Azher Jirjees: Writing the Country That Lives In Him

In conversation with Ali Layth Azeez

Last month, International Prize for Arabic Fiction judges announced that Iraqi writer Azher Jirjees had been shortlisted for the 2025 prize for his The Valley of the Butterflies, a novel set in Baghdad between 1999 and 2024 that tells the story of Aziz Awad, a government archivist who loses his job and struggles to keep his small family alive. Here, Jirjees talks about the power of satire, writing in exile, the Iraqi literary scene, and about how he and other Iraqi writers wanted to make “our voices heard, mine and those of my generation, who had lived through the ordeal from beginning to end.”

You began your writing career as a journalist in 2003. Can you tell us how that happened? And what was it like working as a journalist in Iraq between 2003 and 2005?

Azher Jirjees: Actually, it wasn’t news journalism but rather opinion writing. Before that, I had written numerous articles on political and social criticism, often adopting a narrative style, but I had no avenue for publication. Then came the moment of change, the fall of the regime. I sent some of my articles to a well-known website based outside Iraq, a platform that played a significant role in shaping the Iraqi political and cultural landscape. They published my work and then suddenly, my words were in print. Soon after, I was contacted by Al-Aalam, a Baghdad-based newspaper, and I was offered a daily satirical column. From there, I moved between various newspapers, all voluntarily. It was never just about writing; it was about making our voices heard, mine and those of my generation, who had lived through the ordeal from beginning to end.

Your first book, a satirical work, was published in 2005. How did that come about? And what drew you to the satirical style?

AJ: As my collection of articles and stories grew, I realized I didn’t want them to disappear into the labyrinth of the internet, especially since Iraqi newspapers didn’t maintain archives for long. I discussed the idea with a friend who owned a small printing press in Bab Al-Mu’azzam (a neighborhood in central Baghdad). He liked it and took on the project. We printed a hundred copies, bound in the simplest way possible, only to be surprised by the demand. We printed another four hundred, all of which sold out. But what followed was unexpected. That book led to my exile and cost me my homeland. It taught me that satire is no trivial thing; it is a powerful mode of writing, capable of exposing and deconstructing societal and political ills. More than that, satire is a form of protest and one that resonates faster and deeper than most, given its readability and accessibility to the audience.

Given your satirical approach and your engagement with sensitive topics, did you encounter censorship, whether in Iraq or within the broader Arab publishing world? Did you ever have to compromise your writing?

AJ: No, I have never faced censorship, nor have I had to make concessions. However, my first book on terrorism, Infernal Hell, did provoke an assassination attempt because of its biting critique. After that, I continued writing from exile, where I also published my works.

After relocating to Norway, there was a decade-long gap before your next book, a collection of short stories. How did your style evolve during that time? And what were you reading?

AJ: My style remained unchanged, as anyone who follows my work would recognize. I kept writing and publishing stories online and on social media, always retaining my signature satirical tone. However, moving to Norway and learning a new language expanded my literary horizons. I delved into Norwegian and Scandinavian literature and was particularly drawn to the satire of Knut Hamsun and Karl Ove Knausgård. Discovering the works of Jostein Gaarder was like uncovering a hidden treasure, made accessible only through my journey with the Norwegian language.

Many Iraqi writers in exile explore themes of displacement, memory, and nostalgia. How has living in Norway influenced your literary vision? Do you think your writing would have been different had you stayed in Iraq?

AJ: Where we live may shape us, but what truly defines us is the place that lives within us. Many exiled writers struggle with identity, making it a central theme in their work, some even turning it into their entire literary project. But for me, location is secondary. I am still there, in Iraq, in the alley where I first kicked a ball with my childhood friends. My writing remains the same because, while I may not physically reside in Iraq, Iraq resides in me.

Your works deeply engage with modern Iraqi history, but do you also see yourself in dialogue with classical Arabic literature? Are there specific texts, genres, or authors that have influenced your writing?

AJ: I have always been categorized as an Arab writer because the themes I tackle extend beyond Iraq and resonate across the Arab world. Oppression, injustice, hunger, and displacement are universal afflictions in our region, and their victims are often indistinguishable in their suffering. Arabic literature has long engaged with these themes. My early readings of Naguib Mahfouz, Ihsan Abdel Kuddous, and Hanna Mina left a lasting imprint on me, shaping my deep concern for marginalized communities and the dispossessed in our societies.

Your debut novel, Sleeping in the Cherry Field, was longlisted for the International Prize for Arabic Fiction. How did that recognition impact your relationship with publishers, critics, and readers?

AJ: Before the nomination, I had already published two books that gained traction and went through multiple editions. However, the prize nomination provided a significant morale boost and brought considerable attention to my work. It increased my readership across the Arab world and deepened critical engagement with my writing.

Your works have been praised for their unique narrative style and rich language. Do you feel that your approach to storytelling and character development evolves with each book? Have any literary influences shaped your more recent works?

AJ: Writing is an ever-demanding pursuit. With each new project, I set out to surpass my previous work, mapping out a path toward a more complete and refined text. It is a grueling task, but one I have committed to: it’s endless striving, nothing less. I have been deeply influenced by world literature, particularly the satire of Gabriel García Márquez, Milan Kundera, and Knut Hamsun. I also owe a great debt to Ihsan Abdel Kouddous, whose novels introduced me to the pleasure of reading fiction in my youth.

How do you perceive the current literary scene in Iraq and among Iraqi writers in exile? Do you see an emerging literary movement, and where do you place your own work within this landscape?

AJ: The Iraqi literary scene is evolving, and Iraqi fiction is gaining more critical and international recognition, particularly through translation into major world languages, a sign of its vitality. I don’t believe in the so-called divide between “writers at home” and “writers in exile.” To me, an Iraqi writer remains an Iraqi writer as long as they carry the same burden and concerns. These distinctions are artificial, often promoted by those with personal grievances. We have an active literary movement, and its voice is heard despite the cultural institutions’ failure to rehabilitate the literary landscape. As for my place within this scene, it depends entirely on how my works resonate with readers.

Ali Layth Azeez is an Iraqi scholar, translator, and content creator. He obtained a master’s in English Literature from the University of Baghdad. He has translated a collection of Gothic short stories and Julia by Sandra Newman (publication pending) into Arabic. He currently works as an instructor at the American University in Baghdad.