Moneera Al-Ghadeer Answers: ‘Why Saudi Poetry?’

Tracing the Ether Contemporary Poetry from Saudi Arabia, ed. Moneera Al-Ghadeer, came out late last year from Syracuse University Press. The anthology brings together 26 poets responding to — and writing a new future for — a rapidly changing Saudi Arabia. Moneera answered a few questions about the collection.

Can you tell us a little about the origins of this collection? 

Moneera Al-Ghadeer: The genesis of Tracing the Ether: Contemporary Poetry from Saudi Arabia — the inaugural publication of the UNESCO Chair in Translating Cultures at the King Faisal Center for Research and Islamic Studies — lies at the intersection of pedagogical necessity and a lifelong devotion to the poetic form.

The project was initially sparked by a noticeable void in the classroom. While teaching in the US, I confronted a persistent lack of translated literary texts that adequately represented the contemporary landscape of the Arabian Peninsula. This realization of how fragmented the representation of modern Arabic literature had become remained with me. Upon my return to Riyadh, after more than two decades in the American academy, I turned to translation as an intimate mode of reading—an exercise in connecting two languages while re-engaging with these verses. In doing so, I discovered a variety of innovative techniques and subtle intertextual dialogues that staged an undeniable comparative appeal.

Published by Syracuse University Press, this collection serves as a deliberate intervention. It seeks to subvert the reductive “war-and-conflict” reading lists that have long dominated Western perceptions of the Middle East. Instead, it foregrounds unique poetic experimentations and sophisticated international encounters. By reorienting the study of world literature toward these modern Saudi voices, the anthology actively disrupts Anglocentric discourses. It asserts that universal participation does not arise through cultural hybridity, but rather through the introduction of intricate, local experiences into the global dialogue—challenging readers to encounter a planetary constellation composed from the specificities of the Saudi experience.

Why “Tracing the Ether”? What does that encompass about the poems you have chosen?

MAG: The title Tracing the Ether encapsulates a movement between the physical remnants of history and the ephemeral nature of the digital age, serving as a conceptual bridge where memory actively resists the forces of void and erasure. Importantly, this title is rooted in a linguistic intimacy: in Arabic, the phonetic and conceptual proximity between “trace” (athar) and “ether” (atheer) originates from the shared root athara. This lineage encompasses a rich spectrum of meanings, from the material act of inscribing a vestige to the narrative act of transmission and influence.

The poems in this collection inhabit these liminal spaces, summoning the ancient practice of standing before the aṭlāl—the abandoned campsite in pre-Islamic odes. This enchanting tradition of “tracing” is a fundamental element of Arabic poetics. We see it in pre-Islamic poet, Labīd, who describes the residual signs of a dwelling as recovered script, noting how “the rills and runlets / uncovered marks like the script / of faded scrolls / restored with pens of reed.” Even the human body becomes a site of retrieval; Labīd evokes the memory of a tattoo where, “beneath the indigo powder, / sifted in spirals, / the form begins to reappear.” .[1]

This recovery is not merely a passive observation but an existential command. We cannot forget the echoes of Imru’ al-Qays, who famously demands a halt to lament a love whose home resists eradication:

“Stop, my friends, and we will weep / over the memory of a loved one / (….) / Then Tudith, then al-Miqrat, whose trace / was not effaced / by the two currents weaving over it / from south to north.” [2]

In this anthology, the “ether” represents the digital and the atmospheric—the modern ebbs of connectivity and change—while the “trace” represents the persistent human voice that refuses to be effaced. By Tracing the Ether, these contemporary poets perform a modern ritual of retrieval, finding the enduring script of the human experience within the uncertain, invisible currents of the technological age.

The transformation of the physical landscape by the technological is a recurring theme: mobile phones, Google maps, Skype, Twitter, Facebook, more. There almost feels like more of the virtual landscape than the physical, concrete one. Do you think this is a particular hallmark of Saudi poetry? If so, what do you make of it?

