I've been struggling to write in this class.  I don't know what all to say about some of the stories because I feel that I'm merely parroting what others see and think.  For instance, in Qamar al-Zaman and His Two Sons, I immediately recognized what our modern society and culture would deem Biblical threads.  I instantly thought of Abraham and Isaac upon reading the first page.  As the story continues I see echoes of Jacob, with missing persons, torn clothes, and animal blood all pointing to apparent death and foreshadowing a future parable of recognition, where a game will be played and a lesson taught.  And let's not forget that these two are obviously foils representing the two sides of one entity, hence the prevalent theme of twins found in so many of these stories.  And so I must say to myself:  "Big deal--everybody else can see that as well." 

But that wasn't enough to incur the hostility I first felt in reading this story, and I was at a loss to explain what exactly I found so overwhelmingly vexing about this particular tale.  Then in Monday's class it dawned on me.  The epiphany came while listening to the reaction of the random blogger that Dr. Sexson read in class.  I couldn't stand the character of Qamar al-Zaman.  I mean what a perfectly terrific moron, and I respected his father even less.  It was no wonder that Qamar turned out to be so dumb considering that the fig generally doesn't fall too far from the tree.  I also hate the descriptions of his hips.  In what universe are wide, curvy hips considered a desirable male attribute?  That blogger was right:  Princess Budur is way more interesting than her mentally addled prince.  But this shouldn't prevent me from enjoying the story and coming up with great insights like my fellow class mates had done.  So what if Qamar is a first-class moron?  That fact should serve to enhance the story, not take away from it.  After all, there would be no story if the dumb-ass hadn't chased after the bird that snatched the mysterious red jewel he'd been holding after snooping through his wife's pants while she slept.  If not for this event, there would have been no separation, and no reason to incorporate a cross-dressing Princess Budur into the adventure. And without this separation there would be no scene of recognition between the idiot prince and his wife the king.  And without all this, there would be no reason to insert the wretchedly hilarious verses of hardcore gay pornography that made Qamar cry like the spoiled little bitch he is.

I decided that I must change my lens, open my mind, and just let myself enjoy the whimsy of this ridiculous tale.  It worked.  For instance, the scene where one bird murders the bird who initially stole the red jewel, and then this death is avenged by two other birds after they have dug a grave for their fallen comrade.  It's just too much, but if I were telling stories to save my own life I guess that I would also (to borrow James' words) "go bat-shit crazy with it."  It was so over the top that I found myself laughing out loud, and... it was wonderful.  I think the generalization that people who read highbrow literature also read lowbrow literature (but not the other way around) is true.  I absolutely do read lowbrow literature and watch lowbrow TV; and if the ancient Muslim royals knew raunchy gay porn well enough to cite it while mentally torturing the people they love, this must mean that they too loved lowbrow stuff.  I can take a cue from them and change my shoes every once in a while.