The Complications of Exile and Belonging in Malcolm Cowley ’ s Exile ’ s Return ( 1934 ) and Fawaz Turki ’ s Exile ’ s Return ( 1994 )

This paper reconsiders the representation of exile in the memoirs of the American modernist Malcolm Cowley and modern Palestinian writer Fawaz Turki, arguing that against the privileged use of exile by Cowley, Turki represents exile as a catastrophic condition. In so doing, my paper asserts the necessity of accounting for the catastrophic aspect of exile as represented in the modern Palestinian canon for a wider understanding of the notion of exile in the modern discourse. I argue that the modern Palestinian experience of exile as delineated in Turki’s Exile’s Return has tragic, historical and political specificities that disrupt the view of exile as a desired position in the modernist American canon, which Cowley’s Exile’s Return capitalises on. However, this juxtaposition does not look forward to negating or dismissing American modernists’ glorification of exile as a space offering possibilities for freedom, resistance and creativity. Instead, I aim by this juxtaposition to reuse the concept of exile in ways that do not gloss over the differences between various exilic conditions.


Introduction
In A Companion to Comparative Literature, Ali Behdad and Dominic Thomas note that scholars of comparative literature have recently adopted the tendency to compare literary works by exiled, diasporic and immigrant western and non-western writers in order to explore new interpretations of the terms 'exile' and 'diaspora'.i These evolving interpretations have problematised traditional representation of exile in western literary canons.ii In the same book, Emily Apter argues that the Palestinian experience of exile is crucial for a wider understanding of the notion of exile, for 'Palestinians also inherit the dubious mantel [sic] of statelessness from the Jews'.iii In addition, some scholars have recently suggested that Palestinian experience of exile can be compared with Western configurations of exile from different perspectives, yet as far as I can ascertain no comparative literary study has attempted to test these arguments.iv These theoretical insights facilitate my argument in this article that the modern Palestinian experience of exile as represented in Turki's memoir has tragic, historical and political specificities that disrupt the view of exile as a desired position in the modernist American canon as represented in Malcolm Cowley's memoir.In this article, I choose the modernist American experience of exile for comparison with the Palestinian experience as exemplary of the view of exile for modernist western writers as a privilege.According to Gertrude Stein and Alfred Kazin, American modernists of the 1920s became the pioneers of the literary modernism movement and the inheritors of the western modernist discourse of exile.v   In the course of this article, I initially contextualise and discuss the circumstances that necessitated the voluntary exile of Cowley and the writers of his generation as represented in his autobiography Exile's Return.Then, I examine Turki's representation of the politics of his involuntary and voluntary experiences of exile in his autobiography Exile's Return as a counter narrative to Cowley's.Section II explores the mode of voluntary departure for each author.I argue that 1920s' American writers went to Paris in search of opportunity, whilst Turki and the writers of his generation sought foreign countries (mainly in Europe and the US) in search of sanctuary.In the following section, I consider the treatment of the exile/home dichotomy by Cowley and Turki, showing that its collapse means the loss of their attachment or belonging to a place.In section IV, I argue that whereas the titles of Cowley's and Turki's works seem to suggest an entire repatriation, my comparative analysis of the works proposes that their repatriation is not completely attained on either metaphorical or physical levels.In addition, I use my understanding of the significance of Turki's subtitle − The Making of a Palestinian-American − for a reconsideration of the implications of Cowley's subtitle A literary Odyssey of the 1920s.I will suggest that the notion of return for both writers is transformed from being purely a physical return into the exile's ability to reintegrate or reclaim his or her original place.Finally, I conclude in section V by accentuating the difference between the exilic conditions of Turki and the 1920s' American modernists, capitalising on the significance of the modern Palestinian experience of exile for the construction and interpretation of the notion of exile in the modern era. 2. Contextualising Departure Malcolm Cowley is the most prominent American author and critic that chronicles and encapsulates the exilic experience of 1920s' American literary cohort.Born in the town of Belsano in Cambria country, Pennsylvania, Cowley (1898Cowley ( -1989) ) devotes his Exile's Return to chronicling the story of 1920s' American writers who left the US for Paris after World War I. Analogously Fawaz Turki (b. 1941), a Palestinian expelled from Haifa as a consequence of the 1948 Nakba (catastrophe), devotes his Exile's Return to reflect upon the politics of Palestinian exile in the twentieth century.I begin this section of my article by examining the socio-political, cultural and ideological circumstances that necessitated the departure of Cowley and the writers of his generation from the US to Paris during postwar decade, the premise upon which his memoir is constructed.Then, I go on to discuss the politics of Turki's involuntary exile from Palestine in 1948 to a refugee camp in Lebanon, followed by his voluntary departure from Lebanon to Australia and then for a longer term to the US.This serves as a counter narrative to Cowley's privileged use of the notion of exile.
