There are two things concerning narrative technique which
really struck me in my reading of Men in the Sun.
First- and this is by no means a novel or unique
method- is the frequent and effortless shift in time. Without warning, Abu Qais
drifts in and out of memory, alternating between his current situation in the
Shatt to years ago in his village with his family; almost akin to shifting
dunes in the midst of a sandstorm, if one were to extend the desert metaphor. For
example
“It's the Shatt. Can't you see it stretching out beside
you as far as the eye can see?”
And then immediately after, we are transported back ten
years-
"’When the two great rivers, Tigris and Euphrates,
meet, they form one river called the Shatt al-Arab...’ Ustaz Selim...said it a
dozen times"
This non-linearity underscores the function of memory in the
life of the exile/refugee. By hearkening to a once beautiful past, the exile’s
plight and despair become further intensified. I would also argue that since memories
are the only vestiges from their former lives, they carry immense emotional weight
and are positioned in particular points in the narrative in order to stress that
there is nothing available to the refugee save his memories. The future, as we
learn later, is bleak.
Second, there is a drastic shift in narrative voice,
from third person to first person which, I feel, is representative of the
confused and chaotic state of mind of Abu Qais. The narrative is as fragmented
as the lives of the characters themselves, and jumping in erratic,
unpredictable jerks much in the same fashion as the men who are trying to run
away.
There are no trees there. Saad, his friend who had
emigrated there...said there were no trees there. The trees exist in your head,
Abu Qais, in your tired old head, Abu Qais...You must believe Saad because he
knows more than you...[a]ll of them know more than you.
You have needed ten big hungry years
You have been squatting life an old dog
What do you think you were waiting for?
No comments:
Post a Comment