing Father for decades.
All of you who prefer living in a world without women except for the females who cook or serve meals silently can relax now, as I will follow the male author Hisham Matar’s example from here forward and pretend no women live or have ever existed in Libya, New York City, Rome, Nairobi, London or Cairo as Matar details for us his masculine-gender only autobiography and award-winning memoir, ‘The Return’.
‘The Return’ mostly is sort of a masculine-gender only literary diary of masculine Hisham Matar manfully searching for his missing masculine Father, Jaballa Matar, the masculine-gender idol of all his yearning. Hisham manfully questions, calls and visits manly Libyan men and masculine-gender Libyan relatives who were involved with his masculine Father. Through flashbacks, we also learn a bit about Libya’s infamous alpha-male Qaddafi dictatorship.
Hisham Matar was born in New York City where only masculine-gendered people apparently live. The Libyan diplomat Jaballa Matar and family returned to Libya when masculine-gender Hisham was three. When masculine Hisham was nine, the Matars fled to men-only-matter Egypt because of Libya's dictator Qaddafi’s political oppression. Masculine-gender Hisham finished growing up in men-only-matter Egypt until he went to London to attend school and university at age 15. While Hisham was in London at age 19, he received word Jaballa had been kidnapped from Cairo by agents of Muammer Qaddafi, butch masculine-gender Libyan leader-for-life (which actually worked out to be 42 years). The kidnapping of Jaballa occurred in 1990. Except for two letters, the masculine Matar family in Egypt never heard from Jaballa again.
So masculine-gender Hisham wrote this male-angst memoir about his one admired manly masculine-gender parent and about some of Libya’s recent history, despite that his, ugh, female mother has apparently hung about for all of his life so far, although only in the background making sure manly Matar had Libyan olive oil wherever the family lived. Matar appreciated her (ugh) ability to find Libyan olive oil.
Some of the surviving masculine-gender Matar relatives were imprisoned with masculine Jaballa in the infamous butch Libyan prison, Abu Salim. Jaballa was imprisoned and tortured after being kidnapped from men-only-matter Egypt. Abu Salim was attacked by anti-Qaddafi rebels in 2011 when Qaddafi was overthrown and all of the masculine-gender prisoners who were still alive were released. They all spoke of a massacre of masculine-gender prisoners in 1996. Manly Hisham suspects his still missing masculine-gender Father met his death in this massacre of prisoners.
Libyans initially were happy about macho Qaddafi’s coup. However, Qaddafi soon followed in the footsteps of all butch African and Middle-eastern leaders and established a strict masculine kleptocrat dictatorship with male theocratic pretensions. He staged a number of political purges of important rich male Libyans. Many Libyans went into exile in the men-only-matter country of Egypt after fleeing Libya. Jaballa made his home in Egypt with a lot of loyal male relatives, raising his two boys single-handed, apparently, without any women helping or even many existing apparently (mother mentioned as confined to the kitchen). These male relatives and male friends, and some masculine-gender Qaddafi supporters, are the only people who matter in every chapter in the book.
There is an occasional mention of Matar’s wife, Diana. Diana is an artist and companion, so he puts her name into the book more often than mentions of his mom, but never with any implied or actual importance.
Not once did Matar mention any other women except the brief sentences about his agent, mother and wife ghosting through occasionally in all of these hundreds of pages and pages and pages of different men meeting, drinking, eating and talking about history, grief, death and politics in different countries. You know what I mean, important talk and memories only those humans with brains know and retain - stuff women could not possibly understand or have any knowledge about, since whatever any woman may have heard, seen, experienced or witnessed is completely beyond any female's mental capacity to process.
I happen to know that women do exist in Libya, Egypt, London and New York City, including women who suffered in prisons and who fought against cruel political oppression or who have feelings they express about their imprisoned husbands, fathers and sons. I suspect Matar's Mom and Diana actually have opinions and sufferings. Maybe the Pulitzer judges are ok with this author’s overt sexism and sneaky hidden literary suppression by omission of any recognition of the sufferings of Matar women in the family, but I am not. This book is unforgivably oppressively sexist. Matar didn’t even feel it necessary to write of the Matar women or give them a voice in his memoir to speak of his family’s tragedy. Matar gives the impression he feels women are only brainless uncaring sheep, particularly when mentioning his mother. Women are apparently too unimportant or unaware for any inclusion or mention in these pages about the Matar family grief and losses experienced in these horrific civil wars and atrocities.
This book is not recommended by me. It is sexist garbage, oppressing and politically suppressing women by omission even as it condemns the oppression of Libya’s men.
March 16, 2024
Astonishing! Great narrative propulsion. One hurtles along. The fight to take Libya back from Qaddafi in 2011 is an exhilarating piece of writing. As a portrait of a family in exile it reminds me of André Aciman’s Out of Egypt: A Memoir. It also evokes another book touching on the themes of exile, too, a novel: V.S. Naipaul’s The Enigma of Arrival.
October 7, 2020
Wow, this is quite a book.
Hisham Matar was born in Libya but due to his father's political activism, spent much of his life in Egypt and London. One day, his father abruptly gets kidnapped by the Libyan government. What follows is years of uncertainty, never really knowing if he's alive or where he is. When Gaddafi fell, Matar and his family returned to Libya, hoping to find more clues about his father's whereabouts.
This book is very lyrical. It's not told linearly but rather, through associations and stories, Matar slowly reveals the entire picture. He bounces between Libyan history to stories about his father to moments in the search effortlessly and seamlessly. It's all so intertwined. The story of Libya and the tragedy of his father seem to be one tale.
Matar is an incredibly talented writer. His prose is fantastic, thorough and intentional. He invites us into his mind, letting us taste a little bit of the frustration and pain that he experienced for so long, carefully describing the emotions and thoughts he has had along the way.
There's much that I liked about this book. One of the biggest themes is masculinity. I kept thinking about Rudyard Kipling's poem If. Without analyzing this too deeply, there's this debate about what it means to be a man and a father. What's the role of a father in a family? What does it truly mean to be a man?
There's also this beautiful conversation about home. Matar describes his life outside of Libya as exile. You get this sense of desperation, this feeling that nowhere but Libya will ever be home but that the Libya that he wants no longer exists and perhaps will never exist. It's so poignant and so heartbreaking.
However, my absolute favorite element of this book was the way art is an essential part of Matar's worldview. Even for those of us who aren't as well read and cultured as Matar, there's something gorgeous about his ability to let the work of Goya and Shakespeare shape his story. He sees himself in the context of art. It made reading this a sheer delight because it contextualized this story. This isn't just Matar and his father, this is exile, this is loss, this is civil war. This is a story that we're all familiar with. Matar gracefully inserts this reminder in every experience and somehow, it's not condescending, it's honest.
To conclude, this is a poetic and tragic story. It contextualizes a lot of the Libyan revolution while focusing on an individual story. I feel like I can easily recommend this intelligent and emotional book.
What I'm Taking With Me
- Man, I wish I had the tenacity to go to museums every week and spend time slowly with each piece. Like, it feels that that's the right way to see art but man, I do not prioritize that enough.
- I literally couldn't stop reading this book and my god, in those parts where they just drag out whether his dad is dead or not, I felt like I could scream.
- While reading about Libya, I learned that Isif, the dude who was terribly unhelpful, asked Libyan Jews to come back from Israel in order to give the land back to Palestinians. This is after Libyan Jews suffered decades of antisemitism. The sheer audacity of this dude.
- There was a diplomatic dispute between Switzerland and Libya. Gaffadi literally threatened to nuke Switzerland over a businessmen related feud that ended up last two years and wow, I could never work in international politics.
- I hope Hisham and his family are doing well now. Hearing about his cousins and their deaths was really tragic.
------------------------
This book is so painful.
I'm so out of focus today and I desperately need this day to become productive now.
Review to come (after this awful week)!
Hisham Matar was born in Libya but due to his father's political activism, spent much of his life in Egypt and London. One day, his father abruptly gets kidnapped by the Libyan government. What follows is years of uncertainty, never really knowing if he's alive or where he is. When Gaddafi fell, Matar and his family returned to Libya, hoping to find more clues about his father's whereabouts.
This book is very lyrical. It's not told linearly but rather, through associations and stories, Matar slowly reveals the entire picture. He bounces between Libyan history to stories about his father to moments in the search effortlessly and seamlessly. It's all so intertwined. The story of Libya and the tragedy of his father seem to be one tale.
Matar is an incredibly talented writer. His prose is fantastic, thorough and intentional. He invites us into his mind, letting us taste a little bit of the frustration and pain that he experienced for so long, carefully describing the emotions and thoughts he has had along the way.
There's much that I liked about this book. One of the biggest themes is masculinity. I kept thinking about Rudyard Kipling's poem If. Without analyzing this too deeply, there's this debate about what it means to be a man and a father. What's the role of a father in a family? What does it truly mean to be a man?
There's also this beautiful conversation about home. Matar describes his life outside of Libya as exile. You get this sense of desperation, this feeling that nowhere but Libya will ever be home but that the Libya that he wants no longer exists and perhaps will never exist. It's so poignant and so heartbreaking.
However, my absolute favorite element of this book was the way art is an essential part of Matar's worldview. Even for those of us who aren't as well read and cultured as Matar, there's something gorgeous about his ability to let the work of Goya and Shakespeare shape his story. He sees himself in the context of art. It made reading this a sheer delight because it contextualized this story. This isn't just Matar and his father, this is exile, this is loss, this is civil war. This is a story that we're all familiar with. Matar gracefully inserts this reminder in every experience and somehow, it's not condescending, it's honest.
