Qissa Reviews: A Collection of Writing on Love and Lust by Arab Women

Published in 2021 by Saqi Books, We Wrote in Symbols was pretty revolutionary. As we see in the collection, women writing sexually explicit scenes have been there all along. But to gather these together into a collection with love and lust at the centre was certainly pretty new for the publishing scene in the global north. Edited by Palestinian writer Selma Dabbagh, We Wrote in Symbols places writing from 1041 CE Andalusia next to living writers from Kuwait and Beirut. Poetry is next to fiction and romantic yearning love is next to hot graphic sex. With such a range to cover this collection could feel overwhelming, but in Dabbagh’s capable hands we are instead left feeling… satisfied. 

Dabbagh’s introduction is relatively brief at just 14 pages but, in this, she is able to provide much historical context. Dabbagh discusses the blackout of women’s writing on love and lust in the late 15th century, corresponding with the ‘fall’ of Andalusia. It’s interesting how this non-linear, one step forward two steps back narrative is often the case for writing by women. The same idea was discussed in Rachel Hewitt’s In Her Nature with regard to women’s literature on exercise and the body, though at a much later period in history. For the most part, it’s not that women weren’t writing (though, as Dabbagh mentions, there was a rise in female illiteracy at this time). It’s that their writing wasn’t being read, circulated and celebrated.

Another interesting strand of the introduction looks at sex and religion, with a particular focus on Islam, though writers from this anthology are ‘of the three main monotheistic religions, or of none’. Dabbagh already notes that her insight here is brief, so I won’t do her a disservice by shortening it further, but suffice to say that she makes some really interesting points with regard to the context of the book. Another key takeaway from the introduction was the fact that the Arab and Western world took very different views on sexuality in the pre-Islam period. While the Western world was focused on heteronormative narratives, people in the Arab world considered sexuality a much more fluid idea. There are a number of pieces in the collection that celebrate love between women, both from this period and by modern-day writers.

While some of the collection was written in English, a lot was written in French or Arabic. It felt truly fated to be reading this book when, on page two, I came across this paragraph from Dabbagh about translation:

“In French and Italian, to say that you have had ‘a story’ with someone (‘une histoire’ / ‘una storia’) clearly denotes that love and lust were involved. The word ‘qissa’ in Arabic can in many contexts denote the same. I like the idea of romantic associations being imbued in the word for ‘story’. Stories and love affairs form part of our worlds, they are histories which live in our present and inform our futures.”

A little nod to us at Qissa there! So, after a quick crash course in the history of Arab women writing love and lust, we are thrown straight into the collection. Hafsa bint al-Hajj Arrakuniyya’s poem ‘Shall I Call?’ is the perfect light, romantic start to this vast and varied collection. It is short, simple, straight to the point. Yet it is poignant and there is a heat underneath the text as she waits for her lover.  

Some of the writing is a little grotesque, bringing graphic images to mind and unsettling the reader. Saieda Rouass’ story ‘A Free Girl’s Tale’ is violent and fairy tale-equese, bringing shades of Angela Carter to her retelling of Cupid and Psyche’s union. In another story, this time an excerpt by Samia Issa, we find two Palestinian refugees living in a camp after the 1948 Nabka. While the language is beautiful - for example the pleasure Fatima takes as she discovers her body ‘She gasped at the sight of them for the very first time. It was as if she was looking at another body’ - the reality is that these two protagonists are simultaneously masturbating in the squalor of the latrines. This juxtaposition of the sexy and the filth is taken up in a number of stories, perhaps to represent the love of the mind versus the physicality of the body.

The poetry of Laura Hanna is beautiful, particularly ‘Communion’ which perfectly mirrors the act of praying with the act of sex. As is mentioned in the introduction, a lot of the poems in this anthology speak of sex and religion in the same breath. A sense of place is another strong theme in the book. In some cases that’s because the setting is instilled so vividly by the writer, such as the wonderful excerpt from Randa Jarrar’s ‘Map of Home’. At other times it’s because the writing, as well as being timeless, is also placeless. It is a moment between two people, and that moment could be happening anywhere, at any time. 

As in life, not all of the sexual encounters in the book are full of passion. In some, such as Rasha Abbas’ hilarious ‘Simon the Matador’, the sexual tension between strangers suddenly falls flat, mirrored very well in the drama on the circus stage. While in Suad Amiry’s ‘As Yummy as Kibbeh’, sex is just another thing to be checked off the list: 

“And as life went on, she waited for him to finish so as to get some sleep so she could have what it takes to get through the heavy chores and mounting responsibilities of the ever-growing Baroudi family.”

There really is such exquisite writing throughout the book. From Mouna Ouafik’s blunt and penetrating poetry to the way Joumana Haddad toys with perspective, We Wrote in Symbols is a truly enjoyable read. And of course, it is not all sex and lust. We have love as well; beautiful, romantic, couldn’t-live-without-you love. But, for me, my absolute favourite was this poem by Shurooq Amin that manages to be erotic, loving and sweet all in one go:

Shurooq Amin - Another Kind of Love

When one squints, the other 

dims the moonlight for her,

such is friendship, or so

your parents think, heedless

of limbs that tangle like

limp honeysuckle petals

in the early evening,

before the sky darkens much,

before the muezzin cries

the day’s last call for prayer, 

before your mother uncovers

the shallow depressions in

your mattress made by not one, 

but two daughters of Muslims.  

Being a collection, it is easy to dip in and out; read in sequence or pick a piece at random. The beauty of the mix of classical writing alongside modern texts is that, unless there is something that explicitly alerts the reader to the era (such as a mobile phone), these stories could have been written at any time. Love and lust is eternal and it is global. And, I believe, We Wrote in Symbols is the same.