Washington Report on Middle East Affairs, October/November 2000, Shadows of the Pomegranate Tree

The Book of Saladin

The Stone Woman

All By Tariq Ali, Verso, 1992 (242 pp.), 1998 (367 pp.), List $15; AET: $11. The Stone Woman, 2000, 274 pp. List: $23; AET: $17.50.

Reviewed by Hugh S. Galford

“There are always two histories” may be a well-known saying, but how many of us actually take the time to look at an issue from both sides, to learn both stories? In each of the first three books of a planned quartet, English historian, screenwriter and activist Tariq Ali saves us the work involved in such an endeavor. Taking as his subject matter the intersection of Islamic and Western history, Ali presents three familiar episodes—the Reconquista, the Crusades and the final years of the Ottoman Empire—in a distinctly unfamiliar fashion: from the viewpoint of the Muslims.

Written over the last six years, the first three books of Ali’s “Islam quartet” provide not only great reading, but an extremely useful corrective to the general Western misconceptions about Islam and Muslim society. Each work, while fiction, has clearly been thoroughly researched. The openness, tolerance and cosmopolitanism of Islamic society in each period is clearly presented, with accents and touches that ring true. Yet the books also do not whitewash Islamic history. While Westerners are inclined to view Islam as a monolithic entity, Ali brings out the divisions and tensions that existed within the societies of each period. While some of these tensions are minor, in Shadows of the Pomegranate Tree and The Stone Woman, others go to the very core of the characters’ Islamic identity, and in The Book of Saladin they nearly destroy the society from within.

Ali treats Western history with the same thoroughness and brutal honesty. He demolishes the myth that each of these episodes was a victory—of one sort or another—of Western society, simply by incorporating fact into his narratives. The triumphalism and sheer bloodthirstiness of the Christian West is underscored most clearly in Shadows of the Pomegranate Tree, but the menace is clearly shown in The Book of Saladin and The Stone Woman as well.

Shadows of the Pomegranate Tree, the first volume of the series, is set in Spain after the fall of Granada. The story of the Banu Hudayl, a landed aristocratic family, the book explores the fateful decisions that the Muslims of Spain had to make in the aftermath of the Reconquista. Shadows opens with the Muslim community having been recently shaken by the burning of their books on the order of Ximenes de Cisneros, Isabella’s confessor. Sent to Granada to debate theology, Cisneros was verbally bested by the Muslim scholars. Defeated, he ordered all Muslim books to be destroyed—two million manuscripts burned. “They set our culture on fire….The record of eight centuries was annihilated in one day,” Umar, the head of the Hudayl, laments. The only books to be saved from this wanton destruction were 300 medical and scientific works, spared by the petitions of Christian scholars who realized their superiority, and those books that the soldiers carrying them to the square discarded, judging the books’ importance by their weight.

Cisneros, a man of the Church, is hell-bent on destroying all vestiges of the Muslims’ society and culture in Granada. After being bested in the theological dispute, he has the leading qadi tortured to death. He sees force as the only way to win the conversion of the Muslims to Christianity, unlike his predecessor, who had given orders for the priests to learn Arabic and have Christian works translated. Yet his actions also have a personal element: others—both childhood friends and fellow priests—whisper about his apparently Jewish features. Cisneros’ orders are thus also an attempt to prove his authenticity and his purity as a Christian.

Cisneros’ cruelty is interestingly contrasted to the outlook of Don Inigo, the civilian governor of the Granada region, and a life-long friend of Umar’s. Don Inigo’s entourage consisted of Jews and Moors, and he tells Umar, “For me, a Granada without them is like a desert without an oasis. But I am on my own.” When Umar comments that the current situation would never have arisen had the Moors used the same tactics that the Christians were now employing, Don Inigo’s reply is: “Instead you attempted to bring civilization to the whole peninsula regardless of faith or creed. It was noble of you and now you must pay the price.” Though disagreeing with the policy of Isabella and Cisneros, Don Inigo is powerless to oppose it.

