BEELAERT, A.L.F.A. — a Cure for the Grieving: Studies on the Poetry of the 12Th Century Persian Court Poet Khaqani Sirwani

165 BOEKBESPREKINGEN — PERSICA 166

PERSICA

BEELAERT, A.L.F.A. — A Cure for the Grieving: Studies on the Poetry of the 12th Century Persian Court Poet Khaqani Sirwani. (Publication of the “De Goeje Fund”). Nederlands Instituut van het Nabije Oosten, Leiden, 2000. (24 cm, xii, 232). ISBN 90-6258-972-3; ISSN 0169-8303. / 65,-. Khaqani is not an easy poet to deal with. A highly erudite poet, his poetry is filled with allusions to contemporary fields of learning, and his imagery is drawn not only from such dis- ciplines but also from contemporary material culture. His poetry is highly Arabized (cf. his extensive use of tajnis, a device more suited to Arabic morphology than to Persian). His qaÒidas often feature multiple ma†la‘s (exordia), a poetic strategy which he is credited with inventing. Materials for his biography, mostly culled from his poetry, are unreliable (it is difficult to separate the topoi from the “facts”); and the problem of “re-dedication” (addressed in the book under review) haunts the student of his panegyrics especially. His poems have generated numerous commentaries, chiefly in Persian; studies on the poet in Western languages are few and far between, save for scattered articles on individual poems and a rather heavy-handed study of his use of metaphor which reduces the vitality of his language to algebraic equations. Anna-Livia Beelaert’s book is, then, a most welcome and valuable contribution to our knowledge of this complex poet. While it deals primarily with Khaqani’s masnavi the TuÌfat al-{Iraqayn (which has sometimes, rather superficially, been described as a “travelogue” recounting the poet’s pilgrimage to the holy cities of Mecca and Medina), it addresses many other important issues regarding Khaqani’s poetry and places his poetry in the larger context of both earlier and contemporary Arabo-Persian poetry. This study was originally the author’s doctoral thesis (1996), which incorporated a number of previously published articles, conference papers, etc.; this accounts for the somewhat disjointed nature of the book, but in no way detracts from what it has to offer. It has now been republished in a hardback edition by the Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, with minimal revisions, except for the addition of a few later references (see the Preface, ix-xi) and a brief discussion of an important contemporary manuscript (see Addendum). In her Introduction Beelaert reviews what little is known of Khaqani’s life, outlines the current state of studies on the poet and her own project, gives a résumé of the TuÌfa, and declares her goals. These include, most notably, the effort to show “how a single image can function as connecting ele- ment of a poem” (18; other more recent studies of Khaqani 167 BIBLIOTHECA ORIENTALIS LXII N° 1-2, januari-april 2005 168 as well as of other poets, have also addressed this issue), and the image of the sun as messenger, and the “messenger” how “the same item, the same word, means something totally topos in Persian poetry in general. “Messengers” include liv- different in another place, at another time” (19). She argues ing creatures (especially birds) and natural phenomena (espe- that if this principle is recognized for Khaqani, it may inform cially the wind). Khaqani treats the sun as friend and confi- our understanding of other poets as well. dant in the TuÌfa (Beelaert compares the use of this motif by One must however question the Sufistic reading often other Persian poets), and establishes a relationship between applied to Khaqani’s poetry, both here and elsewhere in the himself and the sun “by attributing to it the same professions book. The statement that “Although [Khaqani] was a court as he attributes to himself in the autobiographical section of poet, he was a court poet in an age in which this profession the poems” (54; I would question how much of this should was no longer the obvious choice for someone with literary be read literally and how much metaphorically). The sun has, talents” is belied by the proliferation of court poets in this however, an ambivalent nature: it is light-giving, and the period; and the linkage of Khaqani with his contemporary poet’s friend, but is also a symbol of unhealthiness (its yel- Farid al-Din {A††ar (a poet apparently without court connec- low color is “a sign of grief and illness” [64], its fieriness tions, but living in a different area under different conditions) has connections with Iblis/Satan [66], and both qualities are seems awkward and contrived. Such arguments beg serious associated with cupidity, especially through the connection questions concerning patronage, which, as