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60 pages 2 hours read

Tahereh Mafi

This Woven Kingdom

Fiction | Novel | YA | Published in 2022

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Themes

Coauthoring Goodness in a World Predestined by “The Fall”

The book’s universe is deeply rooted in an Islamic creation myth (the fall of Iblees), which defines the cultural, moral, and metaphysical landscape of the fictional lands of Ardunia and Tulan. The narrative is far more than a mere retelling or illustration of the myth; Mafi’s novel breathes new life into the original story, advancing the notion that creation isn’t a one-off event but is instead an ongoing process. From this perspective, the characters themselves are not just captives of a pre-written destiny but act instead as coauthors of a story that is still unfolding. Through their struggles, choices, and moral dilemmas, they grapple with how to forge goodness in a world tainted by a being’s fall from grace.

Mafi uses her characters as case studies to articulate and confront the implications of living in a world borne from a fall from grace. In Ardunia and Tulan, a hint of predetermined destiny often overshadows the individual characters’ personal agency. The fall of Iblees imbues the world with a sense of unfair heaviness and “dreams so easily shattered” (70), and Mafi’s world therefore exudes an omnipresent moral ambiguity that results in myriad examples of prejudice, discrimination, and the complexity of obligatory duties. Yet, amid these constraints, characters like Alizeh and Kamran find ways to exercise their own agency, primarily through acts of compassion. A prime example occurs when Alizeh chooses to save a rival from certain death, even when that rival stands for everything that she is fighting against. Similarly, when Kamran struggles to fulfill his expected role as the destined ruler of Ardunia while simultaneously honoring his own sense of morality, this dilemma demonstrates the ongoing tension between destiny and agency that each protagonist fights to resolve. Kamran may not have chosen this version of life for himself, but his growing love and compassion for Alizeh (and by extension, for the “lower rungs” of society) come to represent a motivation far more potent than that of duty alone. Thus, both characters employ different methods of demonstrating compassion as a form of rebellion against the deterministic structures they are otherwise forced to inhabit.

In this context, the concept of coauthoring one’s fate becomes especially relevant, for Mafi’s characters do not merely play roles in a static, prewritten cosmic drama. Instead, they make deliberate choices that have the potential to rewrite society’s rules and create loopholes in a destiny that gives a strong impression of being set in stone. The cosmic drama is in a state of suspense, as symbolized by the eventual death of the Diviners. Because the designated interpreters of destiny have been killed, there is no longer anyone who can definitively declare what events are and are not destined. While the Diviners’ deaths might play into the devil’s plans, their passing also signals that individual decisions now have the power to recreate the future. Yet even at the conclusion of this first installment of Mafi’s series, many questions remain. It is yet to be determined whether Kamran’s love for Alizeh serves to protect her for the greater good, or whether she will succumb to the devil’s plan of installing her as queen to enact chaos on his behalf. Likewise, it remains unclear whether the protagonists’ compassion represents a personal moral choice, a tool of the devil’s grand schemes, or a collective strategy to outwit evil. Optimistically speaking, Kamran and Alizeh’s actions suggest that in a world shaped by a narrative of fallenness, goodness becomes an act of cooperative creation.

In This Woven Kingdom, the characters’ journeys serve to unfold themes of agency and compassion within a larger mythical structure, highlighting the continuous act of creation and recreation in a fallen world. The narrative proposes that while the circumstances of one’s birth are significant, they are not entirely deterministic. While it remains to be seen whether the sheer goodness of an individual can outwit the devil, the novel suggests that compassion has the potential to become a form of collective, creative resistance against the backdrop of a fallen world. Therefore, such compassion is the ultimate expression of human agency in a systemically unjust reality that often seems to undermine it.