Cowley's Exile's Return begins by describing the philosophical despair and disillusionment of American writers of the 1920s with the socio-political atmosphere that dominated the US during the postwar decade as one reason for their departure to Paris.For example, Cowley narrates that American writers of the 1920s addressed American politicians with the claim that 'you lied to us.Your ideas were vicious; we reject them and reject you'.vi For postwar American writers, America's interference in World War I had achieved nothing and a feeling of insecurity affected their mental and emotional faculties.Sana Hussain's analysis of 1920s' American literature of war and exile lends support to this view.She notes that: 'ideological chaos and meaninglessness is usually a result of war leaving emotional and mental anguish'.vii The ideological disorder, emotional dissatisfaction and mental agony resulted in 1920s' American writers' loss of faith in the traditional system and socio-political structures of American nation, leading them to portray their society as 'alien ' and the 'enemy.' viii   The ideological gap between 1920s' American writers and their society is manifested by their detachment from the US, looking instead for alternatives in Paris.This sense of anti-nationalism, which is embodied by distance, is also a sign of rejection of the repressive Puritan traditions that engulfed the postwar decade in America.Cowley narrates: 'our nation had passed the Prohibition Amendment as if to publish a bill of separation between itself and ourselves; it was not our country any longer.'ix The protest of 1920s' American writers against American laws and their non-identification with their country suggest their anti-nationalist or trans-nationalist aspirations.Following in the footsteps of American modernists in Paris such as Gertrude Stein, Henry James and Ezra Pound, they aspired for resisting repression in the US by embracing exile in Paris.Seamus Deane has already suggested: 'distance from and disaffection with home territories has almost always been understood as a paradigmatic refusal of the [modernist] writer to surrender his or her radical freedom to the demands of an oppressive state or system.' x Deane's assertion helps to contextualise the celebration of 1920s' American writers for their exile in Paris as an empowering act against hegemony and repression at home.The departure of 1920s' American writers from the US also demonstrates exile as a modernist literary ideology.Gertrude Stein, who is one of the pioneers of this discourse, epitomises this trend through her arguments that postwar decade America fails to sustain cultural and creative advantages for American writers.For instance, in What Are Masterpieces?, she argues: 'I am an American and I have lived half of my life in Paris, not the half that made me but the half that made what I made.' xi For Stein, leaving America and embracing exile in Paris is therefore a precondition for American writers achieving their ideological, literary and cultural goals.1920s' American writers certainly did learn from her. Adding to the above reasons for their departure to Paris, Cowley argues, in a similar fashion to Stein, that America is a country that does not prompt creativity.Cowley describes Paris, instead, as the place where the American writer is inspired to write, a place which 'stimulates the nerves and sharpens the senses.' xii Contrary to the American modernists' glorification of voluntary exile in Paris illustrated above, Turki's Exile's Return shows the catastrophic side of exile for the Palestinians forcibly expelled from their homes in the 1948 Nakba.He begins his book by stating that 'the Palestinians who have lived in exile -and there are four million of them scattered around the Arab countries and beyond -have a story to tell about their own unspoken pain.' xiii Turki, therefore, sees himself as a speaker of that pain on their behalf.In his memoir, he describes his harsh situation as one of the Palestinian exiles physically, politically and spiritually dispossessed in a refugee camp in Lebanon.As I contextualized above, the physical alienation of American writers in Paris was the end result of the spiritual alienation they felt at home.On the contrary to that, the physical alienation of Turki and the other Palestinians in refugee camps in Arab states was a result of the political dispossession at the hands of Israeli colonialism.xiv Turki narrates: 'the alienation we [Palestinians] felt in our host states was the result of dispossession' by Israeli colonialists in 1948 Nakba.xv Thus, Turki's testimonies reveal that his first exile was compulsory and a flight in search for a refuge, rather than a matter of choice and a privileged position as it was for American writers of the 1920s.
In addition to Turki's description of the grim realities of the involuntary exile for Palestinians expelled from their homes in 1948 Nakba, Turki's work also encompasses his voluntary departure from the Arab world to Australia then the US, where he lives now.Though one might be tempted to think that the politics of Turki's second exile were similar to the politics of American modernists' voluntary exile, I argue that they are different as the circumstances that necessitated their voluntary exiles were different.That is, contrary to Cowley's description of the spiritual alienation at home that necessitated their departure from the US, Turki takes pains to describe that life in refugee camps in the Arab states (particularly Jordan, Syria and Lebanon) for Palestinians is intolerable, 'humiliating' and dehumanising.xvi This miserable condition, according to Turki, urges 'a new generation of Palestinians, marked by the scars of lost or betrayed dreams to surge forward again.' xvii Certainly, the lost dreams that Turki refers to here are the ones he describes in his first memoir: the dreams were lost because of the failure of the promises of Arab armies to 'drive the Jews into the sea' and return Palestinian refugee to their homeland.xviii   Turki does not only, in his memoir, represent the destitution of Palestinian refugees, and their disillusionment with Arab false promises.He also delineates the harsh treatment and hatred of Arab peoples and regimes for Palestinian refugees, which in turn necessitate their other departures.He narrates: after 1948 [...] the Arab world and its peoples were fully prepared to stab [Palestinian refugees] in the back, to mistreat them and place them close to the door for eviction to another country, another refugee camp, another state of destitution.xix Indeed, Palestinian refugees until the present day have suffered from harsh treatment, exploitation and discrimination by Arab regimes and peoples, and their wish to dispose of them.xx Because I focus in this context on Turki's generation, I should mention that this generation witnessed many episodes of the eviction of Palestinian refugees from Arab states.For example, many Palestinians of Turki's generation were expelled and killed by the events of Ayloul Al'soud (Black September, Jordan 1970).xxi The results of this event can offer an explanation for why Turki states that 'the alienation we felt in our host states [particularly Arab states]' was no less painful than 'the fatal disruptions that occurred following [Israeli colonialism] and the exodus of 1948'.xxii To be a Palestinian living in refugee camps in the Arab states means that you are tortured, imprisoned or a wanderer, Turki asserts.xxiii So far, I have argued that the socio-political circumstances surrounding Palestinian lives in refugee camps in Arab states reinforced Turki's exilic feelings that necessitated his next departures.I argue in the rest of this section that Turki's distress with the cultural milieu in the Arab world also impelled his voluntary departure to Australia and the US.In his Exile's Return, Turki complains