Naguib Mahfouz: Stories Redrawn

About graphic novels inspired by the works of author Naguib Mahfouz
Picture of Omar Sharara

Omar Sharara

Editorial Supervision: Rasha Qandeel

As these lines are being written, the comic book author and illustrator, Migo, sits inside the “Ya Comics” studio, coloring the final touches of Children of the Alley—a graphic novel inspired by the original novel Awlad Haretna (1959) and several years from the life of its author, literary giant Naguib Mahfouz (1911–2006).

Nearly fifteen years of planning have led to this graphic novel. It began in 2010, when Migo first envisioned the world of the story visually, and moved forward to 2014, when the opening pages were published in TokTok magazine, a specialized Egyptian publication dedicated to comic art and illustrated stories. Now, the illustrator awaits the release of his ambitious project in five volumes, combining color and black-and-white pages, as part of the Illustrated Naguib Mahfouz project, which aims to reintroduce the works of the Nobel Laureate for Literature (1988) through the medium of graphic storytelling.

For the first time, the visual adaptation of this “controversial” novel sparks curiosity. When the original novel was published over half a century ago in Al-Ahram newspaper (1959), it sparked societal controversy and calls to halt its publication. It marked a pivotal moment in Mahfouz’s literary career. Even after its full publication, those who had never read the book attempted to assassinate its author. Now that Children of the Alley will soon be reimagined as a graphic novel, its literary language will gain a contemporary visual narrative—bridging the worlds of literary and visual storytelling through the art of comics.

The project, which merges classic literature with contemporary comic art, is a collaboration between two publishing houses, Diwan and Al-Mahrousa. The first result of this partnership was the transformation of The Thief and the Dogs (1961) into a graphic novel, with a script by writer Mohamed Ismail Amin and illustrations by comic artists Migo and Gamal Qebtan.

I spoke with several artists from the studio who specialize in different stages of comic production—illustration, coloring, inking, and writing—before and during the CairoComix Festival held this November. I asked them about the behind-the-scenes process of creating the first novel, the sources of inspiration, their creative methods, the stages of illustration, and the visual references they relied upon. I also inquired about which Mahfouz novels are next in line to come to life as graphic works of art.

Awlad Haretna Feature

“When I first read Awlad Haretna years ago, I had a visual conception of it, and since then, I’ve dreamed of creating a visual adaptation,” recalls Migo, the illustrator who began sketching the opening pages of Awlad Haretna (Children of the Alley) back in 2010. This was before he joined TokTok, a magazine dedicated to graphic storytelling. At that time, Migo faced the challenge of intellectual property rights, as adapting such a literary work for publication required permission. To circumvent this, he decided to publish excerpts from the novel in a series of features in TokTok in 2014. He drew inspiration from Naguib Mahfouz’s serialized release of the novel in Al-Ahram newspaper, accompanied by the illustrations of artist Hussein Fawzi.

The Awlad Haretna comic’s colorful opening pages were published in TokTok’s sixth issue. Attracting readers’ attention, the work was subsequently republished in several other publications, including Al-Ahram. Migo focused on artistic details in costumes, features, settings, and the historical period during which Mahfouz wrote the novel. This attention to detail seemed like an invitation to whoever held the intellectual property rights, showcasing the illustrator and magazine’s ability to adapt a literary classic visually. However, they received no response.

The lingering winds of Egypt’s January Revolution in 2011 disrupted artists and their works. TokTok, a quarterly publication often described as “a spark in the darkness,” as Migo puts it, had featured the colorful Awlad Haretna only once; its sixth issue was predominantly black and white, and subsequent features of the novel were intended to follow suit. Many artists’ productivity was affected in the revolutionary years, and TokTok was partially suspended due to financial constraints. Reflecting on Mahfouz’s serialized timeline of publishing Awlad Haretna, Migo realized that ensuring TokTok’s consistent release for years was “impossible.” The magazine’s irregular publication ultimately halted the serialization of Awlad Haretna. At the time, there were no festivals or markets dedicated to comics.

Now, the flame is reignited. Supported by Diwan and Al-Mahrousa publishing houses, the Ya Comics studio was established to oversee the artistic production of graphic novels. The studio gathers artists who collaborate closely under the creative vision of Ismail and Migo, who guide the visual direction of each project. With this support, Migo returned to his adaptation of Awlad Haretna, committed to publishing it in installments, much like Mahfouz had waited for his novel to appear in serialized form. Over the past years, Migo worked silently and alone, yet his passion for the project never waned.