To conclude, this is a poetic and tragic story. It contextualizes a lot of the Libyan revolution while focusing on an individual story. I feel like I can easily recommend this intelligent and emotional book.
What I'm Taking With Me
- Man, I wish I had the tenacity to go to museums every week and spend time slowly with each piece. Like, it feels that that's the right way to see art but man, I do not prioritize that enough.
- I literally couldn't stop reading this book and my god, in those parts where they just drag out whether his dad is dead or not, I felt like I could scream.
- While reading about Libya, I learned that Isif, the dude who was terribly unhelpful, asked Libyan Jews to come back from Israel in order to give the land back to Palestinians. This is after Libyan Jews suffered decades of antisemitism. The sheer audacity of this dude.
- There was a diplomatic dispute between Switzerland and Libya. Gaffadi literally threatened to nuke Switzerland over a businessmen related feud that ended up last two years and wow, I could never work in international politics.
- I hope Hisham and his family are doing well now. Hearing about his cousins and their deaths was really tragic.
------------------------
This book is so painful.
I'm so out of focus today and I desperately need this day to become productive now.
Review to come (after this awful week)!
March 14, 2019
After over thirty years in exile, Hisham Matar returned to Libya in his long quest to find out what happened to his father, Jaballa Matar. His father was a resistance leader during the time when Muammar Qaddafi was Libya's totalitarian leader. The Matar family was living in exile in Cairo when Jaballa was kidnapped in 1990, and thrown in the Abu Salim prison in Tripoli. Except for three letters smuggled out of the prison, his family never heard from Jaballa again. He may have perished in the massacre in the prison in 1996, but the family has no proof after contacting authorities for many years.
The book is a memoir, written in sensitive lyrical prose, about Hisham's trip back to Libya in 2012. Visits with his extended family and seeing familiar locations prompt memories of his father, his childhood, the war, and politics. The book is also about his feelings of identity as a fatherless son, and as a man without a home who is caught between the Libyan culture and his Western life in London. Other family members have also suffered such as several uncles who were imprisoned for over twenty years, and a cousin who died in the revolution. There is less about politics than I expected, and more about the emotional feelings of love and loss of both his father and his country. This memoir is beautifully written and emotionally moving.
The book is a memoir, written in sensitive lyrical prose, about Hisham's trip back to Libya in 2012. Visits with his extended family and seeing familiar locations prompt memories of his father, his childhood, the war, and politics. The book is also about his feelings of identity as a fatherless son, and as a man without a home who is caught between the Libyan culture and his Western life in London. Other family members have also suffered such as several uncles who were imprisoned for over twenty years, and a cousin who died in the revolution. There is less about politics than I expected, and more about the emotional feelings of love and loss of both his father and his country. This memoir is beautifully written and emotionally moving.
March 24, 2019
Nessuna di quelle domande
“Il potere evidentemente sa quanto è affaticata la natura umana, quanto siamo impreparati ad ascoltare, e disposti ad accontentarci di menzogne. Il potere evidentemente sa che, in fin dei conti, preferiremmo non sapere. Il potere evidentemente ritiene, visto come vanno le cose, che il mondo si confaccia di più a chi perpetra i crimini che a coloro che arrivano a fatto compiuto, cercando giustizia, spiegazioni, verità. Il potere evidentemente considera patetici tali tentativi, eppure i parenti in lutto, i testimoni, gli investigatori e i cronisti non possono far altro che cercare una ragione del diabolico imbroglio”.
Questo è un bellissimo romanzo biografico e storico. Nel narrare la storia di un paese, l'autore sceglie lo sguardo di una famiglia, la sua, e della relazione composta di speranza e perdita tra padri e figli. Un padre che, come nel discorso moderno, è spesso sospensione e assenza, non vivo e non morto: finché Ulisse è perduto, Telemaco non può andarsene di casa; finché Ulisse non è a casa, rimane sconosciuto ovunque. Il fatto centrale della vicenda raccontata è un tragico martirio, un oscuro dolore che ha ferito l'intero paese, la Libia, il cui paesaggio storico viene descritto nel profondo dal colonialismo fascista in Cirenaica al colpo di Stato di Gheddafi, dalle primavere arabe fino al successivo scontro civile ancora in corso. Si tratta del massacro del carcere di Abu Salim, avvenuto nel 1996 nei pressi di Tripoli, quando trovarono la morte più di 1200 detenuti, oppositori politici del regime. Hisham Matar si confronta e dialoga con l'orrore e lotta per anni per avere risposta alla sparizione del padre, un importante leader, industriale e intellettuale, della dissidenza contro i militari. È incontestabile che la scrittura e la ricerca, nel tempo e nelle cose, tra le persone e i silenzi, siano state per l'autore una dolorosa pratica di resilienza per la verità e la giustizia, e la democrazia; di fianco a lui, il moltiplicarsi di morti, le fazioni violente, le porte chiuse, la privazione del lutto, la verità non concessa, il buio della sopravvivenza. Anni di prigione per i familiari: dove solo i libri erano oggetti di prezioso scambio, e tra le celle le poesie elegiache beduine, gli alam appresi a memoria, per resistere al nulla, alla nudità del cemento, alle voci della propaganda e alle torture. Diversi i luoghi dell'esilio: Londra, Il Cairo, Nairobi, New York. Matar scrive che il dolore, parte integrante di ciò che ha sofferto, come un'iniziazione al non essere, è una parte colma di speranza. Il suo stile non è mai sentimentale né enfatico, si scopre invece sensibilmente strutturato e elaborato dall'interno. Un libro che porta il lettore verso altre destinazioni, verso altri racconti e storie, verso pensieri che riflettono e riproducono la natura fragile e indefinita dei nostri legami e dei nostri sentimenti. Sondaggio nella grammatica dell'ignoto, dal passato al futuro, da anima a corpo, dal sangue alla parola alla storia.
“Essere un uomo significa essere un anello di tale catena di gratitudine e memoria, di biasimo e oblio, di resa e ribellione, fino a che lo sguardo del figlio si fa così sofferto e acuto che, guardando indietro, non vede altro che ombre. Il padre sprofonda ogni giorno di più nella sua notte, si spinge più oltre nella nebbia lasciando indietro resti di se stesso e il dato di fatto colossale quanto ovvio, insieme frustrante e misericordioso - […] - che per quanto ci sforziamo non arriveremo mai a conoscere davvero i nostri padri”.
“Il potere evidentemente sa quanto è affaticata la natura umana, quanto siamo impreparati ad ascoltare, e disposti ad accontentarci di menzogne. Il potere evidentemente sa che, in fin dei conti, preferiremmo non sapere. Il potere evidentemente ritiene, visto come vanno le cose, che il mondo si confaccia di più a chi perpetra i crimini che a coloro che arrivano a fatto compiuto, cercando giustizia, spiegazioni, verità. Il potere evidentemente considera patetici tali tentativi, eppure i parenti in lutto, i testimoni, gli investigatori e i cronisti non possono far altro che cercare una ragione del diabolico imbroglio”.
Questo è un bellissimo romanzo biografico e storico. Nel narrare la storia di un paese, l'autore sceglie lo sguardo di una famiglia, la sua, e della relazione composta di speranza e perdita tra padri e figli. Un padre che, come nel discorso moderno, è spesso sospensione e assenza, non vivo e non morto: finché Ulisse è perduto, Telemaco non può andarsene di casa; finché Ulisse non è a casa, rimane sconosciuto ovunque. Il fatto centrale della vicenda raccontata è un tragico martirio, un oscuro dolore che ha ferito l'intero paese, la Libia, il cui paesaggio storico viene descritto nel profondo dal colonialismo fascista in Cirenaica al colpo di Stato di Gheddafi, dalle primavere arabe fino al successivo scontro civile ancora in corso. Si tratta del massacro del carcere di Abu Salim, avvenuto nel 1996 nei pressi di Tripoli, quando trovarono la morte più di 1200 detenuti, oppositori politici del regime. Hisham Matar si confronta e dialoga con l'orrore e lotta per anni per avere risposta alla sparizione del padre, un importante leader, industriale e intellettuale, della dissidenza contro i militari. È incontestabile che la scrittura e la ricerca, nel tempo e nelle cose, tra le persone e i silenzi, siano state per l'autore una dolorosa pratica di resilienza per la verità e la giustizia, e la democrazia; di fianco a lui, il moltiplicarsi di morti, le fazioni violente, le porte chiuse, la privazione del lutto, la verità non concessa, il buio della sopravvivenza. Anni di prigione per i familiari: dove solo i libri erano oggetti di prezioso scambio, e tra le celle le poesie elegiache beduine, gli alam appresi a memoria, per resistere al nulla, alla nudità del cemento, alle voci della propaganda e alle torture. Diversi i luoghi dell'esilio: Londra, Il Cairo, Nairobi, New York. Matar scrive che il dolore, parte integrante di ciò che ha sofferto, come un'iniziazione al non essere, è una parte colma di speranza. Il suo stile non è mai sentimentale né enfatico, si scopre invece sensibilmente strutturato e elaborato dall'interno. Un libro che porta il lettore verso altre destinazioni, verso altri racconti e storie, verso pensieri che riflettono e riproducono la natura fragile e indefinita dei nostri legami e dei nostri sentimenti. Sondaggio nella grammatica dell'ignoto, dal passato al futuro, da anima a corpo, dal sangue alla parola alla storia.