both the qaÒidas with gold [zar; see 69 ff.]). This reminds us of Beelaert’s and other poems, and not least the TuÌfa, suggest, Khaqani argument that the same words/motifs/images may mean dif- actively sought throughout his poetic career. (This is reme- ferent things at different times, in different places, and, espe- died, however, by Beelaert’s detailed treatment of the mam- cially (though this is not fully articulated) in different con- duÌs of the TuÌfa in subsequent chapters.) Complaints about texts. the profession of court poet (especially by poets who would The author then takes up the issue of Khaqani’s criticisms not wish to be anything else, but who feel they are not being and disavowals of the profession of court poet. Since the treated as they deserve) are frequent in Persian poetry. The TuÌfa was addressed to a wide variety of patrons and poten- broad geographical and political area of Khaqani’s dedica- tial patrons, should we take everything the poet says literally, tees testifies to his constant search for reliable patronage, or read his statements as poetic topoi? Here we encounter the through which he could be confidant of support. Beelaert also issue of the poetic personae Khaqani (like other poets before discusses the possibility of alternative titles for the TuÌfa (13- and after) adopts: the court poet, the devout pilgrim, and, not 14), but comes to no definite conclusion, as is indeed impos- least, the moral advisor. This latter persona applies particu- sible given the tendency of scribes and redactors to allocate larly to the poet’s verses which equate the sun, and the titles which they deem appropriate but which are of no use Prophet MuÌammad, as physicians who heal both body and to modern scholars in attempting to identify a given work. soul. Beelaert further discusses the common analogy between TuÌfat al-{Iraqayn is generally translated as “a gift from the the sun and the mamduÌ. Just as the sun may represent cupid- two Iraqs” (Arab and Persian); but in view of the recipients ity, it also represents generosity: it is life-giving, and its of its praise, might it not be construed as a gift to the two “gold” is a symbol of the patron’s generosity (see 93ff.). The Iraqs? sun is also seen as a symbol of himmat, a word which is basi- A “Philological Intermezzo”, in which the author dis- cally untranslatable but which has connotations of virtue, cusses the text of the TuÌfa as found in various manuscripts, high aspiration, nobility, and all the qualities which a ruler and the commentaries on both it and on Khaqani’s Diwan in or patron should possess (see 101ff.). Himmat is given two general, precede the study of the masnavi itself. Chapter I different readings here: as ascribed to Jamal al-Din MawÒili, deals with the imagery of the sun in the TuÌfa. In the poem’s the primary mamduÌ of the TuÌfa, and to the Prophet, and as introductory section the poet addresses the sun, and contin- Khaqani’s own, and specifically his desire to liberate himself ues to address it throughout. Beelaert ranges further afield in from cupidity (az). This seems somewhat simplistic; and placing his imagery, and other related conceits and topoi, in while the author brings many other texts into evidence, she a broader historical-literary context. It is impossible to do jus- seems to ignore her own dictum that words, or concepts, may tice in the space of a brief review to the richness of this chap- mean different things in different contexts. ter (or, indeed, to that of the book as a whole); I will try to In Chapters 2 and 3, Beelaert turns to the mamduÌs focus on some important points, both here and elsewhere. addressed in the TuÌfa, beginning with Jamal al-Din MawÒili, Beelaert views the TuÌfa as a Ìabsiyya (“prison poem”; who was, at the time, a vizier of the Zangids in Mosul (the closely related to the shakwa}iyya, “complaint poem”). While date of his death, 559/1164, would seem to put a terminus ad this should perhaps not be taken literally (Khaqani wrote quem on the composition of the TuÌfa) and an important other Ìabsiyyat during periods of actual imprisonment), it patron, even if “his generosity…was not primarily… devoted indicates his feeling of being “imprisoned” in Shirwan, to artistic aims” (124; how do we know this?). While, as which he “claims to be unable to leave” (30). But if Khaqani Beelaert states, “Mosul [in this period] was not at all a cen- was literally (and not metaphorically) “imprisoned” in Shir- tre of Persian culture” (116; author’s emphasis), we do know wan, how did he manage to make the pilgrimage, not once, of other Persian works composed in this period, e.g. the trans- but twice, as has been adduced from his poetry? A number lation of Kalila wa-Dimna composed for Sayf al-Din