Life is a perpetual conflict between love and war, their supposedly diametric imageries pervading our consciousness. In literature, our depictions of love have adopted the imagery of war to convey the depths of human emotion, and to describe and further lovers’ means and ends. Astonishingly, Iraqi writer and journalist Majed Mujed goes beyond imagery to present love as war, and war as love. “My poems are infused with love,” says Mujed, “even if they sometimes depict the struggles that I and the people of my country have faced.”
Majed Mujed had published six poetry collections in Arabic and received several awards in his native Iraq. Before moving to Ireland in 2015, Mujed worked in Iraq as a journalist and a cultural section chief of Iraqi official newspaper, al-Sabbah, and editor in other local Arabic journals and magazines. He is the recipient of the inaugural “Play It Forward Fellowship Programme,” a pilot programme lasting for eighteen months, offered by The Stinging Fly and Skein Press, and supported by the Arts Council of Ireland. This program aimed at creating pathways for writers to develop, showcase, and publish their work.
Mujed’s The Book of Trivialities, published by Skein Press in 2023 and artfully rendered into English by Kareem James Abu-Zeid, features Mujed’s original Arabic poems alongside their English translation. In my review of the book in Poetry Ireland Review Issue 141, edited by Nidhi Zak/Aria Eipe, I wrote: “The Book of Trivialities is at once an immersion into a war-torn country and discovery (or rediscovery) of a unique voice in Arabic poetry. This beautifully lush book mirrors our own potential and challenges the violence and materialism of the post-20th century.”
In this interview, I spoke with Mujed on the meaning of poetry, the process of translation, love, war, death, and more. This interview was conducted in Arabic, and I translated it into English.
Ibrahim Fawzy (IF): What’s your definition of poetry? And how can poetry change the world?
Majed Mujed (MM): Poetry, in my view, is the wellspring of human emotion, a symphony of words that resonates with the deepest chords of our being. It is the art that captures the essence of our existence, speaking to our divine nature and the enduring principles that govern our lives. Poetry, when imbued with innovative aesthetic and artistic qualities, leaves an indelible mark on our consciousness. It expands our horizons, deepens our understanding of truth, and fosters acceptance of its consequences. This transformative influence prioritizes the humane aspects of our being, steering us away from violence and oppressive behaviours. The impact of poetry extends beyond the realm of words, encompassing the broader spectrum of art, intellectual pursuits, and philosophical endeavours. When we declare that art has the power to change the world, we are essentially acknowledging its potential to transform humanity. By challenging our rigid thought patterns and moral compasses, creative expression can reshape our cultural and artistic perceptions, ultimately promoting values of justice, shared goodness, and generosity.
IF: In The Book of Trivialities, you wrote: “Have you seen death? /No./ Then you haven’t seen life.” Can you share your thoughts on how life and death are intermingled?
MM: I have a peculiar relationship with death, one that was shaped by specific circumstances and has persisted over extended periods. This initial encounter, which I vividly recall, occurred when I was seven years old. My sister, who was two years younger than me, passed away due to complications from polio. I watched as she lay lifeless on a stone bench, her frail yellow body wrapped in a white cloth. I vividly recall her being carried to the cemetery, placed in a narrow grave, and covered with dust. The devastation my family experienced as a result of my sister’s death caused the question of ‘what is death?’ to consume my thoughts, eroding my joy and innocence.
Two years following her passing, the war between Iraq and Iran erupted. The flames of that accursed conflict devoured many of my relatives and neighbors over the course of eight years. Also, by a strange twist of fate, the mortuary was located close to our home. As a result, I would frequently accompany the funerals of war casualties, both acquaintances and strangers, out of curiosity to witness death’s impact on those individuals. I would gaze upon the coffins enveloping their bodies, bearing horrific injuries. Seldom were the bodies intact, and on occasion, all that remained within these coffins was the fallen soldiers’ heads and the remnants of their limbs. With a strange force that struck my soul and heart, I witnessed those I knew transformed into mutilated, violated, and grotesque fragments, stripped of their human beauty and form. I doubt anyone my age could withstand such horrifying scenes without succumbing to insanity. But my emotions were on a different plane. Incidentally, the sole Iraqi television channel at the time aired a daily program titled “Pictures from the Battlefront.” This inhumane broadcast featured a camera panning across the disfigured remains of Iranian casualties, accompanied by a hoarse voice providing gloating commentary over their corpses, some charred and others reduced to scattered human flesh.
IF: That’s horrible! How did death affect your writing?
