OPENNESS AND
CLOSEDNESS
FOUR CATEGORIES OF
CLOSURIZATION
IN MODERN ARABIC
FICTION
The discussion of the
four categories of ending and closure in modern Arabic literature in terms of
openness and closedness clearly indicates the interrelations between the ending
and the model of the textual reality, and the interrelations between this model
and the extra-literary reality. It seems that when the historical,
and especially the political and the social reality slaps writers across the face and stands
before them in all its might and immediacy, they do not remain indifferent and
write a literature with optimistic, promising, and closed endings; and vice
versa: a text with a model of reality which does not relate to a well defined
piece of history ends with a more open type of ending and becomes a closure in
the reader.
Introduction: What is closurization?
Before embarking on our discussion we
should refer to M. Torgovnick, who points out the vital distinction between the
term “ending” and the term “closure.” The first indicates the boundaries of the
final, defined part of the text (section,
paragraph, scene, chapter, page, sentence, etc.). The second designates
the process whereby the literary text reaches a suitable conclusion, which is
satisfactory and proper, or at least which the author hopes and expects will be
satisfying and proper. In this sense closure includes ending.[1]
The ending of a literary work should receive special attention in the writing
and reading processes alike. From the reader’s point of view the ending of the
literary work is the most salient part which remains carved in the memory, perhaps more than any other textual datum or
part.[2] This is not just because this is the part
closest to the reader (in terms of time and space during reading) but also
because the closure of a literary text is characterized by the natural and
poetical devices of organization and construction. These are in fact the
elements that lend order, importance, and significance to the [2] entire
plot.[3]
Many scholars agree about the difficulty
in finding a clear and accurate reply to the question of where the opening of a
literary text ends and where its ending begins. Moreover, these concepts should
not be discussed in the context of independent textual units detached from the
body of the text, but through general
examination of all relationships with other textual data.[4]
Discussion of closure, then, is interpreted as an attempt to discuss the
literary work in its entirety: the opening, the middle, and the end, the
linguistic and metaphoric elements and style in general, the thematics, the
context, the author, the reader, the genre, etc. It is indeed an attempt to
re-create or re-experience the entire literary work.[5]
The all-embracing and widely extensive [3] character of closure allows us to refer to the concept as closurization.
The use of this term is
meant to illustrate that closure is not limited or determinate, and it cannot
be autonomous by definition. It is a subject for complex interdisciplinary
study and can be treated from many aspects and angles.[6]
This paper makes use of most of the mentioned
approaches, separately or combined, as manifested in a variety of theoretical
studies conducted in recent years on the subject. It seeks to introduce an
integrated model that takes the relevant hypotheses from the above diversity of
approaches, thus allowing a multi-directional
and inclusive perspective. Eventually, all the approaches somehow relate
to the complex relationship of context, author, text, and reader. This
relationship is displayed, as detailed in the following section, by stressing
specific components. The system is examined in modern Arabic fiction from the
1950s. This is also the period when Arabic literature began making marked
changes in all domains, both in content and in form.
[4] The
concept of closurization, the name proposed for the integrated model underlying our discussion of closure in modern
Arabic fiction, consists of three main parallel levels combined into
one:
1. Examination of the ending of the
literary text: its boundaries, its shape, its type, its position, and its functioning
in the intra-textual relationship, for example, between the beginning and the
ending, or between the ending and the central character of the text.
2.
Examination of the ending in context, the effect of extra-textual factors on
the shape and identity of ending in the text; such factors are the historical, social, political, and cultural reality, etc. This
reality directly affects the author, his/her beliefs, his/her identity,
and his/her world-view, and this in turn affects the text written by him/her,
including the ending.
3. Analysis of the closure in a
communicative-literary context. This is an examination
of the reader’s position and role in the determination of an ending to a
given text and in the determination of the general meaning of the closure.
The closurization model introduced here
is in fact a summary of various studies on this subject.[7]
This is the most inclusive, authentic, and reliable model, one that can answer
most possible questions about the closure of a literary text. The dearth of
research on this subject in the field of modern Arabic literature indicates the
selection of the triple model as a methodical basis that promotes a panoramic
and comprehensive picture.
The kinds of closure of literary texts
are commonly divided into two main opposite types: closed and open.[8]
This distinction is not well defined or unequivocal, and therefore has become
subject to debate. The dichotomy is one between two poles, so to speak, of
closure, connected by an entire continuum of types. These can be used in
variations and combinations, which themselves create somewhat problematic
closures.[9]
The closed, classic closure provides well
defined answers and solutions to all the questions and [5] problems
arising in the body of the text. As stated by Morgan, this type leaves no room
for more questions. The text is closed since there is nothing to add to it.[10]
Broad consensus exists among scholars on the definition and significance of the
closed closure. Although both the open and the closed closure may seem to
depend on the position, role, experience, and education of the reader himself/herself, as previously mentioned, an open closure
is defined as the absence of answers and solutions to questions and
conflicts developed in the body of the text.[11]
A closed closure demands primarily a clear demarcation of the ending in a text
and its link to the other parts of the text. A closed closure is then an
approach and a conception of writing. If it is a conclusion, it is convenient
for this conclusive closure to rely on specific literary techniques which
impart to it the role of the text’s spokesman. The relationship between the
closed ending of the texts and these literary techniques is based first on the
principle of consent and completion. When these specific techniques play the
role of direct writing and explicit design of the general significance of the
text, the ending has the role of confirming this approach, supporting the
textual significance, and complementing it by means of a clear and condensed
conclusion. This closed ending then turns into a closed closure, and the entire
text becomes a closed text. Parallel to this, the open closure, which has been
given various names and denominations, is in
fact the inverse of the closed closure. The contrast between “closed”
and “open” allows us to treat these two types as opposites, in both the applied
and the theoretical respect.
