An epigraph and much effort

By Taha Hussein

Concerning hope being greater than effort, this is true of any writer worthy of the name... for damned is the writer whose hope is equal to his effort. A man with such quality cannot aspire to even come close to writing literature or be anything other than a pretentious hack trying his hand at something he can neither accomplish nor was intended to.

As for the [second claim] of his effort being greater than his talent, perhaps there is some truth in this. For Mr Tawfiq, sometimes, allows himself to be diverted from the path along which his talent lies, risking that talent in places for which it is ill-suited. He has done this at least twice.

First, when he desired to be a philosopher with a theory of his own, proportionalism, and this despite the fact that his talent lies in telling stories that are most enjoyable when acted. And second, when he attempted his hand to write absurdist dramas, The Tree Climber, and such like. He was not created for such things, his talent being most suited to the readily comprehensible [...]

As for his talent being the prisoner of his nature, there is nothing strange about that. Is not every talent the prisoner of the nature of its possessor, and is it not impossible for things to be otherwise since He who bestows talent always strikes a balance between what He gives and what nature requires.

Thus I hope that Mr Tawfiq will pardon me if I say that the epigraph to his book is nothing but a mirage, that it may look like water to a thirsty man but only until the moment he draws near and then finds nothing.

Having said all of this I am compelled to say, motivated not by any attempt to please the author of the book but rather to state the truth, that the book in question [The Prison of Life] is most enjoyable. I have read it twice within less than three days. The most obvious pleasure found in this text is the fact that it depicts the life of a talented writer, one not only loved by people but loved greatly by the majority of people...

He tells us that he greatly admires the French writer Anatole France so he must know that this great French writer did not pass his baccalaureate and was treated as a laughing stock by the examining board, to such an extent that one of the examiners said he was an ass. Perhaps, then, our friend feels thankful to God that he has obtained both his baccalaureate and the licence in law. Why, then, should he be concerned about not obtaining a doctorate in law during his time in Paris. It was, after all, no one but himself who searched out other distractions there -- culture in general and the drama in particular.

Doctorates, in law, arts or whatever, do not descend upon people from heaven. They have to work hard in order to obtain them. And our friend never exerted any effort, greater or smaller than his talent, in that direction.

Excerpts from Taha Hussein's comment on Al-Hakim's autobiography The Prison of Life , published in the Cairo-based Al-Akhbar daily, 30 January 1965, under the title Sahr al-'Umr (The Charm of Life)