The constantly attacked Yacoubian Building by Alaa Al Aswany provides a comprehensive vertical metaphor for Cairo, spanning a period from 1934 down to the not-so-distant past. The independent communities and emblematic characters present an allegory for Cairo that addresses social, political, and religious concerns. The transformations that the building and the characters undergo mirror the changing shape of Cairo. The Yacoubian Building manages to register the “shifting pulse of experience felt by the individual, how the mind and the senses take in the world, construct it, or on occasion are confounded by it”.[1] Each character presents an easily identifiable stereotype that, too a certain extent, may daunt the naturalism of a novel. However, in spite of this stereotypical cast of characters, The Yacoubian Building becomes Cairo at an empirical level.

The composition of the building is the first thing that shapes it into a representative metaphor of Cairo. The cast of characters is associated with one of the two worlds that merge to form the building. The main body of the building forms the first world, occupied by elements of the upper middle class. The roof, meanwhile, is the home of the downtrodden members of society. Although these two worlds are independent, they always interact in a manner that alters destinies. The homosexual Hatim Rashid meets the heterosexual Abduh and lures him into his building. Once there, Hatim uses the space as a theater for the major operation of transforming his victim’s sexuality. This key interaction leads to the installment of Abduh in a room on the roof. Abduh’s life is gradually transformed, culminating in the death of his child. Hatim’s life, as well as the relationship between these two characters, is ended in Hatim’s apartment when Abduh “Grabbed hold of him by the neck and started beating his head with all his might against the wall till he felt the blood spurting hot and sticky over his hands”.[2] This disturbing conclusion is reached by Aswany through a three-stage process. First, the problem is introduced outside of the building, and then becomes part of the framework within. The conflicting parties are then divided according to the building’s structure. The third and last stage is when Aswany ends the interaction in one of the apartments. The ending may be as final as the death of Hatim, or as initiatory as the marriage of Zaki and Busayna. The characters in all the cases where this three-stage process is applied are easily identifiable stereotypes in Egyptian society.

In the case of characters as unique as Taha, however, this formula is not applied. Although Taha is ostensibly a tenant of the roof and a typical example of the disillusioned Egyptian “angry young men”, he is in fact a difficult character to place in either world of the Yacoubian building. Taha “struts and frets his hour upon the stage”[3] of the Yacoubian building, but never emerges to form a concrete connection with the world of the roof, or the world of the inhabitants. His “way to dusty death”[4] is to be found outside the building. His severance from the building is a necessary part of the application of the formula to Busayna’s life. As long as he is tied to her, the interaction between her and Zaki cannot take place in an exclusive manner. He is therefore forced out of both worlds, and becomes disillusioned with humankind. He observes: “Had I been held in Israel…Had I been a traitor to my country, they wouldn’t have done those things to me…What offense could merit that horrible punishment… [Is] the observants of God’s law…a major crime?...Where it not for my faith in God…I would have killed myself to escape.”[5] , and ultimately falls prey to the more welcoming community of Sheikh Sharawi.

Both the rogue Taha and the formulaic couples, with their “dangerous liaisons”, are easily identifiable personas in Cairene societies. To a certain extent, one may give names to the more recognizable characters due to the public exposure they are afforded by the media and societal grapevines. The Big Man can be inferred to be the President of Egypt. Hagg Azzam can be seen as the archetype of the immunity hunting drug lord, of which there are too many to name, all dying to be the partners and tools of the "Big Man". As a representative of the people, Azzam's acceptance of the words of El Fouli that "the Egyptian keeps his head down his whole life long so he can eat,"[6] is a clear indication as to how lowly he thinks of his constituents. The low opinion the Azzam dynasty hold of the populace is echoed by Azzam Jr. later on: "This country is ours, Hamidu. We have a long reach and we have all kinds of ways of dealing with people. Choose the kind you want."[7] Malak and Absakharon are the stereotypical caricature type Copts who gathered information about a fellow Copt and used it as well as their disabilities and natural talents in order to bargain over the price of a room on the roof of the Yacoubian building.[8]