Some scholars interpret this division—into
open and closed closure—as a distinction between a classical and a modern text,
namely they perceive the open closure as a sign of modernism in literature.
This distinction appears not to be so accurate. Undoubtedly, the open closure
is one of the most conspicuous marks of
modern literature, including Arabic. However, it is not entirely
accurate to speak of the fixed relation between the closed closure and
classical literature.[12]
[6] The
determination of the kind, position, and significance of the closure of a
literary text is first a function of reading and interpretation. For example,
what is considered a semi-closed closure by a certain reader may be considered
super-closed by another one, and vice versa. Since the position and role of the
reader are a function of the type of closure in a literary text, types of
closures are found which indeed allow more liberty to readers in the process of
reading than other types do. However, in general the reader’s role and position
in determining the type and significance of a closure is central and indisputable.[13]
The different reactions of two readers to the same closure of a certain text
constitutes outright evidence that the nature of this relation primarily
results from a choice, and any choice entails a certain type of judgment and
stance-taking. Thus the closure of a literary work is the chief part of the
text constituting the convergence point between the author and the reader. For
both, this is a source of taking a stand on the extra-literary reality and on
the world in general. The determination of the closure’s position in a literary
text is overshadowed by the conflict over domination waged between the author
and the reader. When the author constructs a closed closure to a work, this
signifies the intention to retain exclusive control of the text and its general
meaning. On the other hand, constructing an open closure indicates a desire to
allow the reader to participate in the creation of the general meaning of the
work and turn him or her from a consumer of the closed closure to an active participant
in the production of a closure.[14]
[7]
1. Open ending and open closure
In this category the
reader’s position is particularly strong, both in the definition
of the ending of the story “Li-mādhā ṭāra al-ʿuṣfūr?”
(Why Did the Bird Fly Away?) by
Jamāl al-Ghīṭānī[15]
and its meaning. The story’s ending is not in its “natural place” in the last
part of the text, which makes it difficult for the reader to deal with the text
in terms of channeled, stable, and known linearity. This difficulty makes the
reader’s task remarkably interesting, slow, hesitant, and enthralling.
The story, which describes a little
child who declares that he wants to kiss everything he sees, is divided into
seven parts, each marked and numbered. In the seventh and last part the child,
Muḥammad, expresses his desire to kiss a bird that has hopped onto the
balcony of his house. But this bird has flown far away and Mīdū, as
the boy is nicknamed, asks why the bird flew
away. This narrative cannot be said to have a chronological sequence, and the
thread connecting its seven parts is the kissing motif, the desire to kiss
everything. This motif is emphasized and recurs throughout the story. The use
of a motif instead of a chronological sequence weakens the realistic identity
of the text and reinforces its conceptual identity, as we shall see. The lack
of a distinct chronological succession allows the reader to treat the story as
a complete whole, and the classical triple division into beginning, middle, and
end seems irrelevant here. The reader feels that it is possible to begin with
any of the seven parts of the story. As any part can function theoretically and
principally as an opening of the story, each can equally function as an ending
to the story, especially those parts in which Mīdū cannot kiss what
he wants. Therefore, it is difficult to determine the exact limits of beginning
and ending.
Mīdū, the central character,
is sometimes able to fulfill his wish to kiss whom/what he wants. Sometimes he
is not, and he has to make do with a kiss from afar in the air. Sometimes he
fails completely, and then he is disappointed and cries. In the seventh part of
the story he wonders at the fact that the bird flies away when all he wants is
to kiss it. The final sentence closing the story is a question, which usually
indicates lack of information. In addition, the question in this text
syncopates mixed feelings of failure, disappointment, wonder, and repressed
anger. While the question directly concerns only one thing, the bird, logically
it concerns any other thing which Mīdū cannot kiss in the story. The
same question can be moved to the end of the
second part, or of the fourth part. Namely, the alienation of the bird, [8] which
is chosen to finish the story, and its flight from Mīdū’s attempt to
kiss it, are not the only factors, in a
general perspective of the text, in Mīdū’s feelings of
failure, disappointment, wonder, and repressed anger. This distinction means
that the ending of the text does not close the plot, and apart from the central
question posed by the text at the end of the story, why did the bird fly away?
additional questions may be asked. These may be, why end the story with the
bird, out of the entire range of people and things that Mīdū wanted
to kiss? Why did the story not continue? Is there selectivity in the choice of
things Mīdū wishes to kiss, or is the choice totally arbitrary? The
last part of the story does not provide answers to these or other questions
arising in the reader’s mind during or after reading. The feeling is that everything is left open and nothing is closed. The
lack of a chronological link seems to contribute to the lack of
closedness and to the lack of conclusion of the narrative with an ending.