Cisneros’ actions, part his own doing and part the orders of Ferdinand and Isabella, contravene the peace settlement signed by the Spanish monarchy and the Muslim notables. The Muslims, rightly feeling betrayed, are now faced with four options: to stay and hope for the best, to stay and fight, to flee to North Africa, or to convert. Umar considers conversion in order to protect his family, then rejects the idea, hoping that the situation will improve while knowing it will not. His youngest daughter, Hind, marries an Azhari-trained scholar and moves with him to Fez. Zuhayr, the eldest son, becomes one of the leaders of the Muslim resistance. The only member of the family to have converted, long ago, is Miguel—born Meekal—Umar’s uncle. Miguel’s conversion is the outcome of a sin against the family, not one of belief. Although Miguel is now bishop of Cordoba, his conversion is not entirely complete. Upon his sister’s death, while he is visiting the Hudayl residence, Miguel prays over her grave by opening both hands before him and reciting the Muslim prayers for the dead. Only after he has spent several minutes doing this does he remember that he is now a Christian and bless the grave with the sign of the Cross.

In the end, Isabella sends a force to Granada with the distinct order to erase Hudayl from the map. After burning the town and killing all its inhabitants, the army moves on the Hudayl residence, to be faced by 65 defenders. Though putting up a valiant defense, with even the women taking part, the Muslims are finally overpowered and all of them killed. The 16-year-old Spanish army captain, whose name I won’t give away, completes the destruction by running a sword through the heart of Umar’s 10-year-old son, Yazid. The young captain, as noted in the epilogue, had yet more vanquishing to do.

The Book of Saladin is the most historical of the three books, based on the rise and career of Salah al-Din. The novel’s characters are a mix of real and imagined people: Saladin and his family were real people, as was Ibn Maymun, or Maimonides as we know him. Saladin’s wives, his old retainer Shadhi and Ibn Yakub, the narrator, are all Ali’s creations. Ali notes in his introduction that he has remained faithful to historical events, but has tried to imagine the players’ inner lives.

The book is split into three sections, with each chapter given a descriptive title, much like old chronicles had. Ali begins with Saladin’s rise to power as the conqueror of Fatimid Egypt. Though claiming universal leadership of the Muslim community, the caliph in Baghdad led only one of three Muslim dynasties at the time; the other two were the Umayyad dynasty established in Spain and the Fatimids in Egypt. The Fatimids, a Shi’i dynasty that founded Cairo and opposed the Abbasid caliphate in Baghdad, were a major problem for the caliph. By destroying the Fatimids, Saladin not only strengthened the Abbasid caliphate (though he operated largely independently of the caliph), but also provided the Muslims with a southern approach to Palestine from which they could attack the Crusaders in Jerusalem.

In order not to panic the caliph, Saladin slowly consolidated his power in Cairo. He was eventually appointed sultan of Egypt and Syria, from which base he was able to lead his troops and retake Jerusalem in 1187. Bringing together troops from across the Muslim world, Saladin showed himself an expert planner and logistician. At the time of his death he, and not the caliph, was the most powerful ruler in the Muslim world. His descendents, following the Mongol sack of Baghdad in 1258, established the Ayyubid caliphate in Egypt, which was the major dynasty in Islam until the rise of the Ottomans.

The book opens with the narrator, Isaac ibn Yakub, sharing a light meal and deep conversation with his friend, Ibn Maymun. Their evening is interrupted by a knock at the door. Saladin—whom Ibn Yakub does not recognize—has come at this late hour with an astonishing request: that Ibn Yakub serve as his personal chronicler. Saladin does not trust his court chroniclers to record what he actually says and does; they are, he notes, known for their embellishments and for writing what they think will please the sultan.

Thus begins Ibn Yakub’s long and close relationship with the sultan. Saladin refuses Ibn Yakub entrance only to councils of war, and this for the latter’s safety and that of his family. Ibn Yakub is present during family gatherings, is allowed access to Saladin’s wives and is present as Saladin pronounces judgment in legal cases. A close friendship ensues, with Ibn Yakub faithfully noting Saladin’s history. He is present at the fall of Jerualem, where the Jews are as happy as the Muslims that the Christian hold on the city has been broken.

