Mario and Abu L-Abbas: A novel exploring faith, architecture, and a spiritual journey through Egypt's history

When an ancient Sufi saint, Morsi Abu L-Abbas, and the 20th-century Italian architect, Mario Rossi, find their lives intertwined, defying the boundaries of space and time, readers are taken on a spiritual and contemplative journey.

Expanding on this extraordinary intersection of lives, Egyptian author Reem Bassiouney, in her latest novel Mario and Abu L-Abbas, brings together the pious life of Abu L’Abbas and the artistic mastery of Mario, who would become one of the most significant contributors to 20th-century Islamic architecture.

The story rewinds to Mario’s early years, when, aspiring to become a renowned architect, he is commissioned to design the mosque of the venerated Sufi teacher, Abu L-Abbas.

Far from his Italian homeland and amid the upheaval of the Second World War, he unexpectedly forms a mystical bond with the saint’s spirit.

At the same time, Reem reimagines Abu L-Abbas’s life, tracing his flight from a fallen Andalusia and his rise to prominence through devotion and piety. This journey would shape medieval Egyptian religious and political thought.

Both the novel and the mosque stand as elegies to Abu L-Abbas and his legacy, with the architectural and literary creations together paying homage to his Sufi teachings.

Through this connection of past and present, Reem explores themes of justice, the struggle between good and evil, and the challenge of detachment from the material world, offering a lyrical meditation on Islamic principles of life, meaning, and humanity.

Ultimately, the criss-cross of Abu L-Abbas and Mario is masterfully executed, bringing together mostly historical figures with fictional characters to create a diverse cast — indigenous Egyptians, Africans, Europeans, women warriors, sultans, and philosophers — that immerses readers in a moral and spiritual panorama spanning time, race, social status, and gender.

Architecture meets the divine

Zooming in on the early life of Abu L-Abbas, the saint was born in Murcia, Islamic Spain, and, after the oppressive Reconquista of the Iberian Peninsula, fled his homeland with his family — a tragic journey that ultimately left him an orphan.

He eventually became a disciple of Shaykh Abul Hasan Kharaqani, also known as Ash-Shadhili, a prominent Tunisian Sufi figure. Under his guidance, Abu L-Abbas emigrated to Alexandria, where conditions were dire due to Crusader invasions.

He continued to absorb his teacher’s ideas and practices and was ultimately named his successor because of his humility and sincerity. He married Shadhili’s daughter, and together they experienced a lifetime filled with love, injustice, loss, and resilience.

As Abu L-Abbas’s prominence grew among the people due to his authenticity, divine aura, and comforting nature, he also attracted the enmity of conservative Muslim jurists, including Taqi ad-Din and even his former friend Abd al-Bari.

Despite facing violence, imprisonment, and other consequences stemming from their intolerance, Abu L-Abbas persevered, using the ancient Pharos, or lighthouse, as a base for teaching and gathering a large following.

Unmasking the saint

While the novel tells the stories of two very different men and Reem reimagines their mystical friendship, one fact is undeniable: their connection is rooted in reality and spans centuries.

Mario, in fact, built the Abu L-Abbas al-Mursi Mosque, which still stands today in Alexandria’s Anfoushi District and attracts hundreds of devout worshippers.

That said, although the novel vividly portrays his life’s events and his public role as a spiritual mentor, its greatest strength lies in revealing his private, intimate self — a man of piety and inherent goodness, committed to truth and fairness, yet also fallible, prone to doubt and anger, and struggling with the allure of praise and fame.

Lengthy dialogues between him and Ash-Shadhili show him admitting that he cannot fully experience the serenity often preached by Sufi masters. He struggles to reconcile God’s mercy with the cruelty of the world.

In one instance, he is pained by the story of a Jewish mother who loses her sons in a shipwreck, questioning why God allows such suffering. In another, he marvels at his Sheikh’s conviction, wondering if he will ever believe so strongly. It takes a lifetime of prayer and reflection to reach the divine.

In a soliloquy, Abu L-Abbas reflects, “I wonder, why is it that mankind always seizes upon moments of pleasure and security? I see that we have been created for pleasure, and so we go in search of it. But we are looking for it in places where it does not reside. It is that ability to search that I have not understood, or not yet.”

Finding home 

Although fictitious, there is something tangible and liberating about hearing a saint confess his own internal anxiety. The novel shows that we are all sojourners, longing for evanescence and connection to the divine, just as the saints are loved and cherished.

The stories testify to the universal human experience, regardless of faith or belief. Both Abu L-Abbas and Mario emigrated from their homelands: one, displaced and seeking refuge; the other, searching for something greater. 

Both ultimately find peace, community, and a sense of home in Egypt, showing that, despite overcoming exile and isolation and the enduring imprint of individual roots, human beings remain connected through the shared quest for God and purpose.

Overall, Reem’s portrayal of these two men is truly a remarkable and spellbinding achievement. Through Abu L-Abbas’s faith, prayers, and reliance on Quranic verses, along with the support of his family and students, she paints a multifaceted picture of both Muslim society and the broader global community.

The narrative includes noble sheikhs who stand for truth, corrupt and avaricious imams, humble and arrogant sultans, and students seeking knowledge or fame. Amidst them are those honest seekers of serenity and beauty.

Their voices have echoed across the centuries, and through prose, research, and dedication, Reem elevates their legacy for a global audience.

Like the lighthouse that once drew Abu L-Abbas to it, he became a lambent presence, guiding souls across the ages.

Noshin Bokth has over six years of experience as a freelance writer. She has covered a wide range of topics and issues, including the implications of the Trump administration on Muslims, the Black Lives Matter movement, travel reviews, book reviews, and op-eds. She is the former Editor in Chief of Ramadan Legacy and the former North American Regional Editor of the Muslim Vibe