Editors’ Note:

Chicago, Alaa Al-Aswany’s latest effort, first appeared as a serial in the popular opposition newspaper Al-Dostour. When the novel was originally published in Arabic last January, it sold a record 25,000 copies in its first week in stores, echoing the popular reception enjoyed by the author’s debut, The Yacoubian Building. The latter title is the international bestseller that has to date been translated into 20 foreign languages and made into Egypt’s most internationally acclaimed major motion picture in recent memory. It also confirmed Al-Aswany as a truly international, if eminently Egyptian, novelist.

Danana was taken aback for a little while, and then he regained his brazenness. “I didn’t tell you about the extra salary because no occasion had arisen. Besides, as a wife you are not entitled, by religion, to know your husband’s salary. I can provide proof of that from jurisprudence.

Set in the eponymous US city where Al-Aswany once lived as a dentistry student, Chicago examines familiar themes of contemporary Egyptian society against an inevitable cultural clamor in the psychological landscapes of its characters: Egyptians, Egyptian-Americans and Americans living in a post-9/11 metropolis the author crafts as both intimate and epic. Al-Aswany, long an outspoken political columnist and founding member of Kifayah, also relishes an acrid tongue in unambiguous overtures of political criticism — aimed with precision at the institutions that shape Egyptian lives across generations and geographic boundaries.

It is this criticism — along with explicit sexual content — that has drawn fire in the local tabloid press and from religious conservatives, as did The Yacoubian Building, notably for its treatment of homosexuality. However, in Egypt, and in France where the first foreign-language edition was published, the book has generally been well-received. But while the popular appeal and accessibility of Al-Aswany’s work is not in question, its international critical standing will be defined with the English translation, set for release by the AUC Press later this month.

In advance of the much-anticipated English version, Egypt Today offers readers the following exclusive excerpt from Chicago, courtesy of the Press. This section inaugurates our new literature section, which will feature excerpts, extended and guest reviews, new translations and original fiction.

WHEN DR. AHMAD DANANA asked for the hand of Miss Marwa Nofal in marriage, he seemed like an excellent prospective bridegroom in all respects. He was pious, as evidenced by the prayer mark on his forehead and the prayer beads in his hand, his constant quoting of the Qur’an and hadith, and his taking pains to perform his prayers at their appointed times no matter what the circumstances. He was ready for marriage: he owned a deluxe two-hundred-square-meter duplex condominium overlooking Faisal Street in the Pyramids area. He had announced that he was ready to pay the requisite dowry and buy the engagement gift selected by the bride (within reason). More importantly, he was an instructor in the College of Medicine who was studying in America and would get a Ph.D. and come back to Egypt to assume the highest posts. And just as the breeze swayed tree branches, Hagg Nofal (merchant of bathroom xtures in Ruwai‘i) was swayed by the wish that his son-in-law one day become a minister or even a prime minister. And why not? Dr. Danana was a prominent member of the Youth Secretariat of the ruling party and he had important connections. During his vacation in Cairo he met daily with high-ranking ofcials of the state. What could detract from him as a bridegroom? His being slightly older? That would be an asset and not a liability. A mature man would pamper Marwa and protect her better than a rash young man who might mistreat her. Hagg Nofal was enthusiastic about accepting Danana’s proposal,although he gured (in his merchant’s mind) how much the marriage would cost him and came to the conclusion that it would cost him several times what it would cost the bridegroom. But he said to himself that God had given him an immense fortune, so he should spend according to his ability. Besides, no amount of money was too much for his eldest daughter.

As for Marwa herself, she had spent several years after graduating from the English section of business school, refusing traditional, arranged marriages and making fun of them. She knew she was beautiful, and that her beauty was of the kind that aroused men’s lust. Ever since she was a teenager she had almost never met a man who did not lust for her soft jet-black hair cascading down her shoulders, her splendid black eyes, her delicious full lips, and her beautiful build: the ample bosom, the narrow waist, then the wide hips resting on beautiful legs, even her little feet with their symmetrical toes and painted nails which were more like a well wrought art masterpiece than living body parts. For years Marwa was immersed in her dreams, seeing herself as her highness the princess waiting for her handsome knight to carry her off on his white steed. She turned down many suitors, notables and rich men, because she didn’t feel truly attracted to any of them. Then suddenly she discovered that she was over twenty-nine and had yet to nd her grand amour. She realized then that she had to reconsider matters and to take a more practical approach. Her mother told her repeatedly that the love that came after marriage was more solid and steeped in respect than those ckle hot feelings that might disappear suddenly or end in disaster.

