The Gulf Between Us, By Geraldine Bedell

Reviewed,Katy Guest
Wednesday 13 May 2009 19:00 EDT
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.

Anyone picking up The Gulf Between Us as a scandalous banned book involving gay sex with an Arab sheikh: don't. As it turned out, the book was not necessarily forbidden from the Dubai Festival of Literature, as its author originally implied. It doesn't feature any gay sex (though quite a lot of straight sex is suggested, in the manner of a mid-raunch-level Mills & Boon). It is better than the sensationalist bonk-fest its publicity implied, and better than the feeble chick lit its punning title suggests. But Lady Chatterley's Lover it is not.

It is a sensitive and intelligent enquiry into prejudice, family, belief, loyalty and love in a very peculiar corner of the 21st century. The fictional Gulf state of Hawar – a glittering collision of traditional and modern – could represent Dubai, Bahrain, where Geraldine Bedell lived, or any number of countries in which the chador is now accessorised with Chanel. "Nothing about it made any real sense – its modern cities rearing up out of pitiless desert, its archaic hereditary dictatorships," says its narrator, Annie Lester. In this weird existence, her three teenaged sons must work out who they are, and dare to be.

Hawar is a very clever place to set a novel about thwarted love. The trials of young Matt, who spectacularly comes out of the closet at his brother's wedding, would not be out of place in Shakespearean tragedy; if Shakespeare had known about gay coffee bars and paparazzi. Bedell's treatment of a single mother trying to understand her sons' sexuality expertly finds a line between shrieky parent and patronising liberal. The narrator's father is a neat generational foil and a deftly-drawn individual, struggling with his infuriating "lack of entitlement". Readers looking for gay characters will not be disappointed (though they might also not be shocked by the twist). Above all, the debate about respect for religion and freedom of speech that cleverly plays across this novel is one that should be had, in as many formats as possible.

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