Juliana

Juliana is not a woman for everyone, nor simply a saint. She is a city. She is conscience. She is the silent force that speaks when it must, carefully choosing whom to address. It is enough to touch her grave, to caress her spirit, enough to be a little mad, far removed from the narrow confines of human decency, enough to be pure, for then she will come to you. In a humble monastery in the village of Karamles, Juliana's spirit hovers over the city. There, she communes with her followers, witnessing the changes sweeping through the remote, isolated town as it opens its doors to the winds of modernization. Juliana does not fight with the sword of religion as the intruders do, nor does she condemn the transformations that sweep the townspeople toward pleasures or the winds of modernity. She is the witness, she is the modernity of the absent, she is that radiant mass that did not last long, but which, if it were to last, would ignite the world with light. "Juliana" is a work of magical realism told through the story of a small, forgotten town and two generations of its inhabitants. Between the epic, the religious, and the neo-real, the writer himself is a keen, insightful, and ironic figure, steeped in history and myth, the Iraq of yesterday and today, and specifically its Christian community. Juliana is not merely a woman, nor simply a saint. She is a city. A conscience. She is the silent force that speaks when necessary and chooses carefully whom to address. It is enough to touch her grave and appease her spirit. It is enough to be somewhat mad, and largely excluded by the limited formalities of humanity. It is enough to be kind-hearted for her to come to you. Outside Mosul, in a small, humble monastery in the town of Karamles, Juliana's spirit hovers over the city. There, she communes with her disciples, witnessing the changes sweeping through the remote, isolated town as it opens its doors to the winds of modernization. Juliana does not fight with the sword of religion as the newcomers do. Nor does she condemn the transformations that have propelled the townspeople toward pleasure and the winds of modernity. She is the witness. She is the absent observer. She is that radiant force that rarely appears, but illuminates the world when it does. "Yuliana" evokes the style of magical realism through the story of a small, vanished town and two generations of children. Weaving together the epic, the religious, and the secular, the author offers a penetrating and satirical look at Iraq's past and present, specifically its Christian community, with a touch of history and myth.