Book review: Tea with Arwa by Arwa El Masri (biography)
February 9th, 2012 § Leave a Comment
Tea with Arwa: One woman’s story of faith, family and finding a home in Australia by Arwa El Masri
Hachette Australia, 2011
RRP: $35.00
Arwa El Masri’s biography Tea with Arwa is an evocative story of a migrant finding a home, a Muslim woman exploring her faith, a love story, a cookbook and an educational resource to breaking down misunderstandings between Islam and the West.
Arwa was born in Saudi Arabia to Palestinian-born migrant parents who couldn’t claim citizenship in the country of her birth, an effort by the Saudi government to maintain Palestinian cultural identity. When her parents decided their children needed a country of their own they looked to Australia.
The first section of the book about her family’s migration to Australia is poignant. Her father had to seek work overseas leaving his wife who had limited English to effectively raise their five children as a single parent. As a result Arwa’s childhood was very unsettled and she faced great responsibilities and challenges.
As Arwa shares her life, she also shares her faith and clarifies misunderstandings of Islam. For example she discusses Saudi Arabia’s policy of forbidding women from driving thus making them dependent on chauffers, and makes the point that Islam gives women rights, but it is governments and politicians who enact laws contradicting these.
She charts her romance with Hazem El Masri, a rugby league player and it reads like a beautiful regency romance filled with prejudice and misunderstandings, until finally love wins out. As an adult she decides to wear a veil and she shares the difficulty she faces, with assumptions being made that this is forced on her by her husband rather than a choice that reflects her spirituality.
Arwa sees food and eating together as a way of ‘connecting over our differences’ and ‘a personal act of diplomacy.’ While her biography follows the chronology of her life, it also charts food that has made an impression during that time and after each chapter are recipes for the meals featured. It’s a wonderful melding of a biography and cookbook in one.
Tea with Arwa is a beautifully written biography of one woman, yet ultimately also tells the story of Australia itself. I very much enjoyed reading it and feel enriched and more informed by the experience.
****
This review is written as part of the Australian Women Writers Review Challenge established to help counteract the gender bias in reviewing and social media newsfeeds that has continued throughout 2011 by actively promoting the reading and reviewing of a wide range of contemporary Australian women’s writing.
On Writing: Chasing the Trend
February 6th, 2012 § 1 Comment
I find visiting bookstores these days a depressing experience. When I look at the young adult shelves all I see is paranormal books. It’s either vampires, angels or fairies; not to mention the odd troll. While I love paranormal novels, I also think there needs to be a place for books about realistic themes. While the fantasy books give us escapism, realistic fiction speak a universal truth and opens a portal to another world that helps teens make sense of their own world.
As an author I begin feeling inadequate. Ideas begin swirling about the paranormal novel I could churn out to cash in on the trend, but then I get my reality check. Chasing a trend is not how you get anywhere in the publishing industry. By the time I write a book and get it published, the trend I’m chasing could be well and truly over.
Plus I don’t believe that this cynical approach to writing works. I don’t believe that these authors who are writing paranormal books are doing so because they’re trying to cash in. I believe that they are writing the book they have to write and it is the weight of their passion and belief that connects with the reader.
So my muse adjusted I return home to focus on my work in progress. It is the book I’ve wanted to write my whole life and I believe that the passion I inject in my words will connect with readers, and if at some point I have a paranormal book in me, when the muse takes flight, I will follow.
Poem: Bottle or Breast #mop12
January 29th, 2012 § Leave a Comment
Bottle or Breast
Bottle or breast
You know what’s best
Pureed or canned
Use what’s at hand
Childcare or career
Ignore the jeers
In eighteen years
All your fears
Will be for nought
Love can’t be bought
If they come home
When your job is done
You know you’ve been
An excellent Mum
In the meantime
Don’t succumb
To bullshit advice
The ultimate price
Is your sanity
Live guilt free!
Ditch the magazines
Books and headlines
Trust your intuition
There’s no inquisition
Do you best
You won’t be depressed
***
So I’ve pretty much run the well dry in terms of inspiration. This one came from a facebook discussion. I thought there was one more day to go and just saw the date and see I have another two to go. I think I might officially end my month of poetry early. I need a breather. Thanks to all for following and hitting the like and thumbs up buttons. I’ll be going back to posting once a week on my blog. Till next week.
