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Showing posts with label Randa Jarrar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Randa Jarrar. Show all posts

Thursday, April 29, 2010

Thursday Morning at Instituto Cervantes: PEN World Voices with Bernardo Atxaga, Randa Jarrar, Roger Sedarat, Francisco X. Stork & Cathy Park Hong


This morning we went to historic and beautiful Amster Yard in midtown to a PEN World Voices Festival

panel held at Instituto Cervantes. Titled Writing, Speaking, Dreaming: Authors Talk About Languages, this was a special program for high school students - but luckily for us, they also let in at least one PEN member who hasn't belonged in that category since the Johnson administration. The panel was moderated by Cathy Park Hong

and featured writers Randa Jarrar, an old friend whose work we've loved for years (she read from one of our favorite sections of her novel A Map of Home);

Roger Sedarat, a great poet whom we had the pleasure of working with at Borough of Manhattan Community College;

Francisco X. Stork;

and Bernardo Atxaga.

There was also the empty chair that is at every PEN World Voices Festival event to represent our writer colleagues in repressive regimes who are in prison or detention.

We're very pressed for time this week, with classes ending at one college where we're teaching and dealing with a lot of grading finals and research papers, and lots of teaching elsewhere -- so with her kind permission, we will defer to il miglior fabbro, our fellow PEN memer Lyn Miller-Lachmann.

Lyn is the author of Gringolandia, which Kirkus Reviews called a "poignant, often surprising and essential novel" and School Library Journal termed "a rare reading experience that both touches the heart and opens the mind." Here's Lyn's report, far better than anything we could come up with, from her blog at the PEN website (she has reports of other Festival events that are equally wonderful):

The 30 or so students from Enterprise, Business, and Technology High School in Brooklyn got stuck on the L train but arrived just in time to join a group from Fox Lane High School in suburban Bedford at a panel of authors who grew up speaking and writing in multiple languages. The students—all English Language Learners from China, Nepal, Yemen, Ecuador, Guatemala, and the Dominican Republic—heard the perspectives of immigrants and the children of immigrants, those whose home language was suppressed, and those who have sought as adults to embrace the language of their parents.

Moderated by Korean-American poet Cathy Park Hong, the panel titled “Writing, Speaking, Dreaming: Authors Talk About Languages” included novelist Randa Jarrar, the daughter of an Egyptian father and a Palestinian mother; poet and translator Roger Sedarat, the son of an Iranian father and a U.S.-born mother; novelist Francisco X. Stork, the son of Mexican parents whose Anglo stepfather adopted him and brought him and his mother to the United States; and the Basque poet, novelist, and essayist Bernardo Atxaga. Although the focus of the program was language, bicultural identity was an important theme for both Sedarat and Jarrar.

After giving the young audience a taste of their writing, Jarrar, Sedarat, Stork, and Atxaga described their experiences as outsiders. Texas (my home state) proved an unwelcoming place for Jarrar, Sedarat, and Stork. Stork talked about how Mexican-American students in his El Paso school faced corporal punishment for speaking Spanish; it made him feel as if his own language was “not worthy of being spoken.” Even now as a writer, he feels the need to demonstrate his mastery of English.

For both Jarrar and Sedarat, the exclusion was as much political as linguistic. Sedarat attended school at the time of the 1979 Iranian Revolution, Jarrar during the First Gulf War. They had the names, faces, and languages of “the enemy.” Bullying at school and death threats over the phone made life difficult and even dangerous. Sedarat’s parents discouraged him from exploring his Iranian identity, which led him to explore it with increasing passion and vigor. His journey to find himself eventually took him back to Iran and to the awareness that he belonged to two worlds but would never be a full-fledged member of either. For Jarrar, writing became her way of fighting back against invisibility and exclusion.

Atxaga’s experience of two languages may have occurred in fascist Spain, but his experience of oppression paralleled that of the three writers who grew up in Texas. (As a native Texan, I’ll leave readers to draw their own conclusions.) During his nearly forty-year regime, dictator Francisco Franco sought to eradicate regional languages, such as Basque and Catalan. One day, a policeman caught Atxaga’s mother speaking Basque in a supermarket and ordered her to speak only Spanish, because “we are in Spain.” Since the speakers of these languages were often some of the most ardent opponents of fascism during and after the Civil War, Franco’s agenda was clearly political as well as linguistic—to wipe out the language was a way of wiping out resistance. Atxaga’s writing in Basque became his way of asserting his resistance.

All of the panelists agreed that being different, being an outsider, makes one a natural observer, and the ability to observe closely, to see things other don’t see, is the essence of great writing. They sought to inspire their audience of students struggling to learn a new language; for each of them, having two languages has proven an advantage. Sedarat considers himself a literary emissary, picking up the style and themes of literature of one country and bringing them to another. Stork’s ability to express himself in Spanish allows him to explore and express emotions that would be difficult to describe in English.

Each author encouraged the students to write their own stories. Jarrar wrote the book she wished she could have read as a teenager. Sedarat sees writing as a way of clearing up stereotypes, and Stork added that through his novels, he rights the wrongs he sees in society, most notably changing the image of Latinos by means of characters with whom readers can identify. Axtaga and Jarrar cited recent English-only laws in Alabama and anti-immigration laws in Arizona, respectively, as two wrongs that call for a response. And moderator Hong had the last word, reminding the audience how they can fight back against the injustices in their lives through writing, and they can make their voices heard.


- Lyn Miller-Lachmann

Thanks to the panelists and especially to Lyn for that eloquent and elegant report.

