Review: അല്‍-അറേബ്യന്‍ നോവല്‍ ഫാക്ടറി | Al-Arabian Novel Factory

അല്‍-അറേബ്യന്‍ നോവല്‍ ഫാക്ടറി | Al-Arabian Novel Factory by Benyamin
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

ഒരു കാല്പനികമായ മധ്യപൂർവഏഷ്യൻ രാജ്യത്തു നടക്കുന്ന പല പരസ്പര ബന്ധമുള്ള സംഭവങ്ങളെ യഥാർത്ഥ ജീവിതത്തിൽ നടക്കുന്ന വാർത്തകളോട് ഇട മിശ്രണം വരുത്തി ബെന്യാമിൻ എന്ന എഴുത്തുകാരൻ എഴുതിയ ഇരട്ട നോവലുകളിൽ ഒന്നാണ് 'അൽ അറേബ്യൻ നോവൽ ഫാക്ടറി'.

ഒരു അന്തർദേശീയ നോവലിസ്റ്റ് ഇന്റെ അടുത്ത പുസ്തകത്തിന് വേണ്ടിയും വ്യക്തിപരമായ കാരണങ്ങൾക്ക് വേണ്ടിയും സങ്കല്പിതമായ 'സിറ്റി ഓഫ് ജോയ്' എന്ന നഗരത്തിൽ എത്തി പ്പെടുന്ന പ്രതാപ് എന്ന മാധ്യമപ്രവർത്തകനും അയാളുടെ സഹപ്രവർത്തകരും തുടക്കത്തിൽ ആ നഗരിയിൽ എല്ലാം ശാന്തം എന്ന് തെറ്റിദ്ധരിക്കുന്നു

പക്ഷെ പുറം മേനിക്ക് ഉള്ളിൽ അവിടുത്തെ സ്വേച്ഛാധിപതിയായ അധികാരികളും അവരുടെ തലപ്പത്തിരിക്കുന്ന 'ഹിസ് മജസ്റ്റി' എന്ന ഏകാധിപതിയും പുറം ലോകം അറിയാൻ ആഗ്രഹിക്കാത്ത പല കാര്യങ്ങളും ഉണ്ടെന്നു അവിടുത്തെ ജനങ്ങളിൽ നിന്നും അവർ മനസിലാക്കുന്നു. ദിവസങ്ങൾ പിന്നിടും തോറും അവർ ആ ജനതയെ മനസിലാക്കുകയും, ആ രാജ്യത്തിന്റെ ചരിത്രം സിദ്ധിക്കുകകും അത് വഴി ഉണ്ടാകുന്ന കുഴപ്പങ്ങളുടെ ചതുപ്പിൽ കൂടുതൽ ഉണ്ട് പോകുന്നതും ആണ് നോവലിന്റെ പ്രമേയം

ഇതിനു ഒരു പ്രധാന ഹേതുവാകുന്നത് സമീറ പ്രവീൺ എന്ന അജ്ഞാതയായ പെൺകുട്ടി എഴുതുന്ന ഒരു പുസ്തകത്തിന്റെ കൈയെഴുത്തു പ്രതിയാണ്. ഇതേ പെൺകുട്ടിയുടെ അനുഭവങ്ങളാണ് 'മുല്ലപ്പൂ നിറമുള്ള പകലുകൾ' എന്ന് പേരായ സിസ്റ്റർ നോവലിൽ ബെന്യാമിൻ എഴുതുന്നത്

‘Al Arabian Novel Factory’, by Malayalam author Benny Daniel urf Benyamin, is a set in a fictional Middle eastern nation, which is settling down in the aftermath of the Arab spring, and forms one part of the twin narratives described in its sister novel ‘Mullapooniramulla Pakalukal’.

The story follows a team of international journalists, who have arrived in the fictional ‘City of Joy’ under the guise of book research, and are trying to talk to natives and others at the ground level to understand the reality of the nation. One that ‘His Majesty’, the authoritarian ruler of the nation, doesn’t want released to the outside world. Our protagonist Pratap, in addition to research, arrived in the city for personal reasons of his own, which he tries to accomplish on the side.

As they dig deeper, their journey becomes mired with the truths that the locals and underground activists reveal, in regards to the cruelties imposed on the people by the regime. The turning point comes, when Pratap gets his hand on a manuscript of a banned book, written by a girl by the name of ‘Sameera Parwin’, who, incidentally, is the protagonist of the sister novel. From this point, the journalists become embroiled in the secretive governmental organizations who have no compulsions of committing human rights violations to hold onto their precious power.

Benyamin might have the best of intentions, when trying to craft a narrative regarding the volatile politics and culture of the middle east, but at times his characters tend to be quite caricatured. He has a tendency to pigeon hole them, and their personalities, based on what nationality they belong to.

The natives are either those bootlickers and enablers who support the regime, and who also seem to hold an archaic worldview. Or they are the brave, intellectual revolutionaries, who have the moral superiority while fighting against a Goliath.

