Friday, 4 December 2020

Friday Five: Stitching and Bitching

Here are another five of my latest cross-stitch creations. The first two patterns and explanations are taken from Really Cross Stitch; for when You Just Want to Stab Something a Lot by Rayna Fahey.

No borders unless they're pretty and floral
"This pattern is dedicated to people fleeing persecution who, despite all obstacles still strive to create a clean, tidy, safe space for their loved ones to rest before facing another day.

The women who sew together rags for their wee ones 'cause they know how important it is for a two-year-old to have a cuddly friend. The women who dress in black and march for peace amid gunfire and tear gas. All the while carrying giant handbags with keys and snacks and hankies for small runny noses."
C'mon gang: Be excellent to each other
"Stop for a moment and imagine what the world would be like if everyone did one simple act of kindness for a stranger, every single day.

"Old ladies would get safely across roads, lost wallets would be returned to their owners, wars would stop breaking out all over the place. the possibilities are truly endless. Pay it forward people, I think we're onto something here!

"Fucking kindness. It just works every time."

The remaining images are little kits by Thomas Joseph that I picked up back in the UK, where we like cheap gags and sheep. Well, wouldn't ewe?

Wednesday, 2 December 2020

On Shifting Sands: Celestial Bodies


Celestial Bodies by Jokha Alharthi
Sandstone Press
Pp. 243

Originally titled Sayyidat al-Qamar (Ladies of the Moon), Celestial Bodies is the third of Alharthi’s novels, but the first novel by an Omani woman to be translated into English and the first novel in Arabic to be awarded the Man Booker International Prize (which Alharthi shared with her translator, the Oxford academic Marilyn Booth in 2019). It spans several generations, from the final decades of the 19th century to the early years of the new millennium, and captures the changing mores and traditions in society, particularly in how they relate to women.

The family tree at the beginning of the book is crucial, and even with constant reference to it, the timelines can be a little hard to follow. The novel focusses on three sisters and their marriage prospects. Mayya marries Abdallah as she is told to after a heartbreak; Asma marries Khalid out of a sense of duty; Khawla rejects all offers while waiting for her beloved, who has immigrated to Canada. It is narrated by an omniscient narrator (who knows all about the women) and alternate chapters (in a different font) by Abdallah (who doesn’t).

Abdallah’s chapters are narrated as he is on a flight from Muscat to Frankfurt and he dreams fretfully of women accused of witchcraft and of the source of his father’s wealth back in his hometown of al-Awafi. Now little more than an oasis for nostalgia, it was once a hub for the slave trade, a practice that was not outlawed in Oman until 1970. It is no accident that the named narrator is not grounded as Alharthi inhabits the liminal space between memory and forgetting; the truth and the stories.

Marriage and childbirth are centre stage: customs are followed or disregarded and everyone has an opinion about how to follow them or not. Asma reads all the books and religious texts that she should, including On Matters of Purity although she finds the chapters so boring that she stops, but not before she gently mocks the highly restrictive guidelines on personal matters. Customs which are only followed for form are ridiculed, whereas those that come from logic and reason are upheld. It is still a patriarchal society, but there are social benefits to marriage. “Now she would be one of the women who sat around their coffee in the late mornings and then again at the end of the day. She would be invited to lunch and dinner, and she would issue her own invitations, since she was no longer merely a girl. Marriage was her identity document, her passport to a world wider than home.”

Women must still strive for individual recognition. When Mayya has her first child, it is a girl, which is considered lucky as it means that boys will follow. “The first one’s a girl, and a girl comes to raise her little brothers.” She calls her London, which name the family ridicule, but Mayya wants to give her a future elsewhere in the world.

The changes are occurring slowly, and the generations have different ideas and ideals. The novel is short and contains vignettes of multiple characters, such as Bedouin businesswomen, slave owners, gossips, poets and arms dealers. Celestial Bodies leaves an ethereal impression of vibrant sketches rather a chronological saga, and it provides a new and appealing voice. In a land of shifting sands, Jokha Alharthi is a shaping energy.

Jokha Alharthi and Marilyn Booth share the Man Booker International Prize for writing and translating Celestial Bodies