Reading Themes 

Telling the Sheherazade Story Today
by Greta D. Little

The most familiar representative of literature from the Arab world remains The Arabian Nights, even today. We don’t always think of it as historical literature because so much of it is folkloric fantasy, but the framing story of Sharyar, the sultan who married a new bride every night only to kill her the next morning, and Sheherazade, who forestalled her death by telling stories for one thousand and one nights, is indeed historical fiction set in a distant past. That story continues to fascinate readers, both young and old, inspiring a recent television movie as well as the two novels for young people I will discuss here—Winning Scheherazade (Atheneum, 1991) by Judith Gorog and Shadow Spinner (Atheneum, 1998) by Susan Fletcher.
          Looking at these new versions of that old story reminded me of some basic truths about historical fiction and how we read it. Let me explain what I mean. I really enjoy reading historical novels about the nineteenth century. I feel that I am learning even as I am entertained by the story. But after a couple of books, I begin to wonder. So many of the heroines seem to have values and goals like mine, out of step with their fictional contemporaries and the tenor of their time. After a few of these unbelievable women, I need a dose of reality.
          You can imagine that when I read historical fiction for children set in another culture, those expectations are even stronger. I am convinced that I’ll learn about the past and about another world as well. When I picked up these retellings of Sheherazade’s story, I was looking for sensitive insights into the mysterious, vaguely exotic, often violent world of women we find in popular culture about Islamic Arab customs.
          Both books maintain the story of a sultan who killed his bride each morning after the wedding and the young woman who was able to distract him with her stories. Gorog’s story changes many of the details and focuses on what happens to Sheherezade after her one thousand and one nights of storytelling. Fletcher is more faithful to the main characters, introducing ancillary events and a supporting cast of characters.
          In Gorog’s version, Sheherazade never actually becomes the sultan’s wife. At the end of her last story, she asks only for her freedom. He grants her wish and makes her an independent princess with her own palace, where she teaches the art of storytelling. The bulk of the book is an intricate courtship tale as the prince of a distant country woos her by giving Sheherazade the adventure of living out tales like those she told the sultan. Gorog tells her story with the nesting tale-within-a-tale technique so common in the Arabian Nights. The result is a tale with the fantastic feel of the Nights, but what about the history and culture? How much can we learn from this book?
          The major characters and conflicts are very current. Sheherazade is selfsufficient and independent. She is not interested in marriage because she has a satisfying life with recognition and respect from those around her. The foreign prince decides the way to attract her attention is to disrupt her life and provide her with adventure and a challenge to her supremacy as storyteller. He succeeds in bringing chaos to her life by creating even more adventure than he had anticipated when they fall into the hands of real bandits instead of his friends. His stories are fully worthy of Sheherazade herself, proven by his ability to enchant all the members of her household and even the sultan himself. Sheherazade is intrigued by all the prince’s machinations, but ultimately she is won over by his apology and expressions of shame for mishandling their adventure. This Sheherazade, like my nineteenth-century heroines, possesses the values and goals of women today. She sounds too much like women I know.
          Where Gorog departs dramatically from the basic Sheherazade storyline, Fletcher centers her story on a new character, Marjan, a young girl crippled by her mother to avoid the sultan Sharyar’s notice. Marjan is also a teller of tales. On a visit to the harem, she is overheard by Dunyazade, Sheherazade’s sister, who asks the girl to meet Sheherazade and tell her the story. That night, Sheherazade successfully entertains the king with Marjan’s story and asks that Marjan be brought to the harem to live. Sharyar has vague childhood memories of the story and of a sequel, which he demands to hear. Sheherazade promises to tell him the rest in the coming nights. Fearing the consequences if she cannot fulfill her promise, Sheherazade and her sister mount a search of the bazaar for the ancient storyteller Marjan had heard tell the story. At last they acknowledge that the only solution is to send Marjan to find the man and make plans to send her outside the palace to get the rest of the story.
          The plot of this book focuses on Marjan and her efforts to find this special story for Sheherazade. In the harem, she has to adjust to a new, more luxurious lifestyle, learn whom to trust, and find ways to outsmart the eunuchs guarding the harem as she steals outside to the bazaar, where she is eventually able to track down the storyteller. However, time is short, and she can get only part of the sequel to her story. Sheherazade still does not have the complete story.
          In an intricate plan, Dunyazade and Marjan return to the bazaar to find a way for the storyteller to send the remaining story. When the plan for their re-entry to the harem fails, they join a band of players dressed as boys. Once back inside, Marjan is discovered by the king’s mother, who locks her away. Her friends manage to free her and send her to Abu Muslem, an elusive character who had helped parents hide their daughters from the king before Sheherazade began her storytelling. Abu Muslem is also the storyteller they have been seeking and was once the king’s vizier. Although Marjan is freed, Abu Muslem and the others are taken prisoner. When Marjan discovers that those who helped her escape are being tortured, she returns to the palace determined to appeal to the king and explain exactly what had happened. She relates a story very similar to Sharyar’s own life and persuades him that Sheherazade’s deception was innocent. Once everything is resolved, the king forgives Sheherazade, proclaiming her his queen; Dunyazade marries the king’s brother; and Marjan, Abu Muslem, and their friends depart for the brother’s kingdom to govern there.
          Many of the events in the story come directly from that original anonymous work of historical fiction. What Fletcher adds to the plot is depth and perspective, giving greater attention to Sheherazade’s anxiety and wisdom. However, the themes and issues that emerge reflect twentieth and twenty-first century concerns. Dunyazade is an assertive young woman, eager to do something, not just wait for others to decide their fate.
          Am I finding the insights I was looking for? These women lack the subtlety of women who appear in many of the original stories of the Arabian Nights. They are too self-conscious and forthright. None of their thoughts and actions requires cultural context to make them understandable. I have to remind myself of the lesson I repeatedly learn about historical fiction—the setting may be historical, but the primary characters, especially the heroines, rarely reflect the society of that time. Perhaps it is because we can know so little of what motivated people in the past, or perhaps it is because we need points of emotional contact between readers and characters to make them sympathetic and credible. In any event, the strong female characters who act like us are a fixture in young adult fiction portraying the Arab past.
          Upon reflection, I have to acknowledge that my expectation of informative impressions of that “other past” is probably unreasonable. What the books do offer is a taste, a hint of different ways from a different time, albeit filtered through characters and perspectives we can understand and with which we can identify.

Greta D. Little recently retired from the University of South Carolina after teaching children’s literature and linguistics for twenty-eight years. She is working on a study of illustrations in different editions of The Arabian Nights.

 

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