LITERATURE AND NATION IN THE MIDDLE EAST

irony and the poetics of palestinian exilelabel, we would have to describe him as an anti-hero. Even that seems to besomething of an exaggeration, for he is not left in peace, even in death. Hajjaj’sstory exemplifies another side of the reversal, which forms the basis for irony;the eater is eaten, not only once but three times, first by the struggle for thehomeland when he was alive, then by the orange after his death and finally bythe man drinking the orange juice. He is consumed by what he loves; he hasbeen made triply absent. The irony lies in the fact that the present is madeabsent by the homeland (al-watan) – the very thing that was supposed to bringabout a change in the equation from present-absent to present-present.The issue of martyrdom is certainly a sensitive one, especially in a societythat values children so highly, and one cannot deal with it directly withoutoffending. The indirect path of irony is essential here. The phatic dimension ofirony allows writers to establish a community of harmony with readers, takingthem into their confidence and pretending they are revealing secrets that onlythey will understand. I think al-Qasim’s ironic exaggeration is meant to servethis purpose. Its communicative force is to challenge the readers to a duel inhyperbolic speech, or boasting. The phatic element in irony also allows thewriter to criticise without seeming to do so, especially when the element offantasy is added, as in the work of Hajjaj. The ironic translation of the almostsacred notion of martyrdom in terms of the atavistic activity of devourmentlends Hajjaj’s fiction a psychoanalytical significance that connects it with thedomain of the dream and the unconscious. 5 In another story, the writer introducesa variation on the theme of devouring that amounts to cannibalism. Inthe story, called ‘Soup for the Children’, the writer’s persona goes before dawnto the Martyr’s cemetery on the Day of the Martyr in order to wash his brother’sgrave and lay flowers on it, only to find that thousands of others are alreadythere waiting by the locked gate to do exactly the same thing. Then dawnbreaks, bringing birdsong and butterflies. We have already encountered thisironic constrast between the freedom of the butterflies and the silence of thegrave in the story I cited above. In ‘Soup for the Children’, when the sun comesup the restless crowd rush into the cemetery, smash up the graves and dig up thebones of the dead. Then they walk out in a huge procession, each carrying thebones of their dead martyr in the black plastic bags that are used for the disposalof rubbish. The crowd then walk down Martyr Street first, and from there intoLiberty Avenue, until they reach Independence Square. There they halt, notknowing what to do. Then the voice of a man rises above the crowd, and hespeaks out in stentorian tones: ‘Today, you have carried out one of the mostglorious deeds for the sake of the homeland. You have gotten rid of thegraveyard. He who has died is dead, and the homeland is in need of everysquare inch of land for housing the living and planting their food so that we canbe in a position to build a free and independent economy. Bless you, and bless— 37 —www.taq.ir