Woman at Point Zero: Week 1, first post.

So. What can I say about this powerful little book? My experience of Woman at Point Zero has been a sudden shift into a world that was previously invisible to me, a glimpse into a corner of human experience that we as Americans tend to avoid looking into as much as possible. First of all, I wasn't aware that the novel had a non-fictional basis until I read Saadawi's preface, which did an excellent job at giving me the literal background of the story, but nothing prepared me for the darkly poetic imagery which engulfs the reader as Firdaus plunges into her fast-paced, but strikingly detailed life story.
I feel like the translator, Sherif Hetata, deserves recognition here, because he has either preserved the poetic quality of the original language or has created a new piece of art himself. The way the story flows is organic as human memory, recalling some details and leaving some out, skimming over some time periods and lingering on others, conveying the harsh reality of her life with a sort of calm detachment, as if it was being told by someone who is already dead. The exact words have no doubt been altered from what the real Firdaus said, but I feel that this was done with so much skill that it in a way brings her back to life. Phrases and imagery repeat themselves in certain places, taking the reader beyond the "what where and when" story and into the mind and essence of Firdaus. For example, the image of the eyes of her mother, "two rings of intense white around two circles of intense black", repeats with any character who treats Firdaus like a human being, all of which are women with one exception, mens features aren't often described in detail, except the nasty thing on Sheikh Mahmoud's chin.
As the story progresses, I get the sense that Firdaus' life is rushing past with such intensity that she has no time to analyze her experiences. Things happen to her, things are done to her, and things happen around her, she's given no explanation and given no opportunity to question, input, or even react-- it's a story told from the perspective of an object, able to observe but unable to make any choices affecting her place in the world... until the time a man puts a ten pound note into her hand and she realizes that with money, she can do. Only then did she become an active participant in her life story. She had known about money, but she had been taught to ignore it, mirroring the way that in this country we're taught to ignore the fact that Firdaus' world really exists.
I think what's powerful about Realism is that it reminds us that real human lives don't follow the same patterns as stories do. When she met Ibrahim I couldn't help but hope that he would marry her and they would live happily ever after, even though I knew that isn't how it happens. Her moment of euphoria when she realizes she loves him is the brightest happiest paragraph in the book, and I felt angry at her co-worker for breaking her illusion so quickly (90).
Anyway, as to the answer to the prompt question, the difference for Firdaus between being a prostitute and being a lower-level female employee is that as a prostitute she had dignity, didn't fear anything, and felt that she was in control of her life rather than a slave to a company. She sees that women in the working class humiliate themselves for fear of being homeless or having to resort to a prostitute, a fear which she sees as illusory because of the freedom and self-respect she felt when she was a prostitute. After Ibrahim tosses her to the curb like a cigarette butt, she reflects that as a prostitute she was never really emotionally hurt by anyone because she never made herself vulnerable to it, but by falling in love she expected something more than to be treated like shit, which made it hurt more than anything ever had before to be treated like shit by this particular man. With Ibrahim was the only time that the sexual act was described as an act of "giving"-- she never gave anyone anything as a prostitute. This causes her to see marriage, as well as employment, as just another form of slavery.
Do you guys think this is true? This isn't to say that this is true for everyone obviously, but based on her experiences, in her world, the most freedom she has ever known is the freedom of choosing who to sell herself to. As a prostitute she can choose not to go to the "Head of State", whoever that was, and has nothing to lose by refusing it, but as an employee you have to do whatever you're told or else you lose your job, and as a wife you have to do whatever your husband says or else you get beaten (and probably get beaten anyway just for being a woman). I think this is an intriguing example of how values can be relative: for some, marriage is bliss, for her, it is torture. Do you think that Firdaus is an "honorable" woman, or would it have been more honorable for her to stay with her husband? What does honorable mean anyway?
More trigger questions: What else have you noticed about the attitude and tone of the book and how it changes as it goes on? What imagery sticks in your mind the most? Besides the description of the eyes that I mentioned, where else do you see repetition of certain phrases, and what effect does that have? Do you think that vivid imagery comes from the words of the real Firdaus, or was it added by Saadawi?
To end with, a favorite quote:
"Now I had learnt that honour required large sums of money to protect it, but that large sums of money could not be obtained without losing one's honour. An infernal circle whirling round and round, dragging me up and down with it" (99).