Sacrifice and unconditional devotion have long been recognised as common traits of motherhood, with mothers often seen as undertaking a sacred role. Increasingly, however, literature’s relationship with motherhood is changing, not least because female writers are rejecting such idealised notions. This is no act of defiance or rebellion, but rather a realistic acknowledgement of the diverse and often contradictory representations of motherhood in society.
Recently published Arabic novels by female writers of diverse ages and backgrounds are no different in their examination and depiction of motherhood, ranging from alignment with traditional ideals to narratives that challenge and transcend them. This article examines five such offerings and assesses how each one addresses this age-old topic.
A Cloud Over My Head
By: Doaa Ibrahim
Published by: Al Ain Publishing, Egypt
In Egyptian author Doaa Ibrahim’s debut novel, the mother figure is depicted in stark contrast to the traditional image of a nurturing, merciful mother. While the protagonist (Noha) strives to emulate such ideals, her mother is cast as their complete opposite: self-centred, emotionally unavailable, and wholly absorbed in her own life.
In her pursuit of personal fulfilment, she marries whoever suits her at the time, even at the expense of her daughter’s right to live with her. But the neglect extends beyond indifference, with a mother who “spits her poison into her daughter,” relentlessly voicing her bitterness over the absent father and bemoaning each of her failed marriages.
Ultimately, Noha is taken in by her criminal uncle who first molests, then rapes her. From an innocent girl, she transforms into a hardened and damaged woman, who becomes a nurse and then seeks to kill those under her care.
Her mother remains an enduring presence in Noha’s life, even after they seemingly sever ties. When the uncle dies a natural death, Noha redirects her unresolved rage towards her mother, set on vengeance. In a final attempt to reclaim herself, she journeys to find her father, who re-emerges unexpectedly, as though to rescue her from the wreckage of her past.
Yet the salvation proves illusory. Noha discovers that her mother’s death—which she thought would be a moment of release—only deepens her confusion and suffering. Her mother's psychological imprint is woven into the fabric of every life experience. Even after moving to Japan in pursuit of reinvention within an entirely different culture, Noha finds the past inescapable, the trauma of abandonment reasserting itself at every turn.
Hind, or the Most Beautiful Woman in the World
By: Hoda Barakat
Published by: Dar Al-Adab, Beirut
Lebanese writer Hoda Barakat presents a haunting portrait of maternal cruelty and its enduring legacy on the protagonist, Hanadi, whose mother could not cope with her daughter’s rare illness, one that disfigured her face.
Repulsed by her appearance, the mother isolates Hanadi in a remote part of the house, shielding her from public view for years. Eventually, Hanadi escapes her imprisonment, releasing her mother from shame by fleeing into exile and confronting the world alone.
Though she leaves her mother’s world behind, the maternal shadow continues to loom over her inescapably, words and judgements echoing in a voice that once defined her early world. As Hanadi navigates the brutal realities of exile, the emotional wounds from her mother’s rejection and hurtful remarks about her appearance remain vivid and refuse to heal with time.
Barakat crafts their complex relationship with subtle precision, between a daughter who can never truly escape, and a mother obsessed with appearances (and preserving them), who decides that her daughter no longer fits the image of a ‘proper’ girl. In doing so, the ideal of motherhood is stripped down to a superficial fixation on image.
The author expands the theme of motherhood into a broader metaphor for homeland. The mother’s love for her country and her efforts to instil that devotion in her daughter form a key strand of the narrative. Perhaps it is this inherited sense of belonging that compels the daughter—after years of exile in France—to return, only to find a homeland ravaged by war, instability, and threats.
As Hoda’s illness progresses and her vision dims, the memories resurface, amplifying her sense of futility. In this way, the mother is not merely a captor of the past; her influence persists beyond death, continuing to shape her daughter’s destiny until the very end.
House of Jazz
By: Nora Nagi
Published by: Dar El Shorouk, Egypt
Egyptian author Nora Nagi’s novel centres on three female characters, each with different backgrounds and life experiences, but bound by a shared encounter with societal cruelty and the formidable weight of motherhood. Set in a society that still burdens women with relentless responsibilities while strictly limiting their autonomy, it shows how each woman navigates these layered pressures and challenges.
The story begins with Radwa, a writer plagued by the thought of fictionalising a harrowing real-life crime she read about in the newspaper: a newborn baby thrown from a hospital window. A novelist, she is grappling with a deep internal conflict—one that manifests in both her writing and her life.
Dr Yomna, who witnessed the tragic event, knows both the mother and the circumstances behind the act, while Marmar is a young girl whose path leads her to that horrific moment not by choice, but by her mother’s cruel hand.
