Free to Read
One thing I appreciate about my parents, among many others, is their general self-restraint when it comes to my reading materials. They know that I read questionable materials, but they never try to prevent me from doing so. From literature to political theory to religious debate, I am free to read whatever I like — although if my tastes were more to their liking they would have appreciated them more, of course.
The most laudable aspect about their behavior is that they know for a fact that I derive much of my attitude and a good bulk of my opinions from the books I read. Both of these things (my attitude and my opinions) clash severely with their own, and cause conflict and overall unease at home. I suppose the easy route for any parents would have been banning these books of “useless knowledge” as the good hadith tradition put it, yet my parents never considered that as an option. I really respect that, precisely because it is the road less traveled and it’s more sensible than trying to cut off the Hydra’s head.
This brings me to yesterday’s trip downtown with my mother, during which I bought all three parts of Nawal El Saadawi’s autobiography from a small bookshop right off Al Husseini mosque square. This place had over 30 of her works, so I plan to go back and buy some more after I’ve acquainted myself with her life first.
My mother doesn’t like Saadawi, and she likes her thought a lot less, but she waited in that bookshop with me for about 15 minutes while the shop boy fetched the three volumes. She also endured the questions the shop owner asked about me as I was taking pictures outside, and she answered him with such pride despite our differences. Now that’s special.