that Arab society 'discourages spontaneity and innovation.' xxiv Such description spurs us to perceive Turki as a writer seeking an intellectual and cultural milieu for innovation beyond the Arab world, in addition to his attempt to transcend the imprisoning nature of his life in a refugee camp in Beirut.To support this argument, I quote the following words of Turki: 'fear of retribution by state and social milieu contributes to [their] accept[ance] [of] orthodoxy, dependency and submission.' xxv Here, Turki refers to the condition of the writers of his generation that do stay in the Arab world to argue that Arab society not only frustrates the writers' creative energies, but it also imposes orthodoxy upon them.xxvi   The comparison that Turki makes between his state of intellectual freedom as an exiled writer in the US and the hardships experienced by Arab writers living in Arab societies led some critics to suggest that Turki has embraced modernists' view of exile as a paradigmatic refusal of nationalism.Susanne Enderwitz, for example, suggests that Turki views his departure from the Arab world in a way that exemplifies Said's ideas of the 'trans-or anti-nationalist intellectual.'xxvii Although Enderwitz gives no evidence for her argument, I agree that many of Turki's arguments correlate with Said's.xxviii To give an example, Turki's statement: 'I cannot imprison myself within the boundaries of one nation' is comparable with Said's thought that 'borders and barriers, which enclose us within the safety of familiar territory, can also become prisons [...].Exiles cross borders, break barriers of thought and experience.' xxix In this regard, one can be tempted to interpret Turki's and Said's arguments as indicative of their tendencies to privilege the modernist discourse of estrangement for literary benefits, critical possibilities and anti-nationalist attitudes.This assumption will in turn view Turki's and Said's attitudes as modernists glorifying exile in a similar fashion to American modernists.Zina Halabi, for example, claims that the generation of exiled Palestinian intellectuals to which Turki belongs has certainly embraced the modernist discourse of estrangement (or what can be called voluntary departure in this context) as a critical and defining framework.xxx I agree with Halabi that the writers she refers to benefited from the critical possibilities and cultural advantages of their voluntary exile.However, I argue against Halabi in the next section and in other sections, suggesting instead that Turki, like many exiled Palestinian writers including Said, problematises rather than embraces this discourse and adds to our understanding of the notion of voluntary exile.

Reconsidering Voluntary Departure: A search for Sanctuary or Opportunity?
While it is obvious that Turki's first exile was compulsory, his departure from the Arab world in the 1960s − and my comparison of this to the departure of 1920s' American writers to Paris− raises some significant questions about the way in which we can further specify voluntary departure, for example as: a search for sanctuary or as an opportunity.In this section, I clarify this distinction by exploring the mode of my two authors' departure and considering the implications of a range of categories, definitions and terms that are associated with departure.I begin this clarification by examining the case of American writers of the 1920s first and then turning to Turki.I open my discussion on the nature of American modernists' departure to Paris during the postwar decade by suggesting that it cannot neatly be classified as either a search for sanctuary or as opportunity.This argument will in turn reveal the inaccuracy of critical tendencies that simply classify them as exile in search of sanctuary, or as immigrants looking for opportunities abroad.xxxi To illustrate my argument, I draw on Thomas Pavel's distinction between the two categories (immigrants versus exiles).Pavel writes: Immigrants begin a new life and find a new home; exiles never break the psychological link with their point of origin.Among the features of exile must thus be included the coercive nature of the displacement, its religious or political motivation.xxxii As Pavel's argument will reveal, Cowley's Exile's Return is very problematic in terms of categorizing 1920s' American writers as exiles or immigrants; it attributes a variety of characteristics to 1920s' American writers, some of which are used to describe exiles and others of which are used to describe immigrants.For instance, Cowley reflects on the psychological link between 1920s exiled American writers and their home by writing that: 'the country of our childhood survives, if only in our minds, and retains our loyalty even when casting us into exile.'xxxiii This description resonates with Pavel's description of exiles that they 'never break the psychological link with their point of origin.' xxxiv And the reasons for that, according to Cowley, fall into the categories of religious and political motivations that Pavel classifies above.As Cowley narrates: 'Puritanism is the great enemy' and 'the war had destroyed their belief in political action.' xxxv At the same time, Cowley ostensibly gives 1920s' American writers some characteristics of immigrants.For example, he narrates: 'they went abroad, many of them with the intention of spending the rest of their lives in Europe' and that 'perhaps they even felt homesick for America, but unless they had run out of money there seemed to be no special reason for returning.'xxxvi According to the distinction Pavel proposes, one can therefore also be tempted to view 1920s' American writers as 'immigrants [who] begin a new life' in Paris and find an opportunity for success.However, we are not told, so far, that Paris is 'a new home', which is a condition that Pavel suggests its necessity for one abroad to be classified as a proper immigrant.Its absence, therefore, obstructs our classification of them as genuine immigrants.xxxvii   In addition, I argue that one cannot simply call 1920s' American writers exiles.xxxviii The words that Cowley uses to describe Paris as a refuge for 1920s' American writers contradict our understanding of the term refuge, which further disrupts our classification of 1920s' American writers as exiles.Cowley describes it: The refugees were undergoing a peculiar experience [...] In Paris [...] they had written stories about their childhood [...] the hero of which was a sensitive boy oppressed by his surroundings [...] here in this ultimate refuge there were no distractions wherever, nothing to keep them from working except the terrifying discovery that they had nothing now to say.xxxix   In the above passage the author represents the refuge of 1920s' American writers in a positive or romantic way.Their refuge, according to Cowley, provides them with an inspiration for writing and an atmosphere conductive to productivity away from oppressive surroundings.This use of refuge contravenes the meaning of refuge or sanctuary (a synonymous word) that dictionaries provide.For instance, according to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, the word sanctuary means 'a place where someone is protected or given shelter' and it gives the following example: 'the refugees found sanctuary when they crossed the border'.xl Both the definition and the example suggest that the exile or refugee is one who crosses the border in search for protection from conflict, which is not the case for 1920s' American writers.1920s' American writers' experience of 'crossing the border', I argue, illustrates the modernists' 'experience of crossing boundaries and charting new territories in defiance of classic and canonic enclosures' at home.xli They cross borders of the American nation seeking a privileged position in Paris rather than the protection or sanctuary sought by actual refugees.