MM: Well, I am the person whose childhood and youth were filled with all the horror of that gruesome death. Was I afraid? Never! I was just sad, angry, and upset. I kept wondering, what reasons could possibly be worth humans crushing each other like this? But on the other hand, it gave me a fundamental idea, which is to cling to life and appreciate it, to hold on to every moment of it, to understand it, and to contemplate its advantages and beauty. Of course, I don’t want to get more involved in recounting the horrific and catastrophic violence I witnessed after that, whether it was in the first Gulf War in 1991 when Iraq invaded Kuwait and the destruction that followed in every building and heart, or in the United States invasion of Iraq in 2003 and the real destruction it caused to every aspect of the country, leading to the sectarian war that broke out between 2006 and 2008. During that period, there were almost daily massacres, car bombs, explosives, and suicide belts worn by suicide bombers and detonated among crowds of unarmed civilians. I narrowly escaped some of them, but they took many of my relatives, friends, and colleagues. I have mentioned all those horrific details that are difficult to mention here in a novel that I’m almost finished with. This is my indescribable relationship with death. Its impact has remained clear in my poems; I’ve remained trying to confront death with the power of meanings that call for clinging to life, love, and the radiant beauty of human emotions.
IF: In the opening page of your book, we read: “Love is to have hope.” How do you think love and hope are complementary?
MM: From my perspective, love and hope aren’t merely complementary; they’re inextricably linked, each serving as a catalyst for the other’s fulfillment. Love, in its purest form, is a beacon of hope, illuminating the path towards a brighter future. Conversely, hope fosters the belief in the possibility of love, nurturing its growth and deepening its significance. In Eastern spiritual philosophy, love, in all its manifestations, including devotion to God, requires dedication and consistent practice to maintain its depth and continuity. The more one perseveres in cultivating patience and training the mind to resist fleeting desires, the more profound the secrets of love become apparent, and the greater the joy and eternal purpose it brings. This ultimate aim, the attainment of true love, necessitates hope. And hope, in turn, requires love to flourish, endure, and reach its fruition. The strength of hope fuels the realization of love, while the power of love nourishes and manifests hope. Perhaps these two intertwined qualities, love and hope, find their most compelling expression in the realms of poetry and art. Hope inspires creative expression, driving artists to produce works that embody the essence of love. And love, in its purest form, permeates artistic creations, infusing them with depth and resonance, further fuelling hope.
IF: In the concluding line of the book reads, “until the poem grows, and becomes poetry.” This profound line prompts the question: What constitutes poetry? How does it emerge from the poet’s mind and heart?
MM: In my view, poetry isn’t always the result of deliberate planning or conscious effort. While some poems may be meticulously crafted, others seem to take shape organically, with the essence of poetry subtly weaving its way into the writer’s expression. In an essay I wrote, I explored the profound distinctions between the creative processes that underlie poetic expression and those that govern traditional storytelling. In poetry, the relationships between words, their unique juxtapositions, and their inherent poetic nature often supersede the narrative structure of the poem. This interplay of language creates a parallel aesthetic realm, distinct from the narrative content and imbued with its own radiant beauty. Despite the significance of poetic language, there are instances where a poem’s narrative content, its storytelling element, stands alone without the added layer of linguistic artistry. Regarding my own approach to language, I strive to utilize it as a conduit for conveying the poem’s emotions and ideas. I believe that language, when employed with sensitivity and precision, can serve as a powerful tool for unlocking the depths of human experience.
IF: What role does experimentation play in your poetry writing process?
MM: In my poetic endeavors, I often find myself drawn to the radiant glow of poetic expression that emerges from placing words close together. I’m deeply fascinated by the enchanting effect that arises from juxtapositions, giving birth to surprising metaphors. I continuously strive to break free from clichés by attempting to craft new, surprising juxtapositions, and I vehemently avoid overused imagery. I also remain committed to keep myself away from repetition, even metaphors that have actually sprung from my own creative wells. The concept of ‘dead metaphor’ was introduced by the renowned Arab linguist Abdul Qāhir al-Jurjānī, who passed away in 1078. It’s astonishing that I come across poets employing metaphors that al-Jurjānī criticized over a millennium ago. They embed these worn-out metaphors within their poems, believing they are enhancing their work. The true poet is constantly required to amaze readers with what they have never known before; he can’t be like a magician who always pulls a rabbit out of his hat. I relentlessly pursue genuine creative experimentation, and I’m deeply intrigued by a text that is fundamentally distinct from the one I have just finished reading. Surely, every writer strives to formulate a vision of their purpose in life. The true writer is a leftist—not in the sense of ideological affiliation, but rather as an agent of change.
IF: How was the process of translating The Book of Trivialities?
MM: Translating The Book of Trivialities was a journey that unveiled the intricate challenges and rewards of translating poetry. As I delved into the process of conveying the essence of my work into another language, I gained a deeper appreciation for the delicate balance between authenticity and interpretation that lies at the heart of this art. I had witnessed numerous discussions about the inherent difficulties of translating poetry. While I acknowledged these challenges, I often felt that the gravity of these issues was sometimes overstated. As I witnessed the translation process first-hand, I realized the profound impact that even the smallest linguistic choices could have on the overall meaning of the poem. Despite the brevity of the poems and their focus on the inherent poetic nature of the content rather than intricate linguistic techniques, I was struck by the potential for misinterpretation or loss of nuance with even the slightest misstep in translation. To ensure that the translated poems retained the authenticity and depth of the originals, Karim and I engaged in numerous discussions and meticulous revisions over Zoom and Skype. We carefully examined each word and phrase, striving to find English equivalents that captured the essence and intention of the Arabic expressions. An additional factor that influences the translation process is the translator’s artistic sensibility and linguistic proficiency. Different translators bring their own unique perspectives and interpretations to the text, shaped by their personal experiences and understanding of the source and target languages.
