A sibling fight and an unfortunate box of mandarins – in just one small scene in his sprawling new work The Other Half of You, Michael Mohammed Ahmad captures a world you rarely see outside newspaper headlines.
Tucked away in the award-winning Sydney novelist’s epic survey of race, romance, class and Arab Muslim culture, it’s a tiny, comic snapshot of a childhood caught between multiple worlds: Arab versus Western, traditional versus modern, tribal and progressive, old and new - a clash of worlds and cultures profoundly shaped by power struggles between fathers and sons.
Like his two previous critically acclaimed works, The Tribe and The Lebs, The Other Half of You is a work of autobiographical fiction loosely shaped by Ahmad’s Western Sydney childhood.
Like his two previous critically acclaimed works, The Tribe and The Lebs, The Other Half of You is a work of autobiographical fiction loosely shaped by Ahmad’s Western Sydney childhood.
The mandarin scene, he says, is based on a fight he and his older brother once had that ended with his brother throwing a box of mandarins in a rage in their loungeroom. The brothers, terrified of their strict father’s reaction, quickly repack the bruised oranges only for him to stomp into the room, find out they’ve been fighting – and then fling the mandarin box against a wall in a rage. Those poor oranges, Ahmad says, laughing. “That really happened.”
The novel is ostensibly a love story - we follow narrator Bani’s romantic encounters with three different women: a Lebanese Muslim Alawite, a Lebanese Christian, and a white Australian atheist.
The real strength of the book, however, lies in these quirkier tangents – there’s a scene with a glued-on bellybutton ring that rivals the mandarin fiasco – forming part of a sharply detailed, impassioned, and often deeply funny examination of race, class, gender and sexual politics.
The real strength of the book, however, lies in these quirkier tangents – there’s a scene with a glued-on bellybutton ring that rivals the mandarin fiasco – forming part of a sharply detailed, impassioned, and often deeply funny examination of race, class, gender and sexual politics.
From marriage rituals and boxing subcultures to the corrosive legacy of the and the horror, it’s quite a ride. Weighty themes abound, but Ahmad, like his observant, self-reflective narrator Bani, prefers looking at the cracks they cause across society.
There you’ll find the real world he grew up in, he says - and this is a world far removed from the images conjured up by many when you mention the phrase ‘Western Sydney Arab male’.
“I meet young Arab Muslim boys, who are 14, 15, who still feel demonised and pigeonholed as terrorism suspects, as drug dealers, violent criminals and sexual predators, when the reality is, when you talk to them, is that they’re these little Lebbo hipsters. The problem, however, is that those kind of stereotypes linger for decades, they don’t just go away.”
Western Sydney is many communities, Ahmad says – made up of multiple voices, identities, histories and stories. From Alawite patriarchs to their hip, university-educated offspring, from traditional Arab housewives to brilliant, feminist Arab female teachers; from traditional macho street gangs to a growing young LGBTQIA community, it’s a richly diverse world.
“I work in Western Sydney schools, and I’m meeting these young Arab Muslim boys who are coming out, and their best friends are like, ‘yeah bro, we’re cool’. But this is not a story we hear.”
Part of his myth-shattering mission was to tackle stereotypes of Arab Muslim masculinity, especially when it comes to fatherhood.
Part of his myth-shattering mission was to tackle stereotypes of Arab Muslim masculinity, especially when it comes to fatherhood. Bani’s father is a stern, old-world patriarch but this facade hides a deep well of love. “There’s a long history of Arab men and Arab fathers being demonised, being portrayed as loving their children less than white men, apart from the long history of Arab men and Arab fathers also being constructed as patriarchal, violent.
“I wanted to tell a story that shows the incredible love Arab fathers have for their children as a way of combating the racist stereotypes about us.
“We have a community that is intersectional, that is complex, that is progressive, that is small ‘l’ liberal who still have to live with this idea of being predators and violent criminals.
“I never sugar coat the challenges and problems in our community, but at the same time, I try to offer a counterbalance, which is seeing the beauty, and more directly, the humanity, of who we are.”
The Other Half of You by Michael Mohammed Ahmad (Hachette) is on sale May 26.