Intuitive Morality Versus Engineered Rationalizations

This theme confronts the novel’s tangle of relativism, power dynamics, and moral clarity. In This Woven Kingdom, the concept of truth is not fixed; it is malleable and often contorted to serve the narratives of those in power. Against this backdrop, characters like Alizeh and Kamran must navigate a moral maze, their actions guided less by the abstract principles that their society upholds as “truths” and more by an intuitive form of compassion. This dynamic is reflected in the advice that Alizeh once received from her parents, who told her, “The shackles worn by your people are often unseen by the eye. Feel, they’d said, for even blind, you will know how to break them” (29). This emotional intelligence emerges as an antidote to the manipulative and deceptive narratives spun by those who wield systemic power.

As Mafi unveils the landscapes of Ardunia and Tulan, it becomes evident that “truth” is often a product of social engineering and is employed to maintain existing power structures rather than to improve or supplant them. This dynamic holds true in many different respects as the plot unfolds. Whether the powers that be propagate the fall of Iblees as a cautionary tale to keep the Jinn in line or use misleading prophecies to confuse and mislead, these dubious “truths” manipulate public opinion, influence behavior, and maintain a status quo that often benefits a select few while crippling the rest of the nation. Despite such techniques, the characters in This Woven Kingdom find themselves questioning these systemic “truths” through rational debate and intellectual contemplation, and also through emotional and embodied experiences. For instance, when Alizeh chooses to show compassion to Omid or when Kamran criticizes his fellow political leaders, both protagonists act in accordance with an internal moral compass that supersedes discursive logic.

Their moral choices signify the importance of intuition as a form of understanding, contrasting it with the calculated, intellectual “truths” that are propagated by various avatars of systemic power. As King Zaal explains to Kamran:

You are quite good […] at taking clear and logical arguments and elevating them to a level so esoteric they are rendered ineffectual. […] Your reasoning, while admirably impassioned, will not weather the storms of the real world. This is not about rights, child, but reason (167).

However, King Zaal’s reasoning compels him to act in opposition to the dictates of intuitive morality, and this calculated choice ultimately backfires and ends in his own demise, for he fails to recognize the rights of others in his political reckoning. By contrast, the intuitive compassion that Kamran and Alizeh embody can be seen as a kind of innate moral test: a challenge to other characters to act from their truest selves in moments that defy logical explanation. Ultimately, King Zaal’s decision to make a deal with the devil to prolong his own life ironically results in his death, and in this, Mafi holds up a moral example within the larger narrative.

Unlike the deceptive riddles of the devil and ambiguous prophecies of the Diviners, the novel itself does hint at a valid form of truth: one which is embodied in acts of compassion that feel more immutable, universal, and authentic. A prime example of such an action occurs when Alizeh charges through the fire to save Kamran. Such scenes serve to emphasize that when the characters listen to their emotional centers, they are able to tap into a more primal form of wisdom that transcends the socially constructed truths of their world. By doing so, they pass the real “moral test“ of life by rejecting the complicated webs of manipulated “truth” and instead following a somatic compass guided by empathy and love. As the narrative states, “While Alizeh had spent her younger years being honed by masters and tutors, so, too, had her parents humbled her in preparation for her imagined future, insisting always upon the greater good, the essential quality of compassion” (29). While Alizeh’s parents instilled the value of compassion within her, this intuitive guidance has to be acted upon, perhaps particularly in moments of self-preservation, and supporting characters, such as when Alizeh shows compassion to Omid after his attack upon her. Her choice to offer compassion in this moment stands as a silent rebellion to a fallen cosmos that has created a society so riddled with hunger that someone like Omid is compelled to resort to potential murder in order to survive. Thus, Mafi suggests that reason must be guided by a deeper quality of love in order to stand against the qualities of the devil, such as deception, temptation, pride, and arrogance.

