Book 18 - Crescent: A Novel

Crescent: A Novel by Diana Abu-Jaber is one of those exquisite, magical reads that makes me ache with its beauty. Often these books don't have a great deal happening in the plot - it's the descriptive writing and fluid imagery of such works that draws me in and creates a sense of rapture.

"No one ever wants to be the Arab - it's too old and too tragic and too mysterious and too exasperating and too lonely for anyone but an actual Arab to put up with for very long."
Crescent, p. 38

Crescent is a story of Iraqis in exile. Sirine, orphaned daughter of an Iraqi and an American, lives with her uncle, an academic, and works at Nadia's Cafe. Despite never having visited the Middle East, sensually authentic food flows from her fingers. Exiled Arabs from all over Los Angeles and particularly the university where her Uncle works are drawn to the cafe. Regulars include Hanif, a lecturer in Middle Eastern literature, and a slow, almost reluctant love affair commences between the two. No hot-headed teenage love affair, this romance draws on the sensuous maturity of the older pair. Passion is tempered by the mystery and not-knowing of what happened in the magical Iraq of Hanif's past and the war-torn version of today.

Food and storytelling pervade this text like a fabulous banquet and create its magic. Luxurious descriptions of food create a longing for the lost Iraq and a pleasure in Sirine's present world. Even the every-day city of Los Angeles takes on a feeling of mythical wonder, peopled with lonely young photographers, sensual and scheming professors and the love-struck couple.

The storytelling of Sirine's uncle's draws on the magic of Arabia's 1001 nights as well as gently mocking American stereotypes of the legendary Arab. It also creates a reflexive kind of intertextuality, reminding the reader that Sirine and Hanif's story is also a fiction even if the characters have more complexity and authenticity than the Arabs of Hollywood movies. I am inadequate to the task of describing this work's amazing imagery so I will leave you with a final description of the lost Iraq of legend from the storytelling of Sirine's Uncle.

"The streets of Aqaba are shell spirals and, on summer nights, crowded and complicated as women's hearts. Boys sit on the curb and wonder about love, women run their hands through their hair, locks dense with sea salt, men unfurl velvet prayer rugs, hands on their knees, the bow, rise, rock into the sea-waves of prayer."
Crescent, p?