“Essere un uomo significa essere un anello di tale catena di gratitudine e memoria, di biasimo e oblio, di resa e ribellione, fino a che lo sguardo del figlio si fa così sofferto e acuto che, guardando indietro, non vede altro che ombre. Il padre sprofonda ogni giorno di più nella sua notte, si spinge più oltre nella nebbia lasciando indietro resti di se stesso e il dato di fatto colossale quanto ovvio, insieme frustrante e misericordioso - […] - che per quanto ci sforziamo non arriveremo mai a conoscere davvero i nostri padri”.
June 2, 2019
Aconteceu na Líbia
Quando o capitão Khadafi entrou de rompante na cena política da Líbia, derrubando a monarquia vigente, até parecia que viria aí a república.
Até parecia...mas...não veio!...
Logo após, Khadafi auto promoveu-se coronel, passando a agir como líder absoluto da Líbia e a dar caça feroz a todos e quaisquer opositores
Khadafi era a Voz e Lei da Líbia, não permitindo que outros o contrariassem!...
Muitos dos seus contestatários foram presos e outros barbaramente assassinados.
Jaballa Matar, figura de destaque da resistência a Khadafi, e pai do autor deste livro, foi raptado no Egipto e enviado para a prisão de Abu Salim, mais conhecida como “Última Paragem”. As únicas notícias que fez chegar à família surgiram sob a forma de 3 cartas clandestinas:
“A crueldade deste local ultrapassa tudo o que ouvimos sobre a prisão da Bastilha”
“Chega a passar um ano sem que eu veja o Sol, ou me seja permitido sair deste local”
“E, agora, uma descrição deste nobre palácio… A cela é uma caixa de betão. As paredes são feitas de blocos prefabricados. Tem uma porta de aço que não deixa entrar o ar. Uma janela que está a três metros e meio do chão. No que toca a mobília, é de estilo Luís XVI: um velho colchão, gasto por muitos outros detidos antes de mim, rasgado em vários sítios. O mundo aqui é vazio.”
E foi tudo!...
Teria sido, também ele, aniquilado, tal como sucedera à grande maioria dos líderes da oposição ao regime de Khadafi?
Apesar das dúvidas e interrogações, Hisham Matar tinha esperanças que não, e ... logo que Kadhafi foi deposto, partiu para a Líbia, sedento de respostas...
“O Regresso” é a história dum filho em busca dum pai e, simultaneamente, um testemunho histórico — é uma narrativa real e comovente sobre a cruel desumanidade que imperou no regime de Khadafi!
“Bateram-me, não me deixavam comer nem dormir, amarraram-me, despejaram sobre o meu peito um balde cheio de baratas. Não houve nada que não tivessem feito. Nada que me aconteça agora pode ser pior do que aquela época. Mas consegui sempre reagir. Dentro de mim, tinha um lugar onde ainda conseguia amar e perdoar a toda a gente — disse ele, de olhos meigos e um sorriso nos lábios. — Eles nunca conseguiram tirar-me isso.”
E com esta eventual receita de sobrevivência, dou por finda a resenha dum livro que considero uma lição de História imperdível!!!
Quando o capitão Khadafi entrou de rompante na cena política da Líbia, derrubando a monarquia vigente, até parecia que viria aí a república.
Até parecia...mas...não veio!...
Logo após, Khadafi auto promoveu-se coronel, passando a agir como líder absoluto da Líbia e a dar caça feroz a todos e quaisquer opositores
Khadafi era a Voz e Lei da Líbia, não permitindo que outros o contrariassem!...
Muitos dos seus contestatários foram presos e outros barbaramente assassinados.
Jaballa Matar, figura de destaque da resistência a Khadafi, e pai do autor deste livro, foi raptado no Egipto e enviado para a prisão de Abu Salim, mais conhecida como “Última Paragem”. As únicas notícias que fez chegar à família surgiram sob a forma de 3 cartas clandestinas:
“A crueldade deste local ultrapassa tudo o que ouvimos sobre a prisão da Bastilha”
“Chega a passar um ano sem que eu veja o Sol, ou me seja permitido sair deste local”
“E, agora, uma descrição deste nobre palácio… A cela é uma caixa de betão. As paredes são feitas de blocos prefabricados. Tem uma porta de aço que não deixa entrar o ar. Uma janela que está a três metros e meio do chão. No que toca a mobília, é de estilo Luís XVI: um velho colchão, gasto por muitos outros detidos antes de mim, rasgado em vários sítios. O mundo aqui é vazio.”
E foi tudo!...
Teria sido, também ele, aniquilado, tal como sucedera à grande maioria dos líderes da oposição ao regime de Khadafi?
Apesar das dúvidas e interrogações, Hisham Matar tinha esperanças que não, e ... logo que Kadhafi foi deposto, partiu para a Líbia, sedento de respostas...
“O Regresso” é a história dum filho em busca dum pai e, simultaneamente, um testemunho histórico — é uma narrativa real e comovente sobre a cruel desumanidade que imperou no regime de Khadafi!
“Bateram-me, não me deixavam comer nem dormir, amarraram-me, despejaram sobre o meu peito um balde cheio de baratas. Não houve nada que não tivessem feito. Nada que me aconteça agora pode ser pior do que aquela época. Mas consegui sempre reagir. Dentro de mim, tinha um lugar onde ainda conseguia amar e perdoar a toda a gente — disse ele, de olhos meigos e um sorriso nos lábios. — Eles nunca conseguiram tirar-me isso.”
E com esta eventual receita de sobrevivência, dou por finda a resenha dum livro que considero uma lição de História imperdível!!!
April 7, 2024
راستی آن گلوله را چه کسی شلیک کرد!؟
مادرم میگوید، پدرت آن روز لباسهای پُلو خوریاش را پوشیده بود و گفته بود به مراسم عزاداری یکی از آشنایان میروم!
مادرم به او گفته بود خواهش میکنم خودت را درگیر آن دعوای کذایی نکن، نانِ خانهٔات را بیاور و سرت درگیر کار خودت باشد، به مراسم برو، فاتحه بخوان و زود برگرد!
مادرم میگوید چند ساعت بعد «در»را محکم زدند.
«محمود» مُرد.
البته که «پدر» نَمرد بلکه کُشته شد…
پدرم «گلادیاتور» نبود اما افتادنش به همان اندازه در زندگی من صدا داد…
فاتحه را بر او خواندند!
*تاریخ را یادم نیست،چند هفتهی قبل بود، تلفن خودش را خورد، جواب دادم، دکتر اقبال محمدپور بود، از آن آدمهای شریف و خانواده دار که متاسفانه نسلشان رو به انقراض است!
قرار گذاشتیم دوری بزنیم و یک چای نبات بزنیم.
*بر رگ.
سوار که شدم گفت: از فرشاد اینا خبری داری!؟
گفتم: نه متاسفانه، چرا؟
گفت: شنیدم حال مادرشون نامساعده!
یه سر بزنیم؟
گفتم: حله بریم. در را زدیم فرشاد آمد، فرزاد کنارش.
«حال مادر چطوره؟»-«خوبه، پاشو قطع کردن».
دلم میخواست فرار کنم…فرار کنم…به یک کوچه خلوت برسم و گریه کنم یا صمیمانهتر آنکه زار بزنم.
ماندم! اما مسیر اشک را عوض کردم، اشک را به جای بالا آوردن از چشمانم، به قلبم سرریز کردم تا آنجا تبدیل به یک دریاچه شود، تا به اولین مکان امن برسم و آنجا دریچهها را باز کنم!
دکتر سکوت سنگین را شکست و گفت: این روزا، حال مادر چطوره؟
فرشاد گفت: یه شب مادرم فریاد زد، همه با نگرانی به سراغش رفتیم. میگفت: مادرم فریاد زنان اشاره میکرد که انگشت پایش درد میکند!
این درحالی بود که پا، از زانو قطع شده بود!
من مادرِ فرشادم«پدرم» تقریبا بیست و چهار سال است که قطع شده، اما هنوز درد میکند!
«گذشته مثل دست و پایی قطع شده سعی میکرد، خودش را به پیکر حال متصل کند.»
پدر برای من خاطره نیست چرا که در یک سالگی خاطره ای وجود ندارد. پدر برای آن خلا است. آن پایی که میتوانست باشد اما دیگر نیست…
دردناک است، آنانی که پدرشان را در سنین کم از دست میدهند حالشان به مانند ساختمانی است با چهار ستون که در طول زندگی مدام در تلاشاند تا فقدان ستون چهارم را جبران کنند.
باز آن سوال را میپرسم!؟
راستی آن گلوله را چه کسی شلیک کرد!؟
دیگر این سؤال برایم هیچ جذابیتی ندارد. راستش در آستانه بیست و پنج سالگی دیگر هیچ اشتیاقی برای فهمیدن ِ جواب این سوال ندارم.
هشام مطر در قسمتی از این کتاب شاهکار مینویسد:
ما به پدری نیاز داریم تا عصبانیتمان را سرش خالی کنیم، وقتی پدری نه مُرده است نه زنده، وقتی یک شبح است، این خواست برآورده نمیشود.
من شاید ندانم که چه کسی شلیک کرد، اما میدانم گلوله الان کجاست!
یکی از افرادی که در مقابل قذافی سر پایین نیاورد بعد از آزادی داستان گلوله خوردنش را برای هشام مطر روایت میکند.