Saturday, September 6, 2008

Saturday Night on the Lower East Side: Randa Jarrar & "A Map of Home" at Bluestockings


After teaching our always enjoyable creative writing and short story classes for Borough of Manhattan Community College's weekend program on the Brooklyn College campus (thirty-nine years after we started our own undergrad career there), we were lucky enough to be able to brave Tropical Storm Hanna to see Randa Jarrar at our favorite radical feminist bookstore, Bluestockings, on the Lower East Side, and hear her read from her fabulous new novel, A Map of Home, of which Publishers Weekly said in a starred review:
Jarrar's sparkling debut about an audacious Muslim girl growing up in Kuwait, Egypt and Texas is intimate, perceptive and very, very funny. Nidali Ammar is born in Boston to a Greek-Egyptian mother and a Palestinian father, and moves to Kuwait at a very young age, staying there until she's 13, when Iraq invades. A younger brother is born in Kuwait, rounding out a family of complex citizenships. During the occupation, the family flees to Alexandria in a wacky caravan, bribing soldiers along the way with whiskey and silk ties. But they don't stay long in Egypt, and after the war, Nidali's father finds work in Texas.

At first, Nidali is disappointed to learn that feeling rootless doesn't make her an outsider in the States, and soon it turns out the precocious and endearing Arab chick isn't very different from other American girls, a reality that only her father may find difficult to accept. Jarrar explores familiar adolescent ground—stifling parental expectations, precarious friendships, sensuality and first love—but her exhilarating voice and flawless timing make this a standout.

The MTA's weekend advisory told us the F train wouldn't be stopping at 14th Street, so we got off the L train at First Avenue and figured, since the rain had let up, that we could walk the sixteen blocks south to Bluestockings, which is on Allen Street (the continuation of First) near Stanton. Get there if you haven't for lots of cool books you will not find at any other New York bookstore, amazing radical T-shirts and other stuff, and good coffee and a place to hang out.

Unfortunately, it began to rain as we approached 12th Street and by St. Marks Place we were in a downpour. Despite our umbrella, we were kind of drenched when we got to Bluestockings, but luckily, Randa hadn't started reading yet.

We had never met her, but we have emailed after enjoying her work online, starting with her story "You Are a 14-Year-Old Arab Chick Who Has Just Moved to Texas," which won the Million Writers Award, StorySouth's prize for the best online fiction of the year, in 2004. Originally published online at Lee Klein's classic webzine Eyeshot, it's a terrific story, one we've taught to students at a Jewish high school and in a university class in immigrant lit.

(Intrusive and obnoxious local self-promoting aside: our story "Branch Libraries of Southeastern Brooklyn" was a finalist for the Million Writers Award the next year. It's in a Dumbo Books book. End of commercial interruption.)

Randa also writes the spicy blog Rockslinga. Here's her official bio:

Randa Jarrar was born in Chicago in 1978. She grew up in Kuwait and Egypt, and moved back to the U.S. at thirteen. She is a writer and translator whose honors include the Million Writers Award, the Avery Hopwood and Jule Hopwood Award and the Geoffrey James Gosling Prize. Her fiction has appeared in Ploughshares as well as in numerous journals and anthologies. Her translations from the Arabic have appeared in Words Without Borders: The World Through the Eyes of Writers; recently, she translated Hassan Daoud’s novel, The Year of the Revolutionary New Bread-Making Machine. She currently lives in Ann Arbor, Michigan.

Lots of other friends and lit-lovers came in out of the rain earlier tonight to see Randa at Bluestockings. She began by thanking her sister and brother and her agent Jin Auh, who were in the front row, and also thanked her publisher, Other Press, for making things happen "beyond my wildest dreams." A Map of Home also just sold paperback rights to Penguin!

Reading an excerpt from near the novel's end, when Nidali, the protagonist, is preparing her statements of purpose for her college applications. Her father forces her to write numerous compositions which he wants to be celebrations of her Arab heritage. Randa then read some of Nidali's essays, which diverge wildly and hilariously from her baba's intentions and expectations. (Maud Newton has the whole excerpt here.) The voice is sharp, funny, refreshingly vulgar and energetic. Frankly, our mind wanders at most readings, but when hearing this -- and the demanded encore, the start of the novel that wryly details the almost-slapstick comic events following Nidali's birth. Randa is a terrific novelist.

If you don't trust us (and we don't trust us either), how about this? Not only did Randa's book get a starred review in PW, but it scored one as well from Kirkus Reviews:
A first-time novelist offers a fictional take on her own complex heritage.

Nidali’s Baba is Palestinian. Her Mama is half-Greek and half-Egyptian. In addition to this mixed-up background, Nidali has an American passport and a precociously peripatetic personal history. Born in Boston, Nidali grows up in Kuwait, but her family flees to Egypt during the 1990 Iraqi invasion. By the time she lands in Texas, Nidali has become a seasoned traveler, and, wherever she goes, she carries with her a keen awareness of her inescapable difference. Nidali’s story is shaped by the harsh realities of ethnic division, political uncertainty and war, but it is also, essentially, a typical coming-of-age story. Jarrar is a funny, incisive writer, and she’s positively heroic in her refusal to employ easy sentimentality or cheap pathos. Nidali is a misfit living through calamitous times, but Jarrar understands that all adolescents feel like misfits living through calamitous times. The political is always personal for Nidali. For her, bombs dropping on Kuwait mean that nobody remembers her 13th birthday. As her family drives across Iraq on their way to Egypt, she writes a letter to Saddam Hussein complaining that his invasion has separated her from her boyfriend. And, ultimately, international crises have less impact on Nidali’s life than ongoing battles between her and her Baba on subjects like curfew and college. . .A coming-of-age story that’s both singular and universal—an outstanding debut.

If these two starred reviews aren't enough, this week's People Magazine gives A Map of Home four stars.

We're know you'll enjoy Randa Jarrar's A Map of Home. And you should feel guilty if you don't.