Ghazi of his qaÒidas express the desire to make the pilgrimage, and (cf. 116). These two chapters represent exemplary scholar- seek royal support in attaining this desire. That it was even- ship, and provide much information on conditions of patron- tually fulfilled seems clear from the TuÌfa’s numerous pan- age in Khaqani’s time. Chapter 3, in particular, deals with the egyrics to those who supported him or from whom he hoped issue of multiple mamduÌs, and with what Beelaert identifies to gain support. as the problem of rededicated texts” (128): she cites, for Khaqani asks the sun to bear his message to the holy cities, example, the conflicting dedications of NiÂami’s Iskandar- and maps out the itinerary to be followed. Beelaert discusses nama: how much is “rededication”, how much is scribal 169 BOEKBESPREKINGEN — PERSICA 170 interpolation? The same questions apply to many of the larger context of poetic patronage, and of the broader Khaqani’s panegyric qaÒidas, and to the TuÌfa (in which development of the poetic tradition. One might have wished more than thirty mamduÌs are praised). The importance of for more discussion of performance context (Khaqani’s this seldom-studied issue cannot be understimated; and Bee- poetry, and especially that which includes musical imagery, laert’s efforts to identify the various mamduÌs of the TuÌfa, gives us some indications of this context; perhaps this issue and her solid scholarschip, deserve commendation, and may will receive further study in the future. hopefully provide a model by which the poetry of this and other periods can be analyzed. Point Richmond, California Julie Scott MEISAMI The final three chapters (which I can treat only briefly) November 2004 deal with various aspects of Khaqani’s imagery. Chapter IV discusses the image of “The Ka{ba as a Woman”, i.e., the ** personification of the Ka{ba (and, more specifically, of the * Black Stone) as feminine. This is not unprecedented (both Arabic and Persian poetry yield many examples of the Ka{ba HÄGG, T., and B. UTAS — The Virgin and her Lover: as, for example, a bride, its beauty mirroring that of the Fragments of an Ancient Greek Novel and a Persian Epic beloved, or, conversely, of the beloved as a shrine visited by Poem, Leiden (Brill Studies in Middle Eastern Litera- the lover, seen in both Arabic and Persian poetry, but dis- tures, volume XXX). Brill Academic Publishers, Leiden, cussed only briefly here [145]). Khaqani’s personification of 2003, (24,5 cm, XIII, 278). ISBN 90-04-13260-0; ISSN the Ka{ba would seem to reflect his ongoing connection with 1571-5183. Arabic poetry; it may also reflect his connection with the Shirvanshah Manuchihr’s sister {IÒmat al-Din, whose support In his book Panthea’s Children: Hellenistic Novels and he requested in achieving his desire to go on the pilgrimage. Medieval Persian Romances, Dick Davis rightly states that Chapter V deals with Khaqani’s use of medical imagery in “when we hear ‘Greece’ and ‘Persia’ in the same sentence describing the seasons of the year, and specifically with the we think almost automatically of the Greek-Achaemenid topos, “nature is ill during the seasons of autumn and winter, rivalry, of Athens burning and then of Persepolis burning, of but recovers in spring”. Beelaert adduces a number of exam- Xerxes flogging the Hellespont and of Alexander perempto- ples to support the use of this topos by other Persian poets, rily cutting the Gordian knot and redrawing the map of the and of the accompanying medical terminology. She might known world.”1) In such a context, one does not tend to think also have considered the poet’s use of medical imagery in ref- of literary exchange, and least of all, of the genre of romance. erence to Rama∂an (the fasting month; a period of sickness), Interest in cultural literary exchanges between the Greeks and and the healing brought by the {Id al-Fi†r, a motif which recurs Persians has increased in the last few years.2) Since 1983, in several of his qaÒidas, often accompanied by references to Tomas Hägg, a classical philologist, and Bo Utas, an Iranist, seasonal changes. Chapter VI, “The Complaint of Musical have been trying to reconstruct the Greek novel of Metiokhos Instruments”, is a fascinating discussion of Khaqani’s kai Parthenope on the basis of an eleventh century Persian description of instruments in zoomorphic terms (i.e., instru- verse translation, Vamiq u Ädhra. Written probably in the ments and/or their parts are compared to either humans or ani- first century, the Greek romance is considered to be one of mals, as is the interaction of the players with the instruments). the very first prose novels in the West. Despite its popular- Much of this imagery relates directly to the material culture ity in later