Mohamed Allouba Chicago (Hard cover, LE 90) will appear in bookstores nationwide later this month. Excerpted with permission from the American University in Cairo Press.

Then Marwa read stories to the same effect in answers to readers’ problems published in the Friday edition of al-Ahram in the Letters to the Editor section, and she realized that her mother’s words spoke to facts of life. Thus she had to give up on her dream of a grand love because she came to believe she could not nd it in her lifetime. Life in reality was, after all, different from life in the movies. So, maybe she should marry like everybody else. In the end she should have a home, a family, and children. Besides, she was not getting any younger: in a few months she’d be thirty. What mattered more than anything else was for her to get married now; love would come later. She felt nothing against Ahmad Danana but also nothing for him. She had neutral feelings toward him but, rationally, she gured out that he would not make a bad husband. If only she could forget his crude features, the wrinkles on his brow, his kinky hair, and his protuberant potbelly despite the vest that he always wore to appear more slender. If only she were able to dismiss those negatives, she would be able, somehow, to live a love story with him. Was he not kind and gentle with her? Did a single special occasion pass without his giving her a precious gift? Did he not take her to the most expensive restaurants in Cairo? Did he not spend money on her as if there were no tomorrow, so much so that she worried about those exorbitant bills that he gladly paid? How could she forget that wonderful night when they had that two-hour candlelit dinner, with violins playing, on board that giant ship Atlas as it made its way up and down the Nile, and how that felt like a beautiful dream? He loved her and spoiled her and was doing his utmost to make her happy. What more could she want? True, sometimes she had bouts of dejection that made her want to shun him, but that was rare. Her mother convinced her that that was the result of an evil eye and convinced her to read the Qur’an a lot, especially at night. The engagement day passed as well as could be expected. The Grand Sheikh of al-Azhar personally performed the wedding ceremony at the mosque of Sayyidna Hussein (may God be pleased with him). The wedding party was held at the Meridian Hotel and cost Hagg Nofal a quarter of a million Egyptian pounds. Singing sensations Ihab Tawq and Hisham Abbas, and Dina, the famous dancer, performed at the fantastic celebration, which was attended, as the newspaper accounts put it, “by an assemblage of society stars and state ofcials.” There were serious religious objections to the presence of an almost naked dancer at a wedding in a family known for its profound religiosity, but Hagg Nofal confronted the objections with a few decisive words, “Marwa is my eldest daughter and my rst joy. A wedding without a dancer would be avorless and God Almighty knows true intentions and He is forgiving and merciful.”

Hagg Nofal had insisted on the dancer Dina (notorious for her revealing outts and lewdly suggestive moves), then he encouraged her with clapping and loud exclamations while she danced, and had a smiling, whispering conversation with her at the end of the wedding—a conversation that went on so long that his wife, Hagga Insaf, appeared visibly agitated. All of that brought back secretly told stories about Hagg Nofal’s hedonistic lifestyle and his pursuit of dancers as a youth before his repentance and going back to the straight and narrow.

The newlyweds went to Turkey at Hagg Nofal’s expense to spend their honeymoon, and from there they ew to Chicago where Danana rented a new, big, off-campus apartment. Marwa started her new life enthusiastically and sincerely, hoping wholeheartedly to make her husband happy, to organize his life and support him until he made it to the top. But the sunny picture, from early on, had a few dark spots, and now, after a full year of marriage, Marwa was all alone at home, events running in her mind like a movie that she kept playing time after time, blaming herself harshly for missing signs in her husband’s behaviors from the beginning or perhaps noticing but ignoring them to preserve a rosy, unreal outlook. The dreams came crashing down, smashed against the rocks of reality, breaking into smithereens like pieces of glass.

