Contemporary Islamic Conversations: M. Fethullah Gulen on Turkey, Islam, and the West Book

The Dancer from Khiva is an autobiographic work. Born on the thirteenth of January, many of the major events of Bibish's life took place on a thirteenth of one month or another, yet, while seeing herself as unlucky, Bibish does not allow her fate to be predestined. When Bibish was raped, it seems almost as if it was a catharsis: by seeing herself as spoiled goods, Bibish sheds her societal restrictors and allows herself to dance.

Bibish is constantly acting; even when her hope wanes she cannot stand still and refuses to retreat into the shadows. It is not an aggressive action, but she is unrepentant for acting on her own instincts. When defying her community's traditions (which happens repeatedly throughout the book), she is not rebellious so much as strong willed. It is Bibish's kinetic energy that engages one's interest throughout The Dancer from Khiva. We imagine how many women's energy could have remained purely potential.

Bibish tells a compelling story of her own life (now from the point of view of a mother softened by the passage of time and the impulse to protect), yet the writing comes across as childish (but not naïve). One of the hardest tasks to perform is to translate a text without losing the essential meaning of the work, and so one gives allowances for the way the narrative seems to drone on endlessly. At the same time, the endless narration conveys an inappropriate sense of detachment, making Bibish's life sounds more like fiction than fact, and thus detracting from the potential impact of the form - making it an autobiography without pathos. Conversely, telling it almost as though it were someone else's life, Bibish seems to acknowledge that it just as easily could not have been her own, making it seem evermore fantastic.

Review by Elisheva Zakheim