Author’s note: Many of the books and authors mentioned here are well-known. There are dozens more from writers of various nationalities, and only a lack of space precludes complete inclusion. It is my hope, however, that any bookish reader with an interest in Orientalism may find something to enhance their interest with some works still to be discovered. The prevalence of British authors here does not indicate prejudice, but does reflect the books that are actually on my shelves.

There has been much debate about the authenticity, or otherwise, of Orientalism and its influence on socio-political thought. The books and authors figuring in this essay had, with the exception of Kipling, Lawrence and Gertrude Bell, no political axe to grind. Most of them were travelers who found the East, indeed, “other” than what they experienced at home. Their quest was a personal enthusiasm for the Orient. I would contend that their writings and translations had no relevance to a debate about socio-political attitudes based on worldly devices. The world of the spirit is likely to be more enduring and, as for this world, socio-evolutionary investigation would be more apt.   

The British may currently be retreating to their island home, but in earlier times they were inclined to leave their homes at the drop of a hat. Those with the wherewithal journeyed away to sometimes sunnier and definitely more exotic regions. One of the noticeably inherent vanities of the British, however, was founded upon the notion that they were never actually foreigners in whatever region they found themselves beyond their own coastline.

Sir Richard F. Burton must have had a horror of doing a proper job because he went to extraordinary lengths to avoid a nine-to-five existence. Even when being extremely erudite, he was also eloquently funny in a sardonic sort of way and his dealings with the Oriental mind were tempered by a perfect understanding of the conditio humana, which means the state we are all perpetually in. For his two-volume Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to Al-Madinah and Meccah, Sir Richard elected to travel by choosing a travel box to contain his necessities that was sturdy enough to withstand falling off a camel’s back twice each day. With a command of Farsi, Hindi, and Arabic, together with the dialects thereof, which he learned among tons of other languages and picked them up the way lesser mortals collect butterflies, he disguised himself as a wandering Dervish. He explored bazaars, frankly searching out the bizarre (which must surely be a derivative), and drinking countless cups of chai in his attempt to find rare manuscripts about Al-Islam.

The point of Sir Richard’s drop-out endeavor is that he certainly spent more hours daily than he would be required to submit to in a mundane job. There must have been the endless waits, the errant camel or donkey that refused to be moved, the aggravation of monetary negotiation. In 1856, Burton made clear his reasons for exotic travel. Notwithstanding his erudition, he was heard to maintain: “The gladdest moments in human life, methinks, is the departure upon a distant shore into unknown lands. Shaking off with one mighty effort the fetters of Habit, the leaden weight of Routine, the cloak of many Cares and the slavery of Home, man feels once more happy. The blood flows with the fast circulation of childhood…the glorious face of nature gladdens the soul”.

Many Orientalists went, quite obviously, in search of something ethereal, the atmospheric interludes in life that may offer a hint of the divine. If any reader has heard the hypnotic call to prayer from a muezzin, floating at dawn over palms at the edge of a jungle, they will know what I mean. The point is that although there may be a sudden crashing rise of birds, the voice itself does not shatter the silence. It really does float hauntingly as an isolated sound. The call to prayer heard in a city is often more strident but no less enchanting. One is struck by something stealthily all-encompassing, something impossible to ignore. Something that lingers in a suddenly pervasive brittle silence.

It was the likes of Wilfred Thesiger, whose Arabian Sands and The Marsh Arabs became must reads for devotees of the Arab experience. His memoir The Life of My Choice would seem to echo the sentiments of Burton. The intrepid Freya Stark gave us, among many other works, The Southern Gates of Arabia and Valleys of the Assassins. Her book Ionia is about the history of Asia Minor, Turkey today. She was heard to maintain, “I do like people who have not yet made up their minds about everything, who in fact are still receiving.” These resolute travelers fashioned the romantic notion of eccentric Brits plodding resolutely across an impossible desert on an understandably belligerent camel. Despite the political implications – which your correspondent suspects were sometimes a handy excuse – Gertrude Bell, who also translated Hafiz, and, of course, T. E. Lawrence, both seemed to be seeking the sort of satisfaction that only the delights of foreignness could offer.