The closing sentence of the story and
its title are the same, the question mentioned above. What is the title of a
literary text? What is the logic behind it? What is its significance, what are
its kinds, what is the relationship between it and the body of the text? Is it
part of the opening? Is it a kind of pre-opening or a pre-closure, or is it a
post-closure? These are legitimate questions which should be extensively
examined in other studies. All these questions presuppose that the title is an
integral part of the text. The title of our story, which is the sentence that closes
the text, leads the reader, before entering into the body of the text, into a
state of expectation and alertness since this
title hints at a concealed, vague, and incomplete situation. The question
means a gap, in Iser’s terms. The question-title of the text prepares the
reader for a condition of slow perceptual communication, inviting him or her to
fill the gaps created by this question, which remains open even after the
ending.
This is a title which is far from being
conclusive, summative, leading, and hinting. At the end of the reading process
the reader goes back to the title, but this time seeing it as an enigma or
riddle. If in the first encounter with this question-title the reader naively
believed an answer could be found in the text itself, by the time he or she
reaches the ending it has become clear that this was wrong. This ending has not
contributed to the solution of the riddle but has only made it harder.[16]
The ending, in this sense, goes back to [9] the title,
which is in fact the ending. Therefore the link between the title and the
ending creates a feeling of circularity, which fosters a sense of openness and enigma, as when someone goes round in circles
aimlessly, and always returns empty-handed.
The central character in the story is a
child who seems and sounds naive, and who wants to have whatever his heart
desires. However, from Mīdū’s viewpoint it is only natural that he is
so “naive” and “demanding.” If we stick to
Mīdū’s consciousness, the ending is
considered open and even super-open. Mīdū’s wish to kiss the
bird in the last part of the story is a natural, normal, and self-evident
desire, and it is perceived as a sign of affection and longing for contact,
even if he doesn’t phrase his wish in this way. The bird’s flight is an unexplained and unjustified act, so
Mīdū feels disappointed and hurt. In Mīdū’s place, we too
would have difficulty answering the question
why the bird flew away. As long as we remain attached to Mīdū’s
consciousness the situation remains unchanged. This is an enigmatic ending
which the investigator cannot explain. Even if the main objective of this question is to describe a certain situation
and place it on the public agenda—exactly as it is—for discussion and
debate, even then this aim does not constitute the final point, since it
expresses longing for something which does not exist.
In other words, if we see the question
itself as an aim and not as a means to
achieve a definite answer, the ending of this text might seem to be a
closed ending. However, this closedness is not real. It is nothing but make-believe, since the question in the text, like any
such question, can never function independently as a complete unit as
its existence is contingent on a particular answer. The absence of an answer
may also be considered a reply. In some cases, the question may be a manifestation of longing for something,
which attests to absence and lack; a condition of lack or absence is an open
reality.
Transferring the question posed at the
end of the story from the status of means to the status of goal cannot be
discussed from Mīdū’s point of view but only from the reader’s, since
Mīdū seeks an unambiguous answer and a convincing explanation for a
specific, personal, and well defined subject.
If Mīdū’s desire to kiss is interpreted as a longing for
communication, then communication is bi-directional and even
multi-directional. The question posed by Mīdū at the end of the story
may also be interpreted as a longing for communication. When Mīdū
asks he expects an answer, and an answer can lead to a continuous dialogue.
Therefore this question may also offer an opportunity for the beginning of an
expected and longed-for dialogue. If the ending of the text is some kind of
beginning of another occurrence, [10] the story ends with anti-closure; it is neither closed nor finished.[17] Whether this question is a means or an
aim itself, the ending of the story remains open. Both from an inner
perspective, namely Mīdū’s point of view as a textual given, and from
an external perspective, namely the reader’s point of view, the question at the
end of the story is some kind of open invitation for discussion, which we cannot know will take place at all. Like any
other invitation, this is just a
beginning for an additional occurrence which is about to follow.
2. Closed ending and open closure
This category deals with an undefined,
elusive, and even misleading ending. In textual terms, an in-depth analysis of
this ending shows it is not as it appears to be at first sight. In such a case
the reader has to be active in the definition of the “real” borders of the
ending, in decoding the apparent circularity of this ending, and in
interpreting the ending which seems to be inherently ambiguous.
One of the most salient signs of the
ending in the story “Zaʿbalāwī” by Najīb Maḥfūẓ[18]
is the dimension of dualism, duality, and paradoxicalness, as will be shown
later on. At the end of the text the major character returns to the same
condition he was in at the beginning. This beginning makes the general structure
of the story circular. At the opening to the story, right from the first sentence, the central character (the
narrator) explicitly declares: “Finally
I became convinced that I had to find Sheikh Zaʿbalāwī”
(p. 137). With the final two sentences at the end of the story, he returns to
the same opening sentence: “The truth of the matter was that I had become fully
convinced that I had to find Zaʿbalāwī. ... Yes, I have to find
Zaʿbalāwī” (p. 147). Before proceeding we must ask if a reprise
of the beginning occurs in the ending. Namely, are the opening and the ending
sentences uttered in the same conditions? Do they have the same meaning? Is the
ending indeed circular? If so, what kind of circularity is it? Two possible
answers to these questions arise.