The problems began with the suit incident. Danana had worn a very fancy and handsome white Versace suit for the wedding. Afterward, while organizing her husband’s clothes in the closet, Marwa couldn’t nd the suit. She was extremely alarmed and it occurred to her that it had been stolen or lost on the plane. When he returned from school she asked him, but he remained silent, xing her with a sly and hesitant glance, then said as if in jest, “The suit is American aid.”

She asked him to elaborate, so he said, feigning holding back laughter to hide his embarrassment, “In America you have the right to return any merchandise that you bought, if you also return the receipt, within a month of the purchase.”

“I still don’t understand. What happened to the wedding suit?”

“Nothing. I thought, I am only going to wear it one night in my life, even though it is prohibitively expensive. So I kept the receipt, returned it, and got my money back.”

“Isn’t that some kind of fraud? To buy the suit, wear it for your wedding, then return it to the store?”

“Apparel companies in America are colossal and their budgets are in the millions; they would not be affected by the price of a suit. Besides, we are not in a Muslim country. I’ve consulted several trusted religious scholars and they assured me that according to the canon law, America is considered an abode of indels and not an abode of Islam. There is also a well known principle in jurisprudence that says, ‘necessity makes the forbidden permissible.’ Therefore, my need of the price of the suit permits me to return it to the store according to the shari‘a.”

Marwa thought his line of thinking preposterous and almost asked him, “Who told you that Islam commands us to steal from non-Muslims?” But she also tried to nd an excuse for him. She said to herself, “I have to remember that he’s not as rich as my father and he does need the price of the suit.” That incident passed and she would have forgotten it had not a series of unfortunate events taken place.

Danana began to complain that the scholarship stipend was too low to cover their living expenses. He repeated his complaint several times but Marwa ignored it (perhaps in response to a mysterious internal warning). But it didn’t take Danana long to move from hinting to stating explicitly. He asked her directly, “Can I borrow from your father a sum of money every month and pay him back when we return to Egypt?

She looked at him in silence and he continued, laughing insolently, “I can write him an I.O.U., if he wants me to, so he can be reassured about his money.”

Marwa felt shocked and she began to see more clearly what her husband was really like. In spite of that, she called her father and asked him for nancial help. Why? Perhaps she was hanging on to a last, imsy thread to save herself from disappointment. She tried to convince herself that he was going through hard times because he was studying in a foreign country, that it was natural for him to be in nancial straits, and that asking her father for help should not be held against him. She was surprised that her father accepted the request calmly, as if he had expected it, and began to send her a thousand dollars on the rst of every month that Danana then took from her without any compunction, even expressing impatience if it was late. Money in itself was not what worried Marwa. She was willing to contribute to the household expenses even more than that because the way she had been brought up instilled in her the model of a good wife who stood by her husband to the best of her ability and resources. By sheer coincidence, however, she found in Danana’s pocket a bank transfer indicating that he was paid a large sum of money in addition to the amount of the stipend. At that point she could not control herself. She asked him as anger gathered on her face like clouds on an overcast day, “Why did you hide from me your extra salary? And why do you make us ask my father for help when we don’t need it?”

Danana was taken aback for a little while, and then he regained his brazenness. “I didn’t tell you about the extra salary because no occasion had arisen. Besides, as a wife you are not entitled, by religion, to know your husband’s salary. I can provide proof of that from jurisprudence. As for the small sum that your father helps us with, I think it is quite natural because God has given him a lot of money whereas we are beginning our own life and we must save. Saving is a great virtue to which we are enjoined by the noblest of creation, the chosen one, prayers and peace be upon him.”