هشام مطر میپرسد: گلوله به کجا اصابت کرد؟ هشام بعد دیدن جای گلوله پرسیده بود؟ پس،گلوله از کجا بیرون رفته؟
او گفته بود، گلوله داخل است.
گلوله داخل هرکسیست که کسی را از دست داده.
آن گلوله همه جا با اوست.
به مانند حضوری غایب!
«روایت بازگشت»کتابیست که آنهایی که درونشان گلوله دارند باید آن را *نخوانند!
تا هیچ دریاچهای پر آب نشود!
مادرم میگوید، پدرت آن روز لباسهای پُلو خوریاش را پوشیده بود و گفته بود به مراسم عزاداری یکی از آشنایان میروم!
مادرم به او گفته بود خواهش میکنم خودت را درگیر آن دعوای کذایی نکن، نانِ خانهٔات را بیاور و سرت درگیر کار خودت باشد، به مراسم برو، فاتحه بخوان و زود برگرد!
مادرم میگوید چند ساعت بعد «در»را محکم زدند.
«محمود» مُرد.
البته که «پدر» نَمرد بلکه کُشته شد…
پدرم «گلادیاتور» نبود اما افتادنش به همان اندازه در زندگی من صدا داد…
فاتحه را بر او خواندند!
*تاریخ را یادم نیست،چند هفتهی قبل بود، تلفن خودش را خورد، جواب دادم، دکتر اقبال محمدپور بود، از آن آدمهای شریف و خانواده دار که متاسفانه نسلشان رو به انقراض است!
قرار گذاشتیم دوری بزنیم و یک چای نبات بزنیم.
*بر رگ.
سوار که شدم گفت: از فرشاد اینا خبری داری!؟
گفتم: نه متاسفانه، چرا؟
گفت: شنیدم حال مادرشون نامساعده!
یه سر بزنیم؟
گفتم: حله بریم. در را زدیم فرشاد آمد، فرزاد کنارش.
«حال مادر چطوره؟»-«خوبه، پاشو قطع کردن».
دلم میخواست فرار کنم…فرار کنم…به یک کوچه خلوت برسم و گریه کنم یا صمیمانهتر آنکه زار بزنم.
ماندم! اما مسیر اشک را عوض کردم، اشک را به جای بالا آوردن از چشمانم، به قلبم سرریز کردم تا آنجا تبدیل به یک دریاچه شود، تا به اولین مکان امن برسم و آنجا دریچهها را باز کنم!
دکتر سکوت سنگین را شکست و گفت: این روزا، حال مادر چطوره؟
فرشاد گفت: یه شب مادرم فریاد زد، همه با نگرانی به سراغش رفتیم. میگفت: مادرم فریاد زنان اشاره میکرد که انگشت پایش درد میکند!
این درحالی بود که پا، از زانو قطع شده بود!
من مادرِ فرشادم«پدرم» تقریبا بیست و چهار سال است که قطع شده، اما هنوز درد میکند!
«گذشته مثل دست و پایی قطع شده سعی میکرد، خودش را به پیکر حال متصل کند.»
پدر برای من خاطره نیست چرا که در یک سالگی خاطره ای وجود ندارد. پدر برای آن خلا است. آن پایی که میتوانست باشد اما دیگر نیست…
دردناک است، آنانی که پدرشان را در سنین کم از دست میدهند حالشان به مانند ساختمانی است با چهار ستون که در طول زندگی مدام در تلاشاند تا فقدان ستون چهارم را جبران کنند.
باز آن سوال را میپرسم!؟
راستی آن گلوله را چه کسی شلیک کرد!؟
دیگر این سؤال برایم هیچ جذابیتی ندارد. راستش در آستانه بیست و پنج سالگی دیگر هیچ اشتیاقی برای فهمیدن ِ جواب این سوال ندارم.
هشام مطر در قسمتی از این کتاب شاهکار مینویسد:
ما به پدری نیاز داریم تا عصبانیتمان را سرش خالی کنیم، وقتی پدری نه مُرده است نه زنده، وقتی یک شبح است، این خواست برآورده نمیشود.
من شاید ندانم که چه کسی شلیک کرد، اما میدانم گلوله الان کجاست!
یکی از افرادی که در مقابل قذافی سر پایین نیاورد بعد از آزادی داستان گلوله خوردنش را برای هشام مطر روایت میکند.
هشام مطر میپرسد: گلوله به کجا اصابت کرد؟ هشام بعد دیدن جای گلوله پرسیده بود؟ پس،گلوله از کجا بیرون رفته؟
او گفته بود، گلوله داخل است.
گلوله داخل هرکسیست که کسی را از دست داده.
آن گلوله همه جا با اوست.
به مانند حضوری غایب!
«روایت بازگشت»کتابیست که آنهایی که درونشان گلوله دارند باید آن را *نخوانند!
تا هیچ دریاچهای پر آب نشود!
July 26, 2024
"Ayrılmak da dönmek de elden gelmediği zaman ne yapılır?"
Epeydir bir kitap okurken böyle ağlamamıştım. Boğazımın düğümlenmesine, durup nefes alma ihtiyacı hissetmeye, bir cümle tarafından bir anlığına nakavt edilmeye görece alışkınım ama göz yaşlarımı hiçbir şekilde tutamamak - bu sık başıma gelmiyor. Libya asıllı Amerikalı yazar Hisham Matar'ın Pulitzer ödüllü otobiyografik anlatısı Dönüş; beni mahvetti, bitirdi, kendisini çok uzun bir süre unutabileceğimi sanmıyorum.
Kaddafi rejiminin önemli muhaliflerinden biri olan babası Cebelle Matar'ın hapiste kaybedilmesinin izini sürmek üzere çok uzun yıllar sonra eşi, annesi ve abisiyle beraber ülkesine dönüşünü anlatıyor Hisham Matar. Kendisi ülkesine dönerken bizi de zamanda geriye döndürüyor, bir yandan şimdiki zamanda onun dönüş yolculuğunu, Odysseia'sını izlerken, hatırladıklarıyla da geçmişin kanlı, dehşetengiz, acıklı ve vahşi gerçeklerine dönüyoruz. Geri döndükçe, onca dehşetin içinde ne çok sevgi, cesaret, dirayet, dayanışma olduğunu da görüyoruz beraberce. "Kıskançlıktan gözü dönmüş bir sevgili misali toplumsal ve özel hayatın her alanına sızan" bir diktatörlük altında yaşarken kendileri kalmanın bir yolunu bulmayı başarmış insanların olağanüstü direniş öykülerine tanıklık ediyoruz.
Yitirilen onca şeye yakılmış yürek parçalayan bir ağıt gibi bir metin. Kitabın "babalar, oğullar ve aradaki memleket" alt başlığı zaten çok şey söylüyor; babasını kaybeden ancak ne zaman ve nasıl kaybettiği bilgisi bile kendisinden esirgenen bir adamın hissettiği yurtsuzluğa, evin tanımlarına, ideallere, utanç duygusuna, vicdana, insanları birbirine bağlayan ilmeklere, kente, binaların hafızasına, iktidara, şiddete dair o kadar çok şeyi o kadar müthiş bir dille anlatıyor ki Matar. (Şu cümle, örneğin: "Bir kitabı ezbere bilmek göğsünde bir ev taşımaya benzer.") Kaddafi döneminde Libya'da ne yaşandığına dair üstünkörü bilgilerimin de epeyce derinleşmesini sağladı ayrıca.
Çok, çok, çok sevdim. Çok. Şu uzun alıntıyla bitireyim, çünkü hem kitabın derinliğini, hem de dilinin akışkanlığını çok iyi örnekliyor bu pasaj bence: "Babalarla oğulları birbirinden ayıran memleket nice yolcuya yönünü şaşırtmıştır. Burada kaybolmak çok kolaydır. Telemakhos, Edgar, Hamlet ve daha nice erkek evlat bir yandan kendi kişisel dramlarını sessizce yaşarken geçmişle gelecek arasındaki o tekinsiz alanda o kadar uzaklara açılmışlardır ki, akıntıya kapılmış görünürler. Bütün erkekler gibi onlar da bu dünyaya bir başka erkek, bir hami, onlara kapıyı açan ve eğer şansları varsa bunu kibarca, belki de güven verici bir tebessüm ve omuzlarına cesaretlendirici bir dokunuşla yapan biri sayesinde gelmişlerdir. Babalar ise, bir zamanlar kendileri de birer oğul olduklarından, kendi ellerinin hayaletinin yıllarca, sonsuza dek oğullarının hayatında gezineceğini ve üzerine ne yükler binmiş olursa olsun veya bir sevgili, belki bir diğerinin hak iddiasını silmeye yönelik gizli bir arzuyla oraya kaç öpücük kondurmuş olursa olsun o omuzun sonsuza dek kendilerine sadık kalacağını ve ona dünyayı gösteren baba elini hep hatırlayacağını biliyor olmalılardı. Erkek olmak, bu minnet ve hatırlama zincirinin, bu suçlama ve unutma zincirinin, bu teslimiyet ve başkaldırı zincirinin bir parçası olmaktır, ta ki erkek evladın bakışı dönüp geriye uzandığında gölgelerden başka hiçbir şey göremeyecek kadar yaralanıp keskinleşinceye kadar."
Epeydir bir kitap okurken böyle ağlamamıştım. Boğazımın düğümlenmesine, durup nefes alma ihtiyacı hissetmeye, bir cümle tarafından bir anlığına nakavt edilmeye görece alışkınım ama göz yaşlarımı hiçbir şekilde tutamamak - bu sık başıma gelmiyor. Libya asıllı Amerikalı yazar Hisham Matar'ın Pulitzer ödüllü otobiyografik anlatısı Dönüş; beni mahvetti, bitirdi, kendisini çok uzun bir süre unutabileceğimi sanmıyorum.
