The book sparked quite the debate. How did your translation of this work come about? And what do you think of the harsh critiques it received?
In 1991, in the wake of the Gulf War, Italian poet and novelist Giuseppe Conte organised the international forum 'The Moth and the Flame' in San Remo, which sought to bring together the two cultures on the opposite sides of the Mediterranean.
I was invited to recite my poem 'Laylat al-Qadr' in Arabic and Italian. It was there that I met literary critic and linguist Prof Carlo Ossola, who compared 'Kitab al-Isra' and other books by Sufi scholars like Ibn Arabi and Sanai on the one hand, and 'The Divine Comedy' on the other.
He asked me to translate Palacios' book. I accepted the challenge and asked Roberto Rossi Testa to help me with the translation from Spanish while I handled the translation of the original Arabic texts that the writer had included in his book untranslated.
Once published, the book received good reviews from Italian history and literature experts enthusiastic about Arabic literature, from the likes of Maria Corti and other new generation critics, in a sharp contrast to the controversy of the 1950s and 60s. Many publishers would go on to publish subsequent editions of the book.
Whatever their nationality, migrants carry their culture with them. The Italians only understood this when the first books by migrants were published in the early 1990s.
These include 'Io, venditore di elefanti' (I, Seller of Elephants) by Pap Khouma and Oreste Pivetta, 'La promessa di Hamadi' (Hamadi's Promise) by Saidou Moussa Ba and Alessandro Micheletti, and 'Immigrato' (Immigrant) by Salah Methnani and Mario Fortunato.
What's your view of Italian migrant literature?
When I began writing my first novel, I considered myself to be an immigrant writer writing in Italian. I was labelled as a foreign writer by Bompiani Publishers. With time, I found that 'Italian migrant literature' was no longer a fitting label.
For me, language is the land. Whoever writes in the language of the land belongs to that land and the language itself becomes his land. Since my first novel, I've been writing in Italian independently. I was one of the first writers to write and publish books without collaborating with an Italian author.
You established the Dar al-Hikma cultural centre in Turin in the heart of a popular immigrant neighbourhood, in a bid to keep the Arab and Islamic Golden Age alive. Tell us more about it.
The Dar al-Hikma Italian-Arab Cultural Centre was established in 1985 by a group of Arabic language professors at the University of Turin. Its name was inspired by the famous 'Bayt al-Hikma' library in Abbasid Baghdad, in which many great literary works were brilliantly translated into Arabic.
We rented a 1950s building from the municipality of Turin and restored it in 2000, using both Italian and Arabic culture as inspiration. A one-of-a-kind centre in Italy, Dar al-Hikma became a meeting point for people from various cultures across the Mediterranean. It provides a host of services to both Italian citizens and migrants.
How would you describe your relationship with the Italian language, in which you authored most of your books?
It is a relationship of engagement and belonging, without denouncing my native language. I am fascinated by Italian. It's a Latin language, which means it has an abundance of synonyms, antonyms, and loan words. I love writing in Italian because, just like Arabic, it offers great flexibility and plenty of room for creativity.