Saladin is shown as a wise and careful leader, ruthless when need be in battle but lenient and just in his legal rulings. Again, the cosmopolitan nature of Cairo and Damascus is shown, with Jews not only living peacefully among their Muslim neighbors, but having access to and receiving fair treatment at the hand of Saladin. Maimonides was the sultan’s personal physician and Saladin chose a Jew as his personal chronicler. Animosity between the two religions was virtually unknown.

The major factional disputes, in fact, are within the Muslim camp. While retaking Jerusalem is the major focus of the Muslim community, all involved recognize that whoever does so will be held in the highest esteem. Saladin’s rise, therefore, is pitted with danger and must be negotiated with tact and careful planning. An insurrection by Nubians is put down with absolute force, all the rebels killed and their section of Cairo left in ruins as a lesson to others. And although a Kurd himself, Saladin recognizes the troubles that his fellow countrymen could give him when they join his army for the attack on Jerusalem. Famed as great horsemen, the Kurds also are known to be headstrong and no recognizers of authority. It is only after several mock battles that Saladin is sure that he can trust them when the time comes.

The Christians holding Jerusalem are shown to be cruel leaders. Upon conquering the city, they massacred all the Jewish and Muslim inhabitants, sparing neither women nor children. Under siege, they again turn against the native population of the town. Their leaders are haughty and vain, unwilling and unable to recognize the Muslims as anything other than inferior curs. Ali reminds us that even the Crusaders’ military powers have been vastly overrated, and that Richard the Lionheart was much despised—and his military skills questioned—by Christians of the day.

The Stone Woman, Ali’s most recent work, is the most slowly-paced of the lot. Set in 1899, during the waning years of the Ottoman Empire, the book lacks the action that Shadows and Saladin have. While dealing with another critical period of Muslim-Christian interaction, the battles in The Stone Woman are intellectual rather than military. Summering at their house on the Sea of Marmara, the family of Iskander Pasha struggle with what it means to be Ottoman, and how best to counter the cultural attacks of France, Britain and Germany.

The discussions focus on the causes of the Ottoman decline. The family is largely united in their blame of the ulama and the sultan for their reactionary stances on innovative Western developments. Yet the family members also hold their compatriots—and themselves—responsible for not taking more action to initiate change.

Despite its more languorous pace, The Stone Woman evokes the upheavals that convulsed Ottoman society. Halil, one of Iskander Pasha’s grown children and a general in the Ottoman army, is a member of the Young Turks, who are just beginning to formulate their plans for change. Revolution looks to be unavoidable, but promises by the sultan delay such an action. Nilofer, the daughter whose life is most fully explored, loses her husband—a Greek schoolteacher—during anti-Greek riots in Konya. Iskander Pasha, surrounded for the first time in years by all of his children, recalls his years abroad as an ambassador, prodding the discussions forward. The debates are enlivened by the presence of the Baron, a German, a former family tutor and lover of Memed, Iskander’s brother.

Each book in the series can stand alone, but together they provide an alternate, and genuine, look at the interaction of Christendom and Islam. Ali’s writing style is clear and, thanks to his experience with screenplays, draws the reader into the work, leaving him or her wanting more. The books would prove useful as resources for teachers at the high school or college level, offering students an accessible and entertaining introduction to the Islamic version of these periods, events which continue to shape the world in which we live. Ali’s “Islam quartet” serves as a corrective to standard histories of these events, which show the West as noble and principled. The books show, instead, that the West has been petty, bloodthirsty and intolerant over its history, and that Muslims have often been the victims.

Writing of The Book of Saladin, Edward Said commented: “Grippingly well told, brilliantly paced, remarkably convincing in its historical depiction of a fateful relationship, it is a narrative for our time, haunted by distant events and characters who are closer to us than we dreamed.” Such praise is valid for the entire series.