The Harafish is an English translation of Malhamat al-Harāfish (literally “The Epic of the Harāfish”), which was originally published in Egypt in 1977. In 1975–76 I was on sabbatical in Egypt and had been in contact with Naguib Mahfouz several times concerning my translation of his earlier work, al-Marāyā (1972), which was eventually published in English in 1977 as Mirrors. I can vividly recall one telephone conversation in which he told me that he had just finished a work about the “harafish” and was very happy with it. Subsequent comments by Mahfouz indeed make it clear that this is his personal favorite among all his works; it has certainly been at the top of his translation desiderata following his receipt of the Nobel Prize in 1988 (see WLT 63:1, pp. 5–9).

The Harafish belongs to that group of fictional works by Mahfouz that make use of the allegory of “the quarter” (in Arabic, hārah) and its inhabitants as a means of investigating many of the larger philosophical issues that have been abiding concerns of the author ever since he abandoned an academic career in philosophy for creative writing in the 1930s. Awlād hāratinā (1959, in book form 1967; Eng. Children of Gebelawi, 1981) and Hikāyāt hāratinā (1975; Eng. Fountain and Tomb, 1988)—originally published as “short stories” but now designated as “novels”—are two previous examples of what Rasheed El-Enany in his recent study Naguib Mahfouz: The Pursuit of Meaning terms “episodic novels.” However, although these works share structural similarities with The Harafish, it is the resort to allegory in order to explore the complexities in the moral life of the community that really serves as their primary characteristic.

The Harafish is full of characters and events and follows the fortunes of “the quarter” and its inhabitants through many generations. Against the constant backdrop of the dervish monastery from which emerge the melodies of mystical Persian verse, we follow—and it is not always an easy task—the careers of members of the al-Nagi family, beginning with their founder ‘Ashur, who, after providing the community with moral guidance and a secure existence, “disappears.” It is the task of his successors to continue his mission, and the varied success they have is the focus of what becomes a very complex narrative web. It is not long before one feels the need for the kind of list of “dramatis personae” which precedes the text of Tolstoy's War and Peace.

In discussing the somewhat fragmented and wayward course of this narrative, some critics have suggested that The Harafish is indeed a landmark in Mahfouz's output, in that he manages to produce a work of modern fiction that blends the generic purposes of the modern novel with the structures of more traditional indigenous narrative types. While suggesting that such a view needs to be explored further (and illustrated) before I personally am convinced of the value of this work, I would observe that it clearly presents a problem in the context of a translation into English, or at least one that carries no introduction to explore such possibilities.

The English version of Mahfouz's novel is thus left to survive on its own merits, and it is too early as yet to say what its reception will be. My own views expressed above lead me to expect that The Harafish will not be received with anything like the welcome that greeted the English version of the “Trilogy” (see e.g. WLT 68:1, p. 203). That said, however, I must go on to point out that Catherine Cobham's translation is excellent from every point of view: the language and flavor of the original text have been well transferred, and the resulting English version is a pleasure to read. Western readers are now presented with a Mahfouz work that is more “local” not only in content but in form as well. The Harafish will certainly test their tolerance, and I for one look forward to assessing the results.