After the fatwah

In 1988, Indian-born British author Salman Rushdie wrote a novel called The Satanic Verses. It was based on certain verses Mohammed wrote into the Quran glorifying three goddesses from Mecca, which the prophet later took out, saying the devil had tempted him to put them in to please the people of Mecca. Rushdie’s novel took the perspective that those verses had actually been given by an angel to Islam’s founder, who then took them out.

In 1988, Indian-born British author Salman Rushdie wrote a novel called The Satanic Verses. It was based on certain verses Mohammed wrote into the Quran glorifying three goddesses from Mecca, which the prophet later took out, saying the devil had tempted him to put them in to please the people of Mecca. Rushdie’s novel took the perspective that those verses had actually been given by an angel to Islam’s founder, who then took them out.

A tremendous uproar broke out about this all over the Muslim world, and the leading cleric of Iran issued a fatwah calling for Rushdie to be killed. Several people associated with the translation of the book were murdered, and the author had to go into hiding. The first thing he wrote after the edict was Haroun and the Sea of Stories, a children’s book for his son, whom it had become very hard for him to see.

Haroun is a story reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland and classic Greek tales, as well as Middle Eastern stand-bys like Arabian Nights. It is a fairy tale based around a father, Rashid Kalifah, and his son Haroun. Rashid loses the “Story Water” that fuels his imagination after his wife leaves him for a more “sensible” man. Haroun goes to Kahani, the land the magical substance comes from, to help his father. But it, too, is facing a crisis of epic proportions, into which both father and son are drawn.

This spring’s Portland State Theater Department production is a stage adaptation of Haroun and the Sea of Stories. The cast all plays multiple roles, filling in for dozens of characters, many more than what we are used to seeing on stage.

They change costumes often, and the costumes are wonderful and varied. Good use is made of expressionistic and realistic puppets as well, due to the work of puppet master and PSU student Shae Uisna. The set design is also remarkable, with the floor painted and projected to look like an open book, and real water for the Sea of Stories.

Zach Sanchez and Ian Goodrich do well in the roles of Rashid and Haroun, respectively. Geoff Steward also does a great job as Prince Bolo, who is madly in love with the horrible singer Princess Batcheat, played with great humor by Rebekkah Rasmussen.

This is a very strange play to see on stage. It felt, in many ways, like it was trying to be an animated movie. I was left to think that it might almost have been better as one, even though the play was satisfying. The surreal story and strange characters seem more suited to an anime such as Spirited Away than to a theater production.

This is, of course, a children’s play, but it does have deeper themes. The dark Lord of the strange land is trying to destroy all of the stories as a part of his larger goal of destroying speech. The political implications of this are rather obvious, especially considering Rushdie’s own history. But the serious themes only develop partially and later in the play, hampered to a degree by the children’s orientation of the work.

Haroun makes a good point, though, one that is often forgotten in these days of Hollywood formula scripts and action movies. Storytelling is the basis of human culture, and often, the expression of human freedom. And it is always attacked by those who wish to control people and dampen free thought.

But corporate bottom lines and cultural apathy also put a damper on storytelling. Most Westerners are completely ignorant of the Greek, Roman or even Christian myths that underlie our culture. If you want to re-connect with these deep fountains, Haroun should be a true inspiration for you.

Haroun and the Sea of Stories Lincoln Hall’s main stage Wednesday to Saturday at 7:30 p.m. $4 for students Wednesday sliding scale with food donation