Indeed, Cowey's use of military and political terms to reflect on the Parisian exile of 1920s' American writers is entirely symbolic.Cowley frequently uses the words 'we were [spiritually] and physically uprooted' to reflect on his departure and the departure of the writers of his generation from the US to Paris.xlii This image suggests that 1920s' American writers were subjected to events that uprooted them from America and cast them into Paris.However, we inferred from Cowley's memoir that the reasons for their departure were mainly their dissatisfaction with the sociopolitical atmosphere and Puritanism in America in 1920s.Therefore, I argue that the actual episode of uprootedness cannot be applied to their case.As Simone Weil reminds us: 'uprootedness occurs whenever there is a military conquest, and in this sense conquest is nearly always an evil.' xliii Weil's argument adds to our understanding that the way Cowley represents refuge, exile and uprootedness is an inversion or subversion of what the political jargon suggests, and which Turki's experience illustrates.xliv Contrary to Cowley's privileged, symbolic and paradigmatic representation of refuge, uprootedness and exile, Turki's use of the terms manifest the actual and denotative meaning of them.Unlike Cowley, Turki describes his departure from the Arab world as uprootedness, escape, and a quest for security, terms associated with the word sanctuary.xlv As Muhammad Siddiq explains, crossing borders for Palestinian refugees outside Palestine is almost always a sign of their fate of continuing flight from terror in the host states and departure under compulsion.xlvi For Turki, the Arab world cannot be viewed as a secure refuge for Palestinians uprooted from their land in 1948 and his fate in the Arab world is no less painful than the fate of Palestinians in the occupied territories.To quote his words: 'after all, life under occupation may be harsh, but it is no better for Palestinians living in host states in the Arab world.' xlvii Turki's description erases the line of distinction between the enemy (Israeli occupation) and the neighbouring refuges (the Arab states), suggesting that lives of the Palestinians in Arab states are as harsh as those in the occupied territories.This, in turn, reinforces our understanding that Turki, like many other exiled Palestinian writers, crossed the border of the Arab world, seeking sanctuary instead in Europe and the US, rather than seeking opportunity there.xlviii   This may explain why 'the titles of many Palestinian American memoirs evoke exile, loss' and their 'coming-to-America stories revolve around loss and deracination, rather than fulfilment of destiny, attainment of a goal, or reaching a final destination.' xlix America, therefore, can for exiled Palestinian writers be more precisely described as a sanctuary.Turki suggests that exiled Palestinian writers who come to America are heirs of destitution 'escap[ing] [from the Arab world] elsewhere [...] with their crippling sense of loss of home and homeland' looking for a sanctuary rather than trying out new territories for the sake of opportunities or prestigious positions.l In this section, I read Turki's treatment of exile-home dichotomy as a counternarrative that disrupts and problematises Cowley's representation of it.I argue that whilst Cowley, in like fashion to Stein, views exile and home as complementary constructs and a privileged condition that grants the American writer simultaneous affiliation to two countries, Turki views exile/home binary as a condition of rupture and a tormenting lack.I begin my discussion by calling into question the following oft-quoted words of Stein that have long come to emblematize the dominant modernist view of exile as offering unique possibilities for resistance and freedom: After all, that is, everybody who writes is interested in living inside themselves in order to feel what is inside themselves.That is why writers have to have two countries, the one where they belong and the one in which they live really.The second one is romantic, it is separate from themselves, it is not real but it is really there li Exile and freedom become in Stein's formulation almost equivalent terms.Also, as Stein's passage indicates, exile for the American modernists is not only a mode of physical absence from home but also a form of art, as well as a means for individuality and resistance.Stein's thoughts on creativity, exile and home are the background against which I analyze the representation of 'exile' and 'home' constructs by the American writers of the 1920s.According to Cowley, 1920s' American writers expressed their desire for having simultaneous affiliation to their exile in Paris and their homeland (the US) as follows: 'I am sick of this country.I am going abroad to write a good novel.'lii Cowley's words metaphorically posit their exile in Paris as a remedy from the disease of living in the US only.This attitude suggests that 1920s' American writers embraced the modernist idea, which asserts the significance of the modernist writer living in Paris (one of the capitals of international modernism) for getting a membership of international modernism.The proponents of this movement advanced that: 'there is an essential virtue and gain in escaping the singularity of one culture into the multiplicity of all.' liii Against this backdrop, Turki represents exile/home dichotomy as an emblem of loss and a lack for the Palestinian writers.In the first place, Turki demonstrates that exile is an antithesis of home, and it marks Palestinians' state of nonbelonging.He writes: 'to be Palestinian was, in part by upbringing, in part by sensibility, to be a wanderer, an exile, a touch moon-mad, always a little different from others.Our name, which was acquired after 1948, was not so much a national title -we had no nation -as an existential term.' liv By this reflection, Turki speaks with a communal voice representing the Palestinian ideology, the underlying principle of which is that exile for the Palestinian embodies alienation, catastrophe, suffering and loss.Furthermore, exile for Palestinian writers marks rupture and absence rather than simultaneous presence and multiplicity.Turki describes: 'like other exiles, I was driven from one language to another, from one culture to another.The transition brought deep shifts in my sensibility that cannot be corrected.You cannot think in one language and feel in another.' lv Notice Turki's use of the passive tense 'I was driven'.It indicates that the transition from one language to another, from one culture to another is a passive and helpless transition; an involuntary departure that reflects the involuntary exile of Palestinians.Indeed, the multiplicity for Palestinian writers is experienced as loss, a double estrangement and a lack of self-definition.Exiled Palestinian writers are torn between countries, between homes, between cultures and between languages.In this context, it is worth quoting the following lines that Mahmoud Darwish shares with Edward Said: He says: I am from there, I am from here, but I am neither there nor here.
