In this book, there is something that can be seen as a continuation of the “light” that comes from Ratuya Ashur’s personality. It’s the light that comes from her confrontation with critical theories and applied criticism. It’s also the light that comes from her exploration of her own literary experiences, and her attempt to redefine what literature is—not just as a form of art, but also as a form of history. So that no one can easily fall into the trap of using the term “historical fiction” in a way that oversimplifies its complexity. It’s the light that comes from her brave resistance to the oppressive conditions in Egyptian universities, and her early resistance to political, academic, and social practices that she never tolerated during her youth. It’s the light that comes from her personal reflections on the reasons behind her writing, and her relationship with the Arabic language as a heritage and a beauty. It’s the light that resisted the pressures of application, before many others realized its many dangers. By reading this book, we can see Ratuya Ashur’s character in all its details—her bravery and her diversity. This is a beauty that stands against ugliness.As the poet Merid Al-Burghouti said, “The smile on her face is a sign of her beauty; the place where she steps is also a sign of her beauty. The pride in her heart is another sign of her beauty. And the fact that she remains detached from the culture of the market is also a sign of her beauty.”