Paradise No More
Title: Paradise No More
Genre: Collections of short stories
Publication Date: 2015
Publishers: Dar Jude and Dar Jumerah
Originally published in Arabic, Paradise No More was transcreated (as opposed to a literal translation) into English by the author herself. A collection of short days and stories written to be read as a whole,. Reflections on the feelings of alienation from country, life and body. A journal that is different in some of its details but global in its emotional impact and relevance.
This collection extends Fadwa's narrative prowess to a global audience, exploring themes that transcend geographical boundaries while retaining her distinctive voice.
Synopsis: This English collection presents a series of interconnected and standalone stories that delve into the nuances of human relationships, the search for belonging, and the impact of societal forces on individual lives. With a narrative style that is both intimate and expansive, Fadwa explores the complexities of cross-cultural experiences and the enduring power of the human spirit.
Rights & Republishing: Fadwa Al Qasem retains all rights to this English short story collection. Currently out of print, this collection is ripe for republishing, offering an opportunity to reach a broader English-speaking readership. Publishers interested in reprinting this collection are encouraged to make contact.
Excerpt from Paradise No More:
It stole from me the simple pleasure of carelessly sitting cross-legged on the ground. It imposed its changes upon me, without
asking me, without my permission. And now it’ll imprison me inside the walls of its cycle, which has nothing to do with me. It’ll imprison
me for one hundred days and one hundred nights, every single month.
Everything is just so stifling, and this proof of my womanhood keeps on leaking from underneath. This evidence that proves nothing to me except that I’m no longer the same and that I’ll never again be who I used to be. I lift my head to the sky which has flown away and deserted me. I have been sitting inside these trousers since forever; the dreadful pad seems to be getting bigger and bigger. I don’t recognize myself. Is this still me? I don’t think so. I’m not sure if even the me inside remains unchanged; when have I ever sat at the foot of this wall instead of throwing my legs over it?
Genre: Collections of short stories
Publication Date: 2015
Publishers: Dar Jude and Dar Jumerah
Originally published in Arabic, Paradise No More was transcreated (as opposed to a literal translation) into English by the author herself. A collection of short days and stories written to be read as a whole,. Reflections on the feelings of alienation from country, life and body. A journal that is different in some of its details but global in its emotional impact and relevance.
This collection extends Fadwa's narrative prowess to a global audience, exploring themes that transcend geographical boundaries while retaining her distinctive voice.
Synopsis: This English collection presents a series of interconnected and standalone stories that delve into the nuances of human relationships, the search for belonging, and the impact of societal forces on individual lives. With a narrative style that is both intimate and expansive, Fadwa explores the complexities of cross-cultural experiences and the enduring power of the human spirit.
Rights & Republishing: Fadwa Al Qasem retains all rights to this English short story collection. Currently out of print, this collection is ripe for republishing, offering an opportunity to reach a broader English-speaking readership. Publishers interested in reprinting this collection are encouraged to make contact.
Excerpt from Paradise No More:
It stole from me the simple pleasure of carelessly sitting cross-legged on the ground. It imposed its changes upon me, without
asking me, without my permission. And now it’ll imprison me inside the walls of its cycle, which has nothing to do with me. It’ll imprison
me for one hundred days and one hundred nights, every single month.
Everything is just so stifling, and this proof of my womanhood keeps on leaking from underneath. This evidence that proves nothing to me except that I’m no longer the same and that I’ll never again be who I used to be. I lift my head to the sky which has flown away and deserted me. I have been sitting inside these trousers since forever; the dreadful pad seems to be getting bigger and bigger. I don’t recognize myself. Is this still me? I don’t think so. I’m not sure if even the me inside remains unchanged; when have I ever sat at the foot of this wall instead of throwing my legs over it?