Looming as one of those literary mountains that remains to overshadow all others is Charles William Doughty’s Arabia Deserta. Setting off from Damascus in 1876, the author endured the deserts of what were regions previously unexplored by travelers from the West. He found a way to become attached to the Hajj of his day and his account was couched in a somewhat archaic English. Initial publication was denied due to his inaccessible language but – and this is a personal view – if the first step in meditation is concentration then Arabia Deserta deserves to be approached with the sort of perseverance that can flower into the magic of immersion that great literature can offer. In this case one will feel the sand in one’s shoes and savor the odor of a camel train in all of its pungency. T. E. Lawrence defended and fostered further publication of Doughty’s recordings and also wrote a forward to an edition of the book. Charles Doughty, who was born in 1843, wrote his monumental work in 1888. Arabia Deserta eventually came to be known among discerning readers as being the finest travel book in the English language.

E. Lawrence’s The Seven Pillars of Wisdom, which became his magnum opus, was published in 1926. Lawrence was at first an archeologist who became enchanted with the Arab mind while passing through the Holy Land on foot. He felt a great affinity for the peoples he met in his travels, which can be sensed pervasively in his great work. The Seven Pillars of Wisdom tells of the political side to his nature but also relates of his unswerving affection for his Arab friends and his appreciation of Islam. By all accounts Lawrence was a man of some complexity. One senses a somewhat philosophical passion in his thinking. He adhered to what he would have likely maintained was “the rightness” of things – although capable of indulging in war. Well, many will have read the book, many more will have seen the movie. Whatever the outcome, we will be aware that this was Lawrence’s Arabia, a place in which he probably felt most at home.

We come, quite unavoidably, to Arthur John Arberry, a British orientalist who was born on May 12, 1905. His work was rooted in a profoundly scholarly endeavor and he cannot be counted among those who were simply fascinated by the exotic East as a travel destination. In his slim volume of biographies, British Orientalists, Arberry relates of the sustained passion for the Islamic world pursued by British academics, translators, travelers, and linguists of all stripes. This passion was inflamed at an early date and we read of a 12^th century philosopher, one Adelard of Bath, who preceded, according to Arberry, nigh on 100 others sharing similar enthusiasms. There were even more, of course, but Arberry names only the most prominent who made a solid contribution to Islamic studies. With more than 70 works to his own name, which includes his own translation of the Qur’an in which he attempted to retain the poetics of the Arabic original, Arberry was probably the most seriously academic of all Orientalists. One of Arberry’s most useful books is The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam – and other Persian Poets. Together with the Rubaiyat, in Fitzgerald’s first edition of 1859, and the fourth edition of 1879, the book offers samples of the works of twenty-five Persian poets – including Rumi, Saadi, Hafiz, and all of the others your correspondent has still to fully discover. Arberry’s The Islamic Art of Persia, is a wonderfully edited volume containing the writings of many Orientalists, which includes an essay by Vita Sackville-West who writes charmingly about Persia gardens.

R. A. Nicholson was a colleague of Arberry but his works are largely unknown to myself. In his Mystics of Islam Nicholson brings to light an expert appraisal of Sufism. Without demeaning his subject, the book is fashioned in a concise and easily understood way. A fascinating passage begins, “…seventy thousand veils separate Allah, the One Reality, from the world of matter and sense. And every soul passes before birth through these seventy thousand.” At the time of submission I can only offer Nicholson’s translation, from a different source, of a succinct burst of beauty by Hafiz of Shiraz, a poet Goethe proclaimed to be unsurpassed:

STRIFE

The calm circumference of life
When I would fain have kept,
Time caught me in the tide of strife
And to the centre swept.

Of this fierce glow which Love and You
Within my breast inspire,
The Sun is but a spark that flew
And set the heavens afire!

Edward William Lane’s Arabic-English Lexicon, a 3,064-page work from the 19th century, would appear to be something that could be a starting point for budding   Arabists. Lane is also credited with an acclaimed translation of A Thousand and One Nights. His most accessible work, however, and one often quoted by Burton, is his Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians, which was first published in 1836 and was to have several editions. The work is an astounding coverage of life in Muslim Egypt. Despite the obvious conclusion that what was modern in the 1800s is no longer pertinent today, Lane’s book covers what is indeed the very life of Egypt. His essays, chapter for chapter, are on characteristics and dress, infancy and early education, religion and laws, language and literature, ad infinitum. Lane addresses just about every conceivable aspect in his subjective social research. The work is further enhanced by the author’s own magnificently detailed engravings.