IF: How did you start writing?
MM: My foray into the world of writing was an unconventional one. Despite the tumultuous cultural and political climate of my youth, my passion for reading and my insatiable curiosity for knowledge never waned. I devoured books on various subjects, immersing myself in the realm of literary criticism and absorbing the wisdom of renowned authors. But the harsh realities of life in my war-torn country, compounded by the decade-long economic siege, presented formidable obstacles to my literary pursuits. Opportunities to publish my work were scarce, and the few manuscripts I managed to compile remained hidden, waiting for a chance to see the light of day. Against all odds, my first poetry collection was published in Baghdad when I was just twenty-six years old. Three years later, I self-published two more collections, printing just a hundred copies each, which I personally distributed among friends, critics, and cultural journalists. Despite this initial success, I found myself facing another hiatus, my literary voice silenced for nearly a decade. It wasn’t until 2011 that my fifth collection emerged, published in Egypt. Four years later, I released my sixth collection, also in Egypt. Once again, the creative flow seemed to ebb, and for nearly a decade, my work remained unpublished. Then, in 2023, a surge of creativity erupted, resulting in three poetry collections: two published in Baghdad and one here in Ireland, presented in both Arabic and English. This latter collection, the subject of our conversation, has already garnered significant acclaim, and its first edition has nearly sold out. To put it simply, my journey as a writer has been a testament to resilience and perseverance. Despite the challenges and setbacks, I have remained committed to my craft, my words serving as a beacon of hope and a reflection of the human experience.
IF: How would you describe your writing routine? Do you wait for inspiration to strike? Or do you sit down and write till something comes out?
MM: Nietzsche once said, “We have art in order not to die of the truth.” Likewise, I believe writing is simply an attempt to come to terms with reality and move forward with life. It is also an exploration of life’s complexities and the challenges of comprehending its intricate purposes. Childhood, war, death, love, and all the reverberations that emanate from these elements and that become entangled in our thoughts manifest themselves at unpredictable times, penetrating our souls and hearts, brushing against their depths and brilliance in the depths of our self-formation, evolution, and experiences. In that moment when this entire chorus of emotions, oscillating between the subconscious and conscious realms, erupts, poetry comes alive. Writing poetry doesn’t always coincide with the surge of inspiration. A catalyst is often needed to unleash the poetic flow, perhaps reading a poem in a book, witnessing a scene, smelling a fragrance, or hearing a musical piece or song. But can the urge to write arise without external stimuli? Yes, it can. This matter is particularly intricate in poetry. In other literary genres, there can be more regularity, but in the case of poetry, the timing and manifestations of writing can’t be regimented. For me, it’s a chaotic process. In the past, writing a poem meant that a single subject would emerge, and so when inspiration struck, the poem would be written in its entirety, encompassing everything required by its theme. Now, I occasionally jot down ideas and fragments on my phone. I never know when another urge will strike me to complete it, arrange the ideas, and give it a unique and unrepetitive form as I desire. When I can’t find the right flow, I leave it and return to it many times until I’m finished. You know, sometimes, when I go back to read the poem after all the effort and revision attempts, I end up deleting it entirely. I might write a poem in a day or a week, or it might take me longer. I sometimes leave a poem unfinished and start writing a new one. Creativity in art in general is a spark of madness, a unique breadth of imagination, and a wealth of cultural knowledge.
Majed Mujed was born in Iraq in 1971 and has lived in Ireland since 2015. One of the founders of the Iraqi House of Poetry, he worked as a journalist and publisher in the Iraqi cultural press for twenty years. He has published five collections of poetry in Arabic and has garnered awards for his work from the Al Mada Cultural Foundation, Iraqi House of Wisdom and Iraqi Intellectuals Conference. In 2021, he was one of the inaugural recipients of a Play It Forward Fellowship from the Arts Council of Ireland.
Ibrahim Fawzy is a literary translator and writer from Egypt. He’s a two-time graduate of the British Center for Literary Translation (BCLT) Summer School. Currently, he is pursuing his MFA at Boston University. He was awarded a mentorship with the National Center for Writing, UK (2022/2023) as a part of their Emerging Literary Translators Program. He was a recipient of Culture Resource’s Wijhat grant. His translations, reviews and interviews have appeared or are forthcoming in ArabLit Quarterly, Words Without Borders, PEN Transmissions, Consequence, Modern Poetry in Translation, Poetry Birmingham Literary Journal, Poetry Ireland Review, The Massachusetts Review, Exchanges, The Markaz Review, Babel, among others. He’s an editor in Rowayat, Asymptote, and Minor Literatures, and podcasts at New Book Network (NBN). Ibrahim won a 2023 PEN Presents award for his Arabic to English translation of Kuwaiti author Khalid Al Nasrallah’s The White Line of Night.
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