Kaddafi rejiminin önemli muhaliflerinden biri olan babası Cebelle Matar'ın hapiste kaybedilmesinin izini sürmek üzere çok uzun yıllar sonra eşi, annesi ve abisiyle beraber ülkesine dönüşünü anlatıyor Hisham Matar. Kendisi ülkesine dönerken bizi de zamanda geriye döndürüyor, bir yandan şimdiki zamanda onun dönüş yolculuğunu, Odysseia'sını izlerken, hatırladıklarıyla da geçmişin kanlı, dehşetengiz, acıklı ve vahşi gerçeklerine dönüyoruz. Geri döndükçe, onca dehşetin içinde ne çok sevgi, cesaret, dirayet, dayanışma olduğunu da görüyoruz beraberce. "Kıskançlıktan gözü dönmüş bir sevgili misali toplumsal ve özel hayatın her alanına sızan" bir diktatörlük altında yaşarken kendileri kalmanın bir yolunu bulmayı başarmış insanların olağanüstü direniş öykülerine tanıklık ediyoruz.
Yitirilen onca şeye yakılmış yürek parçalayan bir ağıt gibi bir metin. Kitabın "babalar, oğullar ve aradaki memleket" alt başlığı zaten çok şey söylüyor; babasını kaybeden ancak ne zaman ve nasıl kaybettiği bilgisi bile kendisinden esirgenen bir adamın hissettiği yurtsuzluğa, evin tanımlarına, ideallere, utanç duygusuna, vicdana, insanları birbirine bağlayan ilmeklere, kente, binaların hafızasına, iktidara, şiddete dair o kadar çok şeyi o kadar müthiş bir dille anlatıyor ki Matar. (Şu cümle, örneğin: "Bir kitabı ezbere bilmek göğsünde bir ev taşımaya benzer.") Kaddafi döneminde Libya'da ne yaşandığına dair üstünkörü bilgilerimin de epeyce derinleşmesini sağladı ayrıca.
Çok, çok, çok sevdim. Çok. Şu uzun alıntıyla bitireyim, çünkü hem kitabın derinliğini, hem de dilinin akışkanlığını çok iyi örnekliyor bu pasaj bence: "Babalarla oğulları birbirinden ayıran memleket nice yolcuya yönünü şaşırtmıştır. Burada kaybolmak çok kolaydır. Telemakhos, Edgar, Hamlet ve daha nice erkek evlat bir yandan kendi kişisel dramlarını sessizce yaşarken geçmişle gelecek arasındaki o tekinsiz alanda o kadar uzaklara açılmışlardır ki, akıntıya kapılmış görünürler. Bütün erkekler gibi onlar da bu dünyaya bir başka erkek, bir hami, onlara kapıyı açan ve eğer şansları varsa bunu kibarca, belki de güven verici bir tebessüm ve omuzlarına cesaretlendirici bir dokunuşla yapan biri sayesinde gelmişlerdir. Babalar ise, bir zamanlar kendileri de birer oğul olduklarından, kendi ellerinin hayaletinin yıllarca, sonsuza dek oğullarının hayatında gezineceğini ve üzerine ne yükler binmiş olursa olsun veya bir sevgili, belki bir diğerinin hak iddiasını silmeye yönelik gizli bir arzuyla oraya kaç öpücük kondurmuş olursa olsun o omuzun sonsuza dek kendilerine sadık kalacağını ve ona dünyayı gösteren baba elini hep hatırlayacağını biliyor olmalılardı. Erkek olmak, bu minnet ve hatırlama zincirinin, bu suçlama ve unutma zincirinin, bu teslimiyet ve başkaldırı zincirinin bir parçası olmaktır, ta ki erkek evladın bakışı dönüp geriye uzandığında gölgelerden başka hiçbir şey göremeyecek kadar yaralanıp keskinleşinceye kadar."
August 13, 2023
بعد از فروپاشی نظام قذافی در لیبی، نویسنده برای یافتن نشانی از پدرش، اینکه هنوز زنده است یا نه برمیگردد و در این مدت به بازیابی خاطرات میپردازد و دنبال نشانی از پدرش است. پدرش یکی از افسران ان دوران بوده و در حین خواندن رمان به بررسی مسائل سیاسی آن دوران هم پرداخته میشود.
برنده جایزه پولیتزر زندگی نامه سال ۲۰۱۷
برنده جایزه پولیتزر زندگی نامه سال ۲۰۱۷
March 16, 2023
I do not usually read non-fiction, but occasionally something will catch my eye. I just bought it recently, but I knew that The Return by Hisham Matar would be something special. I read books because I enjoy the written word and my bent will almost always skew toward horror, but not THIS kind of horror. Hisham and his family fled Libya when he was 12. His father was kidnapped from the streets of Cairo, taken back to Libya, and incarcerated. It is not known what has happened to his father, but this is a memoir of Hisham’s return to his homeland as an adult in search of his father. This book is communicated in lyrical language that should thoroughly move the reader, despite the staid, journalistic, almost emotionless delivery. At times, the memoir teaches history as viewed through the prism of a refugee, but then objectively through the eyes of a writer with a new home and a poetic turn of phrase. This is hard to read because it encumbers your soul with a weight that hurts your heart. I hope and pray for Hisham.
June 3, 2017
I'm the odd one out here, I guess. 50 + pages in, and I still find this book boring, and the writing far from natural. Better luck to others
April 16, 2021
Deeply moving, this is quite possibly the best book I've read so far this year!
In this memoir, Matar writes of his personal experience of the Libyan revolution, it's history, and the disastrous effects complete power can have on a nation. He writes of his family's time in exile, of grief and of loss, with an underlying note of hope throughout. Exquisitely written, this book deserves a lot more credit.
It may hurt your heart a little, but I think we all need that from time to time.
Straight to the favorites shelf.
In this memoir, Matar writes of his personal experience of the Libyan revolution, it's history, and the disastrous effects complete power can have on a nation. He writes of his family's time in exile, of grief and of loss, with an underlying note of hope throughout. Exquisitely written, this book deserves a lot more credit.
It may hurt your heart a little, but I think we all need that from time to time.
Straight to the favorites shelf.
July 29, 2024
Hisham Matar offers us a beautifully written book. One of the best books I’ve read about being in exile and so open and honest about survivor’s guilt and shame. It’s filled with humanity in the face of Qaddafi’s infamous cruelty. His uncle’s deep faith in the face of the violence he met inspired me. The questions how would I respond came up over and over. What are the choices one has in his situation? Hisham continued searching for years and years to be told if his dad was alive or dead to have closure. He was 8 when his dad was taken by Qaddafi’s henchmen and later other family members were imprisoned. He wasn’t the only one in Libya to do so; as he later shares. It was the way he wrote this book, for me, that opened up the world of exile and loss in a new and deeper way. To be able to bear witness in such a way, even years later, is a gift to the world.
This won the 2016 Pulitzer Prize and many other awards. This book is very deserving of them.
Looking forward to reading Friends -his newly published book.
This won the 2016 Pulitzer Prize and many other awards. This book is very deserving of them.
Looking forward to reading Friends -his newly published book.
July 12, 2016
Description: In 2012, after the overthrow of Qaddafi, the acclaimed novelist Hisham Matar journeys to his native Libya after an absence of thirty years. When he was twelve, Matar and his family went into political exile. Eight years later Matar's father, a former diplomat and military man turned brave political dissident, was kidnapped from the streets of Cairo by the Libyan government and is believed to have been held in the regime's most notorious prison. Now, the prisons are empty and little hope remains that Jaballa Matar will be found alive.
NYTimes link (hattip to Wandaful)
July 10, 2021
“Essere un uomo significa essere un anello di tale catena di gratitudine e memoria…”
Su questo libro eccezionale non ho trovato una sintesi più precisa ed esauriente di quella tratta dalla bella recensione de “L’internazionale” che rende giustizia al valore poliedrico del testo: …non è un romanzo, anche se si legge come tale. È il racconto struggente e potente di un ritorno in patria, quello dell’autore stesso, dopo un esilio durato più di trent’anni, e della ricerca di un padre scomparso, il suo. Ma è anche un’autobiografia, un diario, una cronaca giornalistica, un giallo, un lungo poema in prosa e un volume di storia recente sulla Libia.
Fin dalle prime pagine Matar pone uno dei dilemmi che attraversano il testo e la sua stessa esistenza: se, verso un regime ostile e avverso alla libertà di espressione, l’artista debba scegliere l’esilio come Nabokov o Conrad e troncare ogni legame ( Ciò che ti sei lasciato alle spalle è dissolto. Torna e dovrai affrontare l’assenza o il disfacimento di ciò che piú amavi); oppure se debba rimanere e resistere come Sostakovic o Pasternak ( Parti e ogni legame con l’origine sarà reciso. Sarai come un tronco morto, duro e cavo).
