Writer reflects on mourning, death
Montreal author Rawi Hage’s latest book set in battle-torn streets of Beirut
TORONTO — Death is on Rawi Hage’s mind.
It’s been that way for about four years, says the acclaimed Lebanese-Canadian author, who examines the heavy subject in his latest book, Beirut Hellfire Society. For his fourth novel, the Montreal-based former cab driver centres on a laconic protagonist known as Pavlov, the son of an undertaker with no shortage of business in war-torn Beirut in 1978.
After his father dies, Pavlov learns the true nature of his father’s work, which was to provide secret burials for societal outcasts denied the typical rites and rituals of church and state.
Pavlov follows in his father’s footsteps by joining a mysterious, anti-religious group called the Hellfire Society, and soon after is visited by all range of societal reprobates seeking a dignified end: atheists, prostitutes and drug addicts among them.
Hage says he began writing the tale after a series of deaths came in quick succession among his friends and family, including four uncles, one aunt and his good friend and mentor John Asfour, the Lebanese-Canadian poet and writer who died in 2014.
“Just in a period of two years so many people died,” says the 54year-old Hage, who dedicates the book to the memory of Asfour, who encouraged him to start writing.
“It’s the cycle of life and we have to accept it, but I started contemplating death and rituals and burials.”
Hage returns to bombed-out Beirut for inspiration, more than 10 years after his debut novel, De Niro’s Game delved into the battered lives of two childhood friends who each choose different paths.
But while De Niro’s Game was directly about war, Hage says Beirut Hellfire Society keeps war in the background, describing the book as “more of a family story,” and an exploration of theology, history and philosophy.
“Almost the whole thing happens on one street but it’s also universal. It talks about death, and I think Lebanon is that kind of place that ought to be examined in terms of the relation between the various religiosities, the various sectarian communities that kind of coexist and at times failed to coexist,” says Hage.
Hage spent four years writing the novel, a bit longer than his other books, he notes.
“I’m different, I’m older. I think there’s a bit more maturity in this novel — maybe more the fact that your mourning brings a bit of humility and maturity,” he says.
“Writing against death is a big challenge because the notion of death is such a prevailing thing but also, you don’t want to fall into the cliché of writing about death because it’s such a used subject that is in so many novels.”
So he pushed himself, Hage adds, and he worries he may put off some readers by the elements of fantasy and magic realism sprinkled throughout.
“It’s my most imaginary book. I imagined all these things and in that sense I’m proud of myself that I can create this kind of fantastical world,” he says, suspecting today’s audiences prefer stories more directly inspired by actual events.
He also worries “a certain reader might find the sexual scenes too overt.”
“I think I pushed the envelope a little bit in this book,” he frets.
An especially outrageous character is known as El Marquis, a provocateur who takes his name and profligate sensibilities from the Marquis de Sade. Hage suggests this character is part of a long line of literary figures who transgress sexual norms while challenging oppressive values.
“Maybe all of literature is about the erotic,” he muses, noting both Pavlov and El Marquis regard the body in stark opposition to their religious compatriots.
Hage’s last two books — Cockroach and Carnival — were set in Montreal’s immigrant community, and Montreal is still very much what he considers “home,” he says.
But so, too, is Beirut. And 35 years after leaving the city, he feels its impact more and more: “It seems the more I get older, the more I need them both.”
“I think whoever experiences war … it stays with you. It’s one of these kinds of monumental things that you experience and you always feel as if your life is running in their presence, against the background of that trauma,” he says.
“It’s a luxury, really, to contemplate on what happened to you. You need a bit of time, a little bit of maturity, maybe. When you leave, you’re coming to the West to make it, to change your life, basically, and that requires a lot of work. You can’t have that self-pity, you’re just in survival mode. Selfpity comes later.”
Is that where Hage is now? He chuckles. “No comment.” Beirut Hellfire Society hit bookstores this week.