The first answer is discussed in terms
of an ending, not in terms of a closure, and it includes two opposite
possibilities. By the first possibility this is a circular ending, which
returns to the opening of the text, and it may be interpreted [11] as a declaration by the author of his failure to realize
his wish/dream presented
explicitly there. This failure justifies the titles “closed” for the ending and “anti-hero” for the narrator. The “circular-closed”
ending leaves the central problem of the text unsolved. All questions
about the possibility of finding Sheikh Zaʿbalāwī at the end of
this exhausting journey remain open, and
this compels the narrator at the ending to announce the continuation of
the search. In light of this possibility, the opening and the ending may be regarded as being under the same
conditions, having the same significance, and fulfilling the same role.
The opening sentence, in fact, is stated as a
final conclusion after the narrator/major character has experienced the search for Sheikh Zaʿbalāwī;
only after this experience must Zaʿbalāwī
be found. The opening sentence is therefore
part of the ending, and it has been transferred from there to the
beginning to create an artificial and planned
circularity. This is a verbal-textual circularity, indicating a state of
helplessness and a feeling of terminal closedness. This is in fact the condition of the narrator on the disclosed level of
the text, as if he were going round in closed circles searching in vain
for Sheikh Zaʿbalāwī. By this approach
Zaʿbalāwī would not be found
even if the story and the author’s search went on and on. If this circularity
is merely verbal, it is artificial, imaginary, and tactical, namely the
text has no genuine circularity.
This brings us to the second possibility:
if we delete the opening sentence (which has been relocated from the ending)
and begin the story without it, or with
different phrasing, if we ignore the location of this sentence and the
imaginary circularity created by it, we get the feeling of a linear direction
of the ending. In sum, the opening sentence is not the result of the ending or
a conclusion reached by the narrator at the end of the quest, but it exists
before the quest has begun. Namely, the opening sentence fits well in the first
paragraph beginning the story. The narrator becomes convinced of the need to
find Sheikh Zaʿbalāwī after realizing that modern conventional
medicine cannot remedy his serious illness. Only then does he decide to embark
on his quest for Zaʿbalāwī’s medicine, and the story starts with
this fact. According to this possibility the text starts from the beginning and
not from the end, namely before the narrator’s quest and not after it. This is
a linear and horizontal beginning. The
significance of linearity is openness. Theoretically, the linear
direction allows the plot to continue, and continuity also means openness. Therefore, two opposite conditions apply
here simultaneously. There is planned circularity, meant to create the
feeling that everything has closed down and Zaʿbalāwī cannot be
found; on the other hand, the circularity is artificial, and in fact there is
linearity which creates the feeling that everything is open since at the end
the narrator proclaims his need to continue [12] the quest
he has started.[19]
Both these possibilities are discussed
on the textual level. The two interpretations
of the ending, the declaration of failure and the declaration of going
on with the quest, presuppose that the main and declared aim of the text (of
the main character/the narrator) is inherent in the verb “to find” in its
literal sense, namely really to find Zaʿbalāwī. These two
possibilities make the text closed and open simultaneously. The paradox exists
within the text and is not a function of the reader’s free interpretation. The
text seemingly “proclaims” in advance two
possibilities existing in the ending, and the reader has to choose one of them.
The choice requires no intellectual involvement by the reader, only some
limited technical activity.
The second possible answer, on the other
hand, is also discussed in terms of closure, but the reader plays a more active
part in the definition of the ending and in the structure of the closure,
charging it with a significance it may or may not have. Let us begin with the
definition of the limits of the text’s ending. Does the ending center only on
the narrator’s emphatic declaration that Zaʿbalāwī can be found?
Or does it start at an earlier stage of the text? Perhaps the problematic
encounter between the narrator and Sheikh Zaʿbalāwī occurs when
the narrator is asleep, which is the “real” ending of the story. The last two
sentences of the story, in which the narrator declares his wish to go on with
his quest, are simply the conclusion of this “real” ending.[20]
This possibility exists, is convincing, and is justified, considering the
symbolic identity of the story and its Sufi charge.[21]
The question is how [13] this ending can be interpreted and
explained. This is in fact an encounter in which one party sleeps and the other
is awake. The first is in the world of dreams and the other is in everyday
reality. It is interesting to observe that the narrator, who has a material
identity in the text, is in the land of dreams, and Zaʿbalāwī
who is portrayed in the story as having the undefined, paradoxical identity of
a mythical character or of a saint, is in the end chosen to represent reality, or at least to be identified
with it during the encounter. Here apparently is an inversion of roles,
a conspicuous sign of dualism and duality. It allows the author to treat Zaʿbalāwī
as a dream or merely as a conception, and not as a real, tangible entity. The
narrator’s dream is in fact a special kind of encounter between the narrator
and Zaʿbalāwī in which the narrator can find him. The proof is
that when he awakes Zaʿbalāwī has disappeared without trace. In
other words, Zaʿbalāwī cannot be found in reality. The narrator,
who is given the opportunity to move to a spiritual world, the land of dreams,
manages to attain some kind of inner harmony, tranquillity, and peace. Namely,
he manages to find “his” Zaʿbalāwī, which is what he sought.
