A review by spacestationtrustfund
The Tale of Princess Fatima, Warrior Woman: The Arabic Epic of Dhat Al-Himma by Melanie Magidow

3.0

If you ever bring up this subject again, then I will go live in the desert.

Me too, girlfriend.

Well, I liked how accessible the translation was, but I was disappointed that Dr. Melanie Magidow did not translate the entire story of Dhat al-Himma. I can understand why she didn't, because the sira is... quite long, somewhere upwards of 6000 pages in full ("This abridgment consists of nearly a dozen carefully selected episodes out of a total of some 455 episodes in the unabridged version, which in Arabic spans seven volumes and more than six thousand pages"). The original story, commonly known as Sirat Dhat al-Himma (سيرة ذات الهمة) in the Arab world, takes place sometime between the late 7th-9th century (with, as Magidow herself notes, "allusions to events that would happen in the 10th century, during the Arab-Byzantine wars"), and was probably composed sometime in the 12th century.

In her introduction Dr. Magidow acknowledges a handful of words that she chose to translate in unorthodox ways. For example the word sira (سيرة) is here translated as "epic":

In Arabic, the epic is titled Sirat al-amira Dhat al-Himma, meaning Epic of the Commander Dhat al-Himma.

but the word can also refer to any story or chronicle. (Personally I prefer "story," which I think helps to convey the genre's origin in oral tradition, but that's just me.) The word amira (أميرة), while technically the feminine form of the word amir (أمير), which can indeed mean commander, is more typically translated as "princess" or "lady"; Dr. Magidow is not incorrect in translating the word as "commander," technically speaking, which she does acknowledge:

The term amira can be translated as "Princess," "Warrior Woman," or "Commander," among other possibilities. It is a noun of feminine gender and signifies a title of respect and a position of authority.

In regards to the rum (روم):

For the Byzantines, the translator has opted to retain the Arabic term, the Rum, to convey the fundamental sense in which these are simply people (whether soldiers or civilians) from the other side of the border.

The Arabic word is from the Ancient Greek Ῥωμαῖος (Romans), an endonym of the Byzantines themselves. Dr. Magidow footnotes, "The term denotes the Romans, referring to the Greek Orthodox Christians of the Byzantine Empire." I don't personally feel as though this is sufficient explanation, but I suppose this is an introductory work and not an academic text. It's fine. I'm fine.

Another section of Dr. Magidow's introduction that I didn't particularly appreciate was her comparison of Dhat al-Himma's story to other folkloric tales... such as superhero comic books?

This sira resembles many other heroic tales in world literature. Like in Marvel comics, many of its characters display superhuman abilities that they use to save and to destroy. Like the Chinese heroine Mulan, Princess Fatima proves herself a warrior as a young woman, in a culture in which men dominate the martial arts. Of all the Arabic epics that have come down to us, this one most closely resembles the British tale of Arthur, particularly in the constellation of male and female heroes that surround Princess Fatima, similar to Arthur’s round table of knights (although his knights were all men). We also find similarities to the Robin Hood legend, in that it includes several famous characters: Robin Hood, Little John, King Richard the Lionheart, and Maid Marian for example.

I suppose these comparisons would be viable, if you ignored practically all cultural context.

Then there's the issue of, well, translation as a broader concept rather than a specific detail-oriented disagreement. I'll explain. Dr. Magidow correctly notes that hers is "the most extensive rendition of the epic into English to date" while also being "an abridgment and also not a literal translation," intentionally so. This is fine, although I'd love to see a complete translation someday. Dr. Magidow further notes that she chose to "downplay some of the religious phraseology, by removing a few culturally specific references that distract from the plot and characters. My rationale for this choice is simple: this is not a religious or dogmatic text, and I have thus tailored it to a broad audience reading in English in a contemporary, pluralistic context." I found this statement interesting, as Dr. Magidow had only just said that her translation was "not 'neutral,' if indeed any translation could be" (it can't)... surely that applies to an original text as well? Certainly Dr. Magidow's edits are nowhere near as bad as the Rumi situation, but it makes me a bit testy.

I did not add my own stories to the text, but I delivered it in my style, sensitive to the patriarchal and dominant strains in the omniscient narrator that would lose contemporary readers.

This is, of course, a difference of opinion; personally when I'm reading a work in translation I would like to read something as close to the original as possible. By removing the "patriarchal and dominant strains" of the original text, modern readers unable to read the original will likely come away with the opinion that the original text was not marked by such "strains." By omitting all mentions of Islam in Rumi's poetry, the anglophone reader is left with comfortingly neutral language instead of explicitly Islamic writing. No matter what other translators might think, this is not a net positive for Muslims.

(Also Dr. Magidow removed "gratuitous descriptions of violence," which I found rather ridiculous, given the context of the story, as marked by brutality and violent acts as it is. But it's her translation, not mine.)

"I see the translator's job as one of interpretation of the author's art," Dr. Magidow states, "re-creating or representing the source text to make it intelligible in the same way that it would be to the original audience." Cool.