Can a book be haram? This is a complex question. Intrinsically, books are simply words on a page, notes strung together, images. Utterances, creations, expressions, or sometimes just shouting into the empty void of space. In one way they are communications. In their highest form they are conveyances of ideas and thought. We can say certain books are haram if they provoke their readers to what might be considered haram actions. I would say Hitler’s Mein Kampf can be considered haram. And then there is William Powell’s The Anarchist Cookbook, which lays out the instructions for the making of explosives, illicit drugs, and weapons. Another one that comes to mind is the infamous Satanic Verses, Salman Rushdie’s 1988 novel. But if I agree that the book is haram, offensive, and not terribly well written, I am not sure if I’d agree it should be left unread, or in more extreme cases burnt. A book like that, which has by this point almost entirely disappeared from contemporary popular consciousness, should be kept in mind and even read to teach artists how to be more respectful with the power they wield, to demonstrate why satire should never be used to punch down, and even to reassure folks that bias and Islamophobia are not new phenomena. 

This debate has brought to the fore discussion around certain genres like smutty romances and self-help books. Though this debate is a bit weak, just because you read about adulterous, dangerous, and even forbidden liaisons with men who look like the Italian American actor Fabio Lanzoni, does not necessarily mean a reader lacks the restraint to refrain from such endeavours. While the lustful dreams of certain readers might be able to remain simply as unrealised desires, perhaps the real cult potential of certain ‘self-help’ books might be worth further consideration. After all these books are filling the bestseller lists around the world, and are mostly written, no doubt with the assistance of a ghost writer, by semiliterate half-wits who managed to make a buck or two capitalising on their white-privilege and emotional-blackmail appeals to their fragile masculinity in our neoliberal capitalist ordered world. In our hurry up and die existence, we are persuaded to listen to those who have become kings of the hill instead of questioning why such a hill was even erected and the way in which it was constructed. 

This train of contemplation erupted from my reflections following the conclusion of what is purported to be and exulted as the final work of the Malaysian Sufi metaphysician Syed Muhammad Naquib Al-Attas, Islam: The Covenants Fulfilled. To appreciate my disappointment upon reading this book, first it helps to look at the man and his work, neither of which are what one might find typical.

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