By Mursi Saad El-Din I seem to have all the luck in the world when it comes to new books. Knowing my biblio-mania, friends have developed the habit of presenting me with newly published books. I do not know whether it is old age which makes the relaxed process of reading so ennobling, but I have now developed the habit of devouring a book as soon as I receive it. The latest book I received from my friend Atef, an air pilot, is The Prophet: The Life and times of Khalil Gibran, by Robin Waterfield. It is a Penguin publication, which gives it a special status. The author, according to the blurb, is "an authority on Gibran and his work.' He has edited an anthology of Gibran's work with the title The Voice of Khalil Gibran. The book, according to the preface, coincides with the 75th anniversary of the publication of Gibran's masterpiece The Prophet. The author believes that Gibran is "one of the most famous and popular writers in the modern world, with book sales numbering eight figures in the English language alone and making him probably the best selling individual poet after Shakespeare." There is a quotation from the artist Rodin that Gibran is the William Blake of the 20th century, adding that "the world should expect much from this poet/painter of Lebanon." In fact his friend and benefactor Mary Haskell believed that Gibran was "Rosetti and Blake reborn." She was a great believer in reincarnation. The contrast in the status of Gibran in the West and the almost blank dismissal he receives in the Arab world is striking. We still remember the reactionary stand against teaching The Prophet at the American University in Cairo. The fanatics behind the opposition to the book probably did not know, or chose to ignore, the fact that the book has been translated into Arabic by more than one translator. One of the best Arabic renderings is that by Dr Sarwat Okasha, the former Minister of Culture and Assistant to the President of the Republic. The author of this book describes the erection in 1977 of a bust of Gibran in Boston, where he lived following his emigration to the US. "Surrounded by the Boston Public Library and other architectural delights, old and new, the pavements, patches of lawn, and fountains into which tourists superstitiously throw small change have so far received the addition of two monuments. As a runner I was fascinated by the memorial of the Boston marathon, set into the pavement, recording every winner since its inception in 1897. The only other monument is a raised pink marble plinth on the pavement directly opposite the entrance to the imposing library. On the plinth is a bronze plaque engraved "Khalil Gibran 1883-1931, poet, painter. A young Gibran with hair swept back off his high forehead in the style favoured in Paris and a hand, resting on his forehead in a thoughtful artistic pose, the other hand rests on a volume entitled: The Prophet." Inscribed in the marble next to the plaque are the proud, civil words: "Khalil Gibran, a native of Besharri, Lebanon, found literary and artistic sustenance in the Denison Settlement House, the Boston Public Schools and the Boston Public Library. A graceful city acknowledges the greater harmony among men and strengthened universality of spirit given by Khalil Gibran to the people of the world in return." On the front of the plinth there is a quote from Gibran: "It was in my heart to help a little because I was helped much." I used to visit Boston often and on every visit I headed for Copely Square and stood in adoration in front of the bust. Every time I read the inscriptions from The Prophet, which I had read and studied at university, somehow took a new dimension. I was gazing at the handsome face of a writer who has given glory to his homeland, Lebanon, and the whole of the Arab World.