I have two languages, but I have long forgotten which is the language of my dreams.
Darwish and Said take pains to voice that they cannot define themselves in relation to a place because every place for them is out of reach.The rupture penetrates Darwish and Said's sense of personal and national identities and their sensibilities; as well as, the rupture pervades the domains of their everyday life, thoughts and emotions.Suffering from both external and internal exiles, all Palestinian writers stress their inability to feel at home in either their host states or Palestine.Every place for Palestinian writers is an exile, which in turn leaves no distinction between the conditions of life in Palestine and in their exile around the world.Turki epitomises that by writing: 'exile and homeground are indivisible part of each other.' lvi In this sense, Turki fuses the binary between home and exile to reflect on his state of placelessness and homelessness both in Palestine and everywhere else.

Suspended Return: Exilic Consciousness and the Exile's Complex Position
As I mentioned before, for Stein Paris is not a real place, so for 1920s' American writers Paris cannot be a possible home.America, instead, is the actual place and to which 1920s' American writers belong, according to Stein.Therefore, when American modernists (although not all of them) felt that living in their Parisian exile no longer sustainable, they moved back to the US.As Caren Kaplan argues: 'in focusing a significant section of the text on the return to the United States of his literary cohort, Cowley clearly ironizes the term "exile" -the "literary Odyssey" of his expatriates leads them to repatriation rather than eternal wandering and melancholy.' lvii On the contrary, Turki uses the term return to show the failure of his return to Palestine.Turki's subtitle The Making of a Palestinian-American positions Turki as the wandering Palestinian who is relegated to eternal exile in the US.In this section, I use my understanding of the significance of Turki's subtitle for a reconsideration of Cowely's subtitle A Literary Odyssey of the 1920s, in order to suggest the following: the notion of return for both writers is transformed from being purely a physical return into the exile's ability to reintegrate or reclaim his or her original home.I will, in turn, attribute this condition to the exilic consciousness of my two authors and their complex positions towards return to their original places, which they cultivated in the exilic milieu, as well as to the geopolitics of their old environments.
As his memoir reveals, Turki has a complex attitude towards returning to Palestine: longing and uncertainty to do so.He writes: 'the tug of return always lies at the center of a Palestinian's identity.I understand this tug, and at times I feel it in my own heart, but it is alien to what I believe.' lviii Turki's statement suggests that Turki ideologically conforms to the pressures of the modern Palestinian canon, which define Palestinian-ness through fixed norms and parameters, one of which is the necessity of A'wdah return to Palestine.In this vein, Maha Halabi writes: the future vision [of Palestinians] is centred on the continuity of Palestinian-ness; it is centred on the idea of 'return' to a future not defined by existential outsidedness.lix To give up the notion of 'return', regardless of how it is conceptualized is to give up Palestine and to give up Palestinian-ness.lx I emphasized the above words of Halabi to suggest that although Turki has ambivalence towards returning to Palestine, he does not give up his Palestinian identity by staying in the US.He, instead, reconceptualises the notion of return in a modernist fashion.This, in turn, underscores the marginality, complexity and ambivalence of Turki's position.His words 'but it is alien to what I believe' are very suggestive.lxi Turki conditions his return to Palestine by Palestinians having 'a modern country', metonymically figured through 'Jericho airport' lxii .By demanding this condition, Turki capitalises on the fact that the Palestinians have no state.Therefore, for Tukri the return to Palestine means he returns to a land that was Turki's but now inhabited by a foreign people, the Israelis; a non-acceptable situation for Turki.Thus, unlike the position Turki expresses in the first half of his long sentence quoted above, he expresses in the second half of the same sentence his hesitance to conform to the modern Palestinian canon, which requires the Palestinian repressing and confronting the hardships inherited in living or returning to the occupied territories.Turki made it clear in his memoir that he prefers the life of freedom in the US rather than the life of imprisonment and restrictions in Palestine.In other words, Turki's exilic experience, which is punctuated with freedom in the US, debilitates his ideological concerns.The shift in Turki's arguments, therefore, explains the complexity of his position: the longing to return to Palestine and the fear of doing so -an issue I will expand upon later.
