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My Mother Hessa's Mice • Author: Saud Alsanousi • 2015
JOD
Get it by 5 Aug | Order in 5 Hours 13 Minutes
After the author of "The Prisoner of Mirrors" liberated himself through writing and posed the question of identity in "The Bamboo Stalk", he now returns to us in "My Mother Hessa's Mice", taking us on a journey between history and geography. He stands as a narrator, "speaking" stripped of his mask, crossing borders, breaking mirrors, and storming the forbidden. In this novel, Saud Alsanousi writes about the past and present of the Arabs, and it is no exaggeration to say he predicts their future after they have handed over their keys, leaving the question: what's next?
The novel's events take place in the Arabian Gulf region, spanning from the 1970s to a hypothetical future in 2020. It addresses Kuwaiti society's social and political transformations. The author presents a socio-political approach within a narrative framework that can serve as a critical document of events experienced by the Arabian Gulf region in its modern history, from the Iranian revolution, through the first Gulf War (Iraq-Iran), the second Gulf War (Iraq-Kuwait), the fall of Baghdad to US forces in 2003, up to the current Arab revolutions. It follows the lives of three boys—friends and neighbors with different religious and sectarian affiliations—as a field for the narrative that will shape their relationships and change their affiliations in ways contrary to their upbringing, in accordance with each era. Alsanousi does this through the character of the narrator, a partial participant and constant witness, and other characters who complete the course of events, leading to tragic endings in a hypothetical future that is surely coming... and of which we see many scenes in our present.
From the novel's atmosphere: "Behind this wall, we had a life bustling with life. Oh, the memory of childhood alone is tattooed in the conscience, and every other memory is fleeting. I feel myself, in front of the house's wall, a ten-year-old child. Uncle Saleh's courtyard, Fahd's father, was our little paradise. I want to push the door, but, the fear. Damn its power. In distant years, I used to fall, in a repeated role, extending my small hands into the horizontal slit at the bottom of the door, working the iron latch fixed in a hole in the ground. I stand up straight."