However, on returning he understands that dreams cannot always be translated in
terms of tangible reality.
This leads us to the central question at
this stage of discussion: what exactly is the narrator’s purpose—and the
purpose of the text in general: is it “finding” Zaʿbalāwī, as he
distinctly states, or is it just the process of looking for him? If the former,
the narrator has failed and is doomed to be considered a typical example of the
anti-hero. But if the intention is to make a fateful and significant decision,
looking for Zaʿbalāwī and always aspiring to look for him, then
we have here a significant example of a hero who decides to cling to life and
to continue looking for answers to his problem despite the physical and mental
difficulties, perhaps even because of them.[22]
This is a decision for life. In this interpretation Zaʿbalāwī is
not a stable and unique target but much more. He is the faith and the hope
which give one the power and the will to go on living despite the pain and
torments one might endure: “This anguish is
part of the medicine!” If the hidden intent of the narrator is to
convince one to make the decision to go on with the search for Zaʿbalāwī,
regardless of the significance of Zaʿbalāwī, be it religious,
political, social, economic, or ideological, then the purpose of the text is
not to find Zaʿbalāwī but to look for him. In this, the narrator
finally attains what he seeks. The ending of
the text becomes closed and it provides answers to [14] questions
posed in the body of the text. All these conclusions stem from the reader’s
interpretation and do not constitute a technical choice between two textual
elements, as was the case with the first answer. This interpretation is the
outcome of complex and intense analytical and cognitive activity on the part of
the reader. If the ending is interpreted as a “pure” textual datum, the closure
is a function of literary communication between the reader and the text. At the end of this process the double and
splintered attitude to the story’s
ending seemingly can be formulated, the narrator has or has not attained
his goal, as synthetic and complex. Namely, if the process of discussing the
ending-closure of the story theoretically allows the coexistence of two
possible opposite answers we can say we have a closed ending and open closure.[23]
3. Open ending and closed closure
In this category the reader gets the
misleading impression that the ending is open and fragmentary, lacking some
essential textual data. The discussion of the
ending of Yūsuf al-Qaʿīd’s novel al-Ḥarb fī
barr Miṣr (War in the Land
of Egypt)[24] will be
conducted on three levels: definition of the ending in objective textual terms
related to the investigation, which is in fact the narrative in the novel; definition of the subjective positions of the
novel’s characters, especially the position of the investigator towards
the entire affair, since he is the closing character of the novel; definition
of the expected position of the actual reader to the affair in the novel.
The investigator,
entrusted with the task of narrating the last chapter of the novel, states in its final
paragraph:
I
tried repeating it to myself: ‘That’s the end of the story.’ I stopped and said
it again. Then I asked myself, ‘But is it really the end of the story?’
I’d
asked a question, and it deserves a satisfactory answer, comprehensive, final
and convincing. Since right now I don’t know the answer, I’ll have to start
looking for it. If I fail, I’ll drive the question from my heart, and let it
wander the length and breadth of the
[15] This
passage contains a clear declaration of an open ending. The narrative has not
ended and the question still hasn’t found an answer. Moreover, the investigator
wonders if an answer will ever be found to this question. The ending seems open
and is going to remain so, as the skeptical approach of the
investigator/narrator bears witness to. From the above passage several
questions emerge regarding the “exact” boundaries of the novel’s ending[25]
and the meaning of the investigator’s/narrator’s statement that the narrative
hasn’t ended yet. Do these last words of the investigator refer to the textual
level of the novel, or more precisely, does he mean that the fabula of the
novel hasn’t ended, that some textual data are lacking? Or does he perhaps mean
that he misses a certain degree of position taking and a conscientious
attitude? Who then has to give an opinion, and who is required by the tragic
ending of the novel to adopt a certain stand? All the characters in the text,
each for his or her own reasons, avoid telling the truth in a clear and
unambiguous manner at the right time and the right place. Even the scrupulous and humane investigator, the embodiment of justice,
who conducts the struggle for truth and justice, acquiesces to orders
from his superiors. This investigator knows well that there is a conspiracy
among various factors, officials, and commanders in the civil and military
administration, against the guard and his son. Does this knowledge cause the
investigator to blame himself at the end of the novel because he could not take
an independent stand, as his conscience urged him all the time? Does he torture
himself because he submitted to his commanders,
betrayed his conscience, justice, and the truth? Namely, is he the addresser and the addressee of these questions?[26]
He asks himself these questions:
The
man called down blessings upon me, blessings that were heartfelt and sincere. I
was pleased that I’d made him happy, though I had no faith whatever in my
ability to keep my promise. He saluted and left, wearing his reassurance like a
coat of paint on a dilapidated house.
