Narrative Structure and Artistic Construction
The novel opens with a shocking scene resembling a crime scene: the body of a young man named Yam is found in the square of Bran Castle in Germany, pierced by a metal rod engraved with the symbolic phrase: “You have water, but you do not have the soul.” The author uses this opening scene as a reverse introduction, beginning the narrative from its end before moving back to the past of the protagonist Yim and her struggle. Events unfold through a temporal overlap between past and present, as information about Yam (the transgender character) is gradually revealed through Yim’s memories, diary-like narration, mobile phone entries, and messages.
The narrative relies on a stream-of-consciousness technique (internal monologue), immersed in the free flow of the protagonist’s thoughts. Memories and reflections move non-linearly through Yim’s consciousness, shifting at times to her childhood in the Ghouta region of Syria, and at others to her migration or transition experience in Europe. The text highlights the tension between childhood memories (the absence of the mother and family disintegration) and present challenges (war, displacement, and integration into Western society). Thus, time and space intersect: the setting shifts from “traditional Syria” to “liberal Europe,” and time oscillates between the era of war and the era of exile. Critics have noted that this technique powerfully conveys the protagonist’s inner alienation, as Yim/Yam’s character gradually unfolds through narratives of travel and the hardships of asylum.
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Characters
The novel centers on the main character Yim, who embodies the core conflict, surrounded by secondary characters, most notably: her deceased Syrian husband (the initial motive for migration), the German woman Ferdwald, who encourages her transition, the Lebanese friend Elena, and the emotionally absent and abusive father who traumatized her childhood. Through these characters, the novel dramatizes the dichotomy between the conservative East and the open West, between the “original conscience” and the “acquired self.” This character construction reinforces the idea of a triple identity: the protagonist exists as a blend of an Eastern woman, a Western man, and a lost child, locked in a continuous struggle with a fragmented self.
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Core Themes and Issues
The novel fundamentally revolves around questions of identity in both existential and gendered senses. It portrays Yim’s suffering in her search for a stable self and a meaningful life, followed by her gender transition into Yam as an attempt at psychological healing from inner conflict. The work highlights the tension between her original identity and her acquired one: Yim experiences alienation from her new body and contradictory thoughts, caught between what her Eastern culture shaped in her and what the liberal West promotes. One critical study notes that the novel “examines Yim’s experience and interactions while crossing into a third gender, and how individual identity is formed and shaped by social conditions,” presenting gender transition as a decisive choice that confronts the protagonist with conflicting identities and leads to profound psychological turmoil.
The inner conflict is closely linked to external circumstances: life trials—parental loss, war, and patriarchal oppression—push Yim toward radical choices. Critical analysis suggests that these surrounding conditions drove her toward gender transition as a fateful option, yet the narrative demonstrates that this decision did not bring inner peace but instead intensified her sense of alienation and non-belonging. The protagonist’s opening testimony reflects this fracture: “I am merely the ghost of a lost man… living in a body that does not belong to him…”, underscoring the duality of gender and the impossibility of harmony between its poles.
The novel also addresses sexual liberation and homosexuality. It presents Ferdwald, a lesbian German woman who supports the transition, alongside other lesbian female characters, while criticizing sexual stereotyping in Arab societies. At the same time, it emphasizes that Western “enlightened” practices—encouraging homosexuality and transition—do not prevent the protagonist’s tragedy, but rather intensify her conflict. A journalist remarks that the novel shows how “the alleged freedom of the West quickly reveals its hidden complexities when the protagonist confronts the tragedy of integration and the exploitation of migrants,” placing the work in a critical position toward both Eastern and Western behaviors.
Additionally, the novel incorporates political and social entanglements such as asylum, smuggling, and addiction. It sheds light on refugee hardships, including the dangers posed by smugglers, and criticizes cultural fragility and the absence of social support. Although the plot centers on an individual tragedy, it ultimately projects a broader human catastrophe: the search for identity within constantly shifting environments.
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| Ashraf Al-Mismar |
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Symbolism and Significance
The novel employs powerful symbols that deepen its thematic dimensions. Foremost among these is water, which recurs at pivotal moments (Europe, transition, death) as a dual symbol: on one hand, life, fluidity, and hope for freedom; on the other, drowning, destruction, and fear of collapse. Water emerges as a witness to the bleeding and fragmentation of the soul; the engraved phrase “You have water, but you do not have the soul” unites hope with tragedy, turning water into a symbol of contradiction between survival and loss.
