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Baghdad Noir — Akashic Books
Akashic Books continues its award-winning series of original noir anthologies, launched in 2004 with Brooklyn Noir. Each book comprises all new stories, each one set in a distinct location within the geographic area of the book. One of the world's most war-torn cities is portrayed though a noir lens in this chilling story collection.
Brand-new stories by: Muhsin al-Ramli, Nassif Falak, Hadia Said, Ahmed Saadawi, Salima Salih, Roy Scranton, Hayet Raies, Mohammed Alwan Jabr, Dheya al-Khalidi, Hussain al-Mozany, Sinan Antoon, Salar Abdoh, Ali Bader, and Layla Qasrany.
From "I Killed Her Because I Loved Her" by contributor Muhsin al-Ramli:
The neighborhood, timeless with its narrow, smelly lanes, seemed to have been forgotten since it came into being with the foundation of Baghdad in Abbasid times. The streets were pocked with potholes, noisy with the clamor of children playing and the clatter of peddlers' carts. On the pavement there were piles of putrid, smoldering garbage: the smoke mixed with the smell of spices, grilled meat, and other foods cooking. The houses were crammed with people and were built of old bricks and planks of wood. If they hadn't been leaning on each other, the only reason they didn't collapse was that there wasn't enough space on the ground between them.
From "Post-Traumatic Stress Reality in Qadisiya" by contributor Hadia Said:
What I'm telling you is that Baghdad is coming back. Yes. We've resumed the necessary insanity. Yes, yes, by God. We removed our suits and stripped to T-shirts and shorts--just like the old days. Exactly like the old days.
From "Getting to Abu Nuwas Street" by contributor Dheya al-Khalidi:
Baghdad's streets are desolate after midnight. The dark gathers in front of shops and alleyways. Wooden stalls for selling produce are laid down and intertwined like a broken-down train at a station. I'd always watch the cats chase each other, hiss and fight by the butcher's shop. But odd there weren't any stray dogs around, since I used to hear them bark in the capital every day. Maybe they sensed something grave that night, so they were hiding, putting off the hunt for another time.
Brand-new stories by: Muhsin al-Ramli, Nassif Falak, Hadia Said, Ahmed Saadawi, Salima Salih, Roy Scranton, Hayet Raies, Mohammed Alwan Jabr, Dheya al-Khalidi, Hussain al-Mozany, Sinan Antoon, Salar Abdoh, Ali Bader, and Layla Qasrany.
From "I Killed Her Because I Loved Her" by contributor Muhsin al-Ramli:
The neighborhood, timeless with its narrow, smelly lanes, seemed to have been forgotten since it came into being with the foundation of Baghdad in Abbasid times. The streets were pocked with potholes, noisy with the clamor of children playing and the clatter of peddlers' carts. On the pavement there were piles of putrid, smoldering garbage: the smoke mixed with the smell of spices, grilled meat, and other foods cooking. The houses were crammed with people and were built of old bricks and planks of wood. If they hadn't been leaning on each other, the only reason they didn't collapse was that there wasn't enough space on the ground between them.
From "Post-Traumatic Stress Reality in Qadisiya" by contributor Hadia Said:
What I'm telling you is that Baghdad is coming back. Yes. We've resumed the necessary insanity. Yes, yes, by God. We removed our suits and stripped to T-shirts and shorts--just like the old days. Exactly like the old days.
From "Getting to Abu Nuwas Street" by contributor Dheya al-Khalidi:
Baghdad's streets are desolate after midnight. The dark gathers in front of shops and alleyways. Wooden stalls for selling produce are laid down and intertwined like a broken-down train at a station. I'd always watch the cats chase each other, hiss and fight by the butcher's shop. But odd there weren't any stray dogs around, since I used to hear them bark in the capital every day. Maybe they sensed something grave that night, so they were hiding, putting off the hunt for another time.
