This study focuses on the nature of the Lebanese encounter with modernity in Lebanese fiction over the past forty years or so, a time of great ideological, political, and cultural upheavals. The first part traces the effect of modernity on works by Lebanese writers since the 1950s, a period of "revolutionary political and social change," and of learning and cultural and social ferment. The second part of the study focuses on Rashid al-Daif's novel עAzizi al-Sayyed Kawabata. My choice of this particular novel is related to the fact that it is a representative work that underlines the impact of modernity on Lebanese individuals and society during and in the wake of the civil war. The novel raises questions about rationality, ideology, the individual self, and the relevance of these Western constructs to the local situation in Lebanon. The structure of the novel itself and the use of the epistolary and autobiographical modes of writing underscore the novel's obsession with modernity. Within this context, one could say that al-Daif's novel can be viewed as a complex work of fiction that encompasses different forms of modernity, the tensions between these modernities, and between modernity and authenticity.
This study undertakes an examination of Lebanese women's fiction over the past forty years or so. For many women, the urban environment is an escape from the restrictive traditional community that is closely aligned with a rural mentality. Many of these writers tend to see the city in stark contrast to the country, which, in their eyes represents restraining cultural values. If in some cases the city and the country are represented as real, tangible places, the majority of women tend to view them as "states of mind and feeling"1 or as representations. Some female writers see the city and the village in ontological opposition between repression and freedom, backwardness and progress, and past and present—or, as Raymond Williams refers to it, "of consciousness with ignorance; of vitality with routine; of the present and actual with the past or the lost."2 Nevertheless, it is clear that in many cases the city incorporates and embraces both the traditional and modern patterns, because "an old order, a 'traditional' society, keeps appearing, reappearing, at bewilderingly various dates."3 Far from viewing themselves as alienated and degraded beings in the corrupt and hellish city4 or the modern wasteland, women see the nurturing city as a symbol of well-being, independence, and freedom from shackles. Indeed, they become so immersed in city life that, for some of them, there is "little reality in any other mode of life."5 The city gives them the opportunity to escape the narrow confines of home, family, and stifling traditions that have relegated them to a corner and associated them with a nostalgic past. Accordingly, for many of them, the city has become, as Williams puts it, "the physical embodiment of a decisive modern consciousness,"6 a place consistently in flux and motion7 where women attempt to keep the ever-haunting past at bay and reveal a thrust for change and for experience and knowledge that they try to replenish in the city.
Commenting on his novelRiḥlat Gandhī al-Ṣaghīr(The Journey of Little Gandhi), Elias Khoury has made two conflicting assertions. At a gathering held to discuss the book shortly after it was published, Khoury reaffirmed his political and ideological stance in relation to the war in Lebanon. While acknowledging that Gandhi, the protagonist, is a victim of violence and poverty, Khoury said that he regards war as a necessity, a passage to a higher and nobler aim:I am not one of those who preach against violence, nor do I claim that I am against the war.I have participated in the war, and I remain true to my original choice, and loyal to my comrades who died the death of martyrs. I refuse to go along with the popular "anti-war" fad. At the same time, I remain faithful to the truth and the goal for which we started the war: the creation of another more just and democratic society⃜ [U]nfortunately, we have not succeeded, but at least, it is our duty to tell the truth and… what actually happened.
Since we are dealing with texts written by women, the question that comes to mind is whether or not there is a unique or particular way in which women inscriberepresentation. My examination of texts written by women as well as men from the 1950's to the present reveal that no clearcut or categorical differences occur between texts written by men and those written by women. There seems to be nodifference in the language they use or the techniques employed in their writing. Is it a question of content then which makes texts written by women different?
Scholarly attention to gender issues in the Middle East has been focused almost exclusively on a quest to understand femininity. There are as yet no significant studies that make Muslim men visible as gendered subjects, and masculinity inArab Islamic cultures has so far remained an unrecognized and unacknowledged category viewed in essentialist terms and perceived as natural, and self-evident.
The idea of a Raida issue on women centers in the Arab world has been on our minds for a long time. The reason for this is because we are very much aware of the pioneering role that these centers have played to enhance the rights of women and to make space for them within the frame.
On reading Rachid EI-Daif's semiautobiographical novel 'Azizi al-Sayyid Kawahata (Dear Mr. Kawabata, 1995), I was struck by an unusual reference to the narrator's grandmother who, owing to extreme poverty, had to leave her husband and children in order to earn a living in America. She spent ten years there before finally returning to Lebanon with enough money that would allow her daughter to have a decent marriage. I
After twenty-five years of armed struggle against Israeli occupation, Lebanon has finally been liberated through the sacrifices of the Lebanese resistance and the Lebanese people. In this context, one could say that the role of women in the resistance cannot be underestimated. In a film entitled Zahrat alKandoul ("Women from South Lebanon") directed by May Masri and Jean Chamoun on the Lebanese resistance activist Khadija Herez, the latter tells us that there was no way women could have extricated themselves from the conflict.
This second issue of Al-Raida consists of papers that were presented at the international conference "Arab Countries in Transition: Gender Rights and Constitutional Reforms" held by the Institute for Women's Studies in the Arab World (IWSAW) at the Lebanese American University (LAU) in June 2014 and centering on human rights, women's bodies, power relations, violations and testimonials.
When asked by the Institute for Women's Studies in the Arab World to write a tribute to Julinda Abu Nasr on the occasion of her retirement in October, 1997, my mind went back to the short period of time I worked with her as editor of the Al-Raida issue on Women and Literature. In that short span, Julinda stood out as a devoted and inspiring leader of a diverse group of hard working dedicated women.
Oral history as research approach emerges partly from nineteenth century European romantic nationalism, with its enthusiasm for folk-lore and folk-narrative, partly from journalistic investigation into social conditions, for instance Mayhew's study of the London poor (1861) or, much later, the radio journalist Studs Terkel's classic study of the Great Depression (1970).