57 pages • 1 hour read
Hisham MatarA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
“[A]s I stand here on the upper level of King’s Cross Station, from where I can monitor my old friend Hosam Zowa walking across the concourse, I feel I am seeing right into him, perceiving him more accurately than ever before, as though all along, during the two decades that we have known one another, our friendship has been a study and now, ironically, just after we have bid one another farewell, his portrait is finally coming into view.”
Khaled Abd al Hady’s observations of his friend Hosam Zowa offer insight into their ineffable connection. Khaled’s elliptical sentence structures and use of appositives enact the movements of his mind as he attempts to make sense of his and Hosam’s relational evolution, introducing the theme of The Enduring Bonds of Friendship.
“Perhaps now that he was in London, at the in-between place, and had heard himself tell me of his plans and no doubt sensed my lack of enthusiasm, the true nature of what he was embarking on suddenly felt exposed: the fantasy that he could go to America as though it were another planet and none of the old ghosts would be able to follow him.”
Khaled inhabits Hosam’s consciousness in this passage in an attempt to understand his friend’s decision to move to the States. His use of the word “fantasy” to describe Hosam’s dreams of a new life, free from his past, captures Khaled’s belief that Hosam will inevitably struggle with The Entanglement of Past and Present, just as Khaled has done during his many years in London. While Hosam hopes to start a new life in the USA, Khaled suspects that it can never be that simple and that he will be haunted by “ghosts” of the past no matter where he goes.
“Go after him, I tell myself. I remain in my spot, inside this coat and this minute, as time folds all around me. The entire age of our friendship is contained in this instant. London, the city I have been trying to make home for the past three decades, thinks in certainties. It enjoys classifications. Here the line separating road from pavement, one individual from another, pretends to be as definite as a scientific fact.”
Khaled’s internal conflict at the train station illustrates his fraught relationship with Personal Versus Political Identity and his complex regard for his London home. Khaled is physically rooted in one position and place, yet his mind is moving elsewhere. The disparity between what he’s doing and thinking captures his divided self.
“The story entered my dreams, where I sometimes saw myself as the limbless figure, in constant need of looking after […] I became, in silent and private ways, powerfully aware of the fragility of all that I treasured: my family, my very sense of myself, the future I allowed myself to expect.”
Khaled’s emotional and psychological response to hearing Hosam’s story foreshadows the lasting influence both the story and Hosam will have on Khaled. Khaled’s imagery describing himself as a “limbless figure” struggling against helplessness and the “fragility” of what he values encapsulates the sense of fear and passivity Hosam’s story also addresses.
“I must keep moving. To live is to act. I continue down the Euston Road and turn north, taking the back roads till I reach Regent’s Park. I walk along its southern edge. The air here does not move but is cool and wide and expanding […] Fuck exile, I think, and hear myself laugh.”
Khaled’s use of simple sentence structures enacts his desire to remain grounded in the present. He’s carefully observing his surroundings and cataloging each of his movements. The narrative tone shifts as a result and affects a more stilted, calculated atmosphere that enacts Khaled’s resistance to being swept up by The Entanglement of Past and Present.
“I did not get it and I continued to not get it for a long time. I misunderstood their concern. It was caused not only by fear and longing but by something that should have been blatantly obvious—which is that if you were to leave Libya back then in 1983, there would be few reasons why you would want to return.”
Khaled’s retrospective voice infuses the narrative with tension. Khaled is describing his experiences as a young man from his older, retrospective point of view. He’s therefore able to remark on who he was and what he didn’t know from a distanced temporal state. The passage enacts Khaled’s struggle to understand his Political Versus Personal Identity, as he now realizes that his parents foresaw his eventual reluctance to return to Libya.
“I wanted him to collect all our grief, from the beginning of the dictatorship in 1969 to the present, and hold it there for the world to see. I wanted the silence to be broken, the silence that surrounded not only the deaths and imprisonments and disappearances but also the minor acts of cruelty and humiliation, perceptible, from as far back as I could remember, in everything and everyone around me […] I never did know how to be released from it and wanted this writer to do it for me.”
Khaled’s elliptical sentence structures affect a desperate, urgent narrative tone. Hearing Hosam talk on the radio once again ignites his longings to be led by someone he trusts. The passage provides insight into Khaled’s dependence on his mentors, as well as on books and reading.
“I could not understand then how one could think that way. It all seemed odd and careless. Odd because I grew up taking it for granted that the city where I was born was the city where I would be buried. I had a passion for Benghazi. I loved her in a private and desperately incomplete way, where hatred or disappointment or longing came in sometimes to fill the gaps. And careless because it seemed that such a love was to be guarded, that it was a life’s work.”
Khaled conveys his complex relationship with Libya, reflecting his struggle with Personal Versus Political Identity. While Khaled reflects upon his previous assumption that he would always consider Benghazi his home, this passage foreshadows how Khaled’s outlook on Benghazi and London will shift, with him ultimately choosing his life in London instead.
