Chapters (40)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- INTRODUCTION
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- NOTES
- Naguib Mahfouz
- BOOKS BY NAGUIB MAHFOUZ
- What’s next onyour reading list?
At that, Isa remembered his mother’s death, Salwa’s marriage to Hasan, and the harsh way he had treated Riri. How consoling it was, he thought, to be able to chat with these friends of his. Talking to Hasan only made his split personality even more acute. Samir leaned toward him. “Your problem’s easy compared with the problems of the world,” he said. “You need a job and a wife.”
“That’s why I like horror films,” Isa replied with no obvious connection.
“The trouble with those films,” Abbas Sadiq commented, “is that they’re imaginary.”
“On the contrary,” Isa replied, “the trouble with them is that they’re too realistic.”
The air-raid siren went off by mistake and blared for half a minute. Isa thought that eventually he would find himself searching for a job and a woman. But that would not happen till he admitted defeat and made a final exit from history.
TWENTY
The pleasures of the night are very intense, but they do not last long; and besides, they cost too much. The Arizona was particularly beautiful at midnight; gorgeous girls of various nationalities were dancing around, and drinks were mingled with the early morning dew. You could make do with lies. In the back garden, it was all love and lovers, moonlight or starlight. Money had no value at all, and emotions spilled over unchecked. There’s nothing new about the picture, Isa thought, but he was still maintaining the deceits of his daily life in a fearsomely dull atmosphere. Here, on the other hand, you could blend in with the singing in a joyful ambience. Salwa had known about luxury, but she had never really known joy. It occurred to him to ask his Italian companion in the garden a question. “You’ve been to a number of countries; what do you think of people?”
She was something for all five senses to enjoy. “They’re usually looking for pleasure when I meet them,” she replied, “so they’re all very nice!”
“But that’s all lies.”
“At least they’re genuine about wanting me!”
“That’s just a passing emotion.”
“Everything’s like that!”
He laughed and paused for a moment. “Can’t you find even that passing emotion in yourself?” he asked.
“So you don’t believe I love you?” she asked jokingly.
“How is it,” he asked her with interest, “that it doesn’t occur to people like you to enjoy a little stability in your lives?”