As
I sat there, I asked myself if I wasn’t a party to the whole thing, if I couldn’t
be considered the main perpetrator. I should have given my instructions
independent of anyone else, and the case
should have been kept separate from everything that’s happening in our
country now. I came back to the word ‘must’, forgetting that I have no
authority to use it. Even if I’d given my instructions, would they have been
followed? I doubt it—but just to give them would have brought me a bit of
comfort and self respect in the days to come (Arabic p. 158; English p. 182).
[16] This
confession by the investigator/narrator at the end of the novel clearly
testifies to a completed and whole reality. The disaster that befell the guard
and his son, which became a case for police investigation, is a textual reality
whose details trickle out to the reader from
the characters throughout the novel. It is quite obvious who are
involved in this disaster, who are the villains and who the righteous.
Additionally, all the details of the plot are made known to the reader from
various viewpoints. So to which missing things does the investigator refer at the end of the novel? I am sure he does
not mean textual details related to the plot but his own, private
attitude, his inability to make a decision and give orders to punish the guilty
and to do justice. If he were talking about
missing elements in the plot he would not make harsh decisions and hurl painful and serious accusations against himself. Blaming himself would not be possible at all
if all the threads of the case were tied together and closed. In that case the
two passages that end the plot of the novel would constitute unambiguous
evidence of a closed ending.
This feeling of an open ending created
by the first quotation refers to a post-textual
position which has to be taken concerning the disaster that occurs in
the novel. The investigator is quite convincing in what he says, in his
confession and his blaming himself. He also makes efforts to justify the
constraints that caused him to be silent. His justification was the reality of
the emergency during the October war in 1973. His realistic attitude aspired to present the reality as it was in mathematical
terms, without trying to change it or embellish it by any intervention
in the text. The model of the textual reality in the novel suits the extra-literary
reality, a compatibility that evinces the wish of the hidden/syncopated author
to ask hard questions even when dealing with
the difficult reality of an emergency. Therefore, the imaginary openness
of the ending, as portrayed in the first passage quoted above, refers to one
aspect of a model of reality, the investigator himself, and through him the
readers in general. By using this ending the implied author wishes to ask the
reader the same questions that the investigator asks himself. Moreover, on
second thought a stand is apparent at the end of the novel, not just data and textual details referring to the plot. How can
we interpret the investigator’s confession, with all the harsh things in
it, if not by viewing it as a comprehensive stance formulated negatively? The
investigator’s self-blame in his monologue of confession is clearly a stance he
adopts. The lack of an explicitly defined and proclaimed answer at the end of
the novel cannot testify to the total absence of a reply. Instead of declaring
it explicitly, directly, and bluntly, he prefers to formulate this position
using different variations of showing. This showing is manifested in the use [17] of
various tangible pictures, big and small, from the spheres of sight, hearing, movement, speech, etc., as well as from the
sphere of mental states using variations of confession monologues. The
logic behind the employment of these techniques is convincingly to infect the
reader with his sensory attitude and his judgmental stance toward the disaster
in the novel.
Contrary to the
position of Muḥammad
al-Bārdī on the ending of the novel,
according to which we are dealing with an open ending,[27]
I believe that we are dealing with a closed
ending both on the level of objective textual data of the plot and on
the level of the attitude and position of each character on these data. We
should note that all the characters participating in the narration of the novel
express themselves in the first person. The investigator, who finishes the
novel, is convinced, as the reader easily observes, that all details of the
case are complete. The reader is also convinced there is an evident and whole
plot. The choice of the investigator to narrate the last chapter is correct,
logical, and convincing in the literary-poetical respect. The role of the investigator is to examine data after their
creation. Moreover, he is the
authentic and reliable authority who is supposed to provide exact, true,
and complete details of the case. The investigator’s testimony, giving us a
comprehensive, detailed, complete, and accurate picture at the end of the
novel, despite the village headman’s (al-ʿUmda’s) denials, is a binding and unimpeachable document. The
feeling of openness at the end of the novel does not concern the plot
but the trials and expectations of the implied author, who uses the
investigator to allow the reader to participate and to affect his position. The
reader’s taking a position is an extra-textual act, and it is a hoped-for wish.
Moreover, the actual reader, who is an extra-textual authority, is not entirely
free. After all, the implied author has invested efforts through the text to
present the problem as an unequal struggle between the weak and the strong,
between the villains and the righteous. What
is left for the reader is “to choose” the option already chosen for
him/her by the text. Namely, the wished-for future act is the only choice for
the reader. Therefore, the closure of the novel is closely linked to the
textual ending itself.
4. Closed ending and closed closure
In this category the reader is exempt
from most assignments imposed on him/her in the previous texts. Instead of the
complex and difficult task of defining and
interpreting the ending, the reader has to be content with the [18] limited role of identifying the predetermined meaning of
the text, particularly its
ending. Instead of being an active interpreter who undertakes some of the tasks which commonly belong to the writer,
he or she occupies the status of a rather passive consumer.