MAG: While the digital presence in Tracing the Ether is pervasive, the poems resist the notion that the virtual has eclipsed the physical landscape. Rather, these poets treat technology as a reflective layer—a new intertextual reading added to the ancient poetic topography of the Arabian Peninsula.

To suggest that the landscape has become purely virtual is to overlook the persistent, diverse thematic concerns regarding the complex human experience; instead, what we see in the poems about technology is a digital configuration, where the digital and the terrestrial exist in a state of constant, productive fascination and resistance.

In contemporary Saudi poetry, this is not a universal hallmark but a specific, sophisticated aesthetic inquiry. It would be a misreading to generalize this technique as the definitive direction of the contemporary poetic scene. Rather, for the poets in this collection, the inclusion of digital artifacts—Google Maps, algorithms, social media interfaces—functions as a way to map a world that has moved from the expansive silence of the desert to the “roaming” connectivity of the global age.

This movement represents a departure from the grand debates of the 20th-century modernity project. These poets are not interested in the “East vs. West” dichotomy; they treat the foreign-born language of technology as an integral part of the domestic interior. They observe the digital not with utopian fervor, but with a meditative skepticism or a “quietist” experimentalism. The machine is not the landscape itself; it is a lens that highlights the fragility of human presence.

The other thing that struck me — simultaneously — was the engagement with pre-Islamic poetry (Ibrahem Zooli’s “Halt, Let Us Weep” of course, and Haidar Al Abdallah’s “Go Dismount,” and others). 

MAG: The relationship with pre-Islamic poetry in Saudi contemporary work is not merely a matter of historical reference; it is a contemplative poetic haunting that continues to shape poetic production. While the previous generation of modernists often staged a fraught ambivalence toward tradition—fluctuating between a desire for rupture and an anxiety of influence—the poets in Tracing the Ether move beyond this conflict. They do not seek to dismantle the Mu’allaqat (the Suspended Odes) so much as they follow the traces, engaging in a dialogue that is at once intimate, experimental, and sometimes ironic.

In Ibrahem Zooli’s work, we see a new experiment with form that favors intensity and terseness over the expansive pre-Islamic long poems or even the modernist poetic texts. His intertextual mirroring functions like a mimesis, collapsing centuries into a single moment of recognition. In his collection “Tree of Poems / Festival of Pain,” he writes:

“How this motherless desert resembles me”

Halt, Let Us Weep![3]

By invoking the iconic opening command of Imru’ al-Qays (Qifa nabki), Zooli does not simply repeat the tradition; he identifies with and rewrites the desert’s ancient sorrow. The “motherless desert” becomes a mirror for the contemporary self, turning the classical lament into a succinct, modern cry of alienation.

Conversely, the millennial poet Haidar Al Abdullah (b. 1990) engages in a more layered, ironic dialogue in “Go Dismounted Like a Man, Horse.” He creates a complex intertextual space where the pre-Islamic “errant king” meets the great Palestinian modernist Mahmoud Darwish. Unlike the modernists who might have viewed these figures with heavy ideological weight, Al Abdullah treats them as travel companions on a poetic journey that is both romantic and elusive:

Caught up in the romance of “the errant one”

We were unable to see a fugitive king.

We shouted:

O Imru’ al-Qays afflicted with the night of his father

How sweet would it be to rest[4]

Al Abdullah complicates this haunting by “saddling up” with Darwish, effectively merging the pre-Islamic past with the modernist struggle. By playing on Darwish’s famous collection Why Did You Leave the Horse Alone?, he suggests that the contemporary poet is never alone; the poet is always “bolted with the stallion,” carrying the burden and influence of their predecessors:

We bolted with the stallion, I and Darwish,

Wiping muck from his features[5]

These poets treat the pre-Islamic corpus not as a rigid monument to be venerated or resisted, but as a map of rich poetics for expressing the modern condition.

Many of the poets included are well-known with many awards to their name, but some are younger and less-established. How and where do you discover new and emerging Saudi poets? Where do they publish?

