engagements with the press are over Coelho takes part in hurried debates at the two writers’ associations. At both, the number of members of the public is two or three times greater than the venues’ capacity and he attends kindly and good-naturedly to the inevitable requests for signings at the end. Before returning to the hotel, he is taken to Mohamed Heikal’s apartment. Heikal is a veteran politician who started his career alongside President Nasser, who governed from 1954 to 1970, and he has so far managed to weather the political upheavals in Egypt. Surrounded by bodyguards, Heikal receives his visitor in a small apartment. The walls are covered in photos of him with great international leaders of the twentieth century, such as the Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev, Chou En-Lai of China, Jawalarhal Nehru of India and Chancellor Willy Brandt, as well as Leonid Brezhnev and, of course, Nasser himself. Coelho’s meeting with the Nobel Laureate Naguib Mahfouz is also subject to intense vigilance by security guards (years ago Mahfouz narrowly escaped death at his door when he was knifed in the neck by a Muslim fundamentalist who accused him of blaspheming against the Koran). The two speak rapidly in English, exchange signed copies of their books and that’s it. With the day’s agenda over, the evening is reserved for a boat trip on the Nile.
The following day the morning is free, allowing Coelho to wake later than usual, take his walk without hindrance and give some time to looking at news online. At one o’clock, he goes down to the hotel dining room for the lunch that he has suggested. In spite of the smiles and salaams during the presentations, it is clear that the idea is to set things to rights. Before the food is served and once all the guests are seated, one of thepublishers stands up to greet the visitor and makes a point of stating that this is a meeting of friends.
‘The author Coelho has proved his commitment to the Arab peoples not only in his work but in brave public statements such as in his letter “Thank you, President Bush”, which clearly condemned the invasion of Iraq by the United States.’
Someone else speaks, and then it is Coelho’s turn. Beside him at the table are three pirate copies of his books, deliberately placed there in order to provoke unease among the publishers–the elegant men in jackets and ties who are seated before him. He begins gently, recalling that some of his books have found inspiration in both Egyptian and Arabic culture. Then, face-to-face with the pirates themselves, he broaches the thorny topic of piracy, saying: ‘Any author would, of course, love to see his books published in Egypt. My problem is precisely the opposite: I have too many publishers in Egypt.’
No one finds the joke funny, but he is unperturbed. He glances upwards, as if asking St George for the strength to defend his books, and then adopts a blunter approach.
He picks up a pirate copy of The Alchemist and waves it in the air. ‘I am here as a guest of Dr Hebba, that is, of the Egyptian people. But I have come here on my own account as well because I want to sort out, once and for all, the problem of the pirate copies of my books being published here.’
The guests shift uncomfortably in their seats. Some, embarrassed, are doodling on their napkins.
Coelho knows full well that some are important figures in the Ministry of Culture (which has shares in many of the publishing houses he is accusing of piracy) and he makes the most of this opportunity: ‘The government neither punishes nor condemns piracy, but Egypt is a signatory to international treaties on royalties and must conform to them. I could get the best lawyer money can buy and win the case in international courts, but I’m not here merely to defend material values, I’m defending a principle. My readers here buy books at a cheap price and get cheap editions, and it’s got to stop.’
Coelho’s suggestion that they call an
The following day the morning is free, allowing Coelho to wake later than usual, take his walk without hindrance and give some time to looking at news online. At one o’clock, he goes down to the hotel dining room for the lunch that he has suggested. In spite of the smiles and salaams during the presentations, it is clear that the idea is to set things to rights. Before the food is served and once all the guests are seated, one of thepublishers stands up to greet the visitor and makes a point of stating that this is a meeting of friends.
‘The author Coelho has proved his commitment to the Arab peoples not only in his work but in brave public statements such as in his letter “Thank you, President Bush”, which clearly condemned the invasion of Iraq by the United States.’
Someone else speaks, and then it is Coelho’s turn. Beside him at the table are three pirate copies of his books, deliberately placed there in order to provoke unease among the publishers–the elegant men in jackets and ties who are seated before him. He begins gently, recalling that some of his books have found inspiration in both Egyptian and Arabic culture. Then, face-to-face with the pirates themselves, he broaches the thorny topic of piracy, saying: ‘Any author would, of course, love to see his books published in Egypt. My problem is precisely the opposite: I have too many publishers in Egypt.’
No one finds the joke funny, but he is unperturbed. He glances upwards, as if asking St George for the strength to defend his books, and then adopts a blunter approach.
He picks up a pirate copy of The Alchemist and waves it in the air. ‘I am here as a guest of Dr Hebba, that is, of the Egyptian people. But I have come here on my own account as well because I want to sort out, once and for all, the problem of the pirate copies of my books being published here.’
The guests shift uncomfortably in their seats. Some, embarrassed, are doodling on their napkins.
Coelho knows full well that some are important figures in the Ministry of Culture (which has shares in many of the publishing houses he is accusing of piracy) and he makes the most of this opportunity: ‘The government neither punishes nor condemns piracy, but Egypt is a signatory to international treaties on royalties and must conform to them. I could get the best lawyer money can buy and win the case in international courts, but I’m not here merely to defend material values, I’m defending a principle. My readers here buy books at a cheap price and get cheap editions, and it’s got to stop.’
Coelho’s suggestion that they call an
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