'The Sufi Storyteller' book review: Acts of preservation and rebellion

Faiqa Mansab’s The Sufi Storyteller opens with a startling discovery. A woman lies dead in the library of a small American university. She is discovered by Layla, a professor of women’s histories and storytelling. Layla particularly focuses on Sufi stories, their heavy dependence on symbolism, and on the aspects that set them apart from other storytelling traditions. She is also on a quest to find her birth mother, and now her search has widened to know the identity of the woman in the library. When it emerges that the dead woman carried a note addressed to Mira, a celebrated Sufi storyteller with a grey past, the two are forced into an uneasy alliance.

Together, Layla and Mira enter what Mansab calls "the realm of Story"— a dimension where narrative holds power and traditions safeguard truths through fiction. Combining elements of literary mystery, theoretical forays into storytelling itself, and a meta-fictional examination of how stories function, Mansab pulls us into a setting where the Story is akin to a living, breathing character.

This genre-blending and bending approach is unusual and original. The narrative is a heady mix of mysticism, commentary on gender, and narrative theory that feels fresh because Mansab challenges conventional interpretations of familiar tales. For instance, she presents a version of Little Red Riding Hood where the girl doesn't represent disobedience and is punished, but rather is initiated into adulthood and power. “A story long distorted by male storytellers,” says Mira as she narrates the “true story”. In this re-telling, Red Riding Hood kills the wolf herself, and the “Old Woman emerged from the Wolf’s bones and the Wolf spirit, born anew.” She thus releases her grandmother, and is blessed with wisdom on how to reinforce her wild spirit against those who would domesticate or control it.

Beneath these against-the-grain approaches lie a philosophical foundation, which rests on the concept that Sufi stories function as protective spells against life's cruelties and human corruption. They heal both speaker and listener, carrying talismanic properties embedded in layers of meaning that reveal themselves gradually. These narratives are preserved through a clandestine network of women over centuries, adapting them to changing contexts, protecting them from censorship, and communicating through secret codes known only to those on the inside.

“They are altered and passed on from generation to generation, like rare woven shawls, carpets and rugs. Like cloth, stories are woven, embroidered, changed and enhanced.”

Mansab writes like a Sufi poetess herself. Her prose is exquisite, exuding magic off the pages with lush wording and beautiful settings as she weaves in many a folktale. It’s this writing that sustains the momentum even when the narrative falters at times, sliding into extended philosophising and abstract discussions about the craft of storytelling.

Layla and Mira are the most compelling characters in the book. Layla emerges as an intelligent, thoughtful person who deals with the pain of not knowing her mother. Mira has survived unimaginable crises in her past and is the epitome of resilience as she copes with the after-effects of trauma. Mira’s story, which takes up the middle portion of the book, is perhaps the most engrossing part of the novel. It’s harrowing to read, but it also contains the book's deepest emotional truths and most powerful writing. Mansab's prose is at its finest here as she explores the persistence of grief and what it can do to us.

The Sufi Storyteller straddles multiple universes with its narrative. It’s a mind-bending ride into the realm of mysticism and folklore. It’s a razor-sharp sword dismantling myths and false narratives built by patriarchy. It’s an emotionally-wrought tale of a mother and the choices she has to make, and a daughter’s search for the truth.

“I’d like to focus on the carpet as a symbol of storytelling in Sufi stories. I could write about weaving as a dynamic metaphor for storytelling in Sufi stories…” says Gul, Layla’s student, at one point.

Mansab is that weaver. She is the Sufi storyteller who captures a multi-dimensional world like lightning in a bottle to give us this poem of a book.

Readers willing to enter this world will be treated to a narrative that considers stories not as entertainment but as acts of preservation and rebellion. And the stories we protect today may be the ones that protect us tomorrow.