The same can be said for the members of his team. Edwin, the adventurous Brit, is a gung ho, white man savior, who knows what to do, at any challenging circumstance. Riyaz, is the good Samaritan bystander, who is noble in behavior and deeds. While Vinod, the Indian, and much like other Indian migrants who have settled in the city of joy, has an increasingly self-centered, bigoted and cowardly world view, and is also the first one who runs away when the going gets tough. Throughout the story, we are shown how the cardboard villain that is the Racist Vinod, insults Riyaz behind his back, calling his derogatory names such as Mr. Taliban.

This same trait is extended to Pratap’s other countrymen and acquaintances, whom he meets during the duration of his stay. All of them are either bigots, hypocrites, adulterers, duplicitous snakes and as a community have chosen to be indifferent and blind to the suffering of the natives. They have, metaphorically and sometimes literally build walls to separate them from the cruelties which happen outside. Out of sight, out of mind seem to be the principle by which they function. Praising the benevolence of ‘his majesty’, who by all definitions is a dictator, and blaming the natives of being terrorist, antinational elements who disturb the daily peace.

Pratap himself, while he might’ve once been Indian, takes great pain to remind the audience as to how he is better, owing to his ‘Canadian passport’ and the immunity to prosecution which it grants, as opposed to, say, a common Pakistani or Indian one. He seems to take great pleasure in trying to emulate the west and denigrate the east. All this, and we have yet to enter the story proper.


Perhaps because he has lived and reported the lives of those who live in the Middle east, Benyamin seems to possess a quite Rose tinted view of the Middle east and its culture. He seems to consider it much superior, rather authentic to that of the west and even his own. It was the discovery of oil, and the unearned oil money which it brought, that caused rapid changes in these nations, and caused them to lose their authentic culture, their souls, so to speak, he expounds.

The people who live under such dictatorial regimes, know the true hardship of life, and against death and prosecution, still chose to challenge the existing systems for a chance at a better future.

As I mentioned, this narrative is strongly anti establishment, and takes liberal inspirations from the events surrounding the Arab spring. It gives a variety of perspectives about the people who live at ground zero of such totalitarian systems and the revolutions that they spark. The innocents, the wrongly accused, the revolutionaries, the anti national elements, the cronies, the brownnosers, and those that get caught in the meat grinder and end up less than whole.

In many ways, the story is a sort of travelogue documentary about the lives of various people, common or otherwise, and how the political turmoil of their surroundings have shaped their perspective. While this narrative has promise, the characters are much lacking.

They are, as previously discussed, merely caricatures which are more of a stand-ins for their respective nationalities. And in this regard, Benyamin has done greater injustice to characters of one gender than the other.

The women of the story suffer from the same ailment that women suffered in hard science fiction stories. Often relegated to be the object/ trophy, to tempt and side rail the protagonist, and nothing more than a mile marker. Even Sameera, the writer whose manuscript sparks much of the conflict of the story, is more anecdotal, either by purpose of the story, or narrative laziness.

Other female characters such as Jasmine, Pratap’s wife Shanti, his old friend Daisy, are all there to either make the protagonist seem like a ladies man, or to be obstacles in his journey. Even Jasmine, the onus of his trip to the City of Joy, is discarded faster than a used tissue after a one night stand.

What I’m trying to say is that the female characters have no agency. But then again, to be fair, neither do most of the characters.


Where the book shines, is when we are inside the mind of the POV character പ്രതാപ്, as he interacts with the people on the ground, and learns of their suffering, opinions and ideologies in regards to the sociopolitical situation which they find themselves in.

By design, much of these are in the form of anecdotes as the reporters interact with their interviewees as they recollect the events from their perspective. This is the story's strength and at the same time shortcoming. Because we rarely get an account that is not narrated to us, rather told to us third hand.

Very rarely are we shown the effects of the totalitarian regime and what it does to the people. In those rare instances, for e.g. When our group meets a young survivor of the draconian interrogation and intelligence agency, that is when the story really makes us sit up and focus.

The young bright girl whose only 'crime' was to compose some poetry critical of 'his majesty' and the regime resulted in her being incarcerated, sexually molested and given inhumane treatments which made her mental faculties to stunt. She would never write another word.

Other accounts, such as how the regime 'manufactures' their own martyrs by refusing treatment to the injured, or the intelligence agencies who coerce and torture confessions out of innocents, or his majesty's sexual perversions which know no age or gender are all harrowing tales to digest.

Yet even more terrifying, is to consider that, while these accounts are fictional, events which inspired them and worse have and are being perpetuated in similar regimes.

In not shying away from the cruelty and humanitarian offenses, even if fictionalized, the novel goes a great effort. And it takes time to build the various stories and anecdotes piecemeal to reveal the truth of the ‘city of joy’ which is hidden beneath the surface.

I was however dissatisfied with the third act, where it’s as if the writer ran out of things to say, and in a lazy ‘tell not show’ manner, chose to wrap up the narrative leaving us with a lot of unanswered questions.

Some of these can likely be answered after reading the sister narrative of the second book, but it felt almost as if the writer gave up and just wanted to end the story; which was a bummer.

I will add more details, after completing the second book, and I’ll give it a cautious 3 out of 5


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