Matar sembra avere adottato una via intermedia: dall’esilio in diversi paesi (Egitto, Stati Uniti, Francia, soprattutto Inghilterra) ha sempre mantenuto legami, corrispondenze, prese di posizione politiche e affetti col proprio disgraziato paese. Un paese di cui, in parallelo con la storia recente della sua famiglia, Matar ci offre una cronistoria accorata degli eventi che lo hanno martoriato: le brutalità del colonialismo italiano (altro che “Italiani brava gente…”!), poi il regno di Re Idris, il colpo di stato e il dominio feroce di Gheddafi durato più di 40 anni fino al rovesciamento del dittatore nel 2011. Poiché ”Il Ritorno” viene pubblicato nel 2016 e il viaggio cui si riferisce avviene nel 2012, in qualche punto del racconto si percepisce già la preoccupazione, di Matar e dei suoi connazionali ancora euforici per la caduta di Gheddafi, che i primi evidenti segnali di intolleranza fra le fazioni sfocino in un’ulteriore Guerra Civile, cosa che ahimé è purtroppo accaduta come sappiamo a posteriori dai fatti degli ultimi anni…
Ma ciò che in questo tragico excursus maggiormente coinvolge Matar è la dittatura di Gheddafi essendone stato direttamente colpito nella sua famiglia e in particolare nel destino del padre Jaballa Matar, fiero oppositore del regime rapito al Cairo e fatto sparire nello spaventoso carcere libico di Abu Salim. E qui ci si collega con l’elemento più profondo e doloroso dei tanti che compongono questo libro multiforme: la scomparsa del padre, la non accettazione della sua perdita, il legame intimo padre/figlio, la strenua e instancabile ricerca della verità quantunque penosa, i dettagli, le testimonianze, i documenti.
Questo aspetto che domina la seconda parte di Il ritorno potrà sembrare ossessivo e fin troppo insistente, ma è funzionale al racconto come emblema di una speranza inesauribile e come documento che attesta ancora una volta il muro di gomma che i regimi sono soliti opporre a chi si ostina nel perseguire la Verità, più frustrante e doloroso dell’evidenza della morte.
Tornando alla premessa, non è facile e forse impossibile ricondurre ad un unicum l’insieme di riflessioni profonde, di considerazioni etiche, di emozioni sincere e dolenti, di accuse indignate ma espresse con grande civiltà e umanità che pervadono questo capolavoro, senza dubbio il libro più importante e coinvolgente che abbia letto quest’anno.
Su questo libro eccezionale non ho trovato una sintesi più precisa ed esauriente di quella tratta dalla bella recensione de “L’internazionale” che rende giustizia al valore poliedrico del testo: …non è un romanzo, anche se si legge come tale. È il racconto struggente e potente di un ritorno in patria, quello dell’autore stesso, dopo un esilio durato più di trent’anni, e della ricerca di un padre scomparso, il suo. Ma è anche un’autobiografia, un diario, una cronaca giornalistica, un giallo, un lungo poema in prosa e un volume di storia recente sulla Libia.
Fin dalle prime pagine Matar pone uno dei dilemmi che attraversano il testo e la sua stessa esistenza: se, verso un regime ostile e avverso alla libertà di espressione, l’artista debba scegliere l’esilio come Nabokov o Conrad e troncare ogni legame ( Ciò che ti sei lasciato alle spalle è dissolto. Torna e dovrai affrontare l’assenza o il disfacimento di ciò che piú amavi); oppure se debba rimanere e resistere come Sostakovic o Pasternak ( Parti e ogni legame con l’origine sarà reciso. Sarai come un tronco morto, duro e cavo).
Matar sembra avere adottato una via intermedia: dall’esilio in diversi paesi (Egitto, Stati Uniti, Francia, soprattutto Inghilterra) ha sempre mantenuto legami, corrispondenze, prese di posizione politiche e affetti col proprio disgraziato paese. Un paese di cui, in parallelo con la storia recente della sua famiglia, Matar ci offre una cronistoria accorata degli eventi che lo hanno martoriato: le brutalità del colonialismo italiano (altro che “Italiani brava gente…”!), poi il regno di Re Idris, il colpo di stato e il dominio feroce di Gheddafi durato più di 40 anni fino al rovesciamento del dittatore nel 2011. Poiché ”Il Ritorno” viene pubblicato nel 2016 e il viaggio cui si riferisce avviene nel 2012, in qualche punto del racconto si percepisce già la preoccupazione, di Matar e dei suoi connazionali ancora euforici per la caduta di Gheddafi, che i primi evidenti segnali di intolleranza fra le fazioni sfocino in un’ulteriore Guerra Civile, cosa che ahimé è purtroppo accaduta come sappiamo a posteriori dai fatti degli ultimi anni…
Ma ciò che in questo tragico excursus maggiormente coinvolge Matar è la dittatura di Gheddafi essendone stato direttamente colpito nella sua famiglia e in particolare nel destino del padre Jaballa Matar, fiero oppositore del regime rapito al Cairo e fatto sparire nello spaventoso carcere libico di Abu Salim. E qui ci si collega con l’elemento più profondo e doloroso dei tanti che compongono questo libro multiforme: la scomparsa del padre, la non accettazione della sua perdita, il legame intimo padre/figlio, la strenua e instancabile ricerca della verità quantunque penosa, i dettagli, le testimonianze, i documenti.
Questo aspetto che domina la seconda parte di Il ritorno potrà sembrare ossessivo e fin troppo insistente, ma è funzionale al racconto come emblema di una speranza inesauribile e come documento che attesta ancora una volta il muro di gomma che i regimi sono soliti opporre a chi si ostina nel perseguire la Verità, più frustrante e doloroso dell’evidenza della morte.
Tornando alla premessa, non è facile e forse impossibile ricondurre ad un unicum l’insieme di riflessioni profonde, di considerazioni etiche, di emozioni sincere e dolenti, di accuse indignate ma espresse con grande civiltà e umanità che pervadono questo capolavoro, senza dubbio il libro più importante e coinvolgente che abbia letto quest’anno.
January 26, 2017
A sad story but didn't work for me. After reading about this book I thought I absolutely had to read it. While studying at university in London, author Matar's father is kidnapped. Matar never sees his father again (this is not a spoiler as it's on the flap and was noted in several book previews). Yet the author hopes that his father might very well be alive, despite the horrors of the Gaddafi's regime. The book is the story of his journey and his search.
The book was a struggle. I really wanted to like it (perhaps that's not quite the right word, considering the content...) but I found it was a difficult to get into. There is a bit of an emotional distance and the book seems to meander here and there. I understand his actual journey was probably something like this (where does one to begin when so much time has passed and when the jailer has no care for keeping "records".
It could be very much a matter of style. I had thought (and maybe expected too much) that this book would be more straightforward retelling of his story. I didn't find the writing as beautiful as others did and honestly found it to be a distraction. Overall, the book wasn't for me.
Glad I borrowed this one from the library.
The book was a struggle. I really wanted to like it (perhaps that's not quite the right word, considering the content...) but I found it was a difficult to get into. There is a bit of an emotional distance and the book seems to meander here and there. I understand his actual journey was probably something like this (where does one to begin when so much time has passed and when the jailer has no care for keeping "records".
It could be very much a matter of style. I had thought (and maybe expected too much) that this book would be more straightforward retelling of his story. I didn't find the writing as beautiful as others did and honestly found it to be a distraction. Overall, the book wasn't for me.
Glad I borrowed this one from the library.
May 2, 2017
One of my favourite TV shows at the moment is The Leftovers. On an ordinary October day in 2011, two percent of world's population vanishes simultaneously, without trace. The plot focuses not on the mystery of the disappearance but on the deep anguish of the people left behind. It is the uncertainty surrounding the departure that hurts the most - those that remain cannot know for sure if their missing loved ones are dead or alive. They are forever denied a sense of closure - they don't even have a body to bury. The Return tells the story of a real-life abduction and the devastating effect it had on that person's family.
Hisham Matar, a Booker short-listed novelist, grew up in Libya of the 1970s. His father Jaballa, a prominent businessman and vocal opponent of the Gadaffi regime, moved the family to Cairo in 1979 over fears for their safety. A decade later, Jaballa was kidnapped by Libyan forces and incarcerated in Tripoli's infamous Abu Salim prison. Though his wife and sons always dreamed of his release, they never saw him again. This is the story of Hisham's return to Libya - his tireless search for the truth and his attempts to make peace with years of suffering.
Hisham worshipped Jaballa, a intelligent, cultured man and an inspiration to many during the difficult years of Gadaffi's despotic rule. He felt compelled to become one the leaders of the resistance which of course placed a target on his back. Throughout the book, Hisham talks with many of his father's fellow prisoners in Abu Salim. They all speak of him as a hero, a person who never bowed to his captors and always looked out for his comrades in their torturous conditions.
We soon begin to understand the enormous impact this event has had on Hisham's life. In the years following the abduction, he lived in a constant flux of anger and despair. Though he suspected that his father died in a 1996 prison massacre, there were sightings of him from other prisoners after this date. This gave him hope and with the help of the British government, he began a campaign for Jaballa's release. He had to discover his father's fate and could not rest until he had done so. The uncertainty ate him up and almost consumed him - he admits to thoughts of suicide at one point. This memoir must have been incredibly traumatic to write, and it is harrowing to comprehend the agony he went through:
The structure of The Return is quite digressive - there are several detours into Libyan history, family anecdotes and literature among other things. The timeline can be a little hard to discern given the circular narrative and I would have preferred if the whole account was a bit more linear. But it recently won the Pulitzer Prize for Biography so what do I know? Hisham Matar's courage and dignity stand out above all, and his sensitive, honest writing is the treasure that came out of this darkness. His father would have been immensely proud.
