Profile of Rawi Hage by Nigel Beale
A version of this article first appeared in Canadian Bookseller Magazine.
Rawi Hage was born in East Beirut in 1964, taught mostly in French by Catholics, and schooled in Arabic grammar, literature and poetry. Starting in 1975, as a nine year old boy, he had to live through school interruptions, falling bombs and the loss of family members. All of a sudden his middle class life in a prosperous country was shattered. But, in spite of the war, which lasted nine years, he enjoyed a good family life, surrounded by relatives who lived in the same neighbourhood. He grew up surrounded too by books, and smoky rooms full of his father’s friends: a salon with lots of storytelling in it, and talk of poetry, history, books and language.
At 18 he went to New York, joining his older brother who was there studying. He went through many different jobs – shoe salesman, short order cook, warehouse clerk -. Though it was hard to leave home, this was a time when all his friends were doing the same; they now live dispersed all over the globe: anything to leave the war and a hopeless economic situation.
In many ways New York was, according to Hage, similar to Beirut, particularly in its intensity. The noise and crowds. With his English limited and his family thousands of miles away and difficult to communicate with — the technology was poor, the cost rich – Rawi struggled emotionally, especially with the constant news of bombs dropping at home. There was also a feeling of guilt for leaving. Never comfortable in New York he was burdened by an aimless sense of the temporary. Survival was his urgent task. There was certainly no thought of writing.
In search of permanent legal status he applied for Canadian residency, and moved here in 1992. He now considers Canada home. This country has been good to him. It has embraced his writing with surprising enthusiasm. Most Canadians have to make it outside of these borders before receiving recognition at home. "I think I’m riding a wave" he explains during our conversation at the Blue Met International Literary Festival in Montreal recently. "And I think Canada is more confident about its own culture, we are more conscious of who we are than ever before."
De Niro’s Game is Hage’s first novel. It was nominated for many awards, and won, most impressively, the Dublin IMPAC. "It is an uncompromising look at a place in conflict from the inside, presented in a true way, with artistic merit," he says, concerned about not appearing too egotistical. A descriptive on its back cover provides a particularly apt synopsis: "Hage presents an explosive portrait of life in a war zone, one that fuses vivid cinematic imagery with the measured strength and beauty of Arabic poetry."
Throughout the novel Hage frequently cites the number 10,000. Arab poetry and Eastern music typically use a lot of repetition he says. "With slight variation you’re able to go deeper into the work. Each chapter starts with a type of lancement, an incantation which worked well to push me into it. The writing goes back and forth, which wasn’t intentional. There is no straight line, but rather closure, a coming back to the beginning. The book starts and ends with Roma."
The first line of each chapter is capitalized, a sort of shout – an aesthetic decision on the part of the designer, Hage explains. The action is fast paced. There’s a wartime frenzied feel to it; movement; a technique similar to cinematic cuts. There is also a duality. Passages of reflection, contemplation and quietness: this is the poetry; then sudden breaks into violence; the calm boredom of waiting for something to happen, before the storm. This, explains Hage, is what war is like. Nothingness and silence: you can’t go out because you don’t know where the bombs will fall. When they do there is a madness to it. Death comes very quickly. As a kid you are an uncomprehending observer, filled with a haziness, a mixture of fear and adrenaline, a chemical reaction.
Hage always writes in the first person because he wants to capture situations, much like a camera observes and captures. "Many writers situate in place he says, I’m in a space. I imagine myself present to the scene." He doesn’t do research, but rather lives and experiences things, reads and then writes." I let things filter through later on, while I’m writing."
More urban than rural, Hage has lived around concrete all his life. He doesn’t know how to deal with forests; feels displaced. The urban has more to offer him he says: it’s growing, dynamic, more interesting. He is unlikely to write the great outdoor Canadian adventure novel, at least in the foreseeable future.
Russian roulette, from a scene in the movie Deer Hunter (1978) had an important impact on young men in Beirut at the time. In the militia they had guns. A macho attitude mixed with drugs played a role in this deadly game’s popularity. It was an extension, says Hage, of a life of violence which starts out directed at the other, and then turns on itself, as self loathing.
The Beirut war is not even now taught in schools says Hage. No monuments were raised to commemorate it. "Too contentious "he says. "There is no consensus between Christians and Muslims on what happened. No truth commission. No one talks about it. People wanted to forget about it. Artists are the only ones who talk." Their message touches on the absurdity of war. People felt used by corrupt politicians. Lebanon was used as a fighting ground, a small country between two strong military powers both with interests in the territory.
De Niro’s Game is a work of literature, but its subject matter means it also contributes to history and memory. There are many messages in the book, but no preaching or moralizing. Hage stays away from conclusions, preferring to present ambiguous, interesting characters, using them to show the dark side of humanity, one that we should all face, he says, and talk about.
If anything the book champions secularism, highlighting the evil that organized religion is capable of, regardless of flavor. Attacking God so directly makes the book a statement against all religion, Hage says, against the imposing of morality on secular society, not just in the Middle East, but around the world.
His second book, entitled Cockroach, has ‘nothing to do with Kafka,’ rather its focus is on mental illness, the ‘immigant story,’ Iranian exiles, and criticism of Canadian politics. Published by Anansi, it has been shortlisted for the Giller Prize. "I’m fortunate my voice is being heard," says Hage in conclusion to our wide ranging conversation.