Rudyard Kipling’s works can be difficult to find in India today. His was an imperialist stance and he was a stout defender of the British army. Nevertheless, he came to write the famous… OH, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet, Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God’s great Judgment Seat;

But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,
When two strong men stand face to face, tho’ they come from the ends of the earth!

The last line mitigates much that Kipling was accused of. Whether or not the British had good cause to be India will be debated until doomsday, and when Kipling published his poem, The White Man’s Burden, in 1899, he was accused of promoting the cause of imperialism. But Kipling did spread before us the magnificent panoply of the Indian subcontinent, and he was also recorded to have said, “Asia is not going to be civilized after the methods of the West. There is too much Asia and she is too old.” The Kipling Society in London maintains that he believed in British rule over India, but he did not hesitate to criticize the government savagely. It may be well to consider that Kipling was a man of his time and place. He was born in Bombay in 1865 of Anglo-Indian parents and he obviously knew and understood, and was largely sympathetic, to the colorful life around him. Only such experience could have made possible the publication of Kim, in 1901. Kipling produced an astonishingly varied wealth of works. He was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1907.

It has long been my personal love of good writing, despite having no special interest in the subjects at hand, which led me to R. H. Blyth’s inestimable Zen in English Literature and Oriental Classics, which was first published by the Hokuseido Press in Tokyo in 1942. Here is a survey to the finest detail of literature displaying the quality of the words transcending the confines of conventional literary usage. In this sense Blyth did not merely travel to the East but also sought echoes of the East in works of the West. Zen may be described variously as a fragrance, hint, nudge, or breeze that cannot be clutched though its effect can be observed, but with no sly wink seeking collusion, for therein is to be found the headache we call “mind.” Blyth’s works also include his investigations into Haiku poetry and Japanese culture. The writer’s approach to that indefinable essence of life that makes life itself agreeable, perhaps even acceptable, in its endless display of what could be called, to borrow and amend a phrase, the good, the bad, and the sometimes lovely.

Francis Edward Younghusband’s The Heart of a Continent is a book in which the author elaborates on the difficulties of travel in regions comprising almost inaccessible terrain. He took himself off from India to China, the hard way, and then found an even more difficult way to come back via the Gobi Desert, Turkestan, the Himalayas, with a great deal in between, then the Pamirs, Kashgar and eventually back home (but hardly in time for tea). Younghusband was indeed a nice man, a stalwart Christian but one who allowed much scope in his thinking for other religions. Younghusband apparently suffered greatly from mosquitoes on the way out. I would suggest that there could be an interesting discourse about why God created mosquitoes. I was put straight by a restaurant waiter in Kerala who maintained that, “God chose the mosquito to be India’s heraldic beast.”

The Canadian Colin McPhee is possibly less known, but should be wider read. His A House in Bali was first published in 1944. It is a transcendent book, one that makes reading a deeply satisfying experience. The author was a highly talented composer and ethnomusicologist who studied with Edgar Varèse and became a jazz critic of note. There were collaborations with Benjamin Britten to make their recording of Balinese Ceremonial Music for Two Pianos. He was also a friend of Margaret Meade’s family and figures often in Meade’s memoir of her life and work. It is McPhee’s obvious sensitivity that charms the reader. These were the days before Bali became a tourist destination, and the author captures the lingering, slow-motion lapse of time, and the throb of the gamelan gongs which reverberate with an insistency across the hills of that lush island that he knew so well and so lovingly described.