Hisham Matar, a Booker short-listed novelist, grew up in Libya of the 1970s. His father Jaballa, a prominent businessman and vocal opponent of the Gadaffi regime, moved the family to Cairo in 1979 over fears for their safety. A decade later, Jaballa was kidnapped by Libyan forces and incarcerated in Tripoli's infamous Abu Salim prison. Though his wife and sons always dreamed of his release, they never saw him again. This is the story of Hisham's return to Libya - his tireless search for the truth and his attempts to make peace with years of suffering.
Hisham worshipped Jaballa, a intelligent, cultured man and an inspiration to many during the difficult years of Gadaffi's despotic rule. He felt compelled to become one the leaders of the resistance which of course placed a target on his back. Throughout the book, Hisham talks with many of his father's fellow prisoners in Abu Salim. They all speak of him as a hero, a person who never bowed to his captors and always looked out for his comrades in their torturous conditions.
We soon begin to understand the enormous impact this event has had on Hisham's life. In the years following the abduction, he lived in a constant flux of anger and despair. Though he suspected that his father died in a 1996 prison massacre, there were sightings of him from other prisoners after this date. This gave him hope and with the help of the British government, he began a campaign for Jaballa's release. He had to discover his father's fate and could not rest until he had done so. The uncertainty ate him up and almost consumed him - he admits to thoughts of suicide at one point. This memoir must have been incredibly traumatic to write, and it is harrowing to comprehend the agony he went through:
"Pain shrinks the heart. This, I believe, is part of the intention. You make a man disappear to silence him but also to narrow the minds of those left behind, to pervert their soul and limit their imagination. When Gadaffi took my father, he placed me in a space not much bigger than the cell Father was in."
The structure of The Return is quite digressive - there are several detours into Libyan history, family anecdotes and literature among other things. The timeline can be a little hard to discern given the circular narrative and I would have preferred if the whole account was a bit more linear. But it recently won the Pulitzer Prize for Biography so what do I know? Hisham Matar's courage and dignity stand out above all, and his sensitive, honest writing is the treasure that came out of this darkness. His father would have been immensely proud.
May 24, 2023
همیشه پس از سرنگونی حکومت ها، روی دیگری از آن حکومت که تا آن زمان اجازه بازگویی اش وجود نداشت نمایان می شود. پس از سقوط معمر قذافی نویسندگان و راویان و خبرنگاران و شاهدین و ستمدیدگان توانسند تا ستم هایی که بر آنها روا شده بود را به گوش جهانیان برسانند. چندی پیش کتابی تحت عنوان حرمسرای قذافی به چاپ رسید که مورد استقبال قرار گرفت و روایتگر فساد اخلاقی در زندگی و حکومت قذافی داشت. کتاب بازگشت پیشتر چاپ شده بود و خیلی کمتر دیده شد. در این کتاب هشام مطر خود زندگی نامه ای را نوشته که به شرح زندگی خود و مردم لیبی می پردازد. وقتی که معمر قذافی حکومت کشور لیبی را در دست می گیرد، سعی بر از بین بردن مخالفان خود از جمله افراد صاحب قدرت و نفوذ می کند، پدر هشام مطر یکی از این افراد است، جاب الله مطر. پدر که از تصمیمات قذافی با خبر می سود خود و خانواده اش را از چشور خارج می کند و چند سالی در کشورهای دیگر سکونت می کند. ولی جاب الله از همان جا هم یکی از بزرگترین مخالفین و منتقدین قذافی بوده و همیشه خطری بزرگ برای قذافی. جاب الله و خانواده اش همیشه در معرض خطر و ترور بودند تا در نهایت قذافی با همدستی کشور مصر توانست جاب الله را دستگیر و در بدترین زندان از او نگهداری کند. ازین پس هیچ کس جاب الله را به چشم نمی بیند و فقط صدا و نامه هایش گاها از او خبر می رسانند. از سرنوشت جاب الله کسی خبر ندارد و این قضیه باعث می شود تا پس از سرنگونی قذافی شرایط برای بازگشت افراد به لیبی فراهم شود. هشام هم بر می گردد تا در پی یافتن سرنوشت پدرش باشد. در همین راستا با مردانی ملاقات می کند که هر کدام زخم خورده حکومت قذافی و همگی سال ها زندانی بوده اند. این دیدارها برای هشام تلاقی گر خاطراتی در گذشته او می شود که ما هم با او همراه می شویم. به سالهای زندگی پدر بزرگش می رویم که او هم از جنگجویان برای استقلال لیبی از ایتالیاییها بوده، سپس زندگانی هشام در سال های حضور پدر و پس از آن در سال های نبود پدر و سختیهایی که بر سر او و خانواده و خاندان مطر آمده است. سال هایی که هشام در خارج از لیبی زندگی کرده برای او علامت سوالی بزرگ شده است که هویت او مربوط به کدام کشور هست، آمریکایی، لبیایی، انگلیسی یا مصری؟؟؟ خبرها و شواهد حاکی از مرگ جاب الله است ولی هشام امید به زنده بودن پدرش دارد همین امر او را وا می دارد تا با پسر معمر قذافی بر سر یک میز بنشاند تا از سرنوشت پدرش با خبر شود ولی در این جا هم پس از تلاش فراوان چیزی دستگیرش نمی شود و فقط فریب پسرِ قذافی را می خورد و امیدی واهی به او می بندد. کتاب روایت فرزندانی است که سال ها در حسرت دیدن پدران خود نشسته اند و پدرانی که حتی رشد و بزرگ شدن و تغییر چهره فرزندان خود را هم نتوانستند ببیند،کتاب روایت ظلم است و ظلم است و ظلم.
October 17, 2016
Wow, this book hooked me from the start and glued me to every page! Eloquently written and deeply felt, The Return by Hisham Matar is a haunting memoir about a son investigating the fate of his missing father under Qaddafi's reign in Libya. Hisham endeavors also to convey the modern history of Libya, what it was like to live under a brutal dictatorship and how the dissidents were inhumanely treated. This is a story of a terribly unimaginable deeds, but also a tale of oozing hope and indomitable courage, loyalty and strength. It simply must be read.
December 6, 2017
This is a wonderful book. Read it and be a part of humanity.
April 9, 2022
سهیل خرسند یک کلاهبردار گودریدزی است! فریب ریویوهای بلندش را نخورید و چون من به او سفارش کتاب ندهید.(تمام ریویو های امسال با این هشدار برای رسوا کردن این شیاد شروع خواهد شد.)
کتاب عملا سه روایت است: جابالله و هشام مطر و لیبی. نویسنده قلم خوبی دارد، به خوبی هم ترجمه شده اس��. برای ما ایرانیانی که همزمان انقلاب ۵۷ را تجربه کردهایم و دم دم های سرنگونی قذافی تجربهی سال هشتاو هشت و جنبش سبز و بعدها روزهای تلخ ۹۶ و ۹۸ رو داشتیم. کتاب نکات همدلانه زیادی دارد
کتاب عملا سه روایت است: جابالله و هشام مطر و لیبی. نویسنده قلم خوبی دارد، به خوبی هم ترجمه شده اس��. برای ما ایرانیانی که همزمان انقلاب ۵۷ را تجربه کردهایم و دم دم های سرنگونی قذافی تجربهی سال هشتاو هشت و جنبش سبز و بعدها روزهای تلخ ۹۶ و ۹۸ رو داشتیم. کتاب نکات همدلانه زیادی دارد
July 25, 2022
فوق العاده جذاب بود
من کتاب رو توی پادکست قذافی که امیر سودبخش ساخته بود پیدا کردم
و خیلی دوس داشتمش
ترجمه هم عالی بود. داخل طاقچه خوندم کتا�� رو
باعث میشد به ادمهایی فکر کنی که برای ازادی با همه وجود و به طول همه عمرشون جنگیدن
من کتاب رو توی پادکست قذافی که امیر سودبخش ساخته بود پیدا کردم
و خیلی دوس داشتمش
ترجمه هم عالی بود. داخل طاقچه خوندم کتا�� رو
باعث میشد به ادمهایی فکر کنی که برای ازادی با همه وجود و به طول همه عمرشون جنگیدن
February 10, 2017
This is about prisoners in the jails of Libya during the long Qaddafi dictatorship. It is also, as in the author’s case, about those who quest forlornly, using any fragment of information, on those imprisoned. The author’s father, a resistance fighter against Qaddafi, was abducted on the streets of Cairo by Egypt’s secret police. From there he was sent to Libya and essentially disappeared in the morass of the Libyan prison system. This happened in 1990 when the author was 19 years old. Understandably this began a long and obsessive search on the author’s part to track down where his father was, and indeed, if he was still alive. On occasion he would even receive a letter from his father that was smuggled out of the prisons – and it was essential to never reveal these letters to the outside world, because tragedy would doubtless occur to anyone involved in this letter trafficking.
After the overthrow of Qaddafi in 2011, the author returns to Libya meeting family members, some of whom were imprisoned. There are many affecting passages.
Page 214 (my book)
So much information is lost that every small loss provokes inexplicable grief. Power must know this. Power must know how fatigued human nature is, and how unready we are to listen, and how willing we are to settle for lies. Power must know that, ultimately, we would rather not know. Power must believe, given how things proceed, that the world was better made for the perpetrator than for those who arrive after the fact, seeking justice or accountability or truth. Power must see such attempts as pathetic, and yet the bereaved, the witness, the investigator and the chronicler cannot but try to make reason of this diabolical mess... Yet also, with every folding year, like the line of a step mimicking the one before it, it becomes increasingly difficult to escape, to give up altogether on what has been invested so far, least of all the person swallowed up by the injustice. Eventually, the original loss, the point of departure, the point from which life changed irrevocably, comes to resemble a living presence, having its own force and temperament.
