Lebanese Publishers: Readers Don’t Trust Arabic Books, Prefer Translated Ones

Rana Idris, Dar Al Adab
Rana Idris, Dar Al Adab
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Lebanese Publishers: Readers Don’t Trust Arabic Books, Prefer Translated Ones

Rana Idris, Dar Al Adab
Rana Idris, Dar Al Adab

Publishers admit that Arabic readers favor translated books. Every publisher has his own explanation of this phenomenon and the reasons behind it, but they all agree it’s not healthy. According to Rana Idris, owner of Dar Al Adab Publishing, people in the Gulf region are the top buyers of translated books, followed by Egyptians, Maghrebis, and Iraqis.

Waiting for a change of taste, publishers have nothing to do but fulfill the readers’ desire by providing the best-translated publications, especially that selling translated books is the only means to keep the Arabic book alive today.

“We are preparing to publish nine new Arabic novels with losses that we cannot compensate for without selling translated novels, which are costly compared to Arabic books because we have to pay for copyrights and translation,” says Rana Idris.

It's not true that translated books are published without copyrights. “This happened in the past, but the situation has changed today,” says Hassan Yaghi, founder of Dar Al Tanweer Publishing, Beirut. “The chaos in this field is gone, and the market is now controlled. We face a lot of pressure, as publishing houses are forced to buy copyrights of foreign books for the sake of the book and the publishing process. This helps prevent chaos, and the spread of bad translations we used to see,” he adds.

“Copyrights of foreign books don’t cost the same; some cost $1,000 or $2,000, and some can cost up to $10,000. Some books are regular, some are highly demanded, and others are popular, best sellers, and competitive. Therefore, a publisher must pay to publish them; we are in a global market, and it’s better for the publisher not to steal copyrights because this could affect the writing process. Writers work for years to compose books, then someone comes and steal their efforts. This is a major reason behind the recession in this field,” Yaghi explains.

Publishing companies deal with different countries and regulators, and each have its own rules and work system. Rana Idris, who publishes novels translated from several languages, says the transfer is very costly.

“When I get an important new title, I pay $15,000-$20,000 in advance, and around $5,000 prepayment for the translator, in addition to the costs of editing, rereading, and review. Let’s say I got the copyrights to translate a novel by Murakami, I should pay $10,000-$15,000 to the publishing house, and another sum to the translator, in addition to the costs of editing, printing, and cover design…” she said.

For his part, Bassam Chebaro, owner of the Arabic Scientific Publishers, notes that some countries motivate the translation of books written in their languages, and pay for publishing houses for this purpose, which facilitates the mission of publishers and helps them save some costs.

Turkish, Russian, and Korean governments, for example, contribute to the translation costs of their publications. Relying on the sales, according to Chebaro, is useless because they are worthless and insufficient. “I worked in this field for 35 years. We used to print 5,000 copies of the book as a trial. However, today, we try with 1,000 copies, and some houses print only 500. Over 350,000 million people live in the Arab world, but we can’t print more than that, and sometimes these few prints remain unsold. Because of videos, mobile devices, and social media, our Arab people have abandoned reading and books, and the publishing industry is suffering,” he says.

Does the high demand for translated books in the Arabic market mean that the Arabic novel has degraded, and has been replaced with translated novels?

“The Arabic novel didn’t degrade, because it didn't advance in the first place. It has never reached an important level, and never been represented by names who can compete globally,” Yaghi said.

“Writing in the Arab world has remarkably weakened especially in the intellectual field since the works of Nasr Hamid Abu Zayd, Abdallah Laroui, and Mohammed Arkoun. The academic level has degraded, so did education in general, as well as scientific productivity. The mood of the readers has changed, they don’t favor the complex, intellectual books anymore, and prefer the easy, light philosophic books and entertaining novels,” he added.

But the publishers’ numbers are concerning. In the Arabic Scientific Publishers, over half of the published books are translated. “The house publishes over 6,000 books, half of them translated from foreign languages,” says Chebaro.