Marwa was naturally not convinced this time. His miserliness revealed itself as clearly as the sun on a hot cloudless day. She began to notice how his face grew ashen if he had to pay anything whatsoever, and he displayed utmost care, to the point of panic, when he counted his money and put it very slowly in his wallet, which he then interred in his inside pocket as if it were its nal resting place. Little by little she was beset by disquieting apprehensions; she was very far from her family, separated from them by the Atlantic Ocean and several thousand miles. She was lonely and a total stranger in Chicago. No one knew her and no one cared about her. Her poor English did not make it possible for her to communicate with people on the street. In this place away from home, she had no one but Danana. Could she really rely on him? What would happen if she were to fall ill or be injured in an accident? This person that she had married would not take care of her at all, but would throw her into the street if she were going to cost him ten dollars. That was the truth. He was a selsh miser who thought only of himself. Perhaps now, better than any other time, she understood why he chose to marry her. He had already begun to nibble at her wealth and undoubtedly he had plans, after her father’s death, to seize her inheritance; perhaps even now he was calculating precisely how much it would be.

The problem, however, was not conned to his miserliness and selshness. There was another loathsome feeling that was weighing heavily on her and getting worse every day, a very private and embarrassing matter that Marwa could not conde even to those closest to her. She even blamed herself for merely thinking about it and yet it was painful to her and caused her great discomfort. To put it bluntly, she hated the way her husband had intercourse with her. He would come at her in a strange manner, attacking her without any preliminaries. She would be sitting, watching television in the bedroom or coming out of the bathroom when he would pounce on her, falling on her suddenly with his erection just as adolescents do with housemaids. His crude way caused her panic and psychological tension in addition to feelings of humiliation. It also led to painful lacerations in her body. One night she hinted to him what she was suffering, avoiding looking at his face for sheer shame. But he laughed sarcastically and said, somewhat boastfully, “Try and get used to that, because my nature is strong and violent. That’s how all men are in our family. My maternal uncle in the village got married and had children after the age of eighty.”

She felt frustrated because he didn’t understand her and she couldn’t explain to him any further. She wished she could recommend to him that he read the eloquent Qur’anic expression enjoining Muslim husbands to approach their wives gently and gradually so he would understand what she wanted to say but was too shy to say it. She was surprised later on to nd that he was using an ointment with a pungent smell and she rejected him, pushing him away from her and jumping out of bed, now doubly angry at him. She began to avoid being with him using all kinds of pretexts, until he attacked her one night. She repelled him hard and jumped away. He shouted angrily, panting with desire and from the effort, “Fear God, Marwa. I’m warning you; God’s punishment will be severe. What you are doing is forbidden in the canon law with the consensus of religious scholars. The Messenger of God, peace and prayer be upon him, has been quoted correctly saying that the woman who refuses her husband in bed shall spend the night cursed by the angels.”

He was stretched out on the bed in front of her as she stood in her nightclothes. She got very angry and xed him with a hateful and contemptuous glance. She almost replied that Islam would never force a woman to be intimate with a man as disgusting as he was; that the Prophet, peace be upon him, ordered a woman to be divorced from her husband just because she wasn’t pleased with him. Marwa became so incensed that, for the rst time, she thought of divorce. Let him divorce her and let her go back to Egypt. A divorce is a much more merciful fate than being violated every night in this disgusting manner. “Divorce me, now.” She became so obsessed with the sentence that she saw it written in her mind. But, for one reason or another (she tried to gure that out later on but was never able to), as soon as she was about to reply, as soon as she opened her lips to utter the fateful sentence, mysterious and contradictory feelings came over her, forcing her to be silent. Then she found herself approaching him slowly, as if hypnotized, and began to take off her clothes, coldly and neutrally, one piece at a time, until she stood in front of him totally naked. When he attacked her she did not resist. That night a new phase started between them. She started to yield her body to him with the utmost coldness; she would close her eyes and patiently suffer his heavy breaths and the disgusting stickiness of his body. The moments passed, heavy and painful, during which she fought off nausea until he was done and lay down on his back, panting and proud, as if he had won a military battle. She would then rush to the bathroom to throw up and cry from defeat, impotence, and pain. Afterward she felt aches all over her body as if she had been given a sound beating. Her face changed after every such encounter, turning gloomy and ushed as if swollen.

Despite Marwa’s defeat in the sex battle, she persisted in rejecting the idea of having children. He kept after her insistently to have a child in America. He tried to convince her by every means he could muster; he would say to her, “You silly girl.”

“Please don’t speak to me like that.”