This theme could be seen to be rooted in Islamic tradition, where the concept of a “moral test” is deeply entwined with the idea of fitrah, the natural disposition or innate morality that every human is born with. The Qur’an and Hadiths suggest that individuals are endowed with an inherent understanding of right and wrong, a sentiment that parallels the idea of intuitive compassion in the novel. This innate moral sense serves as a guide through the trials and tribulations of life, just as the characters’ emotional and intuitive moral compass helps them to navigate a variety of morally ambiguous situations. The struggle against societal manipulation of ‘truths’ for nefarious purposes could be interpreted as a modern-day manifestation of Jihad al-Nafs (the struggle against the self), one of the spiritual battles that Muslims must face while upholding their faith and morality. Furthermore, in Islamic tradition, acts of kindness, compassion, and empathy aren’t just moral virtues but instead stand as religious obligations. The Prophet Muhammad is described as a “Mercy to the worlds” in the Qur’an, and acts of compassion are highly rewarded in Islamic eschatology. The intuitive compassion that the characters in the novel display can easily be interpreted as a manifestation of Islamic ethics, which prioritize the well-being of others over rigid or distorted interpretations of law or tradition.

Divine Unity and Earthly Division

Themes of prejudice and discrimination are woven into the fabric of the story, most obviously in the treatment of the Jinn. These supernatural beings are often misunderstood and marginalized in both the world of Ardunia and in Islamic tradition, and in Mafi’s novel, they serve as a lens through which to explore societal prejudices. This marginalization serves as a window into broader themes of othering and systemic injustice. Just as the characters in the story discriminate against the Jinn, considering them to be lesser beings, real-world prejudices operate in similar ways, for people often leverage their own prejudices as a way to justify the decision to uphold systemic inequality and to promote social division.

This marginalization starkly contrasts the Islamic concept of Tawhid, the belief in the oneness of God and the interconnectedness of all God’s creations. If Tawhid is the essential doctrine stating that all facets of God and His creations are interconnected, then the discrimination against the Jinn, and the poor classes, can be seen as a violation of this divine principle. As Mafi’s narrative states:

Under the veneer of peace there remained always an uneasiness among the people—an ingrained hatred of their kind, of their imagined association with the devil—that was not easily forgotten. Presenting strangers with clear proof of her identity had always inspired in Alizeh a halting fear, for she never knew how they might react. More often than not, people could not hide their contempt; and more often than not, she did not have the energy to face it (98).

The term “ingrained hatred” touches on the deep-seated nature of prejudice—so internalized that it becomes almost an unquestioned part of societal fabric. This internalization is fueled by the people’s conviction that the Jinn are connected to the devil himself, and this belief demonstrates the people’s willingness to scapegoat the Jinn and to associate them with a sense of malevolence. This conviction therefore allows them to justify marginalizing the Jinn. The demonization of Jinn directly contravenes the teachings of Tawhid, which call for the recognition of a shared divine essence in all creations. Alizeh’s deep-seated fears encapsulate the emotional toll that such marginalization takes on its victims. Thus, discrimination isn’t just a systemic issue but a deeply personal one, for it affects one’s self-perception and emotional well-being. Alizeh’s internalized caution around humans captures the constant state of hypervigilance that marginalized people often experience. This dynamic therefore reflects a broader societal issue: a failure of both ethics and of spiritual understanding.

The novel challenges prejudice and discrimination in many ways. For example, Prince Kamran, albeit reluctantly, even forms a relationship with Omid, the poor street kid, which challenges the stability of Ardunia’s oppressive social hierarchies. This dynamic in the novel also reflects Islamic values, for Tawhid teaches that every part of creation emanates from one single Source and therefore shares an intrinsic worth and dignity. Even after Omid threatens Alizeh with a knife, her actions and dialogue reflect Tawhid: “Bek mefem,” she said quietly. Because I understand. “Bek bidem.” Because I’ve been you” (31). Discriminating against the Jinn or the poor, then, is not merely a social or ethical failing; it’s a theological one, a fundamental misunderstanding of the unity and interconnectedness that should exist among all beings. It reveals a break in the community’s moral and spiritual fabric, indicating an urgent need for social reform and spiritual awakening. The world-building in Ardunia thus becomes an allegorical stage upon which the characters are forced to confront their prejudices in light of larger cosmic and ethical structures. Alizeh’s dual characterization as a Jinn who is capable of both good and evil and as a poor servant fundamentally challenges the preconceptions and prejudices of the society in which she lives. It serves as a challenge to recognize the divine spark in the “other” and to understand that the act of marginalizing any group is not merely a political issue but a deeply spiritual one as well.

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