centuries, only the title and several small frag- of the time and with the court culture in which such instruments of the romance have survived. The Persian romance, ments were played. Medical imagery interacts with highly which is modelled on a Greek version, was written by the concettisti depictions of the instruments and their players. court poet ÜnÒuri (died about 1040) and was itself a source Beelaert links this wonderful imagery with examples both of inspiration for many other poets in Persian, Turkish and previous and contemporary. This is a rich field of inquiry Urdu. There are 24 known imitations of Vamiq and Ädhra which has been largely ignored by scholars of both Arabic in these languages. Hägg and Utas report that these romances and Persian poetry. all bear the same title, but their plots and contents differ con- The book concludes with a brief “Addendum” which siderably from ÜnÒuri’s epic romance. describes a manuscript of the TuÌfa dating from 593/1197 For centuries, historians of Persian literature thought that (that is, compiled during the poet’s lifetime), copied for a ÜnÒuri’s romance had been lost. In the 1950s the Pakistani Saltuqid ruler in Eastern Anatolia. (The Saltuqids reigned scholar Mohammad Shafi miraculously discovered substan- over a minor principality centered in Erzerum from tial material from the romance, “glued as stiffening into the 465/1072-598/1202.) This manuscript provides further insight binding of an old theological handbook in Arabic, al-Kitab into questions of patronage, and deserves further study on its al-mukhtaÒar min kitab al-waqf” (p. 13). This is an old man- own; it is to be hoped that we will, in future, be provided uscript, copied and bound in 526/1132 in Herat. In other with such a study. words, a copy of the romance made no more than a century The book is, in general, well presented, with the exception after the poet’s death. Shafi announced his amazing discov- of some typographical errors. One wonders, however, why ery at a conference in Cambridge in 1954. In the last years the publishers retained some Dutch/Germanic versions of of his life, he worked on this manuscript and was preparing common names and terms, such as “Salomo” (for Solomon), “Messias” (for Messiah; [185]), when producing a publica- 1) Dick Davis, Panthea’s Children: Hellenistic Novels and Medieval tion in English. However (and all quibbles apart), this is an Persian Romances, Biennial Yarshater Lecture Series, No. 3, Bibliotheca important book, which adds greatly to our understanding not Persica Press, New York, 2002, p. 11. only of the poet Khaqani, but of the Arabo-Persian tradition 2) Margaret C. Miller, Athens and Persia in the Fifth Century BC: a Study in Cultural Receptivity, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, in which he was writing and by which he was influenced, of 1997. 171 BIBLIOTHECA ORIENTALIS LXII N° 1-2, januari-april 2005 172 a publication at the time of his death in 1963. His son pub- second hemistich of line 114 on page 176 is omitted and dis- lished his work in 1967. It contains substantial fragments of torts the metre. The word darar in line 115 on page 176 the romance and long introductions in Urdu and Persian. should be changed to dara. This is a difficult couplet and the The Virgin and her Lover is designed “first and foremost, translation given here is not correct. The authors read the to provide a complete critical edition of the primary mater- compound zi may (‘from wine’) as zami (‘the earth’) and ial, that is, the Greek papyrus fragments (including an ostra- dara (‘dregs’) as king Dariush or the rich. con) and the Persian paper fragment, which with its 380 In chapter four, the authors discuss the ways the Greek extant double verses (abyat) is many times larger than the romance might have reached the Persian poet ÜnÒuri, also surviving Greek text” (p. 2). The book is organised in six giving ample attention to the reception of the romance. The chapters, containing six illustrations, and a conspectus of the conclusions the authors arrive at in the last part of the chap- way Greek names were transformed into Persian. Chapter one ter are rather surprising. One possible reason they suggest for is a thorough introduction, offering a systematic and objec- the loss of ÜnÒuri’s romance is the “un-Islamic nature of its tive appraisal of studies in various languages of the Persian plot and the inconvenient Greek shape of the names of many and Greek versions of the romance. of its characters (…)” (p. 203). This suggestion perhaps tells Chapter two concentrates on the fragments of the Greek us more about the authors’ premises about ‘Islamic’ litera- sources, offering a critical text edition of these fragments. ture than about our romance. Although we may