H. V. Morton was a British writer of note. In 1934 he published In the Steps of the Master which ran to four editions. Although the book related his efforts to trace the passages of Jesus through the Holy Land, Morton was a man of fine sensibility and he records much of the life in Palestine with inclusion of his encounters with the Arab fellahin, the common folk within the population. What was Morton’s greatest talent, which he showed in all of his works, was his equal degree of quality of content and refinement of literary style. The author opens with the following passage as he approaches the Holy Land from Egypt. “As the sun goes down, a stillness falls over Egypt. Water channels that cross the fields turn to the color of blood, then to bright yellow that fades into silver. The palm trees could be cut from black paper and pasted against the incandescence of the sky. Brown hawks that hang all day above the sugar-cane and the growing wheat are seen no more and, one by one, the stars burn over the sandhills and lie caught in the stiff fronds of the date palms”. The book also contains nearly forty of the author’s own fine photographs, mostly black and white, but beautiful and exemplary images of the Holy Land.

Lawrence first provides a summary of Prophet Muhammad’s life (peace be upon him) in chapters 1 and 2. In the following chapters, he offers succinct summaries of divergent interpretations of the Qur’an throughout history. Chapters 5 and 6 deal with examples of earlier interpretations of the Qur’an, by the Shi’ite scholar Jafar as-Sadiq and the Sunni Abu Jafar at-Tabari, respectively. The next two chapters cover rather mystic interpretations of the Qur’an. Chapter 8 surveys probably the greatest Islamic mystic Ibn al-Arabi, “a deep sea diver in the ocean of the Qur’an” (p. 109). Chapter 9 is about another mystic, Jalal ad-Din Rumi (or Mawlana), who sought to display the “everyday wonders” of the Qur’an in his Mathnawi. The last four chapters cover four different modern interpreters of the Qur’an. Chapters 11 and 12 deal with two Indian/Pakistani scholars. Ahmad Khan of chapter 11 offers an early rationalist (“militantly rationalist” in Lawrence’s words) critique of traditional interpretations in the face of Western intrusion into the Muslim world. By contrast, Muhammad Iqbal of chapter 12 makes a case for a redefined spiritual Islam in the late-colonial period and calls for revivification of moral Islamic values among Muslims. In chapter 13, the American interpreter W. D. Muhammad offers yet another interpretation that stresses racial equality more than anything else. Lastly, in chapter 14, Lawrence depicts the mind of the notorious Osama bin Laden, in whose interpretations military jihad takes precedence over all other issues. Lawrence argues that bin Laden “selects only those verses that fit his message, and then cites them exclusively for his own purpose” (p. 180).

In one unusual chapter (chapter 7), Lawrence portrays a Christian interpreter of the Qur’an, Robert of Ketton, who was the first person to translate the Qur’an into a Western language (Latin) in the twelfth century. An Englishman, Robert of Ketton moves to Toledo and becomes part of a Christian group that translates scientific texts from Arabic into Latin. He eventually finds himself heading a team project to translate the Qur’an into Latin. In a time of heated and continuous warfare between Christians and Muslims, Robert of Ketton takes a more noble way of engaging with Muslims. Islam was to be approached “not by arms, but by words; not by force, but by reason” (p. 100).

In an era when both adherents and critics of the Qur’an make claims as to what “real Islam” is, Bruce Lawrence’s survey of Qur’anic interpretations reminds us that all interpretations of the Qur’an are but partial representations that favor certain sections and meanings over others. In so doing, The Qur’an: A Biography becomes a friendly reminder that it takes more humility than most of us assume to understand and appreciate the richness of the verses of the Qur’an.

As a final note, for the more academic reader the book has a significant flaw. Although he provides a “further reading” list which includes most of the books he cites, except for the verses from the Qur’an, Professor Lawrence does not provide direct references for other quotes or opinions. I hope he will remedy this gap in a future edition.

According to the author, Islams response to modernity has passed through three stages: revivalism, reform (including nationalism), and fundamentalism. Each has emerged from the former ones failure: the inability to achieve true independence, self-sustaining economic and scientific infrastructures, and a realistic alternative to a now-globalized system that marginalizes and ignores the Muslim world.

Lawrence builds his book around several arguments. First, Islam and being Muslim are not synonymous with being Middle Eastern Arabs, who are a minority within the fold of Islam. Second, the Islamic world is not a unified bloc, as shown by failures at attempts to unify individual countries or even to agree on what constitutes real Islam. Thus there is no basis for the Wests fear of a so-called clash of civilizations. Lawrence maintains that the likelihood of this happening is as remote as Canada, the United States, and Mexico uniting because they profess Christianity.