MAG: The process of curating this anthology was less a sudden discovery and more an act of long-term cultivation—a deep immersion into a landscape that is both ancient in its roots and modern in its reach. Discovering the voices in Tracing the Ether required navigating a dual topography: the institutional standing of the Arab literary world and the digital space of the contemporary moment.

Most of the poets in this collection, including Fowziyah Abu Khalid, Mohammad Al-Domaini, Ashjan Hendi, Ibrahim Al-Hosain, and Ahmed Almulla, among others are leading literary figures in the regional cultural scene, their work distinguished by numerous awards and the backing of major publishing houses. Their collections are not confined by borders; they are published in the great literary capitals of the Arab world—Beirut, Cairo, Amman, and Tunis—as well as within Saudi Arabia itself. This pan-Arab distribution ensures that while their themes may be local or personal, their resonance is intentionally global. Furthermore, many continue the vital tradition of publishing in the cultural supplements of Saudi newspapers and literary journals, which remain essential sites for critical reception and intellectual debate.

However, the discovery of the younger, emerging generation required a different kind of “tracing.” Having worked in the field of poetry for decades, I have witnessed a shift in where the poetic pulse beats most strongly. While the physical book remains the ultimate vessel of a poet’s legacy, the primary spark of the “new” at times happens in the digital ether.

In Saudi Arabia, X (formerly Twitter) has evolved into a modern-day literary salon. It is a space where the “roaming names” of most of the poets in the anthology share their verses, engaging in real-time dialogue with critics and with readers. By monitoring these digital currents alongside traditional publications, I was able to identify poets who are not only winning accolades but are actively redefining the boundaries of the Arabic prose poem.

This anthology brings together leading figures with the experimental energy of millennials. This allows the anthology to serve as a bridge, linking the pioneering lineage of the prose poem with the emerging, “traceable” voices of the future.

Further on that, can you talk a little about the role(s) poetry plays in contemporary Saudi Arabia? What ways is it a part of daily life, and for which communities?

MAG: In the Arabian Peninsula, poetry is not merely a literary genre; it is a cultural lineage—the Diwan of the Arabs—that has survived and thrived across millennia. While the novel has made a significant bid for dominance over the last three decades, poetry remains the preeminent mode of expression, woven into the very fabric of daily life and communal identity.

Poetry in contemporary Saudi Arabia exists in a state of vibrant plurality, reaching diverse communities through both traditional and hyper-modern channels. High-stakes televised competitions and shows dedicated to verse command audiences. These platforms, along with designated literary pages in national newspapers, ensure that the poet remains a visible, public figure. The proliferation of major poetry awards—many of which have been won by the poets in Tracing the Ether—serves to validate the poet’s role as a vital contributor to culture. There is a rich coexistence between Nabati poetry (the “popular poetry” in the vernacular) and modern Arabic verse. While Nabati is deeply rooted in the oral tradition of the desert and remains immensely popular across all social strata, the prose poem and modern forms find their home in more experimental, intellectual, and digital circles.

Historically, the Saudi poetic scene was marked by intense ideological skirmishes and a rigid hierarchy between traditional, modernist, and colloquial forms. However, a characteristic of the current moment is the “millennial turn.” The younger generation of poets is drifting away from these old battles. Instead of viewing the relationship between different poetic forms as a struggle for dominance, they engage in a more global cultural exchange. For these poets, the distinction between the “high” classical tradition and the new form is dissolving into a shared space of creative inquiry.

Social media has transformed poetry into a real-time response to the world. Whether it is a snippet of verse on a digital screen or a formal recitation in a cultural club, poetry remains the primary lens through which Saudis interpret cultural transformation.

The anthology opens (alphabetically, I know) with the poet who seems to be the youngest, Haidar Al Abdallah. Do you find generational shifts in style, focus, poetic commitments? Or are other separations more prominent?

MAG: While the alphabetical arrangement is a logistical coincidence, beginning with Haidar Al Abdullah serves as a symbolically resonant overture. His work signals a profound generational transition—a movement defined not by age alone, but by a fundamental reconfiguration of the poet’s aesthetic sensibility.