In Dar Al Adab, 65 percent of the novels published annually are translated, while only 35 percent publications are Arabic. In 2010, the numbers were reversed, Arab readers favored the Arabic novel at the time. However, the demand changed gradually, and the situation has been stable since 2017.

“I often take advantage of selling translated novels during bookfairs to remind the readers of great Arabic novels that are worth their attention. For example I tell the reader: Why don’t you read a book by this writer, her writing style is similar to Isabel Allende’s, or she discusses topics similar to those tackled by Elif Şafak,” Idris says.

The situation in Dar Al Tanweer is more significant, as 70 percent of its annual publications are translated. It’s a concerning number indeed. Does this mean that the Arabic book has become extinct, or about to?

We asked Founder Hassan Yaghi. “Yes, the Arabic book might be on the path of extinction. Our society is no more able to write, read, criticize, and promote books. Most readers resort to Amazon, instead of an Arabic reference, to explore the best and most popular books. Amazon has proved itself as a credible source worldwide, its reviews and feedback are trustworthy for buyers. This is what readers look for, a trusty reference,” he answers.

Rana Idris attributes the rejection of Arabic publications to many reasons, including “the lack of trust in the standard of Arabic writers. But this is unfair for novelists whose works are being read in the entire world, and neglected by their compatriots who don’t appreciate their talent.

“We live in a distrust phase. We don’t trust our civilization, culture, or writers. We don’t trust the Arabic language itself and its ability to fulfill its duty. In addition, there is a lack of serious criticism in newspapers and media which are usually the mediator between the reader and books. Most of today’s critics are fawners,” she adds.

Rana Idris sadly believes that there is a real difference between the serious criticism we read in The New Yorker for example, and what we read in some Arabic outlets. This contributes to a lower quality of Arabic books, and helps promote some local, non-talented writers.

Bassam Chebaro believes that piracy affects the Arabic productivity in this industry as well. When we search for ‘Arabic Books’ on Google, we find tens of thousands of results offered for free download. This doesn’t exist in other parts of the world, as many countries addressed this challenge with Google and regulated electronic publishing to put an end to such practices. “In fact, we don’t have a clear idea of our sales because the market of counterfeit publications is stronger than publishers, and our publications are being constantly violated. Our books are hacked in no time, we barely sell 3,000 to 4,000 copies before the book becomes available for free online. That’s why we say the Arabic books are violated, and that’s what the Arab Publishers Association (APA) seeks to address, and we hope they succeed.”

However, Chebaro insists that he will never be reluctant to translate and publish a foreign book that sold 700 million copies just because he’s concerned about piracy.

“Piracy isn’t the only concern for Arabic publishers. We are part of the writing and publishing industry in the world, but we are not major players. The lack of credible criticism, and the shrinking trust in Arabic books have affected the publishing industry. We are part of a huge market, but the Arabic presence in it is very slim.”



Istanbul’s Historic Baths Keep Hammam Tradition Alive

Built 500 years ago, Istanbul's Zeyrek Cinili Hammam recently reopened after a restoration process that took 13 years. (AFP)
Built 500 years ago, Istanbul's Zeyrek Cinili Hammam recently reopened after a restoration process that took 13 years. (AFP)
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Istanbul’s Historic Baths Keep Hammam Tradition Alive

Built 500 years ago, Istanbul's Zeyrek Cinili Hammam recently reopened after a restoration process that took 13 years. (AFP)
Built 500 years ago, Istanbul's Zeyrek Cinili Hammam recently reopened after a restoration process that took 13 years. (AFP)

For centuries, hammams were central to Ottoman society, and while they fell out of use in Türkiye with the advent of running water, many are being restored to revive an ancient ritual bathing tradition.

Often featured in older Turkish films, hammam scenes are highly entertaining, with women not only bathing but enjoying these historical bathhouses as a place to socialize, eat, and even dance.

Last year, the 500-year-old Zeyrek Cinili Hammam -- built during the reign of Suleiman the Magnificent by the celebrated Ottoman architect Sinan -- reopened to the public after a painstaking 13-year restoration.