She would turn her face and he would get close to her, feigning affection, whispering in a hissing voice, “Listen to me, my love. If we have a child now, he would be a citizen and we will automatically get citizenship later on. People pay tens of thousands of dollars for an American passport and you are turning your back on this bounty?”

“Don’t you get tired of saying that? I don’t want to have a baby now and I cannot have one just to obtain an American passport.”

That night Marwa was relaxing on the sofa in the living room watching a soap opera on the Egyptian satellite channel when she heard the doorbell ringing. She got worried because she was not expecting anyone. She got up reluctantly, remembering all the warnings she had often heard about opening the door to strangers in Chicago. She looked through the peephole and saw Safwat Shakir standing there, smiling. It didn’t take him long to say loudly, “Is Dr. Danana home?”

“No, he is not.”

“Sorry, Madam. I came from Washington especially to meet him. My telephone, unfortunately, is not working. Can I come in and wait for him?”

She didn’t answer so he went on persistently, “I want him for an important matter that cannot wait.”

She knew Safwat Shakir; she had seen him more than once at consulate receptions and had never trusted him. He always seemed to her to be arrogant and suspicious. But she knew how her husband cared about him. She had no choice, so she opened the door and let him in. He was well dressed as usual and wore an expensive cologne. He shook her hand and sat at the nearest chair in the entryway. She sat in front of him, leaving the apartment door open. She called Danana and told him and he assured her he would come right away. She had to show her guest some hospitality, so she made him a cup of tea and diplomatically but rmly stopped his repeated attempts to start a conversation with her. As soon as Danana arrived, she withdrew to her room. Danana did not pay any mind to her but gave his distinguished guest his undivided attention. He rushed to welcome him, panting (perhaps exaggerating to some extent to prove that he he had all the way there). He said with a attering smile, “Welcome, sir. You’ve lit up Chicago.”

“I’m sorry I came without an appointment.”

“Your Excellency, please, you honor us any time you please.”

“Please apologize to the lady for the inconvenience.”

“On the contrary, sir. Marwa is happy you are here because she knows how much respect I have for you.”

Safwat sat back in his chair and said, “What I came here for is extremely important.”

“May it all be to the good, God willing.”

“First I have some questions.”

“At your service, sir.”

“Do you have any Egyptian Copts in the department?”

“There are no Copts in the histology department. They are in internal medicine, surgery, and physiology. The Medical Center at the University of Illinois in Chicago has only seven Copts, all of whom I know.”

Safwat took out of his jacket pocket a folded piece of paper which he slowly opened and handed over to Danana who took it, read it with interest then looked angry and said, “Obscene lies!”

“This is one of numerous broadsides that have been distributed last week. Keep it and read it when you have the time. The ‘Copts in Exile’ are getting more and more active to a worrying degree. They attack Egypt and our revered president with insolence. Unfortunately the American administration listens to them.”

“They’re all traitors, agents on Israel’s payroll.”

Safwat Shakir bowed his head for a moment then spoke in a serious tone, “Israel has ties with only one organization. The rest of the Coptic organizations work on their own and raise their own money. They attack the regime to win gains for the Copts in Egypt.”

“That’s impossible, sir. Egypt does not give in to blackmail. Besides, seeking support from abroad is treason.”

Thus recited Danana quickly as if it were a lesson he had memorized. Safwat nodded then asked again in a serious tone of voice, “What do you know about Karam Doss?”

“He is a heart surgeon, a millionaire who lives in a posh mansion in Oak Park and is one of the leaders of ‘Copts in Exile.’”

“Write me a detailed report about him.”

“At your service.”

“I want comprehensive data and a situation assessment.”

“By all means.”

“As for that boy, Nagi Abd al-Samad, State Security has sent me a complete copy of his dossier. Watch out, he’s a troublemaker.”

Danana laughed loudly in a derisive tone and said, “That Nagi boy is up to no good. I know him from Egypt and I have prepared for him a program that you’d like, sir.”

Silence fell for a few moments then Safwat sighed and said, “Now to the more important subject.”

Danana lit a cigarette and looked through his glasses in utmost attention to Safwat who continued in a soft voice, “The president, God willing, is coming on a visit to America in two months. It’s a very important visit and comes under extremely sensitive circumstances and requires good preparation from us. Time is short and any mistake on our part would result in a catastrophe.”

