A long time ago, when I was much younger and considerably more daring
than I am now, I taught a course for a few years entitled "Love and Sex in
Literature." My students and I read
and discussed a number of books and stories that have been called pornographic,
e.g.: Fanny Hill, De Sade's Justine, Henry Miller's Sexus, The Story of O, etc. I got into a bit of trouble for teaching the
course, with one of my colleagues bringing charges of unprofessional conduct
against me. However, I had presented research papers at a number of
professional conferences and had published several scholarly essays about
erotic literature. International
scholars judged my research significant and valuable, and I was declared
"innocent" of the charges against me.
But that was another time and I won't dwell on it at this time,
although I will come back to some discoveries I made about sex and storytelling
while teaching the course. I bring it up simply to indicate that I have been
thinking about the relationship between sexuality and storytelling for some
time now. My interest actually began when I read John Barth's "Dunyazadiad"
in his collection of novellas entitled Chimera
(1972). The story is Barth's tribute to
his long-distance love affair with the iconic storyteller Shahrazad.
Barth's version of the famous frame tale of Thousand and One Nights is told by young sister Dunyzade. During
the thousand and one nights while Shahrazad engages in multiple ways of making
love and myriad ways of telling stories, she and the genie John Barth,(who
appears to her from the future when both utter the same magic words at once, "the
key to the treasure is the treasure") theorize about the relationship
between these two "life-saving" phenomena. Barth/genie tells Sherry
that in his own time and place, there are scientists of the passions who
maintain that language itself originated in infantile pregenital erotic
exuberance, polymorphously perverse, by which "magic phrases" they
seem to mean that "writing and reading, or telling and listening,"
are "literally ways of making love."
Whether this is actually the case, neither the genie nor Sherry care;
yet they like to speak "as if" it were (their favorite words,
Sherry's sister observes).
This theory "accounted thereby for the similarity between conventional
dramatic structure—its exposition, rising action, climax and denouement—and the
rhythm of sexual intercourse from foreplay through coitus to orgasm and
release." Even more basically, Sherry and the genie talk "as if"
the relationship between teller and told is basically erotic, in which the good
reader is as involved as the author:
Narrative, in short—and here they were again in full agreement—was a
love relation, not a rape: its success depended upon the reader’s consent and
cooperation, which she could withhold or at any moment withdraw; also upon her
own combination of experience and talent for enterprise, and the author’s
ability to arouse, sustain, and satisfy her interest—an ability on which his
figurative life hung as surely as Shahrazad's literal.
Just to refresh your memory about the frame tale of Thousand and One Nights: There are two
brothers—King Shahrayar of India and Indochina, and his younger brother
Shahzaman, who rules Samarkand. After Shahzaman catches his wife having sex
with a kitchen boy, he kills both and, grief-stricken, goes to visit his
brother. One day he sees Shahrayar's wife having sex with a slave along with
twenty other slave girls and men. He tells Shahrayar, who cuts off the head of
his wife and all twenty-one slaves.
Shahrayar
declares that each day he will marry a virgin, have sex with her, and then
order his Vizier to kill her in the morning. After many girls have died, the Vizier's daughter Sharazad,
a refined and intelligent young woman, tells her father that she wants to marry
the king so that she might find a way to save the girls of the kingdom or else
die. She instructs her younger sister Dunyazad to stay with her and after the
king has had sex with her, to say, "Sister, tell us a story." Shahrazad's
plan is to finish the story in the middle of the night and then, at her
sister's urging, begin another one that she cannot finish by morning. The king,
wanting to hear the end of the story, postpones Shahrazad's execution each morning for over three years.
Hanan
al-Shaykh, one of Egypt's best-known novelists, who has often been called
"the new Shahrazad," said in an address entitled "The New Shahrazad"
at Virginia's Sweet Briar College in 2000, that she was not pleased at this
designation, for she felt the archetypal storyteller was the epitome of
oppressed Arab women—traditionally only good for sex and entertaining men.
However,
al-Shaykh says that after reading One
Thousand and One Nights, she realized that Shahrazad was not just telling
stories to save her life, but rather to take risks--to assume the role of the
artist, creating a mosaic that concealed her own power, thus ceasing to be a
victim. Her greatest discovery was that the women in these stories were not
passive and fearful, but rather strong and intelligent.:
Shahrazad took the role of the artist,
the creator, the story-teller who would test her own ability and rise above
common artistry. She would penetrate every insight in order to tell stories
that would excite, provoke, thrill, educate, and persuade indirectly, like
transparent spiders’ threads continuing without taking breath, without
finishing her story, fully aware that if she stopped to take that single breath
between stories, she would be offering her neck to the sword, and she would be
giving the king a chance to remember his twisted logic and his dark emotion."
I
recently read Hanan al-Shaykh's new translation of Thousand and One Nights, subtitled "A Retelling. I have a ten-volume set of
Richard F. Burton's famous translation of Alf
Laylah Wa-laylah, and over the years, have pulled a volume off my bookshelf
to randomly read a story, that always compelled me to read another and then
another. But, if you are daunted by the
multi-volumes, I recommend al-Shaykh's new one-volume translation.
Al-Shaykh has
stayed away from children's stories of Aladdin and Ali Baba , saying she
preferred to stick with stories about marriage and sex and love and power about misogynists who killed their wives
or lovers and women who had to become
cunning and manipulative to save
themselves. She has restored the sexuality that the famous English version by
Edward Lane in 1838 deleted. The need to
tell stories is the underlying driving force of Thousand and One Nights, beginning with Shahrazad who has the most
powerful motivation of all—to tell stories or to die. Stories lead to stories,
which lead to other stories, until the reader is drawn so far away from the
originating story that it begins to seem that only stories exist, and that the
reader may never find his or her way back to reality. Indeed, the "word "reality"
becomes increasingly problematical.
In a piece in The New York Times
entitled "Narrate or Die," on April 18, 1999, A. S. Byatt said:
"The stories in
Thousand and One Nights are stories
about storytelling without ever ceasing to be stories about love and life and
death and money and good and other human necessities. Narration is as much a part of human nature
as breath and the circulation of the blood…. We are all, like Scheherazade,
under sentence of death, and we all think of our lives as narrative, with
beginning, middles and ends."
In an interview in The
Atlantic, (Joe Fassler, "The Humanist Message Hidden Amid the Violence
of One Thousand and One Nights, June
25, 2013), Hanan Al-Shaykh says that Shahrazad is working on the King through
the stories, educating him, maybe even brainwashing him, as the stories slowly
teach him to give up his bloodlust and his blanket condemnation of women. She says the book indicates a role for literature
to make us more human—not polemical, not political, but on a human level. The stories humanize us and make us better,
she says. How a story can do this is something the cognitive psychologists are
trying to determine in their study of what is called Theory of Mind.
Some Remarks about Sensate Focus and the Suspension of Disbelief next week. Also some remarks about Marina Warner's 2012 book Stranger Magic: Charmed Stories and the Arabian Nights.
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