An Unnecessary Woman by Rabih Alameddine

After I finished reading this novel, I would have sworn that it was written by a 72-year-old reclusive bookworm of a woman, so believable is the voice of the narrator. Instead, I found that the author is a man in his 50s. My second thought was that Alameddine must have known such a woman intimately, one who was much like me, except more well read and more intelligent and slightly more introverted. That's how I know what an amazing book this is. Whether Alameddine patterned his character Aaliya after an actual person or created her entirely from his own mind, she is authentic and real, and readers who are not aging women, as I am, should just take my word for it.

Aaliya lives alone in an apartment in Beirut, Lebanon, retired from her job as a bookstore manager, spending her days reading books and translating especially beloved ones into Arabic, an activity which gives her some purpose and "makes time flow more gently," even though she never shows the translations to anyone. She is divorced from the husband of her youth, her only friend is long dead, and she is estranged from her mother and half-brothers. She is polite to her apartment house neighbors of years, yet holds herself distant from them. She knows all about their lives from overhearing their morning coffee klatsches, but they know next to nothing about hers. Through the events that Aaliya remembers, the author also tells the story of strife-torn Beirut and the resilience of its people.

Despite expectations, given that Aaliya's life would not appear to be very cheerful, this is often a very funny book, because its narrator's comments are wryly self-deprecating and cleverly ironic. For me, however, the novel's main attraction is the narrator's ever constant comments about books and authors, particularly as our tastes correspond. (See, I've slipped back into thinking this fictional person is real.) Aaliya has given me many books to add to my reading list. I trust her judgment.

This is a must-read for bookworms, old women, and anyone else who cherishes masterful writing. It was a finalist for the National Book Award.

Outstanding quote: "I long ago abandoned myself to a blind lust for the written word."