Cowley, analogously, expresses in his memoir that his exilic experiences in Paris hindered his reintegration with his original place (the US) upon his return.He narrates 'and I was returning to New York with a set of values that bore no relation to American life.' lxiii What my two writers share, I propose, is that: their enterprises and perceptions of their original places, which are cherished in the exilic milieu, remain utopian and irreconcilable with the reality of the situation at home.The two authors' perceptions are not based on an actual experience of the geographical, political, social and cultural realities in their original places but mere imagination.In other words, the tapestry of images Turki and Cowley construct of their old environments is incommensurate with the geopolitics of the place -a reality that 'the exile is unable to substitute for another without giving up part of himself.' lxiv In this context, I argue that Turki's reflections in the first pages of his memoir on the exilic condition of 1920s' American writers aim to illustrate the Palestinian interpretation of the modernist exile as follows: modernist exile has its limitations in giving possibilities for freedom, privileges and resistance, if any.Turki identifies with Thomas Wolfe (one of the 1920s' American writers) to show that exile is a realm of destruction for roots and memory of a place.lxv Again, I understand the analogy that Turki makes between his condition and the exilic condition of 1920s' American writers as an entrance into the American modernist discourse of estrangement or a disruption of it with the Palestinian interpretation of the notion of exile as follows: the contemplation of exile and privileging it suggests alienation from home and loss.lxvi Turki's model resonates with the frequently-quoted dictum of Said, which occupied a central position in the critical construction of the modern exilic discourse.For Said, celebrating exile is 'a challenge or a risk.' lxvii What Said asserts by these words is that the exiled writer might fail to challenge the force of exile in blurring the line between the exiled writer and his or her old place.In other words, Said, like other exiled Palestinian writers, emphasized that exile is a force that aggravates the condition of belonging.Exile for the Palestinian writers is a realm of destruction that lures in the case of voluntary exiles with promises but fails to bring them back to the point of departure.When Said was asked to comment on the title of his memoir, he answered that it means 'not being able to go back.It's really a strong feeling I have.I would describe my life as a series of departures.But the departure is always anxious.The return always uncertain.Precarious.' lxviii And before the above reflection, Said tells the interviewer: 'I feel that I have no place.I am cut from my origins.I live in exile.I am exiled.' lxix Juxtaposing the above Palestinian notion of exile as a tragic and precarious condition, or an obstacle for return, with 1920s' American notion of exile as a privileged position, arguably, suggests that: the glorification of American modernists for their exile in Paris has been disrupted with the precariousness of their return to the US.According to John Gawelti, the consequences of American modernists' celebration of their exile in Paris made their return as problematic as the problematic return of the actual involuntary exiles.'Stranded far from ideological homeland of their earlier years ' Gawelti writes, 1920s' American writers have come to emblematize 'the pervasive spiritual exile of modern experience'.lxx Gawelti's argument, thus, suggests that the alienation of 1920s' American writers becoming a permanent state of mind can be seen as a counterpart of the physical alienation of the actual modern exiles.In this context, Thomas Wolfe's proclamation for 1920s' American writers that 'You Cannot Go Home Again' reinforces my argument that the return for the exiled writers is not only a pure repatriation but the possibility of restoring the profound sense of belonging to a place or feeling inside it.lxxi  Rushdie's argument fits as a conclusion for this section.He comments on the exilic condition of Indian writers as follows: 'our physical alienation [...] inevitably means that we will not be capable of reclaiming precisely the thing we lost; that we will, in short create fictions, not actual cities and villages, but invisible ones, imaginary homelands.'lxxii Indeed, the actual reality that the exiles, emigrants or expatriates lost can only be reclaimed through constructing an imagined construct of home, something my two authors reflected on.I should add also that the exile might look for another home to alleviate the pain of his or her loss of a homeland as Turki illustrates in next section.

Exilic Conditions
Turki's decision to stay in the US after his feeling of a permanent loss of Palestine upon his attempt of return there is a helpless act rather than a matter of choice.It is, in other words, a reluctant submission to the state or force of homelessness.Turki by the end of his memoir comes to look at homelessness as a home in order to alleviate the pain of his loss of Palestine -a fact most critics overlooked.For example, Susanne Enderwitz wrongly views Turki's decision to live in the US rather than Palestine as an embodiment of his aspiration for anti-nationalism or trans-nationalism.lxxiii My counter argument to Enderwitz can be illustrated by accounting to the point of Turki's reflection on his state of placelessness and his attitude to identify with New Yorkers.He narrates that: I need not live in Nablus or Jericho or Gaza.I could live anywhere [...] especially New York, because New Yorkers are like Palestinians in many ways.They too are born of tragedy.Their ancestors landed at Ellis Island after escaping a czar who claimed to love them [...].lxxiv Notice the absence of Haifa, the city from which Turki was expelled, from the range of Palestinian cities he names above.I think that Turki intentionally crosses Haifa out from the passage above to convey a political message.This message embeds that every place for Turki is an exile, even Nablus, Jericho and Gaza, except Haifa.Turki's memoir was published in 1994, one year after the signing of Oslo Accords, which Turki criticized in his memoir.It was agreed in those accords, which were signed by the Palestinian Liberation Organisation (PLO) and Israel in Madrid in 1993 that the Palestinian cities which Turki mentions above were to be administered by the Palestinian interim government.In addition, the issue of the cities from which Palestinian people were uprooted in 1948 Nakba, like Haifa and Acre, were to be discussed later.Also, these accords mentioned that some of Palestinian refugees will return to Jericho and Gaza or West Bank, while the issue of the Palestinian refugees' return to 1948 cities such as Haifa and Acre was marginalized.By his reflection above, Turki underscores his dissatisfaction with these accords and the PLO leaders' agreement to sign these accords, I argue.Also, the allusion Turki makes in the above passage to Emma Lazarus's poem 'The New Colossus' is very indicative.lxxv In this poem, America is described as 'mother of exiles'.lxxvi Turki feels that his homelessness becomes a permanent condition (something the titles of his memoirs reveal) after he lost his original city Haifa.The only possible alleviation for this pain, according to Turki, is seeing America as a substitute home or the last refuge, a refuge of an escapee from oppression in Palestine and refugee camps.In other words, for Turki, making a Palestinian-American (the subtitle of his memoir) can palliate his anxiety about his identity.In her article 'The American Experience', Kathleen Christison argues that because Palestinians have no homeland, or their homeland is occupied by foreign occupation, Palestinians in America tend to identify themselves as Palestinian-American in order to relieve their sense of homelessness and incompleteness rather than an aspiration for American nationality.lxxvii As she continues to state: 'large numbers of Palestinians tend to be here [in the US] ... simply because there is nowhere else to go.For these Palestinians, becoming American is not a choice made enthusiastically but a passive act, taken because there is no other or better alternative.'lxxviii While Turki avows in the above passage that it no longer matters where he lives, his avowal deconstructs itself from within, I argue.As I noted, exile for Turki represents the last resort, a passive act stems from political circumstances prevalent in the occupied territories and in the refugee camps in Arab states.For Turki, if he can choose where to live, then the choice of the place does matter for him.Turki aspires for a place that is defined by security, freedom and comfort.For Turki, Haifa is out of reach, so he cannot choose Haifa as a home, and living under Israeli occupation or in refugee camps in Arab states compromises his security and life.In the same vein, Palestine or Arab states for Turki are places where one cannot exercise his or her intellectual activities 'without fear of retribution'.lxxix Therefore, when Turki describes exile as 'comfort', one should interpret Turki's statement in a radically different way from the way exile is comfortable for American modernist writers.The US for Turki is a comfortable sanctuary because it rescues him from the humiliating treatment by Israeli occupation and Arab regimes.By contrast, for American modernists exile is 'an idea of salvation' from nationalism and traditions prevalent in the US postwar decade.lxxx Exile as a salvation in Turki's lexicon, on the contrary, refers to a salvation from abuses, injustices, pain, poverty, murder and imprisonment that Palestinians suffer from both in the occupied territories and in the refugee camps.

