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A review by sarahalfa
Gold Dust by Ibrahim al-Koni
5.0
ibrahim al-koni writes in such a way that has astonished me. a master of words with such subtle wit and beautiful imagery, who knew a man and his camel can leave you longing to know their story and persevere through their journey across the desert!
perhaps it is that the camel is described in such anthropomorphic ways that leads us to tears when the two are reunited, since 'he's a human being in camel's skin'. bestowing a loyalty beyond human nature and possibly not attained by humans, the piebald camel is truly something else. truly a wonderful symbiotic relationship, with lyrical language and mystically beautiful imagery // tapestries.
some beautiful passages;
‘of all his belongings, nothing remained but the reins. he coiled them around his wrist, determined to preserve them as a memento of his journey… that thin leather strap had been the sole material connecting him to life, the cord that took him from his purgatory, where he hovered in the shadows… in these reins was distilled the moment in which he was given drink from heaven’s stream. in them was also an eon that measured the whole of his life in the desert. the reins marked the moment when he tumbled headlong into an abyss, lighting his soul with a dark flame that would never go out.’
‘starvation can bring even sultans to their knees and force them to grovel like slaves. show some mercy!’
‘goodbye broken chains. goodbye to the cage whose bars were stronger than those of the prisons the last Ottoman governed let behind when they evacuated the oasis.’
'only the desert can clean the soul. it enables you to defy the endless open space, challenge the horizon, and explore the emptiness that leads beyond the horizon, beyond the desert void... it was here, only here, in the labyrinths of never-ending desert plains, that the extremes converge - open expanse, horizon and desolation - to form a firmament that expands outward, towards eternity'
‘the living flow of the desert dawn wrapped a blue turban around the mountain’s lofty peak. it was sunrise, and the mountain held its tongue. rather than disclosing the mysteries it had leaned by heart during the night from the mouth of God, it chose to write them down for posterity. the mountain’s sublimity was the gift of such secrets. is there anything more exposed or more concealed than the desert? there are some things you can feel and never touch.’
perhaps it is that the camel is described in such anthropomorphic ways that leads us to tears when the two are reunited, since 'he's a human being in camel's skin'. bestowing a loyalty beyond human nature and possibly not attained by humans, the piebald camel is truly something else. truly a wonderful symbiotic relationship, with lyrical language and mystically beautiful imagery // tapestries.
some beautiful passages;
‘of all his belongings, nothing remained but the reins. he coiled them around his wrist, determined to preserve them as a memento of his journey… that thin leather strap had been the sole material connecting him to life, the cord that took him from his purgatory, where he hovered in the shadows… in these reins was distilled the moment in which he was given drink from heaven’s stream. in them was also an eon that measured the whole of his life in the desert. the reins marked the moment when he tumbled headlong into an abyss, lighting his soul with a dark flame that would never go out.’
‘starvation can bring even sultans to their knees and force them to grovel like slaves. show some mercy!’
‘goodbye broken chains. goodbye to the cage whose bars were stronger than those of the prisons the last Ottoman governed let behind when they evacuated the oasis.’
'only the desert can clean the soul. it enables you to defy the endless open space, challenge the horizon, and explore the emptiness that leads beyond the horizon, beyond the desert void... it was here, only here, in the labyrinths of never-ending desert plains, that the extremes converge - open expanse, horizon and desolation - to form a firmament that expands outward, towards eternity'
‘the living flow of the desert dawn wrapped a blue turban around the mountain’s lofty peak. it was sunrise, and the mountain held its tongue. rather than disclosing the mysteries it had leaned by heart during the night from the mouth of God, it chose to write them down for posterity. the mountain’s sublimity was the gift of such secrets. is there anything more exposed or more concealed than the desert? there are some things you can feel and never touch.’