Rawaa Sonbol on Being a Writer in Syria Today

Rawaa Sonbol is a Syrian author of short fiction, theater, and children’s literature. She has published three short story collections: The Tongue Hunter (2017), which received the Sharjah Award for Arab Creativity, The Green Dragon’s Wife and Other Colorful Stories (2019), and most recently Do, Yek (2023), which was shortlisted for the 2024 Almultaqa Prize.

Four of her stories were included in the recent wide-ranging collection of contemporary Syrian literature, Aftershocks, edited by Alia Malek and published by McSweeney’s. All four stories are from Sonbol’s most recent collection, Do, Yek. She lives in Damascus, where she works as a pharmacist; that’s where she answered these few questions, exchanged over email in late December and early January, just after Bashar al-Assad fled the country and the prisons were opened.

How do you think recent events in Syria might change the atmosphere for Syrian writers?

Rawaa Sonbol: Recent events will definitely affect us. Despite the joy that’s difficult to describe — which came on thanks to the disappearance of a nightmare that is half a century old — I personally live in a state of great confusion, as do some of my writer friends who I’ve spoken to about this topic, both inside and outside Syria, although I think the issue is more complicated for us inside.

I ‘ll speak just about my personal experience, since I’ve known only writing in the dark, under a low ceiling, while now I find myself confused by this dazzling light, and this vast sky.

My memory is like a mass grave; will I remain stuck in it? Or will I be able to climb out of it and write about the future? I don’t know!

Like everyone here, I carry a heavy legacy of fear. Since the writer appeared inside me, fear has choked her and tried to tie her hands, although I was constantly evading it. I wrote stories that hinted without stating things outright. Sometimes I resorted to imagination, and at other times to parsimony. I used an elusive metaphorical language that I trusted to suggest more. I always bet on a reader who would collude with me, picking up the hints and completing the stories.

Now, apart from fear, what about my stories? What about my language? I don’t know!

Have you written at all in these early days, or are you thinking of different stories or books to write?

RS: I have only written a few simple posts on Facebook, and a few lines that document my conflicting feelings, which are like an inconsistent mixture of overwhelming joy, disbelief, and anxiety.

Right now, I cann’t think of future stories or books, and I don’t think that I will write anytime soon. I need time to absorb everything that’s happening, and to understand the chaos of feelings and thoughts floundering inside me. I need to recognize myself again, away from restrictions and darkness, not only as a writer, but as a human being, too.

If one of your friends was planning to open a new publishing house or magazine in Syria now, or next year, what do you think they should focus on in publishing? What kind of books do Syrians need now?

RS: I think, first of all, we need to look back bravely and freely for the first time, to count all our losses and the losses of this country during its long nightmare. We need writing that consciously speaks to these losses, counts and analyzes them, monitors their individual and collective effects, and suggests solutions to overcome them and recover from them, because our full awareness of these losses is very necessary if we’re going to overcome them, if we’re going to liberate ourselves from them and move forward.

I also believe that the strict conditions of classical writing will not be able to accommodate the chaos and complexities of our reality. We need free writing even in terms of form, perhaps transcending genres, without restrictions. We may also need texts based on living testimonies and documents.

Who are some of your favorite Syrian authors and literary works that are not in this collection “Aftershocks”?

RS: In my opinion, the collection contains a selection that seems to be carefully selected, very diverse in terms of generations and styles, most of my favorite Syrian writers are in the collection. I think reading it can give a general idea of ​​the concerns of contemporary Syrian literature.

When you reread your stories now, do you see them differently from how you experienced them before? Or the places you’ve described?

RS: In truth, this question pulled me up short. It hadn’t occurred to me to reread the stories after our freedom, and this question prompted me to do so.

Returning to the stories made me recall some of the details of our long, heavy nightmare. I felt as if I was suffocating, and yet another strange feeling was present. I felt that these stories had been written a long time ago. In a place very far away.

As for the places where the events of the stories took place, my feeling toward them when I pass by them today is baffling. I can sum it up in two sentences: “Everything is the same. And nothing is the same.”

The places I wrote about have not changed. The city is still tired and neglected, and it has many disappointing and painful details. But our eyes and hearts—which have finally been infused with hope—are what’s changed. And so the way I see these places today, and my feelings toward them, have also completely changed.

Tr. M Lynx Qualey

You can find a copy of Aftershocks in the McSweeney’s store. Featuring work by Rasha Abbas, Mustafa Taj Aldeen Almosa, Khalil Alrez, Mohammad Al Attar, Fadi Azzam, Jan Dost, Maha Hassan, Ibrahim Samu’il, Rawaa Sonbol, Zakaria Tamer, Dima Wannous, and more.