I probably would have never discovered
the book Death and the Dervish by, Mesa Selimovic without the
crazy way I developed to help me choose my next read. It's hard to
know where to start when you want to read everything! So the process
begins by sorting my master to-read list, suggested by the publicized
list of books one MUST read before dying, by month of the author's
birthday. Within these twelve sub-lists, authors are grouped by
their day of birth and a random number generator helps me chose which
day to focus on. I then recruit fellow bookish friends, basically
anyone who likes to read and discuss literature, to join my book club
… 1001 Reading Adventures. Members of my group help with the
final decision on our monthly read by voting for their choice of
titles, considerably narrowed down, from my master list.
This month's randomly picked date was
April 26, and chosen by majority vote was Mesa Selimovic's book Death
and the Dervish (published 1966)
in celebration of his birthday (b. April 26, 1910). This book isn't
included in our library's collection, so plans were to gather and
read the book by watching its film version's subtitles. The book was
first made into a movie in 1974, and later remade in 2001. Both
versions can be viewed free online and include English subtitles.
Usually I rent the Blue Ridge Movie Lounge each month as a venue for
my book club to meet and watch movies that we compare to our books.
When the pandemic closed non-essential businesses, we resorted to a
watch-party online and a Zoom meeting for our conversation.
Luckily I was able
to secure a book through Amazon, a used copy full of notes and
underlined passages made by its previous owner. I can attest that
the film follows the written story line fairly close, although
viewing Selimovic's story greatly enhanced his book. The scenery in
the movie was beautiful and the narrator's memories, when portrayed
on screen, helped make connections to his motives easier to
understand.
As the story
begins, Sheikh Ahmed Nuruddin is trying to find a way to have his
brother released from prison. He also doesn't understand why his
brother was arrested, and meets unsuccessfully with the judge to make
pleas on his brother's behalf. A sheikh ... the dervish (Nuruddin's
title) is a religious man belonging to a group whose individuals
relinquish themselves to a life of poverty and live peacefully,
teaching and following words of the Koran. The dervish becomes a
pawn, so to say, in the hands of the judge's daughter. She asks him
to speak to her brother Hasan, a friend of his, about giving up
rights to the family inheritance before he is disowned by their
father. Hasan likes to gamble and drink; he trades cattle and has
illicit relationships with various women. Ultimately the dervish
thinks that if he convinces Hasan to step down from the family before
the judge can disown him, that he can convince the judge to free his
brother. This situation is the beginning of the dervish's internal
struggle to remain indifferent and have a clean spirit despite the
trials of earthly man. As he narrates the story, Nuruddin refers to
teachings in the Koran, Arabic holy scriptures, wrestling with his
own soul about what to do.
Nuruddin is not
only unable to free his brother, but is temporarily locked up
himself.
He is eventually
freed, but alas his brother is executed. Unlike the dervish's belief
in a peaceful life, Nuruddin seeks revenge in the murder of his
brother. He learns that accusations against his brother were unjust.
That a false interrogation was written before a mock trial and
submitted as evidence for justifying an execution. There have also
been other past events in Nuruddin's life that left regrets
resurfacing in his mind. Choosing the life of a devoted dervish was
a conscious effort to deal with his life's disappointments. Now
Nuruddin takes another path and comes out on top, presumably through
corrupt means, and is elected as a new judge.
And as
the story continues, there are a number of twists that bring Nuruddin
to find himself in the same position as the previous judge … trying
to gain power through deceit. Readers come to realize that Nuruddin
is remorseful and feels self-diminished by his actions. Set in the
18th
century and under rule of the Ottoman Empire, Nuruddin knows his end
is coming at the hands of authorities. His story is an examination
of what his life could have been and becomes an explanation, compared
to a suicide note.
Selimovic tells
Nuruddin's story with such sincerity and upon studying the author's
background I learned that parts of his novel were based on events in
his real life. Mesa Selimovic was born in Bosina and raised as a
Muslim. During the Second World War he was a prisoner for having been
part of an anti-fascist demonstration, as a member of the Yugoslav
Partisans. His brother was also arrested and later executed without
a trial.
I found a video
review on YouTube by Nerses Arslanian, a Lebanese reader, and totally
agree with his thoughts; Selimovic's writing style though not exactly
chronological was hypnotic and captured my mind … “I was
interested in every little paragraph.” I really like how books can
connect people from around the world and through the Internet.
Although delightful to Zoom and YouTube with other readers, I am
looking forward to in-person discussions and experiences again soon.
Mesa
Selimovic is a revered, and well-loved author in his country. Death
and the Dervish gained national
attention, translated in several languages and is recognized as his
masterpiece. Many critics consider this story as similar to The
Trial, by Kafka. I can relate
to that, this is definitely a story about the nightmarish world of an
isolated and troubled individual.
In
closing my thoughts about this recommended read, I must share a
sample of Selimovic's words to illustrate the beautiful imagery he
paints with his writing.
In
the morning I went out into the fields and climbed a hill that was in
full bloom. I stood beside a low fruit tree, with my face next to its
cluster of flowers, calyxes, leaves, petals - a thousand living
wonders ready for insemination. I felt the intoxicating sweetness of
that growth, the rush of juices through innumerable, invisible veins,
and like the night before I wished that my arms would grow into
branches, that the colorless blood of trees would flow into me, that
I would bloom and wilt painlessly. And it was just this repetition of
my strange desire that convinced me of the weight of my burden.
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