A Final Note
My contrastive analysis above is not to negate or argue that Palestinian writers negate the modernist sense of exile as a culturally rewarding experience.Palestinian writers themselves appreciated the cultural reward in exile; however, their appreciation of this cultural reward does not posit exile as a position to be desired but a position to be challenged.That is to argue, the Palestinian authors' appreciation of the cultural advantages in their exiles in the US and Europe emerges from the necessity for the Palestinian exile to create something out of nothingness (exile) rather than celebrating an opportunity granted by choosing exile as a way of living.Maha Halabi supports this view, stating that 'the second [Palestinian] generation in exile works towards transforming the space of nothingness into a space of cultural, social, historical and political production.' lxxxi Moreover, in most cases the advantages of cultural perspectives that Palestinian writers gain in exile aim to defend the Palestinian cause or abolish exile altogether, rather than in defiance of home and nationalism or privileging exile, which American modernists celebrated their exile for.lxxxii Furthermore, whilst American modernists see exile as a means for a membership of internationalism (which Paris is one of its cities) or a resistance for American nationalism, exile for Palestinian writers is the obstacle to having a nation, or the emblem of loss of a homeland.As the Palestinian national poet Mahmoud Darwish argued, one must have a state to think of exile as a desired position for resisting and criticizing nationalism or traditions at home.He quotes: 'Jean Genet said that a homeland is a stupid idea, except for those who still don't have one.Goytisolo, the Spanish poet, answered him: "And when they have a homeland?"Genet said: "let them throw it out the window."'lxxxiii Whilst exile in Paris for the American modernists is embraced for a better existence, for Palestinians exile is the negation of existence.In this sense, Palestinian writers offer a new interpretation for the notion of 'exile'; an interpretation that inverts the notion of exile in the American modernist literature.American modernists' departure from their home was a result of feeling internal exile in the US.Therefore, their external exile in Paris is a means to relieve that feeling.By contrast, Palestinian writers confront the internal and spiritual alienation at home with steadfastness and rootedness.As Mahmoud Darwish states: 'I prefer to be an exile at home than at home in exile.' lxxxiv The Palestinian writers assert the necessity of attachment to place and steadfastness Sumoud as a form of resistance in the face of Israeli forces that aim to make them aspire for seeking an external exile by which they overcome the pain of the internal exile that engulfs their sensibilities.The Palestinian writers represent the Palestinians'' Sumoud in Palestine in spite of the inexorable circumstances as a counter strategy that Palestinians use against Israeli strategy that works towards eradicating the link between the Palestinian and his or her land.Note how Turki reflects on the Palestinians' overarching interest in the preservation of the link between the exiled Palestinian and his or her land: 'we are from that land.The stuff of our bones and our souls comes from there.We and the soil are one... the land of others does not know me.I am a stranger to it.'lxxxv This attitude is special for actual exiles, I think, especially the Palestinian exiles, I believe.
In this regard, Mary McCarthy's distinction between the terms exile and expatriate (voluntary exile) is crucial to support my above differentiation between the Palestinian involuntary exiles' attitude to remain at home and American voluntary exiles' attitude to leave their home.'Classically,' McCarthy writes, 'exile was a punishment decreed from above, like the original sentence of banishment of Adam and Eve.' lxxxvi The expatriate, in her view, is the opposite of the exile: 'his main aim is never to go back to his native land, or, aiming to stay away as long as possible.His departure is wholly voluntary.'lxxxvii McCarthy's distinction helps to contextualise the departure of American modernists and their non-identification with postwar US as something closer to renunciation of attachment.This attitude towards the US by American modernists depends upon the possibility of their sustainability of their life away from home.lxxxviii McCarthy notes: 'When the dollar dropped in value during the thirties, after the crash, the American [expatriates in Paris], by and large, went swiftly home.' lxxxix As I explained above, this is absolutely not the case of exiled Palestinian writers whose departure from Palestine is wholly involuntary and their return is not a matter of choice but they are deprived from it.