“I took a shower and by the time I was done I had decided to return to Benghazi. I will deny everything, I will tell them I was naive, I will apologize, swear allegiance if I have to. And let the others think what they will. After all, what does it matter what people think? […] Life will eventually return to normal. How mad I was even to contemplate remaining here.”
Khaled uses the future tense to convey his newfound determination to return home. The reference to the shower evokes notions of cleansing, renewal, and clarity—which implies that the act of showering has inspired Khaled’s decision to return home. Khaled is also directly addressing himself in this passage and employing a more colloquial tone, which captures his attempt to convince himself of what he’s thinking.
“Never call again, I told myself. That is another thing that is now no longer an option. Another thing that is certain. Do not cry and do not call home. At least not for the foreseeable future.”
Khaled’s use of the imperative conveys his determination to establish boundaries between himself and his family. He’s giving himself instructions for how to distance himself from his parents and sister. The use of negation and fragmentation in the passage underscores Khaled’s desperation to defy The Entanglement of Past and Present and to compartmentalize his competing identities.
“My stern command gave way. The hands clutched around my life eased a little. An open feeling washed over me and left me daring, with nearly no care in the world. I talked and talked, told stories, amused my friends and made them laugh. I caught a look in Rana’s eyes that I remembered from the old days in Edinburgh, the time before the time, except now there was a little pride in it too, as well as a hint of relief.”
Khaled’s use of figurative and descriptive language illustrates how Costa Brava is impacting him emotionally. He likens his experiences in the recent past to hands clutching him, which evokes notions of strangulation or helplessness. He also describes his sudden relief as an open feeling that washes over him, an allusion to cleansing that reflects the transformative significance of this moment.
“I wished I could tell her what was on my mind, to ask her, for example, if she believed it was possible to live a happy life away from home, without one’s family, if she knew of anyone who had done it. It turns out it is possible to live without one’s family. All one has to do is to endure each day and gradually, minute by minute, brick by brick, time builds a wall.”
Khaled’s use of repetition and appositives conveys the way that his character is gradually settling into his new life as he navigates The Entanglement of Past and Present. In one moment, he’s unsure if he can in fact live away from his home and family. However, in the sentence immediately following he’s resolved that he can bear this separation. This quick tonal shift conveys the rapid way that time is changing Khaled’s outlook.
“I worried about not having strong opinions. The truth was, I did not care much for opinions. I wanted instead to be in the silent activity of a good book, to observe and feel. I did not have to worry, though. I sailed through, and was treated with regard by my professors and fellow students. I began to enjoy myself.”
Khaled’s description of his college experience provides insight into his character’s political confusion. Khaled prefers to get lost in his books—literary realms that transport him out of reality and require no action from him. He wants to take this approach to the conflict in Libya, too, because he’s a passive character who often feels powerless.
“I paid and, as soon as I was out on the street, clutching the bagful of videotapes, I felt a childlike rush of excitement. I could not stop smiling at everyone I passed. I felt such love for her, and such desire that she and Hyder should be happy.”
Khaled’s positive narrative tone conveys the positive effect his friendship with Rana has on him. He uses words like “childlike,” “excitement,” “smiling,” “love,” “desire,” and “happy” to evoke his newly energetic state. These images and descriptions thus further the novel’s explorations of The Enduring Bonds of Friendship.
“‘I regret attending,’ I said, and meant it, but was also wishing to absolve myself. ‘It’s not true what some say, that dying, when it comes, brings with it its own acceptance. The opposite, if you ask me. It brings rebellion. Because you realize then that you’ve spent every day of your life learning how to live. That you don’t know how to do anything else. Certainly not death.”
Khaled’s effusive monologue conveys his desperation to be seen and understood. He confesses his feelings about the demonstration in an open, honest way for the first time—an outpouring that illustrates Khaled’s longing for his experience to be validated by someone he respects.
“St. James’s Square appeared to me now as the kernel at the center of my life, the place from which everything unraveled. As the sun is to the solar system, my life has revolved around it. And not since that day have I been able to approach it. Not until tonight, the same night that I said goodbye to Hosam for what feels like the very last time.”
Khaled’s description of St. James’s Square reinforces his fraught relationship with the setting, as it evokes the complexities of his past. He sees the square as the place that changed his life. The reference to the sun and the solar system illustrates this notion and captures how controlled Khaled has been by his traumatic experiences in the square.
“We embraced on the pavement outside the café and I walked home alone, very much as I am doing now. I thought, how did we become so unmoored? I tried to imagine the people Mustafa and I would have become if we had never left and were meeting at a café in Benghazi instead. Those two, I imagined, embedded in the society that formed them, would have had less time to listen to the past.”
This moment of interiority provides insight into Khaled’s relationship with Mustafa al Touny, and his overarching regard for his friendships. Khaled doesn’t vocalize these thoughts and questions to Mustafa, instead deciding to keep his thoughts to himself. His mind and heart are divided, just as his internal thoughts and outward expression are divided.
