Thursday's book; Cleopatra's Wedding Present: travels through Syria by Robert Tewdwr Moss

Philip Hoare
Thursday 06 November 1997 00:02 GMT
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

Within the first few pages of this book its languidly English author has learnt the secret of violet-scented tea from a Syrian cloth- seller called Aladdin, met Boy George, and encountered the corpulent figure of photographer Dan Farson, who pounces on Tewdwr Moss at a restaurant, accusing him of all manner of calumny while helping himself to a plate of roasted sparrows, "stuffing them into his mouth - little ornithological corpses, sliding down into the maws of hell".

Tewdwr Moss's engrossing account often lingers at the maws of hell - in scrapes and sexual assignations enough to rival Joe Orton's - but all the while it is perfumed with his prose, as heavily scented as the man himself. "Perfume is the one luxury I allow myself when travelling into the unknown," he opines.

Yet the feyness never grates; he is too funny, acutely observant and emphatic. He drifts through souks, falling in love with Jihad, a Palestinian ex-commando. He meets a Shiite Muslim girl who, in a mosque, shows him her silver cross, an act "which could result in the girl getting stoned, and me with her... I realised that however much I loved the Arab world, my liking was indissolubly linked with my gender".

Beyond the politics of modern Syria is the history of the entire region: the dead cities of the desert; the modern cities seemingly about to go the same way. Tewdwr Moss is paradoxically at home in a land magnetic to outcasts. Death or its threat impinges on his narrative more than once: his meeting with Jihad, when he goes back to share the Palestinian's bed, is "overlaid with the familiar excitement that risk never fails to induce".

Ironically, it was in a flat in "civilised" London that his love of risk left him asphyxiated on his bedroom floor, the last edit of Cleopatra's Wedding Present completed that night. It would be hard to find a more archly entertaining, slyly informative, or poignant travel book than this.

Duckworth, pounds 16.95

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in