Another prominent symbol is the number three. The title “Third of Three” suggests fragmentation and disintegration, implicitly pointing to a triangular identity (masculinity, femininity, and lost childhood) and the imbalance between them. Critics argue that the number three in the novel “indicates a state of fragmentation between past and present, self and other, and between beautiful dreams and bitter reality.” Each transformation or decision by the protagonist thus reenacts this fragile triadic condition, where the desired harmony remains unattainable.
Overall, the novel employs these symbols with expressive eloquence, suggesting that the battle over identity unfolds on rich symbolic ground. Tattoos, slogans, and blood recur in a dense network, turning each dramatic scene into a direct reflection of the inner struggle.
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Style and Language
The language of the novel leans toward clear analytical narration with occasional lyrical descriptiveness. Some critics have praised Al-Mismar’s engaging style and adherence to narrative structure, combining dialogue, description, imagination, and internal monologue (including writings and mobile messages) within a cohesive plot. The protagonist’s narrative voice is personal and dynamic, marked by strong metaphors—such as “a raging sea whose depths cannot be reached”—and an intense expression of femininity and inner violence.
However, some observers note that the novel allows ample space for direct social commentary. At times, its style tends toward explicit didacticism, reinforcing its message through repetition and moral emphasis. One critic argued that the narrative structure lacks the familiar artistic complexity of tightly plotted novels, occasionally approaching a socially motivated discourse clothed in fictional form. Conversely, many readers believe that the open, poetic, and descriptive language—driven by the rhythm of stream of consciousness—draws deeply into the protagonist’s psyche, granting the text emotional authenticity.
Aesthetically, the work relies on the repetition of key terms (water, soul, loss) and figurative imagery (simile and suggestion) to reinforce its message. The title itself—“a ghost of a lost man”—functions as a poetic metaphor, infusing the text with lyrical tension throughout the protagonist’s internal expressions. At the same time, the author presents events in accessible, readable language, avoiding explicit sexual scenes and instead focusing on the psychological and existential struggle of identity, rather than sensational description.
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The Novel within Contemporary Arabic Literature
“Third of Three: Fragments of the Self” occupies a distinctive position in contemporary Arabic literature, as it addresses issues of sexual and gender identity with unprecedented frankness. The novel belongs to a small body of Arabic works that tackle such sensitive themes, surpassing the customary limits of the local literary canon. Critics have observed that Al-Mismar does not follow Western writers (such as Leslie Feinberg or Jeffrey Eugenides) in affirming a “third identity” as a final resolution; instead, he adopts an opposing approach that exposes the psychological fragility of such identities. In this sense, the novel is bold in its proposition and has been described as “a daring literary work that addresses issues of identity and gender transition.”
The importance of the novel lies in its call for the Arab East to reconsider assumptions about imported notions of freedom and openness from the West. It urges Arab readers to confront inherited stereotypes about gender and migration, and calls institutions and societies to engage with these dilemmas realistically. From this perspective, the novel represents a qualitative shift in the treatment of gender issues in Arabic literature, moving beyond traditional debates about women’s roles to delve into the deeper contradictions between masculinity, femininity, self, and other.
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Critical and Popular Reception
Third of Three received multiple critical readings following its publication. Critics wrote extensively about its boldness and psychological depth, with Al-Mayadeen describing it as one of the “daring literary works” addressing identity. Detailed analyses appeared in newspapers and literary platforms such as Al-Ra’i, Nakheel Iraqi, and Radar Al-Arab, examining its structure, themes, and style. The author also participated in book signings and literary discussions (in Beirut and Hermel, for example), attended by audiences and activists concerned with human rights and gender issues.
At the popular level, the novel attracted attention on digital reading platforms, with approximately 9.9 thousand readers on Kotobati and a high rating of 5.0/5, reflecting strong engagement with the text. Despite criticism of its direct style, the novel sparked debate and discussion in cultural forums and gained a reference status among Arabic works attempting to engage with gender identity issues.
In sum, reception indicates that Third of Three has been described as an exceptional and significant novel. Through a skillful blend of narration, psychological analysis, and symbolism, Ashraf Al-Mismar raises sharp questions about selfhood and belonging. Despite differing opinions about its style, the novel has undeniably left its mark on the contemporary literary scene by pushing the boundaries of subject matter and narrative courage.
