« older | Main Largehearted Boy Page | newer »
March 11, 2021
Eman Quotah's Playlist for Her Novel "Bride of the Sea"
In the Book Notes series, authors create and discuss a music playlist that relates in some way to their recently published book.
Previous contributors include Jesmyn Ward, Lauren Groff, Bret Easton Ellis, Celeste Ng, T.C. Boyle, Dana Spiotta, Amy Bloom, Aimee Bender, Roxane Gay, and many others.
Eman Quotah's novel Bride of the Sea is an auspicious debut, a book that deftly spans continents and cultures.
The Chicago Review of Books wrote of the book:
"Intertwines the dissolution and reconstruction of a single family with the evolving histories of the United States and Saudi Arabia. Eman Quotah deftly spans decades, miles, and cultures―and ultimately tells more stories within her 312 page debut than some authors tell across their entire careers. . . . In its most shining moments, Bride of the Sea displays the breadth and scope of grand family epics such as Min Jin Lee’s Pachinko, as we see a family move in rhythm with a larger history."
In her words, here is Eman Quotah's Book Notes music playlist for her debut novel Bride of the Sea:
My book is a mashup of cultures and places, from Cleveland, Ohio, to Jidda, Saudi Arabia, and beyond. So, this list is a bit of a mashup, too. It includes songs referenced in the book and songs that might help readers understand the historical and cultural context of the story. I’ll start in a place some people will consider unlikely, but, of course, makes perfect sense to me. As we go along, the playlist relates somewhat chronologically to events in my novel.
“Surat Yusuf” — The Qur’an
Quranic recitation is an art, with specific rules for pronunciation so as to draw out the beauty of God’s words. The best reciters pull from a well of feeling, just like gifted singers, and can put listeners in tears. In fact, the most beloved Arab singer of the 20th century, Umm Kulthum, recited the Qur’an early in her life.
“Surat Yusuf,” or “The Chapter of Joseph,” is my favorite chapter of the Qur’an. Like my book, it tells the story of a child kidnapped by family members. In “Bride of the Sea,” one of the characters slides a cassette tape of the surah into the car’s tape deck during a road trip. I can hear the beginning of the chapter in my head: “Alif, lam, ra.” Elongate those last two vowels as long as you can.
“Band on the Run” — Wings
It’s not mentioned anywhere in my novel, but this song played in my head while I wrote the chapters in which Hanadi remembers how her mother stole her. It’s a song about confinement, escape and disappearing into the night.
“Ya Layla Dana” — Traditional Saudi wedding song
“I Break the Promise” — Abdul Majeed Abdullah
“As Long as I Have the Moon” — Talal Maddah
Saudi weddings are traditionally huge — though mostly gender segregated — affairs, with drums, music, and dancing going late into the night, sometimes till dawn. One of my favorite songs that I heard often at all-female weddings growing up was “Ya Layla Dana,” which The Concise Garland Encyclopedia of World Music translates as “O Night, O Black Pearl.” Saudi superstar oud player Abdul Majeed Abdullah set the folk tune to new lyrics and popularized it as “I Break the Promise.” Another song I loved hearing at weddings was late Saudi musician and composer Talal Maddah’s “As long as I have the moon.”
As long as I have the moon
Why should I care about the stars?
Why should I care about sleeplessness?
Why should I care about worries?
But some very conservative Saudis shun music, except for the human voice and drums. When Muneer’s mother attends a wedding in the holy city of Madinah, there are no string instruments and no popular songs.
“Sweet Child O’ Mine” — Guns N’ Roses
When I wrote the late 1980s section in which Muneer finally finds his daughter, this song was on my mind. “She's got a smile that it seems to me/Reminds me of childhood memories.” And yet, Hanadi, now known as Hannah, is hardly a child anymore, and so, “Where do we go? Where do we go now?”
“She Drives Me Crazy” — Fine Young Cannibals
Hannah visits her father in Jidda in fall 1990, as Operation Desert Shield to end Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait is getting into high gear. She finds herself in the kind of bootleg music shop I frequented as a teen in the 1980s and early 1990s. The cassette tapes came in these soft plastic cases, and sometimes they had bonus tracks on them that couldn’t be found in the U.S. Hannah steals a Fine Young Cannibals tape. I guess I was being cheeky with that detail. In Jidda, Hannah can’t drive — women were banned from driving in Saudi until 2018 — and has to be shuttled around by her father or her friend’s driver. While Hannah is in Jidda, a group of women agitate for their rights by driving through Riyadh, the Saudi capital. That’s a real-life historical detail. They were blacklisted for years.
A book about an Arab American family that spans the turn of the century can’t ignore 9/11’s aftermath. Want to understand how young Muslims felt during George W. Bush and Tony Blair’s War on Terror? Listen to Ahmed’s rap.
“No Woman, No Drive” — Hisham Fageeh
During the Arab Spring of 2011 — more than 20 years after those Riyadh women tried to drive — Saudi single mom Manal al-Sharif called on social media for women to drive in protest, and was herself jailed for driving. Two years later, a group of women successfully coordinated a driving protest in cities across the country. Around the same time, Saudi comedian and performer Fageeh created a parody of Bob Marley’s “No Woman, No Cry.” The music video went viral and caught international attention, as did videos of the women driving.
“Drive My Car (For Women in Saudi Arabia)” — Nano Raies
When the ban on women driving in Saudi Arabia was finally lifted in 2018, Syrian singer Raies and Palestinian Cellist Naseem al-Atrash reimagined the Beatles classic and translated it into Arabic as a tribute to Saudi women.
BONUS TRACK: “Rock El Casbah” — Rachid Taha
The late Algerian singer’s bilingual version of the Clash’s “Rock the Casbah” is a joyful, punk-rock anthem of transnational, cross-cultural rabble rousing. “Sharif don’t like it,” indeed.
Eman Quotah is the author of the novel Bride of the Sea. She grew up in Jidda, Saudi Arabia, and Cleveland Heights, Ohio. Her writing has appeared in The Washington Post, USA Today, The Toast, The Establishment, Book Riot, Literary Hub, Electric Literature and other publications. She lives with her family near Washington, D.C.
If you appreciate the work that goes into Largehearted Boy, please consider making a donation.