The author describes a chilling game that the leaders of the Libyan regime (one was the son of Qaddafi), played with the author, pretending that they would release information on his father’s fate. This became an Orwellian maze of doubletalk of never-ending questions and spurious demands.
There were aspects that irritated me about this book.
The last half is far stronger than the beginning of the book. At 250 pages this book could have been shortened.
The book is lyrically written and in one sentence the author used the word “tributaries” which I felt aptly described what irked me. Often, within a chapter, several strains of thought digressions occurred, covering different intervals of time. There were also descriptive passages which seemed inconsequential.
The author can be very self-absorbed. It is also very male-centred. Women are relegated to the periphery. We know little of their inner thoughts when their husbands and/or sons were imprisoned. Were not women incarcerated by Qaddafi?
Even so the last half of the book has searing passages of life in Libya during the years of Qaddafi. It provides insight as to what life is, for both those living inside and outside a dictatorship. And sadly, as the author mentions, democracy and rule-of-law aspirations have disappeared, with Libya now descending into another form of lawlessness.
After the overthrow of Qaddafi in 2011, the author returns to Libya meeting family members, some of whom were imprisoned. There are many affecting passages.
Page 214 (my book)
So much information is lost that every small loss provokes inexplicable grief. Power must know this. Power must know how fatigued human nature is, and how unready we are to listen, and how willing we are to settle for lies. Power must know that, ultimately, we would rather not know. Power must believe, given how things proceed, that the world was better made for the perpetrator than for those who arrive after the fact, seeking justice or accountability or truth. Power must see such attempts as pathetic, and yet the bereaved, the witness, the investigator and the chronicler cannot but try to make reason of this diabolical mess... Yet also, with every folding year, like the line of a step mimicking the one before it, it becomes increasingly difficult to escape, to give up altogether on what has been invested so far, least of all the person swallowed up by the injustice. Eventually, the original loss, the point of departure, the point from which life changed irrevocably, comes to resemble a living presence, having its own force and temperament.
The author describes a chilling game that the leaders of the Libyan regime (one was the son of Qaddafi), played with the author, pretending that they would release information on his father’s fate. This became an Orwellian maze of doubletalk of never-ending questions and spurious demands.
There were aspects that irritated me about this book.
The last half is far stronger than the beginning of the book. At 250 pages this book could have been shortened.
The book is lyrically written and in one sentence the author used the word “tributaries” which I felt aptly described what irked me. Often, within a chapter, several strains of thought digressions occurred, covering different intervals of time. There were also descriptive passages which seemed inconsequential.
The author can be very self-absorbed. It is also very male-centred. Women are relegated to the periphery. We know little of their inner thoughts when their husbands and/or sons were imprisoned. Were not women incarcerated by Qaddafi?
Even so the last half of the book has searing passages of life in Libya during the years of Qaddafi. It provides insight as to what life is, for both those living inside and outside a dictatorship. And sadly, as the author mentions, democracy and rule-of-law aspirations have disappeared, with Libya now descending into another form of lawlessness.
January 24, 2017
This memoir is the long, sad story of a 19-year-old Libyan boy (the author, Hisham Matar) who learns his father has been kidnapped and imprisoned as an opposition leader by Qaddafi. Finding out what became of his father becomes Hisham's lifelong purpose, and it's all detailed in this book.
In addition to tales of the family clan and the search, Hisham gives a little history of Libya which, I daresay, many no little about. For instance, I learned that the Italians who occupied Libya as colonial oppressors engaged in outright genocide by the time the fascist Mussolini was in control of Italy.
Bleak, but well done.
In addition to tales of the family clan and the search, Hisham gives a little history of Libya which, I daresay, many no little about. For instance, I learned that the Italians who occupied Libya as colonial oppressors engaged in outright genocide by the time the fascist Mussolini was in control of Italy.
Bleak, but well done.
October 28, 2016
In 1969 a coup d'état took place in a North African country. The Free Officers Movement, a revolutionary group headed by a 27-year-old army officer called Muammar Qaddafi, disposed King Idris, Libya’s monarch. So began a 42 year reign of terror by the iron grip of Qaddafi and his family and supporters, where anyone who dared oppose the regime would be removed and imprisoned. Hisham Matar was born in the United States as his father was working there at the time with the Libyan delegation to the UN. At the age of three, he first set foot in his home country. It was to become his home for the next few years, but as the political persecution grew in the country, Jaballa Matar was accused of being opposed to the regime. The family fled the country and Hisham and his brother spent the rest of their childhood in Cairo. University beckoned, and Hisham headed to London to study. Whilst he was in London, his father was kidnapped by the Egyptian secret police, and handed over to the Libyan authorities.
Hisham Matar last saw his father when he was nineteen. He was never to see or speak to him again.
Six years after he was snatched, the family had two letters delivered written in Jaballa’s hand. It explained what had happened and he said he was in the infamous Abu Salim prison. They received no other details until 2010, when Hisham was told that his father had been seen in 2002, implying that he had survived the horrific massacre of 1200 prisoners in 1996. All enquires to the Libyan authorities about their father’s whereabouts and welfare were met with silence or promises of answers. Everything changed in 2011; another revolution overthrew Qaddafi and for the first time in 22 years Hisham could return to his homeland once again and see family that he never thought he would see.
He involves the Foreign Office, as the Labour government at the time was building a relationship with Qaddafi, even having meetings with David Miliband to push for answers from the Libyan authorities on his father. He talks with and meets Sief el-Islam in the hope of finding something; but all he gets is promises. It is an eloquent but painful and emotional memoir to read; you feel his anguish every step of his journey. But it is fascinating too; there is as much about the humanity of some and the shocking indifference from others. Well worth reading.
Hisham Matar last saw his father when he was nineteen. He was never to see or speak to him again.
Six years after he was snatched, the family had two letters delivered written in Jaballa’s hand. It explained what had happened and he said he was in the infamous Abu Salim prison. They received no other details until 2010, when Hisham was told that his father had been seen in 2002, implying that he had survived the horrific massacre of 1200 prisoners in 1996. All enquires to the Libyan authorities about their father’s whereabouts and welfare were met with silence or promises of answers. Everything changed in 2011; another revolution overthrew Qaddafi and for the first time in 22 years Hisham could return to his homeland once again and see family that he never thought he would see.
He involves the Foreign Office, as the Labour government at the time was building a relationship with Qaddafi, even having meetings with David Miliband to push for answers from the Libyan authorities on his father. He talks with and meets Sief el-Islam in the hope of finding something; but all he gets is promises. It is an eloquent but painful and emotional memoir to read; you feel his anguish every step of his journey. But it is fascinating too; there is as much about the humanity of some and the shocking indifference from others. Well worth reading.
August 13, 2021
Hisham Matar’s memoir about his search to find out what happened to his father, Jaballa Matar, an opponent of the Qaddafi regime, who was imprisoned in Libya in 1990. Matar spent is youth in Libya. For safety concerns, the family moved to Egypt, where his father was abducted. Hisham Matar spent over two decades trying to find out what happened. He eventually gained access to Libyan officials, including the son of the Libyan dictator, who promised to disclose what happened but never delivered. Other family members were also imprisoned, and Matar worked for their release.
The book touches on Matar’s personal history, studies in the UK, and writing career. It reflects a struggle with identity and a longing for home. He obviously has a great love for his country. It is a lyrically written and moving memoir. It is not a comprehensive political analysis of the history of Libyan conflicts. It mentions several but supplemental reading will be required to get a more complete picture.
This book vividly portrays the emotional impact of not knowing the fate of a loved one. The reader can feel Matar’s frustration as he is put off time after time, saying the information will be forthcoming “tomorrow or the day after.” I particularly enjoyed the way he conveys the power of literature and art in providing solace during times of trouble.
The book touches on Matar’s personal history, studies in the UK, and writing career. It reflects a struggle with identity and a longing for home. He obviously has a great love for his country. It is a lyrically written and moving memoir. It is not a comprehensive political analysis of the history of Libyan conflicts. It mentions several but supplemental reading will be required to get a more complete picture.
This book vividly portrays the emotional impact of not knowing the fate of a loved one. The reader can feel Matar’s frustration as he is put off time after time, saying the information will be forthcoming “tomorrow or the day after.” I particularly enjoyed the way he conveys the power of literature and art in providing solace during times of trouble.
November 17, 2019
Since 1979, author Matar and his family have been displaced from their Libyan ancestral home because of the Qaddafi dictatorship. His displacement and disorientation is reflected in this account of his father’s imprisonment and disappearance in Libya’s infamous Abu Salim prison as a political prisoner. His writing about these events is sometimes murky and unsettled and understandably he belabors the impact of grief upon losing his father. By the time of the overthrow of the Qaddafi regime, it was not unusual to have family members imprisoned for 10-20 years as political prisoners.
In a round about way, Matar traces the history of Libya and muses about architecture, classical paintings and Libyan culture. He has been persistent in pursuing his father’s fate and his dealings with Qaddafi’s staff reveal a sinister and harassing mind set. His father would be proud of his efforts. 3.75 stars.
In a round about way, Matar traces the history of Libya and muses about architecture, classical paintings and Libyan culture. He has been persistent in pursuing his father’s fate and his dealings with Qaddafi’s staff reveal a sinister and harassing mind set. His father would be proud of his efforts. 3.75 stars.
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