“It amazed me how none of the features of my life changed and yet everything was made different by Hosam becoming my neighbor. I was put back together, accompanied, and my life in London, which I cherished with a quiet pride, now had the feel of being part of a family, where a drink, a meal, a coffee, a walk could be shared spontaneously, without the tiresome need to plan and arrange.”
The narrative tone shifts when Khaled describes his response to Hosam moving into his neighborhood. He uses language like “amazed,” “changed,” “cherished,” “pride,” and “shared” to capture his delight at living so close to Hosam. This positive narrative tone thus inspires a lighter narrative mood, which conveys Khaled’s deep affection for his friend and The Enduring Bonds of Friendship.
“I felt my kitchen grow smaller. When he left, I washed the dishes and tried to convince myself that all this might lead to him writing again. I could not rid myself of the image of his filled notebook, with its manic and relentless activity, like a man scratching a wound. I went to bed that night with a deep sense of disquiet, convinced that I had overlooked an important detail.”
Khaled’s reflections capture his worry for his friend and his subsequent feelings of helplessness. The passage uses consonance and rhythm to enact Khaled’s weighty mood. The image of “a man scratching a wound” and the diction “manic” and “restless” underscore Khaled’s internal discomfort, while his hope that Hosam will write again reinforces the novel’s central motif of books and writing.
“‘My son is a traitor. I forbid him,’ he says and pauses. ‘I forbid. I forbid him. I forbid Hosam. Hosam Rajab Zowa. My own son,’ he shouts and his voice breaks. ‘From ever.’ He stops again, and then in a strong and capable voice, free of hesitation, he says, ‘From ever entering my house, or carrying my name, to the end of time.’”
The halted way that Sidi Rajab Zowa speaks in this passage captures his emotional distress. He repeats the same clauses and words. He fragments his sentences and punctuates his words in an unexpected manner. These linguistic stylings imply that Sidi is distressed and speaking these words under duress, while his forbidding Hosam from returning home to Libya evokes Personal Versus Political Identity.
“What I did not realize was that all the while the silences were doing their work on us, gradually driving us apart, until the places where we connected became few and slender. If friendship is, as it often seems, a space to inhabit, ours became small and not terribly hospitable. This was wordlessly acknowledged and lamented by both of us.”
Khaled’s use of descriptive and figurative language captures his complex emotions surrounding his friendship. References to silence and gaps illustrate the distance forming between Khaled and Mustafa. While the novel celebrates The Enduring Bonds of Friendship, Khaled also acknowledges how the friends’ differing responses to the revolutionary moment create new challenges and emotional distances between them.
“I stopped taking sleeping pills and was soon back to staying up most of the night. I looked for tickets to Benghazi. On more than one occasion, I felt tears rolling down my cheeks in the dark and heard them tap on my pillow.”
Khaled’s physical discomfort in this passage reveals his emotional unrest. His sleeplessness, his online research, and his tears are physical manifestations of how he feels and his inability to reconcile with these emotions. The passage’s attention to sensory detail further underscores this intense experience as he debates whether he belongs in Libya or London.
“Hosam returned to writing me emails. These in particular transported me home. I had never since leaving felt more vividly connected to my country. I realized then that I had always somehow anticipated this, perhaps even from as far back as when I was fourteen and first heard his story read on the radio, that he would be a medium, that we ask of writers what we ask of our closest friends: to help us mediate and interpret the world.”
Khaled’s reflection on Hosam’s emails underscores the significance of their connection and develops the novel’s explorations of The Enduring Bonds of Friendship. Khaled is referencing their dynamic over the years, tracing how their relationship has evolved while remaining a fixture in his life. At the same time, the latter lines provide insight into Khaled’s regard for books and reading and his habit of seeking guidance in literature.
“[A]s I studied the photos of my friend and read what others were saying about him, I felt I was observing a parallel self, the self I was not, the self I had failed to be.”
Khaled’s description of Mustafa’s pictures online underscores his connection with his friend, while enacting Khaled’s inability to reconcile his Political Versus Personal Identity. Khaled sees Mustafa as the politically engaged version of himself, the one still connected directly to Libya, while he is the literary, passive side of himself that wishes to remain in England.
“And I know, even before getting there, that it will be like a book closing, an undramatic end, and that I will sleep tonight and wake up and take my Sunday, my day of rest, like the gift that it is. I slide the key into my door. The place is unchanged. We left in a hurry. I collect the cups of coffee Hosam and I drank and place them in the kitchen sink. I fold away his blanket. And before I take off my coat I make my bed.”
Khaled’s actions in the novel’s final scene underscore his dependence on comfort and predictability. He moves through his space in a measured way, because he values order and expectation. He uses declarative, simple sentence structures that evoke his desire for control over his life, even if it’s only in the context of his insular domestic sphere. The ending suggests that Khaled has resolved the dilemma of Personal Versus Political Identity by choosing the life he has built in London over any return to Libya.