Set in Baghdad, Iraq, in 2005, Ahmed Saadawi’s novel Frankenstein in Baghdad tells the story of a supernatural monster, the Whatsitsname, who commits a series of murders. Hadi Hassani Aidros—an alcoholic junk collector and compulsive storyteller—created this creature by stitching together body parts from the remains of people killed in terrorist attacks. Hadi’s goal is to give dignity those who were killed, so that they might be seen as full human beings, not anonymous body parts. However, like the protagonist of Mary Shelley’s classic novel Frankenstein, the Whatsitsname develops special powers and a mind of its own. Soon, he begins killing human beings and terrorizing the local population. In this context, Hadi’s stories about the Whatsitsname cross the boundary between truth and fiction: many people believe that Hadi is making the story up, yet he knows that this is, in fact, a true story. Through such events, the novel examines the central role that storytelling—both real and fictional—plays in people’s lives. The novel suggests that, more than truth, what ultimately matters is a story’s impact: who believes it, and what the personal and political consequences of this storytelling might be.
The novel shows that all storytelling, but especially fiction, can be mentally and emotionally healing in the midst of widespread political violence. Telling stories can allow people to survive the wounds of the past. Two decades ago, Elishva, an old lady living in a historic house, learned that her son, Daniel Tadros Moshe, had been killed in the Iran-Iraq War. His body was never found and, since then, Elishva has refused to accept her son’s death. Elishva’s belief that Daniel would soon return leads many of the old lady’s neighbors to conclude that she is completely deluded. What these people do not understand—but what Elishva’s daughters, Matilda and Hilda, fully grasp—is that the story Elishva tells herself and others about her son’s eventual return actually plays a crucial role in her life: it gives her the hope and motivation necessary to keep on living. Matilda and Hilda do not care that their mother’s conviction is a delusion: they realize that this fictional story gives her the strength to stay alive.
In fact, the novel suggests that fictional stories, more so than true stories, often help people to stay sane in the midst of violence and chaos. For instance, while Hadi the junk dealer tells stories to entertain his audience, such stories also allow him to free himself from the emotional toll of these traumatic events. He recounts the story of the Whatsitsname because repeating it over and over again helps him forget that it is actually true—and absolutely terrifying. In this sense, framing his story as fiction gives Hadi a sense of agency in a violent environment over which he has, in fact, absolutely no control.
In contrast, while telling fictional stories can be healing, the novel emphasizes that telling true stories—though just as important and impactful—can be extremely risky, especially in an atmosphere of political violence and secrecy. After writing an article celebrating the arrest of a notorious gang leader in his hometown of Amara, the young and ambitious journalist Mahmoud Riyadh al-Sawadi receives death threats from the criminal’s brother, a man known as the Mantis. This forces Mahmoud to flee his hometown for Baghdad. This episode illustrates the danger of journalistic work, which aims to denounce crimes and tell the truth—but which, in doing so, can offend those who have power.
In addition to criminal gangs, the government also behaves aggressively toward those who spread sensitive information. Although Hadi is not actually involved in the Whatsitsname’s murders, the simple fact of telling stories about this creature has violent consequences for him. Police officers beat him up for supposedly being the monster’s accomplice, and, later, they arrest him for being the Whatsitsname. These episodes emphasize the impact that stories can have on people’s lives: stories can reveal powerful truths—truths sometimes so powerful that they can put the storyteller in danger, when faced with repressive authorities.
In this context, it becomes impossible to tell which stories are true and which are not, as everyone relies on a personal narrative—a possible mix of lies and truth—to protect their own interests and their own lives. For example, Hadi’s arrest confirms that the Iraqi government is not actually interested in uncovering the truth. As Mahmoud argues, the government does not care about Hadi’s guilt: what they want is to give the population a sense of peace and safety. By presenting themselves as heroes, capable of catching an elusive criminal, government officials hope that people will trust in their authority and power. Similarly, over the course of his work at the al-Haqiqa magazine, Mahmoud realizes that his editor, Ali Baher al-Saidi, manipulates information to serve his own interests. Saidi accuses other people of misdeeds—claiming, for example, that Brigadier Sorour Mohamed Majid is part of an assassination squad—in order to divert attention from his own secret affairs. As a result, when Saidi is later accused of stealing millions of dollars of U.S. aid, Mahmoud realizes that his boss’s stories were actually full of lies. Given the difficulty of discovering the truth in a context so fraught with political manipulation, Mahmoud concludes that accepting ambiguity and uncertainty is the only solution.
As different characters—each with their own allegiances and interests to defend—present contradicting visions of reality, the reader is free to choose which narratives are more convincing than others. Along with Mahmoud, readers are encouraged to understand that most of these characters’ narratives might contain elements of truth, but that these are difficult to disentangle from a web of lies and ambiguity.
Truth, Lies, and Storytelling ThemeTracker
Truth, Lies, and Storytelling Quotes in Frankenstein in Baghdad
Elishva no longer shared with anyone her belief that Daniel was still alive. She just waited to hear the voice of Matilda or Hilda because they would put up with her, however strange this idea of hers. The two daughters knew their mother clung to the memory of her late son in order to go on living. There was no harm in humoring her.
Sitting in the coffee shop, he would tell the story from the beginning, never tiring of repeating himself. He immersed himself in the story and went with the flow, maybe in order to give pleasure to others or maybe to convince himself that it was just a story from his fertile imagination and that it had never really happened.
But there were two fronts now, Mahmoud said to himself— the Americans and the government on one side, the terrorists and the various antigovernment militias on the other. In fact “terrorist” was the term used for everyone who was against the government and the Americans.
The Mantis’s brother had led a small gang that terrorized the locals until he was arrested and detained. The news of his arrest was greeted with great joy by many, including Mahmoud, who then wrote a newspaper article about the need to enforce the law against this criminal. He philosophized a little in the article, saying there were three types of justice—legal justice, divine justice, and street justice—and that however long it takes, criminals must face one of them.
Publishing the article won Mahmoud points for courage and for embodying the journalistic ideal of enlightenment in service of the public interest.
He turned to Mahmoud and said, “Brigadier Majid is one of the people you’ll have to get used to dealing with.”
Mahmoud said nothing but waited for further explanation because he didn’t plan to see Brigadier Majid and would try as far as possible to make sure that kind of meeting didn’t happen again.
“There are people like him in our world,” said Saidi, “and we have to learn how to deal with them tactfully, how to get along with them, how to accept that they exist.”
There were people who had returned from long journeys with new names and new identities […]. There were people who had survived many deaths in the time of the dictatorship only to find themselves face-to-face with a pointless death in the age of “democracy”—when, for example, a motorbike ran into them in the middle of the road. Believers lost their faith when those who had shared their beliefs and their struggles betrayed them and their principles. Nonbelievers had become believers when they saw the “merits” and benefits of faith. The strange things that had come to light in the past three years were too many to count. So that Daniel Tadros Moshe, the lanky guitarist, had come back to his old mother’s house wasn’t so hard to believe.
But what if one percent of his story were true? Isn’t life a blend of things that are plausible and others that are hard to believe? Isn’t it possible that Saidi reaching out to Mahmoud was one of those hard-to-believe things?
That’s why Mahmoud didn’t send a hostile response to Saidi’s message, or any other kind of response. He left things in a gray area, like the sky that day, trying to use Saidi’s own style against him, leaving him uncertain.