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Eyewear Publishing - Sumia Sukkar

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139 pages

English

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This is a powerful and deeply moving novel chronicling the Syrian War through the eyes of 14 year old Adam who has Asperger Syndrome. It has been adapted into a BBC Radio 4 play.'I have the urge to paint, and I can already see the painting in my head... horrible and beautiful all at the same time.' A gifted artist, Adam expresses the intimate sufferings of his family as they struggle through the Syrian conflict by painting with whatever materials he can find. Having been dependent on his family all his life, he must now cope with separation and loss, including the fates of his devoted sister and brothers who are all caught up in the acceleration of events and forced to live out the consequences both of their own choices and those made for them.The frightening and unpredictable changes, not only for Adam's family, but also for a once beautiful city and a whole nation, are unfolded with compassion, wit and imaginative force through a spectrum of shifting colors, moods and atmospheres. The novel blends political events, emotional drive and Arabian tradition through a unique perspective, whilst reminding the reader that what human beings really need is dignity, security and love.'An outstanding debut novel' BBC Front Row'A moving first novel, written with an insider's knowledge of the land and its people' The Times'This outstanding novel is a must-read for anyone who hopes to understand the beauty and character that exists within a country torn apart by war. To superimpose the experience of Asperger's upon the experience of war is Sukkar's great achievement and brings a heart-breaking clarity to the suffering, the strength and the hopes of ordinary people caught up in political mayhem.' The Booktrust

Informations

Publié par	Eyewear Publishing
Date de parution	09 décembre 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781783015924
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