These three narratives, lives, and families show the impact of society on women and their ongoing struggle to uphold the ideal of the dutiful wife and selfless mother. Each confronts barriers and trials that ultimately dismantle this ideal, whether by conscious rejection or forced submission.
From the educated and professionally accomplished Dr Yomna to her stark opposite—a young woman denied both education and a dignified existence. Having been raped by a relative, her mother and aunt conspire to terminate the resulting pregnancy, seeing it as a disgrace to be concealed.
House of Jazz seamlessly intertwines the protagonists’ social crises with the writer’s own quest for survival through storytelling by processing and internalising such traumas, then rendering them into literature. Nagi dedicates an entire chapter to Radwa, her writer protagonist, offering a raw and intimate portrayal of her personal sorrows and her complex relationships with readers, critics, literary accolades, and more.
She draws a clear line between Radwa’s personal life and her fraught relationship with her parents, showing how these formative experiences shaped both her writing and her life. One painful memory resurfaces with haunting clarity, a sentence her mother once uttered that continued to echo long after her death: “You’re not my daughter. You didn’t come from this womb.”
Khawla’s House
By: Buthaina Al-Essa
Published by: Takween Publishing, Kuwait
This succinct 120-page novella by Kuwaiti writer Buthaina Al-Essa masterfully captures the world of her protagonist, Dr. Khawla, who is caught between the weight of her beliefs, cultural heritage, and upbringing, and the stark reality of who her sons have grown into.
In a final attempt to reconnect with them, she organises a special dinner, hoping to rekindle familial unity, but instead the gathering reopens old wounds and suppressed sorrow. An intended reconciliation becomes a kind of last supper.
Dr Khawla navigates two distinct roles: that of a mother responsible for her husband and three sons, and that of a university professor committed to guiding the younger generation and advocating for the principles she holds dear. Her views reach a broader audience through a televised programme in which she gives her thoughts. But all her efforts unravel in an instant, leaving her feeling like she is trying to catch the wind.
On the surface, motherhood does not appear to be Dr Khawla’s main concern. A passionate advocate for the preservation of heritage and tradition, her attention extends beyond the home to society and the region, including the Arab world’s confrontation with globalisation and the pressures of Americanisation.
The novel offers a poignant and realistic depiction of a mother who carrying the weight of responsibility—particularly in the absence of her husband—only to realise that her society neither sees her nor hears her, regardless of her status or achievements.
Against this backdrop, she confronts the quiet rebellion of her eldest son, Nasser, who struggles under the weight of her strict principles and inflexible rules. Yousef, the middle son, feigns obedience while subtly asserting his own terms while Hamad, the youngest, remains indifferent, silently observing and living by his own code.
The author deftly captures Khawla’s emotional swings between a maternal yearning to reunite her sons and an intellectual preoccupation with the lofty ideals she has long upheld, whether in the lecture hall, in her academic work, or during a single televised appearance that proved enough to spark a deep rift between her and her children.
The reader is left with a complex mix of empathy for this grieving mother approaching the twilight of her life and an understanding of her sons’ perspectives, their individual urges to break away or push back against her authority.
In Vanishing Ink
By: Azza Rashad
Published by: Al Kotob Khan, Cairo
The theme of motherhood in Egyptian writer Azza Rashad’s novel is not confined to a single story but unfolds through the lives of four women, each shaped by her unique experiences and tragedies.
Naima, also known as Naomi, attempts to reconnect with her old friends through a WhatsApp group. This virtual reunion lifts the lid on her private grief and a life steeped in solitude, with no true refuge except in writing.
She records her friends’ stories in digital files and stores these on her computer, which her son, Naji, discovers after her death. Within Naima’s memoirs, a hidden emotional struggle emerges, shedding light on the damaging role her own mother played in her life, a role defined by neglect and favouritism towards Naima’s friend, Nouga. This compelled Naima to seek her mother’s approval, striving to become the heroine her mother never saw in her, at the cost of abandoning her dreams.
Their friend Nadine gave up her dream of becoming a singer when she fell in love and relocated to France in pursuit of the idyllic life she had always envisioned. Embracing the roles of wife and mother, she poured herself into her family with total devotion, but after years of sacrifice, she is surprised by the lack of appreciation for her efforts. The care she lavished on them had felt like a long-endured prison, her son tells her.
Despite her varied experiences from Alexandria to Manhattan, Najwa remains deeply shaped by the views of her grandmother, Sundus, about how a girl or woman should behave. The absence of Najwa’s own daughter is painful, and the guilt she carries over having failed her—a failure that ultimately led to the girl’s disappearance—is overwhelming.
