The Lost Mill

This is what Emily Nasrallah tries to emphasize in this new collection of stories. It doesn't rely on events, but rather on the style that succeeded in "The House of Frankness and Allusion," the style of debate and absurdity, just as life itself does in this collection of short stories. A pioneer of rural and diaspora literature, Nasrallah addresses the suffering of displacement, war, and longing that has affected Lebanese society. She recounts the pains and hopes of young and old alike through reflections and letters written to relatives and loved ones. In "The Oak Mountain," the geologist Samer addresses his mother and asks for forgiveness after spending years in exile pursuing his studies. He falls in love and starts a new family, but ultimately, he is overcome by nostalgia for his village and the burning stones of the oak mountain, prompting him to decide to return. The alienation from the countryside affects not only those who leave it, but also city dwellers. In the novel "The Lost Mill," a mother takes her daughter from the city to the countryside, and memories of the mill resurface. But she discovers that the mill, like the memories themselves, is buried in a past that will never return. With her head bowed, she walks beside the little girl on the way back, dragging her feet and stumbling in disappointment. And so she doesn't notice a stone, whose letters she despises, emerging from beneath the rubble, blocking her steps. A stifled cry escapes her, and she almost falls were it not for the little girl's supportive arm. At that moment, the truth flashes before her eyes like a shattering thunderbolt. She stumbles upon the millstone. There she stands, atop the ruins of the mill, her precious old mill, buried beneath layers of river debris and the passage of years. Other stories in the book recount tales of the Lebanese war, the physical and psychological siege of children hiding in shelters, and of adults sitting behind closed doors near the front lines.