Do you know "Fahim the tailor"? Of course not. Nobody around him knows this name even though it's his official name on documents. But when you mention "Wad Jeddah", distances and explanatory phrases become succinct. This title, which once was a mark of mockery and bullying, became unique to him.

The cover encapsulates events between the affection of a grandfather despite his stern features and the naming of his grandson, the care of the grandmother and her sacrifices, and a mother who never relinquished her honor, taken from her against her will by a despicable man, sadly, the real father. His features, which resemble hers, never appeared in his dreams. There’s no real desire on his part to search for her, perhaps because he never lacked her tenderness embodied by the grandparents or perhaps he didn’t want to recall the moments of agony and betrayal imposed on her. Or maybe he never cared to search for reasons, as Wad Jeddah is rooted, belonging more to his origins than to his parents.

He constantly looks back to the past, like someone moving forward with their back to the future. Accustomed to walking backward as he moves forward, he remains imprisoned by memories, a captive within a nutshell, waiting for it to crack open either by force or the grind of time - it may liberate or break him, yet he will not take the initiative as he’s trapped inside. It’s not fragile like a chicken egg, or perhaps he’s weaker than a small chick, having worn uncharacteristic clothes for so long that he wished he could shed them, garments that lived with others before eventually landing on him, concealing his true self.

The novel's chapters bear titles and dates - eras and marks etched on the face of the nation, recalling its beauty and pain, and chronicling pages of harshness, confusion, breakdowns, and triumphs. As if the homeland was personified in him, carrying events that shaped his structure and consciousness, turning him at times into a fisherman, a book reader at a gang, a street vendor, a writer, an artist, a sage, or even a killer.

The novel's narrative structure is circular, starting from the end and looping back to the beginning, beginning where it ended, covering events from 2011 to 1952.

The first hint at the author's ideology, which he doesn’t hide throughout the novel, is apparent. Wad Jeddah's emergence from the womb of tragedy in that year was like the nation emerging from its fragile prison to the vastness of life with its highs and lows. However, when he titles a chapter with the death date of a leader, and then reminds readers of all the era’s misdeeds from arrests, torture, usurping funds and lands, he views all these as secondary issues while overemphasizing similar events from other eras, such as the 1977 protester chants.

For him, the power of the state and protesters are adversaries, where one has the right to defend itself even if it involves destroying public property, hinted at by the mention of 2011 at the novel’s beginning and end.

Wad Jeddah, being a product of fluctuating eras, carries contradictions passed down from the grandfather. Despite his keen insight into his surroundings, his weaknesses are manifested in his shelter he built for passersby and the separation of the mill from the house.

Throughout the novel, Wad Jeddah constantly yearns for leadership, even if it's just leading children, thieves, or street vendors. Yet, he soon realizes it's a trivial position. A phrase he once heard from his history teacher, "Those who don't dare, don't cross the river," changed his life trajectory and pushed him out of his confines.

As the sheikh once told him that wicked people don't read, he accepted a part of the loot from the gang in exchange for reading books to them. His ability to inject them with imagination through these books might transform them from villains into trees seeking light.

As usual, he always escapes his dream of returning to the past, whether through writing, drawing, or imagination. He seeks those with whom he shares memories, as if life is only worth living if it remains in the past, or life isn't truly alive unless narrated through dormant tales.

He finds tranquility near the plundered Pharaonic graveyard, which becomes a center for calamities and conspiracies.

Eventually, he decides to overcome his weakness, forsaking politics to roam with his merchandise. By abstaining from love, he finds a new attachment, not realizing how far he's strayed until hearing the victory announcement.

Regarding stages in his life, he says:

"With an ancient skill I acquired from sleeping alone, I extended my soul to fit me, embracing myself like a child swaddled in an old cloth."

He perceived the future through the lens of the past, seeing it as a series of defeats.

He’s always torn between opposing forces. One urges: "Better disappointment than disappearance," urging him to avoid risk and mystery. The other, the voice of his grandmother from afar, tells him that weakness, if indulged, will consume him just as termites consumed Prophet Solomon's staff.

From his grandmother's state, he learns that true love is two people working together for happiness. Yet, he recalls it from a house of memories he sold and years of struggle to live in the city. Without close companions, their experiences end up encapsulated in newspapers strewn on streets, topped with his grandfather's headscarf, which flies off the balcony, taking the city's life with it.

He knows pain's age is measured by sighs, that a journey of pain doesn’t count the miles, that forsaking the elegance of silence leads one astray, that the best way to preserve life is to place it in a woman's heart, that he owes every person that came into his life, and when your ID card falls and you can’t pick it up, your time is up. Those from whom we descend never die.

As conflicting powers of authority and wealth clashed, the governor with the seer, and the rod of the overseer, which he acquired as a punishment in school before marrying the overseer's daughter.

Speaking about Sadat's era, he says:

"What he did was unprecedented. He ousted all opponents of the agreement and assembled an unlikely group of communists, leftists, Islamists, and atheists. He made new enemies and labeled them as agitators."

Discussing drastic changes, from the price of gold at 12 pounds, the dollar jumping to 81 piasters, to the prices of land per square meter, the author's ideology can be summarized in two phrases: "The leader is dead" and "Sadat was killed."

Elegant phrases:

"I traveled to a distant island where the noise is fed by passion's bread."

"Silence is the veil, mask, or spirit of words."

"She embraced me so deeply that every part of her marked me, turning my body into a canvas, entirely her."

"We were trapped between two parentheses."

In Mostafa El-Balki's writings, the significance of names is evident: Fahim, Wadida, Mosleh, Ragiya, Shwaf, even the tailor stitching the torn fabric.

The word "vocabulary" in its various forms was repeated over 16 times.

"Music" is always written with an 'alf'.

"Wad Jeddah" is a novel of historical, political, and social weight.

A product of its time and environment.

The beauty and elegance of the language add a poetic, imaginative flair, making it literary art.

I've read it four times, and each time, I discover a new facet, as if a new novel altogether.