In the opening of the transparently
allegorical story “al-Numūr fī al-yawm al-ʿāshir” (Tigers
on the Tenth Day) by Zakarīyā Tāmir[28]
we learn of the intention of a tamer to tame a tiger in ten days, and he
promises to succeed in his task by means of the brutal method of starvation and
gradual subjection. This promise, made in the first paragraph of the text
before the tamer begins to implement his method, is unambiguous. This opening
serves as a classical model: presentation of
the place, the characters, the central and proclaimed objective of the
text (taming the tiger), and presentation of the methods for achieving this
objective. Namely, the opening situation indicates absence of gaps that may
catch the reader by surprise or require greater efforts to fill them. In other
words, this is a complete and well closed opening.[29]
I began by discussing the opening in
order to examine its relationship to the ending. At the end of the story, the
tamer’s promise is fully and literally fulfilled, exactly according to the plan
as presented. The tamer’s task is undoubtedly accomplished, and the tiger has
indeed turned by the tenth day into a tamed
citizen. The question in this context concerns the defined boundaries of
the ending. Is the tenth day the boundary of the ending? How should we treat
the words and distinct promise of the tamer at the beginning of the story?
According to the suppositions of Edward Said, does not an opening that promises
a certain ending, which is finally fulfilled, imply the ending?[30]
The ending hidden in the opening creates a feeling that we are dealing with a
successful attempt at prediction. Prophesying means foreseeing what is to come
next. In the terminology of literary scholars it is termed prolepsis. Prolepsis is effected by various
techniques and skills such as [19] association,
hopes, exegesis/interpretation, and previous experience.[31]
The question is whether the opening, which uses these techniques, conceals the ending or declares it explicitly and precisely. The
tamer’s confidence in himself and in his rich experience allows him to
imagine the ending of the story right from the beginning. It is difficult to
perceive the promise given in the opening of the story as a mere hint of what
is about to happen at the end. A hint is
usually based on suppositions or on ungrounded interpretations, and it
may be misleading. In our case, the reader learns that the ending at the
termination of reading has already been explicitly set forth in the opening.
Even in the middle of the story the reader may feel everything is going
according to plan and everything is about to end as was promised in advance.
This statement leads us to the belief that there is an ending scattered all
over the text, including the beginning, based on the following logic: the
opening presents a firm promise concerning a specific ending of the text; in
the course of the text this promise is fulfilled in a gradual and safe way.
This gradation from the first to the
tenth day turns the taming activities into a lengthy and set process. The
reader is taken day by day, chronologically
and in an orderly manner, to the tenth day, which constitutes the “crowning”
of a prolonged act. Namely, the tenth day in itself should not be perceived as
the boundary of the ending, which is commonly considered to provide the answers
to the questions posed in the text. The answers are provided piecemeal and not
all at once on the tenth day. Therefore, the tenth day is deemed to be a
continuation of a slow and gradual closing process. It is one part of the
ending, one link in a chain of continuous ending. The structure of the story’s plot can be clarified by the following diagram
seen through the tamer’s eyes:
Figure
1
[20] This
structure is made up of two main parts: the first part is the opening of the
story, while the second refers to the taming process performed gradually over ten days. The beginning is the presentation of
the problem, in the opening of the text, without indication incrementally
of how the text has reached this problem or how the opening becomes the climax
of the text. In other words, the text does not start from the beginning but
from the middle (as distinct from Aristotle’s classic pyramid) or even from the
beginning of the ending. The entire second part of the plot structure, as can
be seen in the diagram above, is a gradual ending of the text.
From the tiger’s point of view, the
structure of the plot is ascending and not descending:
Figure
2
This diagram is the inverse of the
previous one, in accordance with the difference between the tamer and the
tiger. It shows that the story begins from the beginning and ends in a climax
which demands a solution. However, the solution, as in the two previous texts,
comes very close to the ending which appears as a climax. The solution required
is an inversion of the condition reached by the tiger on the tenth day. The
reader is not required to invest any additional efforts in active involvement
and creative activity in order to reach this solution.
The reader’s role in the first case,
where the ending appears in the opening and is supported by the prolepsis
technique, is to see how the ending is actualized. In the second case the reader
has a feeling of being led to an ending which should be quite the opposite. In
both cases the ending is strongly linked to the opening. If the ending appears
in the opening we may speak of a certain kind of circularity, which creates a
feeling of closedness. Namely, the ending verifies the opening. This closedness
may indicate an extremely difficult extra-textual reality as reflected in the
model of textual reality. The tiger in the story is analogous to various
animals or even worse; being a citizen that does not function mentally, as
turns out to be the case with the tiger [21] as of the
eighth day of taming, is worse than being a donkey that is aware of its
situation, as evinced by the seventh day.
Consideration of citizenship and taming
means a discussion in political terms. The politicization of writing feels at
ease with the general message of the text
being conveyed in a closed, direct, and absolute ending like the ending of this story. The politicization of a
closed ending imposes the closure painfully on the reader, for if the
tiger must be a citizen and go through various humiliating transformations it
is not such a great honor being a citizen. Namely, it is not the tiger who is
humiliated but the citizen, or the reader, any potential and actual reader in
the Arab world. This insult to the reader/citizen is an attempt by the author
to carry the ending of the story out of the text and cause strife between the
citizens and the readers. This ending has become politicized through a conscious
and intentional process.