Alongside a functioning hammam, it also houses a museum explaining its history and the Ottoman ritual of bathing.

"The restoration somehow turned into an archaeological dig" that gave insight into how the hammam once looked, museum manager Beril Gur Tanyeli told AFP.

"Around 3,000 pieces of missing tiles were found which helped solve the puzzle of why this hammam was called Cinili" -- Turkish for "covered with tiles".

The beautiful Iznik tiles that once lined its walls were exclusively produced for the hammam, with no other bathhouse having such a rich interior, museum officials say.

Although most were damaged by fires or earthquakes, or sold off to European antique dealers in the 19th century, some are still visible.

The restoration also exposed several Byzantine cisterns beneath the hammam.

"Sinan the Architect is believed to have built the hammam on top of these cisterns to use them as a foundation and as a source of water," Tanyeli said.

Istanbul's celebrated royal architect Sinan designed the Zeyrek Cinili Hammam and built it over several Byzantine cisterns as a water source. (AFP)

- From cleansing to celebration -

In ancient Rome, bathing culture was very important and it was "traditional for traders to wash before entering the city, especially in baths at the (city) entrance," archaeologist Gurol Tali told AFP.

During the Ottoman empire, bathing culture had its golden age, with the ritual symbolizing both bodily cleanliness and purity of soul.

In Islam, a Muslim must wash before praying, in an act known as ablution.

Hammams were also a place for celebrating births and weddings.

"Baths were used not only for cleansing the body but for socializing, relaxing, healing and even celebrating important life events," with special rites for brides, soldiers and those who had undergone circumcision, Tali said.

Since households at the time did not have running water, hammams were an essential part of life until the 19th century, with census figures from 1638 showing there were 14,536 public and private baths in Istanbul, the museum says.

And that tradition has survived until today.

"You come here to get clean and leave handsome," said Zafer Akgul, who was visiting one of the city's hammams in the city with his son, telling AFP he visited often, particularly during religious feasts or for a wedding.

"We don't want this tradition to die."

Alongside the bathhouse, the Zeyrek Cinili Hammam also houses a museum showcasing pieces like these intricately decorated wooden clogs. (AFP)

- 'Passing on cultural heritage' -

That is where Istanbul's ancient hammams can serve a bigger purpose, Tali said.

"Restoring historical baths in Istanbul and putting them to use may be the most effective way to transfer cultural heritage to future generations," he said.

Another nearby bath house from the same era, the Beyazid II Hammam, underwent years of restoration and reopened as a museum in 2015.

One of the largest hammams in the city at the time, some historians believe it was where a notorious male bathing attendant, or "tellak", called Halil plotted an uprising that in 1730 overthrew Sultan Ahmed III.

For Manolya Gokgoz, who does publicity for Cemberlitas Hammam, another 16th-century bathhouse built by the royal architect Sinan, the connection is more personal: her grandmother worked there as a "natir" -- a woman's bathing attendant.

"When I was two or three years old, I would go to the baths in the morning, wash and play by myself until the evening without getting bored," she told AFP.

The museum at the Zeyrek Cinili Hammam celebrates the ancient bathing ritual. (AFP)

For Gokgoz, the tradition lives on -- although mostly among tourists, which for her is a shame.

"In the past, we used to go to the hammam with our mothers and grandmothers. Now 70 percent of our customers are foreign tourists and 30 percent locals," she said.

These days, the hammam experience -- which lets bathers relax in hot, warm or cool pools alongside extras like massages or peeling -- is quite expensive, with the basic service costing around $100.

Celebrities, both Turkish and international, often visit Cemberlitas, with the last being Spanish actor Pedro Alonso -- the character Berlin in the Netflix hit "Money Heist" -- who visited in September.

"Hammam is not a luxury, but a need," Gokgoz said.

"Yes, it's not like in the past because we have hot water at our fingertips, but we need to keep this tradition alive."