“Did your Excellency nd out the itinerary?”

“The itinerary is never revealed until the last moment and it is usually changed suddenly for security reasons. But I have found out, in my own way, that the president will visit Washington and New York and come to Chicago. Of course he will meet with his sons and daughters, the Egyptian students here.”

“Meeting with our revered president is a national festive occasion for all Egyptian students here.”

“You’re intelligent, Danana, and you understand that any visit by the revered president could change our lives. After the visit I could leave here to become a minister or be pensioned off.”

“To the ministry, sir, God willing. But please don’t forget me.”

Safwat Shakir laughed and he seemed to be in a good mood. He got up to leave but Danana insisted that he stay for dinner. Almost begging him, he said, “Safwat Bey, please, don’t deprive me of this honor, have dinner with us.”

“I have an important appointment at the consulate.”

“Please, sir, have a quick bite then go in God’s peace, to your appointment.”

Danana rushed inside and in about a quarter of an hour Marwa showed up carrying the plates. Safwat received her with a smile and a scrutinizing look.

“Once again, I apologize for disturbing you, Madam.”

Marwa muttered a few words as if denying that she had been disturbed but her face did not reect that sentiment, which made Danana stare at her more than once to warn her. When he gave up on her face turning toward him, he started on another interlude welcoming Safwat. Marwa turned around to leave and Safwat asked her boldly, “Aren’t you going to eat with us?”

“I had dinner a short while ago. Please go ahead, your Excellency, and enjoy in good health,” Marwa answered right away, as if expecting the question. Danana sat at the table opposite Safwat who opened his briefcase and took out a miniature bottle of scotch, “Would you get me some ice?”

In a few moments Danana brought ice cubes and a large empty glass. Safwat said apologetically as he poured the whiskey, “I acquired this habit living in the West for many years: to have a drink with my meals.”

“You, sir, exert a superhuman effort in your work and you are entitled to some recreation.”

Safwat answered him with a dignied smile as he sipped his drink. He ate heartily then got up to leave. Danana saw him off to the door and they had a short, serious conversation about what should be done the following days. Danana stood bidding his master goodbye with his eyes until he disappeared inside the elevator. Danana sighed and closed the door behind him. And, just as a main character’s face changes from good to evil in science ction movies, Danana’s features changed gradually as he crossed the corridor. When he reached the bedroom, his face expressed extreme wrath. He opened the door forcefully and found his wife lying down on the bed. He shouted in a thunderous voice, “Your behavior with the man was in extreme poor taste.”

“It’s he who doesn’t know how to behave properly. How can he come into your house when are you not there?” Marwa responded calmly.

“He wanted me for an important matter.”

“He could’ve left a message.”

“It’s much more important than that.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“Do you know who Safwat Shakir is?”

“It doesn’t matter who he is.”

“Safwat Shakir is the intelligence ofcer in the Egyptian embassy and the most important ofcial there, more important than the ambassador himself. One report from him can raise me sky-high or totally ruin my future.”

Marwa looked at him for a long time as if seeing him for the rst time, “No matter what his post is, he has no right to enter your house when you are not there. Besides, I refuse to turn my house into a tavern.”

“I won’t allow you to ruin my future. I warn you. If he comes here again and you behave improperly toward him, it will be the end between us.”

“How I wish for this end and await it impatiently!” she said, looking at his face, itching for a confrontation.

He shouted at her, “That’s my mistake, marrying into an ignorant family.”

“I won’t allow you to insult my family.”

“That’s not an insult, it’s a fact.”

“Don’t you dare . . . . ”

“Your father, Hagg Nofal: is he educated or ignorant?”

“My father’s circumstances did not enable him to get an education but he did his best and raised us and gave us the best education.”

“But he’s still ignorant.”

“My ignorant father, whom you don’t like, is the one spending his money on your house.”

Danana raised his hand and slapped her so hard she staggered back. She pounced on him and grabbed his shirt screaming, “You hit me? I won’t live with you another single day. Divorce me now, at once.” et