Islamic "malpractice" is even more harshly dealt with than its Coptic counterpart. As Islam is the religion of the majority, the stereotypes are more abundant and we cannot help but laugh sadly in recognition. The shadiest and most "impious" of transactions are shrouded with religious utterances praising, thanking, imploring, or invoking Allah, His wisdom, His grace, His will, and, most hypocritically, his Omnipotence. In the scene where Hagg Azzam arranges to buy himself a seat in the People's Assembly, God is mentioned twelve times and the sinister deal is sealed by reciting the Fatiha.[9] Further down the line, we see Azzam exercising considerable self deceit as he sacrifices animals and donates large sums to charity as a form of thanking God for winning the elections. Given the power brokering that took place earlier, it is clear that Azzam ultimately believes he has more power than God over the election results. It is easy to see this particular kind of charity as a form of deferred payment that strips the entire gesture of any nobility or piety and renders it laughable and stereotypical. Hatim Rasheed delivers another salvo of religious mockery when he attempts to appease Abduh with even more laughable sentiments than those expressed by Azzam and El Fouli: "Our Lord is big and He has true mercy… Our Lord will forgive us."[10] The dark sub-conscious blasphemy of Azzam and Fouli along with the fully conscious and unscrupulous twisted logic variety offered by Rasheed provide the two ends of the spectrum of verbal religious hypocrisy, both taking place inside the building or its immediate environs. This brand of religious malpractice is one that is popular in Cairo and does not go unnoticed even by the most casual observers.

Another brand of religious malpractice is offered by Aswany in the most stereotypical manner possible: Islamic extremism. Here the stereotype gains strength due to its truthfulness and realism. The beards, the chants, the demonstrations, the indoctrinations, the persecutions, the military training, and the killings that result from this type of religious observance, are all carved into the Cairene conception of reality whether we are factually and consciously aware of it or not. The stereotype is also enhanced by its media and literary image to the extent that the all white "uniform" of the Muslim Brotherhood is stigmatized and recognized only as a genre of military fatigues. The Yacoubian building itself does not house this symbolic stereotype, but it does provide the stimuli that make Taha easy prey to the forces of indoctrination. These take the form of his father's occupation as the doorman of the Yacoubian building, as well as the loss of Busayna to pragmatism. The first stimulus renders impossible his dream of becoming a police officer, forcing him to enter Cairo University instead. The loss of Busayna is the knockout that severs his emotional connection with the building, leaving him in search of a new community. He begins to spend more time in the mosque, and is thus practically delivered into the arms of his new "Brothers".

Cairo is a large, imposing, busy, divided, yet whole, mega-city. The same may be said of the Yacoubian building. Both are battlefields where the inhabitants come and go while leaving scratches and scars that write a history. These histories tell compelling stories of lives that start and end in stereotypical ways that strike familiar chords with the readers. The Yacoubian building becomes Cairo in almost every sense, even in the sense that it too was founded by a foreign hand. Most importantly, the Yacoubian building and Cairo are potent storytellers in their own right. Aswany's novel ends theatrically and conveniently, unlike its namesake and the city it symbolizes, with a song that echoes Prospero:

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.[11]

Such will not be the case with Cairo; here the similarity between metaphor and object ends.

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[1] Alter, XI

[2] Al Aswany, Alaa. The Yacoubian Building, 235

[3] Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5

[4] Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5

[5] Al Aswany, Alaa. The Yacoubian Building, 167

[6] Al Aswany, Alaa. The Yacoubian Building, 84

[7] Al Aswany, Alaa. The Yacoubian Building, 195

[8] Al Aswany, Alaa. The Yacoubian Building, 29-31

[9] Al Aswany, Alaa. The Yacoubian Building, 82-85

[10] Al Aswany, Alaa. The Yacoubian Building, 134

[11] Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act IV, Scene I