THE BOY FROM ALEPPO WHO PAINTED THE WAR

NOW A BBC RADIO 4 DRAMATISATION
PRAISE FOR THE BOY FROM ALEPPO WHO PAINTED THE WAR
Written with an insider s knowledge of the land and its people. Kate Saunders , The Times
[A] powerful debut novel. John Everington , The National
A perversely beautiful and viscerally disturbing read, powerfully written. In a brilliantly executed and convincing narrative, from the first line, we are propelled right inside the boy s head. The giddying fulcrum of autism in the context of a non-autistic (insane and violent) world works perfectly and the terrifying disintegration of normal life, the family and civilisation makes one feel as though one is on a descent to Hell. Once picked up, this book is impossible to put down. At the end, you will be shattered, your view of the world changed forever. Suhayl Saadi , award-winning author of Psychoraag and Joseph s Box
I m still reeling from the emotional rollercoaster it takes you on. It s a clever writer who can draw that scale of emotion in one book. A stunning book, which bravely covers a horrific topic but does so in a way which reminds us that through every traumatic time, you can still find love, affection and humour. Jess McGlynn , Catch A Single Thought
First published in 2013 paperback edition 2014 by Eyewear Publishing Ltd Suite 38, 19-21 Crawford Street London, W1H 1PJ United Kingdom
Cover design Stuart Poulson Typeset with graphic design by Edwin Smet
Printed in England by TJ International Ltd, Padstow, Cornwall
All rights reserved
2013-2014 Sumia Sukkar
Afterword 2014 Laura Guthrie
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, companies, events or places is entirely coincidental.
Set in Bembo 12 / 14,5 pt
Print ISBN 978-1-908998-46-0 eBook ISBN 978-1-783015-92-4
WWW.EYEWEARPUBLISHING.COM
THE BOY FROM ALEPPO WHO PAINTED THE WAR
A NOVEL OF SYRIA
by Sumia Sukkar
with an Afterword by
Laura Guthrie
For my precious family, with love.
Sumia Sukkar is a British writer of Syrian and Algerian ancestry, brought up in London. This is her debut novel.
My blood has travellers in it: a Damascene moon, nightingales, domes and grains. From Damascus Jasmine begin to send whiteness across the air so fragrance itself is perfumed by their scent.
- from Nizar Qabbani s A Damascene Moon Translated by Sumia Sukkar Todd Swift
Characters
Adam - The boy from Aleppo who painted the war
Ali - Adam s neighbour/ friend
Amira - Adam s cousin
Aunt Suha - Adam s aunt
Baba - Adam s father
Isa - Adam s brother
Khalid - Adam s brother
Khanjar - Famous mercenary
Liquorice - Adam s cat
Maha - Mama - Adam s mother
Miss Basma - Adam s teacher
Nabil - Adam s friend
Tariq - Adam s brother
Uncle Shady - Adam s uncle
Walid - Khalid s friend
Wisam - Yasmine s lover
Yasmine - Adam s sister
Contents
Chapter One: ORANGE
Chapter Two: VIOLET
Chapter Three: NAVY
Chapter Four: BURGUNDY
Chapter Five: WHITE
Chapter Six: BLUE
Chapter Seven: YELLOW
Chapter Eight: RED
Chapter Nine: MAROON
Chapter Ten: BLACK
Chapter Eleven: INDIGO YASMINE
Chapter Twelve: BROWN
Chapter Thirteen: LIME
Chapter Fourteen: GREEN
Chapter Fifteen: GREY
Chapter Sixteen: BYZANTINE YASMINE
Chapter Seventeen: RUBY
Chapter Eighteen: LAVENDER
Chapter Nineteen: MAGENTA
Chapter Twenty: CHESTNUT
Chapter Twenty-One: CARMINE
Chapter Twenty-Two: CLOUDY WHITE
Chapter Twenty-Three: ROSE
Chapter Twenty-Four: APRICOT YASMINE
Afterword by Laura Guthrie
Acknowledgments
Notes On Arabic Words
Chapter One
ORANGE
I CAN T DRAW ! There s too much noise outside! I shout to Yasmine.
Adam, calm down and just continue Habibi!
Yasmine, tell the kids to yes, yes, yes, stop making noise! They listen to you.
Yasmine lowers her head. She does that when things are difficult to explain. I don t like it.
Adam Habibi, you re old enough to understand this is the beginning of a war.
Mama never used to shout at me. It s at times like these that I miss her the most. Yasmine s fingers ruffle through her hair, her fingers look frail, just like the number one. I feel sorry for the number one, it seems lonely. So I think I feel sorry for Yasmine too. Yasmine lifts her head up now. That means she is not upset. Her eyes look like the number eight, friendly and sad.
Yes I m 14, does that make you happy Yasmine? What do you mean a war? Do you mean like in Dighton s paintings? But I can t see that from the window. Look here Yasmine, kids are just running around. No one is wearing uniforms.
Yasmine closes her eyes. She looks green. She is usually ruby. That s my favourite colour. I use it in most of my paintings. I remember when mama used to say I should never stop painting. She promised she would keep my paintings with her. But now they have to stay with me.
It s okay Yasmine, I ll just paint with the noise.
Yasmine blows me a kiss. We do this to show our love. Before she died, mama told her that she should blow me a kiss every time she is proud or happy with me. Mama used to do that to me because she understood I don t like people touching me.
Yasmine, do you like my painting?
It s lovely Adam, but why not try painting something new for a change?
Yasmine always says this. She thinks I paint the same picture. I don t. No two pictures are ever the same. It s hard to explain that to her. She starts walking away, so I don t need to explain anything. The colours are always different. I sometimes use pastel colours and at other times harsh bright colours. All the paintings have different feelings behind them. I wish Yasmine would understand this like mama used to. I feel content now so I use a lot of turquoise. I continue painting until it is time for Baba to come back home.
Baba comes back home every day at 4:48 p.m. He doesn t even need to ring the bell any more. He knows I ll be waiting to open the door for him at that exact minute. It has been like this for three years, ever since mama died. He looks more tired every passing day. The bags under his eyes are clearer now. I blow a kiss onto them every night hoping they will go away. I don t like seeing him tired. Yasmine has the hot water ready for Baba to soak his feet as soon as I open the door. He is never a minute late and is always holding a bag full of papers to mark. When he is not too tired he even stamps them with colourful words like well done and excellent . I like to help him when he uses the stamps. They re fun to play with. Baba sometimes complains about me playing with the elastic band around my wrist. He says the sound annoys him, but I can t let go of it. It has to always be on my wrist. It helps me think.
Yasmine has made stuffed vegetables. It is the 26th of January and mama isn t looking down on us today. I love stuffed vegetables: they are like a bowl of emotions because they are very colourful. I sometimes imagine the peppers arguing with each other because they all feel differently. I feel melancholy in this bowl of food, the red pepper would say. Oh red pepper, how can you feel that way? You should be so angry that we are going to be eaten, the aubergine would frown. My imagination sometimes takes hold of me and I get louder.
Yasmine always brings me back, reminding me that we shouldn t be too loud because Baba is tired. When Yasmine cooks six peppers, I know that mama is watching over us, because mama always made six stuffed peppers. Today there are five on the plate. This makes me sad, but it s okay, mama is probably resting. I sometimes wonder if mama eats stuffed vegetables and baklawa in heaven. I know they have a lot of yummy food up there but this is her favourite dish. Yasmine sometimes sighs and smiles a weak smile when I tell her about how I know when mama is watching over us. I can t explain why some things are true. But I am sure this is true. I don t lie.
Mama died when I was 11. I miss her. She always told me I should be good and go to university to show people my paintings. I can t wait to go to university. My classmates say I belong to the special needs class and not university. They are stupid and wrong, says Yasmine. I don t like meeting new people, so I won t speak to anyone in class at university. So many people like to create small talk. I don t see the need for it. It s silly and a waste of time. I don t know why people don t realise this.
Khalid, Tariq and Isa come in and join the table. They are all the same age and at university. They are triplets. Even though they look alike they all have different colours. Khalid is orange, Tariq is teal and Isa is green. That s how I tell them apart. Orange brother always smiles and looks cheerful, he is the one who makes all the jokes in the house. Teal brother always gets me chocolate and comes home the latest. Green Isa is the quietest. He doesn t study architecture like the other two, he studies Arabic literature instead. Hardly anyone notices his presence, but it s hard for me to overlook his aura.
Yasmine, can I get up from the table please?
You didn t even finish your food Adam.
Everyone is sharing from a plate in the middle of the table but I always need a plate of my own. I don t like my food touching anybody else s. So Yasmine can tell I hardly ate. I don t get up from the table but keep fidgeting and start banging my feet on the ground. Yasmine ignores me. I don t like it when she