“The Ditch”
“The Ditch” is a story about time passing, aging, entropy and dilapidation. The twin subjects of this examination of one of the few reliable certainties of life is the narrator and the building in which he lives. His narration is a recollection of better times given way to not so great times and the story begins with description imagery:
“I do not dwell solely in a human body, but also in an ancient and dilapidated flat in a decrepit alley submerged in garbage. The ceiling of the flat is bare of paint and reveals in places colorless veins, the walls are split into parallel and intersecting line, while the floor has burst out into bulges and cavities that are in constant strife, through threadbare rugs, and with the soles of one’s feet.”
“By a Person Unknown”
The title of this story commences what will be a tale constructed almost entirely of very subtle imagery. Unusual among the body of work of the author, it also stands out as one of those rare works of fiction about a serial killer which ends without the killer ever being caught or his identity revealed. But then that is the point: to illuminate the darkly idiosyncratic character of these monsters which remain invisible and unknowable among us even as they walk and play and work among us.
“What a man! What nerves! He operated with patience, deliberation, calm, and precision, as happens only in fiction. In control of himself, of the murdered man, of the crime, and of the whole location—then off he goes, safe and sound! What a murderer!”
“Fear”
The author’s utility with the literary tool of imagery also extends to one of its simplest mechanisms: physical description of character. The thing about imagery, however, is that it is not put to the most efficient use if only used merely to delineate adornment. The look of the character should be described with imagery that conveys something about the psychology of either the character described or a character through whose eyes the description is made:
“She embarked on her business life wearing a galabeya that, while covering her from neck to ankle, showed off her well-proportioned figure to the best advantage. It casually clung to the budding parts of her body and accentuated her face, with its plump roundness and color of a ripe doum fruit, and the almond-shaped eyes the color of clear honey in whose glances there played the liveliness of youth naively responding to admiration. The eyes of the young men gazed at her with interest, and they were drawn, as flies to sugar, to the oven on the handcart where the liver was cooked.”
“The Conjurer Made off with the Dish”
This whimsically titled tale packs quite a bit of action into the typically constricted space of a Mahfouz short story. Although, truth be told, it actually is just a bit longer than usual. The use of imagery is prevalent and robust and includes descriptions of character, setting, food and a magic show. The highlight, however, is when the breathless pace of the story slows down to focus on the young narrator’s first brush with romance:
“She appeared to go along with my suggestion, so I took her by the arm and we went through the gateway of the ancient wall and sat down on a step of its stairway that went nowhere, a stairway that rose up until it ended in a platform behind which there could be seen the blue sky and minarets. We sat in silence, side by side. I pressed her hand, and we sat on in silence, not knowing what to say. I experienced feelings that were new, strange, and obscure. Putting my face close to hers, I breathed in the natural smell of her hair mingled with an odor of dust, and the fragrance of breath mixed with the aroma of sweets.”