never learn The difference between this new critical edition and other the precise reasons for the disappearance of ÜnÒuri’s texts is as follows: “Most of the fragments have by now romance, there are at least three reasons I can suggest for its passed under the eyes of several highly qualified papyrolo- loss. First, the library of Yamin ad-Dowla was intentionally gists; thus, renewed scrutiny is not likely to give substantial and entirely destroyed when the Ghurids defeated the Ghaz- returns. Our text differs from that of Stephens & Winkler navids in the twelfth century. Probably dozens of manuscripts mainly in the supplementation of lacunas, and our critical of Ghaznavid poets were destroyed. The authors refer to this apparatus is selective” (p. 23). In the comments on the Greek event as follows: “Possibly, the ‘Treasury of Yamin ud- fragments, the authors refer to the place of specific events daulah’ was suppressed after the defeat of the Ghaznavid and offer suggestions on how to fill lacunas in the Greek frag- dynasty by the Ghurids (…)” (p. 203). The authors choose ments on the basis of Persian sources. to translate the word khazina literally as “Treasury”, which Chapter three is devoted to a careful study of ÜnÒuri’s is ambiguous. It is not clear what kind of a treasury is meant Vamiq and Ädhra, an episode about these lovers contained here; in those days, the term khazina was used to refer to a in Abu ™ahir ™arsusi’s Darab-nama, and testimonia to be library. Second, from the twelfth century onwards, the genre found in a wide range of texts varying from classical dictio- romance fell under the long shadow of NiÂami Ganjavi (died naries to anthologies, prose works and books on poetics. about 1209), who enjoyed enormous popularity over a wide Despite their attempts to examine the original manuscript of area; many poets in later centuries imitated his three the romance, the authors were unable to consult it and were romances in different languages.4) All romances written forced to rely on “23 photos published by Shafi and his edi- before NiÂami’s time became less popular than his narratives tion of 372 verses” (p. 77). The Persian texts are accompa- on love. What is more, many famous romances of Persian lit- nied by parallel English translations, which are close to the erature are actually ‘un-Islamic,’ not only in their plots and original and are meant for further scholarly work rather than presentation of characters, but also in rituals and the rela- for elegance. Although it is a matter of interpretation, a few tionship between men and women, etc.; nonetheless, these of the new readings and translations in this chapter are prob- romances have remained very popular to the present day. In lematic. The hemistich “He entrusted Ädhra with the army fact, one of the important tasks of early Persian poets was to before himself” (p. 85, l. 39), makes little sense. The whole keep alive the pre-Islamic past, which they feared might be line should be read “he entrusted his army to Ädhra” (or in forgotten after the advent of the new religion. Firdowsi’s Persian prose: sipah-i khish ba pish-i Ädhra sipurdi”) mean- Shah-nama and two of NiÂami’s romances (Khusrow and ing that Ädhra became a commander. In several places, the Shirin and Haft paykar) have ‘un-Islamic’ plots, but they are authors chose a different reading than Shafi. On the second among the most copied manuscripts in the Iranian world. line of the poem (p. 80), the word khasta is changed into Third, as for the Greek names, it is, of course, understand- khvasta. There are also some small misspellings of Persian able that the shape of these names in the Persian script may words: change diyaz (p. 84, l. 35) to niyaz; talak (p. 88, l. discourage the reader, but this is not so serious that the names 63) to halak; haykalas (p. 96, l. 123) to haykalash; pis (p. could be a serious reason for the loss of ÜnÒuri’s romance. 98, l. 136) to pish; ba-äghra (p. 100, l. 146) to ba Ädhra; The number of Vamiq and Ädhra romances is a testimony ji (p. 106, l. 188) to chi; hargidh (p. 114, l. 253) to hargiz; to its relative popularity; after all, poets changed difficult amuuzgar (p. 120, l. 291) to amuzgar; kushayad (p. 157, l. names so that they resembled a native name (Hermes to Hur- 28) to gushayad; nankarad and nankari (p. 157, l. 29) to nan- muz; Theophanes or Thouphanes to Tufan). Despite the fre- garad and nangari respectively. The second hemistich of line quent occurrence of strange names in Persian folk epics, they four (on page 153) should be read as ravanash ba shab an have remained popular. The authors put unnecessary empha- namayad ba khvab. The English translation of line 58 on page sis on the un-Islamic character of the romance. Speculating 163 does not agree with the Persian original, which reads: on the close resemblance between ÜnÒuri’s romance and the chu miruk ra bal gardad hazar / bar arad par az gardish-i Greek novel, the authors conjecture that “one could have ruzgar.3) The particle ra between dilam and zi garm in the expected various attempts at Islamising the story, especially perhaps the rather un-Islamic female figure of Ädhra, but