Third, fundamentalism has surged since the 1970s because of the failure of Arab nationalism, the use of oil money to create dependent rentier states, and the success of the Iranian revolution (1979). Other reasons include an omnipresent nation-state structure that blocks all outlets of legitimate protest, as well as the practices of every party trying to justify itself in terms of Islam because that is the most effective rallying cry.

Fourth, fundamentalists are mainly educated urban or newly urbanized young men who have little hope of finding a job after graduation, instead of the stereotypical types often presented in the media. Frustrated and angry, yes; but far from being uneducated, illiterate, and easily swayed by demagogues. What attracts them to fundamentalism is its black-and-white nature and its promises of a better and more just future. Unfortunately, fundamentalism preaches idealism and utopia, is destructive instead of constructive, and offers no viable alternative (Iran being the sole exception).

Throughout this book, Lawrence maintains that Iran is worth watching, for it is the social laboratory in which Islam is grappling with modernity on a daily basis. Another Muslim country worth watching is Malaysia, which has moved jihad from the battlefield to the economic and development plane by striving to become a fully modern industrialized nation by 2020. It appears to be the first Muslim country actively trying to disprove the assertion that Islam precludes such a transformation.

The author also discusses the role of women, a favorite media topic. Basing himself on several geographically distinct Muslim countries, he concludes that attempts to restrict women to the home, while often justified in Islamic terms by a patriarchal sociopolitical order, reflect the fact that there are not enough jobs to go around even for men. As long as the army remains one of the few ways of social and economic advancement, economies do not develop and expand, modern technical education remains beyond reach for most young people, and skilled foreign workers are hired because there are not enough trained local workers, this problem will persist.

Lawrence has done the reading public a great service by reaching beyond stereotypes and lazy scholarship to give us a much more realistic view of the Muslim world and its inhabitants.

Together with massive campaigns to promote Western products, such story-lines and images, perpetuate the inferiorized stereotypes that used to be taught openly in the nineteenth century. Films especially can be seen as an arm of economic domination: ‘Because every film is a part of the economic system, it is also part of the ideological system… cinema and art are branches of ideology. None can escape; somewhere, like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle, all have their allotted place’ (Nicholls, 1976, vol.1, p.24).

Because the US got the edge over the Europeans in the mass-market film industry, Hollywood and what it stands for have often been accused, even by Europeans, of cultural imperialism. The English as well as the French often complain that the norms of popular culture in their countries have been ‘taken over’ by the Americans. But the fact is that the success of American styles has been largely due to their commercial skill and power relative to English and French products. In no sense can it be claimed that the American popular culture industry portrays the French or the English negatively. By contrast, it is true to say that Western cinema, particularly American cinema, portrays Orientals, especially Muslims, negatively as a matter of course. All easy, popular stories have goodies and baddies, but must the baddies so often be foreigners and need the foreigners be culturally foreign? In order to be popular, popular films reinforce popular stereotypes-it is a vicious circle, at least for its victims. For those who manage such images, popular cinema is a powerful instrument of cultural suppression and domination. As one writer maintains, the virtual monopoly Hollywood has enjoyed for the last quarter century has made it the single most powerful advocate and purveyor of a simplified, homogenized American culture (Collins, 1989).

Within this Hollywood style in particular, there has been a consistent Middle Eastern stereotype-Arab or Arab-Palestinian, or Turk or Iranian-with negative physical and moral characteristics- lustful, fanatical, irrational, cruel, scheming, unreliable, often cowardly, and always outwitted and defeated. The adventurer-hero, once in the Flash Gordon style of noble warrior on the side of the good (in simple contrast to arch-enemy Ming the Merciless, an Oriental tyrant), is now, typically, a morally imperfect figure, nevertheless worthy of the audience’s full sympathy. The ‘James Bond’ character of the sixties and seventies remains by far the most successful hero-formula. He was designed for British and American audiences to identify with: ‘he is worldly, has diverse but specialized expertise, and has a passion for excitement. He is self-reliant, proud, wedded to privacy, honest, candid, loyal, a man of honour…’ (Simon, 1989). This figure exemplifies, in a form appropriate to the genre of comic caricature, the virtues and ethos which are supposed to give the British and the Americans their directness and sense of humour, their get-up-and-go, their problem-solving success. The villain-figures altogether lack positive characteristics, even any energy or wit they have is of a mad, evil-genius type; their characters lack any exposition; they have no past, their only present is to pose the challenge to the hero. It follows that no audience, not even the non- British/American audience can possibly do otherwise than identify, through the momentum of the story, with the hero and the ethos he represents.

