Cairo Modern by Naguib Mahfouz

such a party? Should he wait for parties of this type to arise before entering politics or should he take the initiative now? It was doubtless easier to wait and also more judicious, since what use was there in advocating social reform in a country that was preoccupied by its constitution and pact with Great Britain. Perhaps it would be better to wait a little till he stockpiled more knowledge and information, and so on. He had not set his heart on a career appointment but also would not turn one down if it were offered.
    Only Mahgub Abd al-Da’im was panic-stricken. Islam, politics, and social reform were topics that did not interest him. His sole concern was fending off death by starvation and that meant a job that paid a living wage. If he failed to find work, starvation threatened not only him this time but his parents as well. He was less concerned about them than about the awkward position in which they had placed him. What could he do? There actually was no patron who would help him, and no one received a government position without such support. He thought for a long time but did nothing more than write to tell his father that he was aboutto look for work and that he hoped to be able to fulfill his duty toward his family soon. He explained the difficulties he faced. Then the French professor of philosophy nominated Ma’mun Radwan for a fellowship at the Sorbonne and also recommended Ali Taha for an appointment at the university library, where he would find a suitable atmosphere for preparing an MA thesis. On hearing this, Mahgub compared his luck to his comrades’. Soon Ma’mun, child of the most miserable village in al-Gharbiya Province, would move to Paris. Soon Ali would settle comfortably into his chair at the library, preparing his thesis and announcing his engagement to Ihsan. Bravo, bravo! What was he doing? Would the black days of February return? He went to meet Ali Taha at the library a week after his appointment, expecting to find him overjoyed. The young man greeted him with his customary smile, but Mahgub did not detect in his expression the joy he had anticipated. Indeed, he imagined he saw instead an unfamiliar languor. He was totally amazed and so perplexed by this that he suspected the young man was attempting to hide his happiness behind the mask of listlessness. They talked at length, and Ali announced his intention to leave the position.
    He said, “This is a time for me to wait and think while I discover a way to enter public affairs. Perhaps I’ll choose journalism when the moment is right.”
    Mahgub was reminded of his work at
The Star
and of the vast wealth it showered on him. A sarcastic smile spread across his lips. Then Ali Taha continued, “I’m preparing to write a study of the distribution of wealth in Egypt.”
    Crushed by his friend’s expectations, Mahgub asked bluntly if there was any possibility he could find a job at the library. The young man took him to the personnel officer to ask his opinion. The man was very blunt. He tookMahgub’s hand and told him sharply, “Listen, son. Forget your qualifications. Don’t waste money on applying for a job. The question boils down to one thing: Do you have someone who will intercede for you? Are you related to someone in a position of power? Can you become engaged to the daughter of someone in the government? If you say yes, then accept my congratulations in advance. If you say no, then direct your energies elsewhere.”
    He left the library, his eyes clouded by despair and failure’s bitter taste. What he had heard wasn’t news to him. All the same, it infuriated him as if he were hearing it for the first time. Gloomy and despairing, he proceeded to stomp around the Orman Gardens. Oh, if only he had stayed on good terms with the Hamdis family! If only he had not ended that relationship by acting like a barbarian that day at the pyramids! Why couldn’t he ever do anything right? Why couldn’t he grasp his share of happiness and