3) See Divan-i Ustad ÜnÒuri Balkhi, ed. MuÌammad Dabir Siyaqi, 4) A.A. Seyed-Gohrab, Layli and Majnun: Love, Madness and Mystic Tehran: Sanaî, 1342/1963, p. 331, l. 4. Longing in NiÂami’s Epic Romance, Leiden / Boston: Brill, 2003, pp. 68-9. 173 BOEKBESPREKINGEN — MODERN TURKIJE 174 neither in the extant fragment nor in the testimonial verses is good example of how interdisciplinary cooperation could lead there any obvious transformation of that sort” (p. 202). Here to significant results. Despite the few critical notes referred again, what is and who is an Islamic female figure? One must to above, the book is full of sharp insights, original percep- ask why the Persian poet would have changed the plot, and tions and profound analyses. The book forms a good basis the treatment of characters to transform it into an Islamic for future research in the field of Persian and Greek literary romance. Is there a precedent for such a transformation of a exchange and transformation. foreign romance in the early period of Persian poetry? Even in the most ‘un-Islamic’ romance in Persian literature, Vis Leiden University, Ali Asghar SEYED-GOHRAB and Ramin by Fakhr ad-Din Gurgani, in which endogamy is Dept. of Persian Studies (TCMO) praised, there is no attempt to Islamise the plot. Although December 2004 they respected Islam as the new religion, poets paid little attention to Islamic rules and tenets in their romances and remained faithful to indigenous Persian traditions. Wine and homoerotic relationships are two of the recurrent themes in the works of Ghaznavid court poets. The authors speculate that the leading role given to the female character Ädhra is a possible cause for the suppres- sion of the story: “No wonder that this version of the story was suppressed at an early stage!” (p. 202). To prove their hypothesis, they rely on the first known version of Vamiq and Ädhra written in the sixteenth century in Turkish. Such speculations and conclusions are problematic. Casting a glance at female figures in Persian romances of the eleventh century onwards, it becomes clear that female characters have a leading role in taking initiatives, arranging meetings with their lovers and fighting in battlefields. Gurdafarid in Firdowsi’s Shah-nama, Shirin in NiÂami’s Khosrow and Shirin, Huma in Khwaju’s Huma and Humayun are just a few examples. Female characters have a prominent role even in romances with an Arabic background, such as Äyyuqi’s Warqa and Gulshah and NiÂami’s Layli and Majnun.5) To acquire a deeper insight into the presentation of female characters in early Persian romances, one needs to analyse similar romances composed about the same period. The sixteenth-century Turkish version of Vamiq and Ädhra is written for a different audience and the plot of the story is changed to suit the audience. Chapter five is a “Reconstruction of the Plot” by bring- ing together all pieces of information from Greek and Per- sian sources, emphasizing similarities and differences in the Persian epic and the Greek romance. Although speculative, the authors successfully reconstruct an original version of the story. Since there is no version of the concluding part of the romance, the authors offer two equally plausible pos- sibilities of how the romance could have ended. As the title of the last chapter, “Problems and Challenges” indicates, it is not a conclusion but rather calls attention to concrete tasks that the present authors could not accomplish, including inspecting Shafi’s Persian manuscript; “identifying the Greek names transmitted in Arabic/Persian form” (p. 251); and a “systematic search in Greek and Byzantine novels for parallels to the motifs and episodes discernible in V&Ä” (p. 252). This book is an interesting contribution to the field of Per- sian Studies and ancient Greek romances. It is certainly a

5) For the leading role of female characters in Arabic epics, see several publications by R. Kruk, such as “The Bold and the Beautiful: Women and ‘Fitna’ in the Sirat Dhat al-Himmaˆ: the Story of Nura,” in Women in the Medieval Islamic World, Gavin R.G. Hambly (ed.), New York: St. Mar- tin’s Press, 1998, pp. 99-116; idem, “Back to the Boudoir: Arabic Versions of the Sîrat al-amîr Îamza, Warrior Princesses, and the Sîra’s Literary Unity,” in Amsterdamer Beiträge zur älteren Germanistik, Amsterdam / Atlanta: Rodopi, Band 48, 1997, pp. 129-48.