Poem: Scar tissue #mop12
January 28th, 2012 § Leave a Comment
Scar tissue
You flay me with your words
gouging my flesh to ribbons
with your whip-like tongue
leaving scars that you pretend
not to see, but that I always feel.
Every time I dress I see them,
little white lines criss crossing my back
a map marking our relationship.
Each time you whip me anew
the scars re-open and blood oozes out,
but you don’t see as I stand before you
blood dripping down my body.
Soon the skin on my back will be covered
with the thick rigid scar tissue
and there will be no more unbroken skin
for your whip to land.
I will disappear,
parcels of my flesh will fall away,
my bones will chip away to dust,
my beating heart all that is left,
until you pluck it out of my chest,
throw it on the ground,
pierce it with your pitchfork
and leave it to rot.
Poem: Eat Child Eat #mop12
January 27th, 2012 § Leave a Comment
Eat Child Eat
As I feed you child
I lose my pride
as I beg and plead
desperate to succeed.
‘Swallow,’
I shout
as you wallow,
but you hold out
and keep the food
that you chewed
in your mouth.
I lose my youth
and grow old
as I scold
chase you about
while you pout.
‘Eat child eat
you’ll get a treat.’
You open wide
quickly swallow
to the pantry follow
down the lolly slides
big smiles all around,
again you win this round.
Poem: Weightless #mop12
January 26th, 2012 § Leave a Comment
Weightless
Soft water
embraced us
you floated
weightless
in my arms
beautiful blue eyes
gazing into mine,
a moment of grace
descended,
humbled and awed
to be your mother
your love lifted
my flawed and
broken spirit
and I floated
weightless
and perfect
beside you
Poem: Almost a poem #mop12
January 25th, 2012 § Leave a Comment
Almost a Poem
The aim was to write a poem
every day of January
Day 25 and 24 poems are done
I wanted to win the crown
And make it to thirty one
But now all I do is frown
This blog was my sanctuary
Now it’s my ball and chain
Maybe I should abstain
And move on
Be happy with what has come
Before today
Does this count as another one?
Poem: We sleep #mop12
January 24th, 2012 § Leave a Comment
We sleep
You lie on my arm
Curled against my side
Your breath on my skin
Together we sleep
You lie on me
Stomach against stomach
Your head on my breast
Together we sleep
We spoon
One arm is your pillow
You hug the other to your chest
Together we sleep
I love to look at your sweet face
Press kisses on your round cheeks
And together we sleep
As your fingers trace
the birthmark on my neck
Poem: The plague of words #mop12
January 23rd, 2012 § 1 Comment
One day I’m a genius
The next day I’m a hack
Some days I want to go back
And not write that first word
But this caper is addictive
Sometimes it’s restrictive
It’s words that I am infected
with, Even when I get rejected
I go back and try again
Words invade my brain
Spill out of my fingertips
On the page they collect
And then I have to correct
Move and shift them along
Until I find the place they belong
And when I think I’m finished
I have to begin again
Because words invade my brain
***
So I wanted to write about the process of writing. I did two versions. Below is the first version which I banged out and my husband called pedestrian. So back to the mines I went and wrote the second version above. Sometimes it’s worth having a husband with no filter.
At first my prose is perfect
I gasp with delight as I read
In love with my genius
Then I open my critical eye
See all the mistakes, typo’s and omissions
Slash goes the red pen
As I mark up my revisions
Back and forth from hardcopy
To electronic, reading, reading
and re-reading
The enthusiasm and love is gone
It all seems pedestrian and boring
Now I can’t see anything good
I’ve pulled it apart so many times
It seems there is no value there
Finally I’m sick of the damn thing
Can’t wait to get rid of it
Send it out into the world
And damn the consequences
With nervous stomach
I seal the envelope
Drop it into the mailbox
Get on with you damn wretch
I will know your value
When someone else reads it
Poem: Wardrobe #mop12
January 22nd, 2012 § 1 Comment
From floor to ceiling, ceiling to floor
All I can see is your lovely door
I carefully fold and hang my clothes
And nevermore suffer woes
As I search here and there
Pulling apart my house everywhere
On castors gracefully you glide
And my secrets successfully you hide
Since you’ve come into my life
I’ve become a neat and proud housewife
You deserve a sonnet all of your own
Alas my talent in that form is unknown
So all I can write for you is this poem
My wardrobe, I love you!
***
Who says you need to write a love poem to a person. Okay, I think I’ve done enough rhyming nonsense poems for the hell of it. Tomorrow I’m moving on.