If we perceive the taming process, which
goes on for ten days, as a long ending scattered all through the text, two
stages can be discerned. The first stage lasts from the first day to the
seventh, while the second stage extends from the eighth day to the tenth. In
the first stage the tiger goes through various
transformations, in the course of which different and humiliating
identities of other animals are imposed on him. In the second stage the tiger
rises to an important rank in the humiliating taming process, namely the status
of citizen. The second stage may therefore be referred to as the end of the
continuous ending, or more precisely as the closure of the ending. The passage
from the first stage to the second constitutes a clear, direct, and blunt
political statement. Closure as a direct political statement is the prototype
of a closed closure.
Conclusion
The discussion of these four categories
clearly indicates the connection of the ending, its type, and its status in a
literary text to the model of the textual reality, and the connection between
this model and the extra-literary reality. The more this model is directly
built on a historical fact or on a known historical conception, the more closed
the ending of the text becomes, and as a result
the more marginal the reader’s status becomes; and vice versa. In these
categories the reader’s role was examined in the definition of the text’s
ending, in the identification of its type, and in an interpretation based on
the dual distinction between open and closed and between ending and closure. In
general we see that the two poles, ending and closedness, seem to be textual
elements, more or less defined, “objective and independent.” While the two
poles, closure and openness, are more identified with the reader’s position and
role, they are mainly a function of the reader’s “subjective” interpretation.
[22] True, this dual division seems authoritative and
categorical to a certain extent. But this seems to be the case when we deal
with literature in terms which aspire to be “scientific.”
The first category, the combination of
an open ending and an open closure, indicates the participation of two
authorities—text and reader—both in defining the text’s ending and in “making”
or “finding” the meaning of this ending, which imparts a feeling of closure to
the entire text. The text builds for itself a model of a specific reality,
which differs from the model of extra-textual
historical reality. The model of textual reality as reflected in al-Ghīṭānī’s
story “Why Did the Bird Fly Away?” is based on various techniques of
defamiliarization and symbolism, which eventually make the text undefined and
elusive, raising questions instead of answering them. This identity of the text
invites the readers to treat it accordingly, using various skills such as basic
knowledge, observation, analysis, experience, and the like.
The second category deals with
circularity, which promotes the feeling of absolute closedness. On a deeper
level of analysis this turns out to be circularity that does not provide
answers to the problems discussed in the body of the text; or rather, the
answer is provided but it is not unambiguous. This fact requires the reader to
open the closedness of this circularity to various interpretations, as shown in the discussion of the story “Zaʿbalāwī”
by Maḥfūẓ. Its model
of reality is mainly made up of general elements of a known historical
phenomenon in
The third category
concerns an opposite condition, namely an ending which seems open and gives the feeling of a broken and
unfinished text. But closer reading shows that the open textual ending is in
fact a closed and unequivocal closure. al-Qaʿīd’s attempt at the end
of his novel War in the Land of Egypt
to create the strong impression that the text has not been completed, thus
inviting the reader to create a closure of his/her own, is deceptive and
misleading. The novel’s model of textual reality is based both on the historical fact and the historical phenomenon. Thus it is
difficult to fit an absolutely open ending to this model.
The fourth category,
the combination of ending and closure based on closedness, is directly grounded in extra-textual
phenomena known in the Arab world. In such terms, the ending of the text
completes the basic elements of the fabula needed by the reader in order to
comprehend the general meaning of the text. Moreover, this complete ending
closes an available and undesirable textual reality and invites the reader to
choose one option, which is the inverse, the desirable and the unattainable
reality. The situation of total [23] closedness of the ending creates a
closed closure which the reader must accept without having to invest any
special effort in interpretation, as reflected in Tāmir’s story “Tigers on
the Tenth Day.”
Generally there is a salient trend in
modern Arabic literature, manifested in most texts discussed in the article, to
use an ending which indicates a strong desire
for change.[32] The attitude underlying this conception is the
realistic approach, which does not comply with reality as presented in the
literary text, whether directly and pronounced or less directly and less
pronounced. The tendency not to comply with the textual reality, which reflects
or represents the extra-textual reality, characterizes literary works whose the
endings have gone through a process of politicization without attaching any
negative meanings, at least not in this context. The extra-literary reality at
the basis of the texts discussed here is an ugly one with numerous political,
economic, and social aspects. It seems that when the historical, and especially
the political and social reality slaps writers across the face and stands
before them in all its might and immediacy, they do not remain indifferent and
write a literature with optimistic, promising, and closed endings based on the approach of a committed literature; and vice
versa: a text with a model of reality which does not relate to a well
defined piece of history ends with a more open type of ending and becomes a
closure in the reader. In addition to the strong position of the closed ending
in modern Arabic literature, which provides well defined answers to historical
reality, there is a clear tendency to reinforce the reader’s status. A strong
status of the reader in the issue discussed in the article means active
participation on two levels: the “technical” level, namely the level of
identification of the ending and determination of its limits inside the text
(this is not always as easy as it seems); and the essential level, namely the
level of ending interpretation (this is more essential than the previous one
since it requires a link to all other textual elements and a relation to the
extra-literary activity).