Simple, compact, hard-hitting and realistic is how superior comic literature should be, and this is exactly what Lebanese writer Sahar Mandour offers readers in her first novel “S-a’rsem negma a’la gabeen Vienna” (I will Color a Star on Vienna’s Forehead).
Originally published in 2007, the newly released reprint of this light summer read, written by the Lebanese journalist and former psychology student, goes beyond what may be called sarcastic literature found in abundance in the current Egyptian literary landscape. However, while young Egyptian writers have often resorted to unsophisticated writing, depending mostly on one-liners and word play, Mandour breathes new life into this genre.
Nimble and full of humor, “Vienna’s Forehead” is nonetheless tragic in the sense that it refuses to play down much of its protagonist’s quandaries: her struggles, heartbreak and confusion. Rarely do readers find such a rich and genuine character in Egyptian books of the same genre. This element is precisely what adds to the novel’s authenticity and depth, and it is what allows Mandour to let her arsenal of social commentary resonate as powerfully as it does with readers. Mandour accomplishes this feat with grace, without detracting from the novel’s buoyancy and unpretentiousness.
In less than seventy pages, Mandour — using her unsparing style — tells the life story of Vienna, the naughty Lebanese woman. Mandour wastes little or no time in delving into Vienna’s motives and inner thoughts. Readers meet a decisive Vienna who when faced by a stressful or unhappy situation quickly changes direction and is happy to take on a new adventure.
The fast paced life that Vienna leads and the many personas that she assumes allow Mandour to take readers through a grand tour of the disparate characters a Lebanese woman plays in society: Unwedded Vienna who has not regrettably lost her virginity, married Vienna, widowed Vienna, TV presenter/part animal Vienna and Hajja Vienna, the devout Muslim and veiled Vienna who goes on a not-so-exciting pilgrimage.
Perhaps the only constant in Vienna’s life is her brother Ahmed, the surgeon whom she suspects to be homosexual but never dares to confirm her doubts.
“I only live so I can tell you my stories.” Vienna tells us how important Ahmed is to her. He supports her in every decision she takes except for two: when she decides to commit suicide and when she dons the veil.
Being religious, as Vienna puts it, “is not just about understanding religion better. It also creates for me a circle of acquaintances and a social space to move within.” Her life as a whole, she admits, became easier after wearing the veil. Her neighbors love her more, and her mother-in-law who didn’t stand her before calls to invite her for dinner.
She plays along and invites her new group of veiled friends over for dinner, and has a laugh at them as they swoon over famous TV preacher Amr Khaled.
Vienna’s sarcasm can be too sharp for some but it has a peculiar element of evil cuteness that makes it simply irresistible. When, in one of her religion lessons, she learns of all the so many ways of how not to have sexual intercourse and the one correct way to have it, she says:
“Oh my God, I guess I have spent my life having the wrong kind of sex. But who might want to have sex with all these dos and don’ts?! Even if they do it once, what would tempt them to repeat this experience? After you observe all the rules to do it right, it only remains that you buy a postage stamp and stick it on. My bother will laugh when I tell him this.”
Near the end of the novel, as Vienna nears her fifth decade, a change in tone occurs when she takes off her veil and decides to go to Paris. Throughout the whole novel, Mandour writes in the first person which makes Vienna the lively character she is, but when she goes to Paris, the writer switches to the third person, making Vienna looks like she’s disappeared. This produces a subtle shift in mood as the reader begins to share Vienna’s feelings of alienation and detachment when she leaves her Beirut behind.
In the novel’s last lines and perhaps Vienna’s last moments, she still keeps her light-hearted and playful spirit. Vienna doesn’t like those who take their lives too seriously. She regards her life as a story to be told. When the story ends, it’s not a tragedy. It’s just another story that ended.
Vienna made sure that her life is consistent: lively with a hint of mischief from start to end.