As I am moving towards concluding my article with final words, I should refer to Said's conceptualization of the two different views of exile I slapped against each other in this article.Said states that whereas exile can be seen as 'a norm, and experience of crossing boundaries [...] in defiance of classic canonic enclosures' 'the mass of Palestinians dispersed throughout the Near East who [...] really set the conditions for life in exile.' xc Taking a step in this direction, my comparative textual analysis built on the two opposing views of exile that Said introduces above.In so doing, my article did not aim to negate the American modernist view of exile as a norm for defiance of traditions and enclosures at home.Instead, my article pointed to the ways in which Palestinian writers' reflections on the anguish of their exile throughout the world disrupt American modernists' reflections on the pleasures of their exile in Paris.
xxxiv Pavel, 'Exile as romance and as tragedy', p. 26.xxxv Pavel, 'Exile as romance and as tragedy', p. 60. xxxvi Pavel, 'Exile as romance and as tragedy', p. 243 xxxvii Pavel, 'Exile as romance and as tragedy', p. 26.xxxviii In reference to 1920s' American writers who lived in Paris, many scholars referred to them as expatriates.I call them exiles here to reflect on their metaphorical use of the term 'exile'.xxxix Cowley, Exile's Return, p. 242 xl http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/sanctuaryxli Edward W. Said, Culture and Imperialism (London: Vintage Books, 1994), p. 384.xlii Cowley, Exile's Return, p. 27.xliii Simone Weil, The Need for Roots: Prelude to a Declaration of Duties Towards Mankind (Oxford: Routledge, 1952), p. 42.xliv I will argue in next sections that 1920s' American writers' privileged view of exile and glorification of distance is risky in terms of aggravating their condition of belonging and return to the US.They will later lose their sense of attachment to their home seeking home or sanctuary elsewhere.xlv Turki, Exile's Return, p. 63. xlvi Muhammad Siddiq 'On Ropes of Memory: Narrating the Palestinian Refugees', in Mistrusting Refugees, ed. by E. Valentine Daniel and John Chr.Knudsen (California: University of California Press, 1996), p. 89.xlvii Siddiq 'On Ropes of Memory', p. 84.xlviii In reference to writers of his generation Turki writes: 'other Palestinians of my generation escaped [from the Arab world] elsewhere [...] with their crippling sense of loss of home and homeland.'(Exile's Return, p. 63).xlix Wail S. Hassan, 'Exilic Memories', in Immigrant Narratives: Orientalism and Cultural Translation in Arab American and Arab British literature, ed. by Wail S. Hassan (Oxford scholarship online: 2011),<http://www.
Exile's Return, p. 206.ixCowley,Exile'sReturn, p. 74.American writers 'think of themselves as exiles while living at home' as a result of the feeling of spiritual alienation at home, Exile's Return, p. 289.Exile's Return: The Making of a Palestinian-American(New York: The Free Press, 1994), p. 61.The Disinherited: Journal of a Palestinian Exile (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1972), p. 59.It is notable that Palestinian refugees are greatly affected by the events of what is called the 'Arab Spring'.They are taken scapegoats by Arab regimes and rebels, most prominently in Syria.Both the regime and the rebels use them as a shield from which to attack each other.As a result, many Palestinian refugees have been killed in these events and many others are deprived from food and water supplies.Also, as Hani Naqshabandi wrote in his article on 9 of June 2014 'if Israel has slipped Palestinians their land, Arab states have slipped Palestinians their humanity.''Why don't we Dispose of Them?', Raya Journal, 10 June 2014.My translation.Ayloul Al'soud is an event in Palestinian history in which the Jordanian army attacked Palestinian refugees in Jordan killing some and expelling others.For more information on the treatment of Palestinians of Turki's generation by Arab regimes see Fawaz Turki, Soul in Exile: Lives of a Palestinian Revolutionary (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1988); Glenn Bowman, 'Tales of the Lost Land: Palestinian Identity and the Formation of Nationalist Consciousness', in Space and Place: Theories of Identity and Location, ed. by Erica Carter, James Donald and Judith Squires (London: Lawrence & Wishart, 1993), pp.73-99.Exile's Return, p. 61.Turki and the writers of his generation' in this article to refer to exiled Palestinian writers born in the 1940s that were expelled from Palestine in the 1948 Nakba and travelled to Europe and the US, such as Mahmoud Darwish and Mourid Barghouti.xxvii Susanne Enderwitz, '"Home" in Palestinian autobiographies', in Crisis and Memory: The Representation of Space in Modern Levantine Narrative, ed. by Ken Seigneurie and Samira Aghacy (Wiesbaden: Dr. Ludwig Reichert, 2004), pp.223-42.xxviii Edward W. Said, Reflections on Exile (London: Granta, 2001), p. 185.Exile's Return, p. 85; Said, Reflections, p. 185.Zina Halabi'Writing melancholy: The death of the Intellectual in Modern Arabic literature', University of Texas Libraries, (2011),<http://hdl.handle.net/2152/ETD-UT-2011-08-3998>[accessed 1 June 2014] (p.35).See for example John Gawelti's argument that 1920s American writers are mere immigrants, not exiles.'Eliot, Joyce and exile'.ANQ: A Quarterly Journal of Short Articles, Notes and Reviews -14 (2001), pp.38 -45.For examples of critics that have classified 1902s' American writers as refugees in Paris for being uprooted by World War I, see Hannah Skahill's 'Expatriate .edu/pdf/academics/.../geog_skahill_honors_thesis.pdf>[accessed 2 June 2014];Alfred Kazin On Native Grounds: An interpretation of Modern American Prose Literature (San Diego : Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1982).xxxii Thomas Pavel, 'Exile as Romance and as Tragedy' in Exile and Creativity: Signposts, Travellers, Outsiders, Backward Glance ed. by Susan Rubin Suleiman (Durham: Duke University Press, 1998), pp.26-38(p.26).