The Review of Cities of Salt in Ghosh's Petrofiction: The Oil Encounter and the Novel

Cities of Salt: Less Wish-Fulfillment, More a Wish for Fulfillment

In his review of Munif's Cities of Salt, “Petrofiction: The Oil Encounter and the Novel”, Ghosh criticizes the ending of the novel as being “founded in pure wish-fulfillment”, criticizing that unlike in the real world, where such revolts as shown in the novel were “ruthlessly and very effectively suppressed” and were “never politically effective”, the novel ends in the Emir's abandonment of the area (148). Throughout his criticism, Ghosh gives the impression that he views the work as one primarily grounded in fact, praising it for where it successfully reveals the workings of the world, and “seeing that the workplace, where democracy is said to begin, is the site where the foundations of contemporary authoritarianism in the oil sheikdoms were laid” (149). However, what Ghosh fails to see is that the novel is not simply a somewhat-fictionalized account of previous historical events. Indeed, it does show the workings of how the oil sheikdoms were formed, but this is not the novel's overall purpose, merely a necessary step in accomplishing what it sets out to do; the novel is nothing less than a call to action to its readers.

Munif's use of narration as opposed to description is our first clue this is the case. Were he simply write a historical account of events, or a criticism of capitalist practices in the middle east, or explain how oil sheikdoms were formed, description would suffice- perhaps even be preferable. However, as Lukács writes in “Narrate or Describe?”, “One describes what one sees, and the spatial “present” confers a temporal “present” on men and objects. But it is an illusory present, not the present of immediate action of the drama” (130). Munif uses narration in lieu of description because of this: his aim is to seize onto that sense of the the sense of the real present that only comes with the forward movement of narration. He wants his readers to be immersed in the actions happening in the work as if they were things happening to the reader at that very moment; and the reader, in being immersed in the work, is hopefully driven to react to the actions and events they see.

The second clue that the book is a call to action is in Munif's nigh-constant criticism of patience and stoicism in the face of adversity. This theme practically opens the novel, as we are shown Wadi al-Uyoun, a place whose people have “always found a way to confront and overcome its misfortunes” (Munif, 3) and finds little urgency when foreigners come to settle, merely thinking that “some way would have to be found to get rid of them or to reach a compromise” (71); such passiveness eventually leads to the downfall of the Wadi. A great deal of the novel revolves around this and similar situations of people dealing with problems passively or on an individual basis, and time after time this leads to further oppression of the people. Midway into the novel, Munif even goes as far as to have a nameless outsider, one of the Emir's men, explicate this, shout that “if a man doesn't take his rights using his own muscles, he'll die and get nothing” (349). It is clear through these and countless other examples that Munif feels that the rise of the oil sheikdoms and subsequent oppression their peoples face stems not solely from outside factors but additionally from the lack of initiative of the peoples oppressed by them.

But the question remains: why does this necessitate an ending where a strike that in reality resembles those that have failed so many times before instead succeeds? After all, Ghosh isn't wrong that these strikes have historically always failed- to inspire a new wave of them would be nothing short or reckless. However Munif's goal here is not to inspire another strike or revolt- if it were, he would be better served to end the novel before the revolt itself, in hopes that the immersed reader would desire to see it completed and work toward it in actuality. At the same time, he cannot end the novel on a more historically-accurate note, as to do so would be to show the only example of people taking action as a failure, which in turn would give the unwanted impression that any action that opposes oppression is ultimately hopeless.

Instead of these alternatives, Munif ends the novel on the heels of a successful strike to encourage action that is beyond a strike- that is to say, collective political and social action. While no strike in reality succeeded as the one in Harran did, the reader will still find themselves in a similar position as the people of Harran: they find themselves in a world that, while they may have some temporary reprieve from oppression (literally for the people of Harran, perhaps only metaphorical for the reader depending on their position), there is the clear possibility that it may return; as Ibn Naffeh says “They may have left, but we don't know whether they'll be back” (Munif, 625). Even in the case of the successful strike, it may have done little more than buy time instead of enacted permanent change. We are left with the clear sense that only a battle has been won, not a war- that there is still more to be done. This is where Munif chooses to end this novel, on the note that “no one can read the future” (627). Munif wants the reader to know that the greatest victory for the people of Harran wasn't driving off the emir, but choosing to act together, and to act at all; and that really, truly throwing off the shackles of oppression can only lie beyond that, in some form of collaborative action that we have yet to see the form of.