{"id":260568,"date":"2026-07-13T17:44:14","date_gmt":"2026-07-13T14:44:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/floodlines-saleem-haddad\/"},"modified":"2026-07-13T17:44:14","modified_gmt":"2026-07-13T14:44:14","slug":"floodlines-saleem-haddad","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/floodlines-saleem-haddad\/","title":{"rendered":"Floodlines – Saleem Haddad"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"<\/figure>\n

Zainab settled into her seat. She felt a kinship with the anxious energy that suffused airports, the transience and limbo, the possibility of missed connections. The plane took off, thrusting her into the back of her seat. Out the window, Dubai was a glimmer of glass amidst the endless sand. She pulled out the document Nizar had sent the previous evening and glanced through the pages: the family history.<\/p>\n

It began with a story about her grandmother, Fatima, on a wintry night in Turkey. She read the first paragraph three times, but her mind would not focus. Admitting defeat, she nestled her head against the leather seat and closed her eyes. August 1980. They ask about the Lebanese students. She and Andre have been dating for seven months. \u201cWhat about them?\u201d They see through her defensiveness.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo they talk about politics?\u201d \u201cI\u2019ve told you, I don\u2019t know politics.\u201d Veiled threats are made. Her family will be informed about her romantic dalliances, it is suggested, but Zainab is unmoved. Ammo Kuteiba had retreated into the shadows of their lives ever since he laid hands on Ishtar. The next day she is let go from her job at the Embassy.<\/p>\n

A decision from higher up, she is told. She will be poorer now, but she feels lighter, freed from the moral dilemma gnawing at her conscience. When she tells Andre she lost her job, he suggests a short break. \u201cHow about Cyprus? We can find a nice hotel by the sea.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy mother will not approve.\u201d \u201cWe\u2019ll come up with a lie!\u201d They stay in a low-budget hotel in Limassol, a few minutes\u2019 walk from the beach. They buy tacky beach towels and a frisbee from a nearby stand and eat ice- cream and peanuts. They drink ice-cold beer and smoke endless cigarettes on the sand. When they make love, it\u2019s with the windows open, and without the moral quandary that burdened the sex they had in Baghdad.<\/p>\n

Free of shame, of negotiating privacy, they follow their lovemaking with long, indulgent naps, with the curtains pulled back and the windows open, allowing the hot breeze of sea and exhaust fumes to envelop their naked bodies. In the evenings they eat fish. Andre knows how to select the freshest ones. His father taught him what to look for; the cloudiness of the eye, the redness of the tissue behind the gills.<\/p>\n

\n

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Copyright \u00a9 2026 by Saleem Haddad First Publication 2026 by Europa Editions All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.<\/p>\n

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data is available ISBN 979-8-88966-165-8 Haddad, Saleem Floodlines Cover design by Ginevra Rapisardi Cover image: Untitled, 1974 by Nazar Selim. Courtesy of Ramzi and Saeda Dalloul Art Foundation (DAF), Beirut OceanofPDF.com CONTENTS PART I ARCHIVE FEVER PART II PRISONS OF HOPE PART III CARCASSES OF HOME PART IV WHERE THE RIVERS MEET SELECTED HISTORICAL TIMELINE AUTHOR\u2019S NOTE ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ABOUT THE AUTHOR OceanofPDF.com For Adam (habs) OceanofPDF.com People are trapped in history and history is trapped in them.<\/p>\n

\u2014JAMES BALDWIN OceanofPDF.com FLOODLINES OceanofPDF.com PART I ARCHIVE FEVER \u201cNothing sorts out memories from ordinary moments. Later on they do claim remembrance when they show their scars.\u201d \u2014La Jett\u00e9e OceanofPDF.com I NIZAR July 2014 need you to visit Ishtar.\u201d His mother\u2019s voice was clear. Nizar asked her to repeat herself anyway. \u201cI need you to get the family story out of her.\u201d Nizar looked down from the edge of his balcony.<\/p>\n

Three floors below, the concrete felt welcoming in its hardness. \u201cI want nothing to do with her.\u201d \u201cNizar, I have no one else to turn to. I\u2019d like to arrange this exhibition while your grandmother is still with us, and I don\u2019t know how much time \u2014\u201d Nizar heard the flick of his mother\u2019s lighter at the other end of the line. \u201cLook, I\u2019m just asking for this one thing. Get her to tell you the family history and write it down for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy don\u2019t you just pay her to do it?\u201d Zainab sighed. \u201cBecause I know my sister. She\u2019ll take the money, find some way to say that it\u2019s morally reprehensible to force her to narrativise or to simplify, and then not do it.\u201d \u201cI haven\u2019t spoken to her since that dinner,\u201d he said, resenting how easily his mother forced him to unpack memories he had long ago sealed off. \u201cI suspect she\u2019s in a fragile state.\u201d \u201cShe\u2019s always in a fragile state.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThis ISIS stuff has really . . .\u201d Zainab interrupted herself and took a deep drag of her cigarette. \u201cAnyway. Do you have any upcoming work trips, habibi?\u201d He looked over to the flats across the canal. In one, an old man in a bathrobe typed steadily at his desk. \u201cI don\u2019t do that kind of work anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

\n
\n

Table of Contents<\/p>\nToggle<\/span><\/path><\/svg><\/svg><\/span><\/span><\/span><\/a><\/span><\/div>\n