Book Reviews Brad Gooch, Rumi’s Secret: The Life of the Sufi Poet of Love. New York: HarperCollins 2017, 377 pages. Reviewed by Roderick Grierson The author of Rumi’s Secret is an American poet, biographer, and novel- ist who published a life of Flannery O’Connor to much acclaim in 2009. ­Although his education and previous publications have been in subjects far removed from the life of Jalal al-Din Rumi or the history of the Mevlevi, the dedication with which he evidently set about acquiring the knowledge that he thought necessary to write a biography of Rumi is impressive. He is obviously passionate about the subject and he succeeds in conveying his passion. In doing so, he has written an enthralling but at times confusing book. His publisher, HarperCollins, describes Rumi’s Secret as ‘a break- through biography’ and as ‘the first popular biography of Rumi’. These statements are probably true if one thinks only of English. They are cer- tainly not true of Turkish or Persian, for example. Furthermore, it may be helpful to understand the type of biography that the author was trying to write and then to consider the ways in which he succeeded or indeed failed in doing so. Although a famous biography of Ibn al-ʿArabi was described by Anne­ marie Schimmel as being ‘like a novel, a novel written in captivating style and with a seeming infinite love for its hero’,1 William Chittick also re- marked that the book ‘will remain an important reference work, and for studies of Ibn al-ʿArabi and his school it is now an indispensable compan- i o n’. 2 The former remark could be applied toRumi’s Secret, but not the latter. 1 A. Schimmel, ‘Review of Quest for the Red Sulphur: The Life of Ibn ‘Arabī by Claude Addas’, Journal of Islamic Studies 6 (1995), pp. 269–72. She begins her review by de- scribing her experience of reading the original French version, several years before the publication of an excellent English translation by Peter Kingsley. 2 W. Chittick, ‘Review of Ibn ‘Arabī, ou la quête du soufre rouge by Claude Addas’, Jour- nal of the American Oriental Society 111 (1991), pp. 161–62. Downloaded from Brill.com09/29/2021 05:56:37PM via free access 152 book reviews Indeed, the format and design of the book, as well as the style in which it is written, seem to indicate that it was never intended to be the latter, al- though the number of references and notes creates a degree of confusion or at least tension between what appear to be two rather different goals: the popular and the academic. The author may not be the most elegant stylist, but he is undoubtedly skilled at telling a story. He has constructed a continuous narrative based in large part upon the hagiographies of Faridun Sepahsalar, who died in 1312, and Ahmad Aflaki, who died in 1360, interspersed with quotations from Rumi himself and from other poets. Much of the book is presented as if it were a series of statements by the protagonists, or even the thoughts of the protagonists. The following paragraphs, selected at random, appear on pages 292–93: During the onset of his illness, Rumi was not entirely bedrid- den and sometimes walked about the madrase in a frail manner. Unchanging was his certainty that he was going to die, and his preparing those close to him for the eventuality, as well as setting its tenor with good humor if not outright eagerness. When he sighed from pain while hobbling in the courtyard, his favourite cat mewed and howled. ‘Do you know what this poor cat is say- ing?’ Rumi asked. ‘It says, “During these days you will be setting out towards heaven and returning to your original homeland. Poor me! What am I to do?”’ (When the cat died a week after Rumi, his daughter, Maleke, buried it near him.) Earthquakes were common enough in Anatolia, but during that fall a particularly powerful quake occurred, interpreted by Rumi’s followers as connected to his condition. In a joking way, Rumi agreed, saying the earth was hungering for a juicy morsel and would soon be satisfied by his corpse, yet no harm would come to the town. He informed his friends that most of the prophets and mystics departed from the world in autumn or the dead of winter, ‘when the earth is like iron.’ Weighed down by worry about a lingering debt of fifty dirhams, he tried to repay with gold filings. When the creditor forgave his debt, Rumi said, ‘Thank God I am delivered from this horrible obstacle!’ Soon he was confined in his room, a pan full of water set by his bed for him to dip his feet into and sprinkle his chest and fore- head, as he had begun to be racked with intense fevers. ­Hosam and Sultan Valad were usually nearby. Visions and dreams Downloaded from Brill.com09/29/2021 05:56:37PM via free access book reviews 153 abounded among those gathered, at least in later retellings of the events of those days by those present. Hosam told of being seated at the top of the bed with Rumi’s head resting on his chest as they saw a handsome young man materialize in front of their eyes. When Hosam asked his name, he identified himself as Azrael, the Angel of Death. ‘What excellent, perceptive sight to be able to see a face such as that!’ Rumi weakly exclaimed. Although the passage may give the impression of having been invented, Gooch provides the sources for it in his notes on page 364. He was evidently­ relying on Aflaki throughout. One might, of course, be tempted to ask how much Aflaki himself had invented. He had been born at least a decade after Rumi’s death in 1273 and was certainly not a witness to the events ­described here, or indeed to other events that would seem incredible to modern ­readers. The point, however, is simply that Gooch may often be closer to his sources than his style of writing seems to suggest. Curiously, he does not refer to O’Kane’s translation of Aflaki in his refer­ences on page 335,3 but only to an Iranian offprint of the Persian edition that Tahsin Yazıcı produced in two volumes for the Türk Tarih Kurumu. This seems odd, given the value of O’Kane’s translation, its notes, and its revised numbering, even for specialists who read Persian without difficulty. The bibliographical reference for Yazıcı’s edition is also incorrect. Only the first volume was published in 1959; the second volume was published in 1961. Furthermore, the title departs from the Turkish system of transcrip- tion that Yazıcı employed and therefore seems slightly peculiar when set alongside his name.4 Gooch does, in fact, mention O’Kane’s translation of Aflaki in another context, in note 205 on page 358, but even then he does not cite it as a source. This is surprising for two reasons. First, most readers who have purchased a popular biography of Rumi written in English are more likely to consult an English translation of a Persian text rather than the Persian itself. Not only has O’Kane translated the book into English, his version is also remarkably accurate and easily available from its publisher or from the usual online booksellers. An Iranian copy of Yazıcı’s edition of Aflaki is more difficult to find and far less helpful. Second, Gooch’s translation seems to have arisen, on several occasions, as a paraphrase of O’Kane’s translation. For example, 3 Shams al-Dīn Aḥmad-e Aflākī, The Feats of the Knowers of God (Manāqeb al-‘ārefīn), trans. J. O’Kane (Leiden: Brill 2002). 4 Şams al-Dīn Aḥmed al-Aflākī al-‘Ārıfī, Manāḳib al-‘ārifīn, ed. T. Yazıcı, 2 vols. ­(Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu Basımevi 1959; 1961). Downloaded from Brill.com09/29/2021 05:56:37PM via free access 154 book reviews Gooch translates the final quotation above as ‘What excellent, perceptive sight to be able to see a face such as that!’ O’Kane had earlier translated it as ‘What excellent perceptive sight which is able to see a face like that!’ Unfortunately, Gooch only provides references to quotations and not to the passages that contain the material that forms the basis of his narra­tive. On some occasions, this material is found beside a quotation. On ­other occasions, it is not. When it is found, it is not always rendered accurately. For example, the cat that Aflaki describes as simply being in the house is described by Gooch as being ‘his favourite cat’. And Rumi is described by Gooch as ‘walking in a frail manner’ whereas Aflaki describes him shouting. Gooch also describes Rumi as reclining on the chest of Husam al-Din and to have ‘weakly exlaimed’ when Azrael appears. In the Persian, Rumi is not described as weak at this point. Instead, he immediately rises when ­Azrael appears and goes to greet him. Futhermore, Azrael tells Husam al- Din that he has come at the order of God to learn what Mawlana com­ mands. It is not immediately obvious why this should have been omitted, given what it tells us of the position that Rumi was believed to hold, not only in this world but also in the next. These questions are not merely matters of pedantry. Although Rumi’s Secret is intended to be a book for general readers, one might suggest that accuracy is even more important for general readers than for specialists.