Among recent historical films which have to do with Muslim lands and people, the most popular have been Lawrence of Arabia, Death on the Nile, Midnight Express, and Robin Hood. Of these, only the first has any substantial claim to be a serious, well-made film. In it, Lawrence, a British army officer, stationed in Cairo during World War I, works to ally the Sharif of Makka with the British against the Turks. The Arabs are presented as bumbling, loud, unruly primitives with some barbarian dignity but, in the end, easily bribed, easily tricked. The Turks are utterly vile and disgusting with no saving qualities of any kind. Indeed, the Turkish Pasha in Egypt is, in addition to being, ugly, foul and aggressive, a sodomite- characteristics flatly contradicted by historical evidence (Kirkbride, 1956). The fact that Lawrence was a British spy with very British images about the desert, about Arabs, Turks and Muslims in general, never enters into the film or the consciousness of its audience-there is not the slightest hint that the events might be presented from another point of view and so tell quite a different story. For all the undeniable beauty of some scenes, this film well illustrates the general point made by Raymond Williams that, in spite of their being artistic, works of art still serve an ideological function, that is, serve as propaganda (Williams, 1982). Embedded in Lawrence of Arabia there are all the usual distortions, political and cultural, which less artistic films present also, but crudely.

Midnight Express has been widely and continuously shown since its production in 1978. Though shot mostly in a nineteenth-century British barracks in Malta, the film is set in Istanbul which comes over as a most depressing place – a shock surely for anyone who has actually visited it. David Putnam, the director, freely admits that the film is based on a ‘dishonest book’ (Shipman, 1984, vol.2, p.1103). It wholly misrepresents what really happened to Billy Hase who was sentenced in Turkey for drug smuggling: the story implies that he was innocent; it makes much of his escape, though he was released under an amnesty agreement’ (ibid.). The quality of the director’s attention to the Islamic setting can be judged from the scene in which hairy- eared Hamidou (the actor is in fact an American) is whipping Jimmy with a leather belt while some other Turks are praying to Allah – Jimmy’s yells of pain provide the ‘music’ to the praying chorus (Kael, 1980, p.498).

Much the same kind of attention (and the same intention) is evident in the opening scene of Robin Hood: in a gloomy atmosphere the call to prayer rises from a minaret in Jerusalem, then an abrupt ‘cut’ to a filthy prison where an executioner is chopping off the hand of a prisoner – an illustration for the audience of Islamic justice. The point of these and similar devices of narrative and plot of setting, colour, tone and music – many examples could be given – is not only to present an image of Islam and Muslims that is as negative and humiliating as possible. It is also intended to contrast that negative with the positive virtues of the Western characters portrayed within the same story: the audience are required (and expected) to conclude that ‘the Americans, and the Englishmen and the Swedes, are civilized and sensitive…’ (Kael, 1980, p.498).

References

• COLLINS, J. (1959) Uncommon cultures: Popular Culture and Post Modernism, Routledge, London.
• KAEL, P. (1980) When the lights Go Down, Holt, Rinehart & Wilson, New York.
• KIRKBRIDE, Sir As. (1956) A Crackle of Thorns: Experiences in the Middle East, John Murray, London.
• NICHOLLS, B. (1976) (ed.) Movies and Methods, University of California Press.
• SHIPMAN, D. (1984) The Story of Cinema, Hodder & Stoughton, London..
• SIMON, S.R. (1989) The Middle East in Crime Fiction, Lilian Barber Press, New York.
• WILLIAMS, R. (1982) The Sociology of Culture, Fontana, London.