The primary departure lies in the abandonment of the “anxiety of influence” and the ideological friction that dominated the 20th-century modernity project. Unlike their predecessors, who often viewed the “foreign” through a lens of defensive tension or a moment of fascination , these younger voices engage in an expansive, intertextual familiarity. For them, the global has been seamlessly re-claimed. In Ibrahim Al-Hosain’s (b. 1960) “Whenever Frida Kahlo Blows into Our Clothes,” the speaker suggests a communal longing, noting that:

We turn to Frida

To flee from the shimmering blackness of her eyes

And the hallucinatory whiteness she prepared for us

With her features,

To flee from what burns endlessly in our blood,

Whenever fire rages and sparks fly,

Whenever Frida blows into our clothes.[6]

Whereas the encounter with the digital finds a powerful voice in the work of Muhammad Al-Turki (b. 1983). In his poem, “Recommendations of the Search Engine,” the speaker asserts firm boundaries against the invasive nature of the virtual world, declaring a refusal to be consumed by its ephemeral currents:

I refuse to lose myself to the world,

To dissolve in this coarse air,

To wallow in the thick smoke.[7]

By weaving together American pop culture, French philosophy, and Mexican artistic icons alongside ancient Arab precursors, these poets cultivate a textual interface that transcends parochial boundaries.

Furthermore, this generation treats the virtual landscape as a fundamental layer of existence. This is evidenced by their sophisticated kinship with the nonhuman other—from the “sorrows of inanimate objects” to the predictive logic of search engines. These poets operate on the assumption that the bridge between tradition and the contemporary already exists. They opt for a “quietist” experimentalism that enters a truly planetary tapestry, asserting that contemporary Saudi poetry is a vital participant in a global literary dialogue that can no longer be subsumed within a strictly national lineage.

One section of your introduction asks, “Why Saudi poetry?” Part of the answer seems to be its scarcity in translation, but another part must be your personal affinity, interest, and affection for Saudi poetry. What draws you & keeps drawing you back?

MAG: My enduring fascination with the Saudi poetic landscape is not merely an academic pursuit, but a literary affinity that took root during my earliest encounters with the pre-Islamic odes. To return to the Mu’allaqat is to stand at the source of an ancient, inspiring site; however, my commitment is sustained by the way that source now flows into the experimental currents of the contemporary moment.

As a reader whose sensibilities have been shaped by the innovations of American, French and Latin American poetics, I find myself captivated by the unabashed sophistication of this new Saudi generation. I am drawn to the way these poets have moved beyond the traditional borders of the “national” to engage in a planetary dialogue. They do not merely adopt global forms; they studied them, weaving American pop culture and continental philosophy into the very fabric of Arabic verse with a delightful, subversive writing.

What keeps drawing me back is this restless synthesis, the sight of young poets standing before the digital frontiers with an echo of their predecessors brought from the desert aṭlāl, bygone ruins. Having traversed the intellectual landscapes of world poetics, I felt a calling to translate these texts because they represent a transcultural frontier that has remained far too long in the shadows of the English-speaking world. This vision has been brought to fruition through the profound commitment of a distinguished group of scholars and gifted translators—including Waïl S. Hassan, William Granara, Yaseen Noorani, Christina Civantos, Emily Drumsta, Anna Ziajka Stanton, and Nashwa Nasreldin—whose collective expertise and dedication have been essential to the realization of this project.

Also read: Saudi Poetry Today, Between nomadic past and digital present

[1] Michael Sells, ed. and trans., Desert Tracings: Six Classic Arabian Odes (Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press, 1998), 35.

[2] The Muʿallaqat for Millennials: Pre-Islamic Arabic Golden Odes, (King Abdulaziz Center for World Culture [Ithra], 2020, 45.

[3] Translated by Wail Hassan.

[4] Translated by Yaseen Noorani.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Translated by Wail Hassan.

[7] Ibid.