Littérature et Orient by Henri Thuile (review)

Henri Thuile is an obscure name in French literature, probably because this published poet-cum-essayist straddles both French and Oriental cultures and was an engineer by profession. Born in France in 1885, he spent thirty-two years of his life in Egypt (Cairo, Mex, Alexandria) before returning to his birthplace, where he died in 1960. The present collection is a reprint of thirty of his letters first published in 1921 (Paris: Albert Messein), and is accompanied by contemporary reviews as well as reminiscences of those who knew the author. As such it is a laudable attempt to rescue the self-effacing and unambitious Thuile from oblivion. Written mainly between 1917 and 1918, the letters are addressed to Stéphanos Pargas, the pseudonym of Nikos Zelitas, chief editor of Grammata, a literary journal published from Alexandria. Thuile initially titled the collection Lettres à Pargas, later opting for the more resonant Littérature et Orient. The selection is justified by the impression that the letters create: almost every one is a patchwork of citations interwoven delicately with Thuile’s comments. Thuile’s choice of authors is eclectic, as the first three letters demonstrate: he invokes French poets such as Francis Vielé-Griffin, Henri Barbusse, and Francis Jammes, the English poet Rupert Brooke, the Polish poet-dramatist Stanisłas Wyspiański, and Roman philosophers Lucretius and Cicero. The first reference to Oriental literature occurs in the fourth letter, which mentions Makôta radja-râdja [The crown of the kings] written by the Malaccan Muslim poet Bukhari al-Jauhari at the beginning of the seventeenth century. Thuile’s reading of translations of Oriental literature is as diverse as his taste in European literature. In subsequent letters he quotes liberally from al-Jauhari, the Koran, and the Hindu spiritual text Bhagavata Purana, and refers to medieval Islamic writers such as Persian poets Hafiz and Firdausi, Arab geographer Al-Masudi, Islamic love stories such as Leila et Médjinoun, and the Bible. Despite their diversity, the authors and books have one thing in common: all find their place in Thuile’s personal library at his home in Mex, a literary salon where he received visitors. Naturally, Thuile’s readings are intensely personal and appear to invite Pargas and other readers to share in and meditate on the pain and/or pleasure he experienced while reading the books. Thuile is haunted by personal bereavement, especially that of his newly wed first wife Marie-Hélène Schiarabati. In addition, we learn of his concern over the transformation of Egypt into a museum and his nostalgia for France. Most letters deal with love, loss, and death. Images of wind, night, clouds, and tombs recur, arousing the senses as well as evoking thoughts of transience, finitude, and sadness. The resulting gloom is offset by complementary images — of the limitless sandy desert, the light-giving sun, the timeless beauty of the interiors of ancient Egyptian mosques, and the muezzin calling the devout to prayer. Emotional as well as contemplative, and written in poetic prose, the letters will appeal to many scholars, particularly those interested in studying convergences between poetry and philosophy, and pluralism in literature.