“I borrowed the plot from the novel but created my own dramatic language and dialogues between the characters. My story begins differently from Mahfouz’s original, with completely distinct writing. There’s also a documentary aspect that imagines Mahfouz as he writes the novel, adding a layer of fantasy tailored to comic book drama,” Migo explains. The graphic novel’s five parts revolve around the sons of Gebelawi—Adham, Gebel, Rifaa, Qassem, and Arafa. In the first installment, for instance, Adham, Gebelawi’s beloved youngest son (born of a dark-skinned concubine), plays musical notes on the flute. Migo reveals that readers familiar with the instrument can actually play these pieces, which add another dimension to the novel’s experience. Readers will also discover Gebelawi’s mansion through a house Mahfouz visits in a fictionalized daily routine—walking, buying newspapers, and wandering the Mokattam Desert—before beginning to write the novel itself.

In this adaptation, Mahfouz himself conducts the orchestra of Awlad Haretna. The comic book’s narrative operates on three dimensions. The first immerses the reader in Mahfouz’s creative imagination as he writes, as if we are witnessing an author inspired by ideas during his daily walks, chats with friends, and conversations in Cairo’s coffeehouses. “We’ll share his writing journey and see how exhausting it was, what inspired him, and the challenges he faced during and after writing,” Migo explains.

The second dimension documents the social, political, and economic stages Egypt went through during Mahfouz’s writing and the novel’s eventual completion. “There was societal drama at the time—Gamal Abdel Nasser intervened and requested a review committee from Al-Azhar, while Mohamed Hassanein Heikal pushed to delay the ban until the novel was fully published. Then there was the assassination attempt on Mahfouz, political factions, and letters from writers condemning him. All these are real details,” Migo recounts.

The final dimension merges the first two, capturing the novel’s core themes and symbolism through contemporary illustrations that reflect oppression, injustice, tyranny, resistance, and attempts to escape brutality.

In the Style of “Gog and Magog”

Between Migo and Ismail, there’s “a load of work,” as they describe it. This collaborative bond was forged during their work on Ismail’s short story collection “Gog and Magog,” which was serialized in TokTok before being published in full. “Ismail shared the story scripts with me episode by episode as he wrote them to help me visualize the world,” says Migo. Both confirmed to me, separately, that they applied the same approach to The Thief and the Dogs—working chapter by chapter. Ismail recounts the process of choosing this novel as the studio’s first major project: “We held several meetings in the studio to decide which novel to start with. We agreed on The Thief and the Dogs because of its cinematic qualities, its philosophical undertones, and the fact that it was the fastest of Mahfouz’s works to be adapted into a film.”

Thus, the scriptwriter began re-reading the novel multiple times, constantly holding a pen to underline sentences and paragraphs he would adapt into the comic book script.

Mahfouz drew inspiration for The Thief and the Dogs from real-life crimes that captured public attention, with some even sympathizing with the perpetrator (1960). The novel’s title symbolizes the protagonist’s struggle with society. It tells the story of Said Mahran, a criminal who emerges from prison after serving four years, determined to exact revenge on his ex-wife Nabawiyya, his traitorous former accomplice Alish Sidra, and Rauf Alwan, a man who has betrayed his principles. Said’s ultimate goal is to reclaim his lost life and his daughter, Sana. However, in his pursuit of vengeance, he mistakenly kills innocent people while his enemies escape, amplifying his feelings of disappointment, confusion, anger, and resentment toward a life he perceives as meaningless. His fate unfolds indifferently at the end of the story.

What are the artistic challenges of adapting such a plot? According to Ismail, scripting a graphic novel is one of the most challenging forms of screenwriting because, while cinema relies on scenes as its core unit, comics rely on panels. A comic book scene is composed of multiple panels. While writing The Thief and the Dogs, Ismail approached it frame by frame, flipping through the novel’s pages like a camera searching for narrative images to transform into panels. For him, relying on Mahfouz’s original text was essential—whether it was the dialogue between characters, the narrator’s voice, or Said Mahran’s internal monologues. The novel is compact and rich in vivid narrative images, which suited his vision for the comic book. Therefore, he only made minor adjustments to the text to better suit the comic format. He completed the script in around 100 pages, divided into chapters, with each chapter spanning approximately ten pages.

Unlike the original novel, which is spread across 18 chapters and interspersed with illustrations by artist Gamal Kotb (1930–2016), The Thief and the Dogs comic was written as a continuous piece. “It was an aesthetic choice. I felt the graphic storytelling would flow better as one seamless stream,” explains Ismail, who would email Migo a chapter of the script every few days.

This marked the beginning of the comic book’s first phase: character design. The illustrator imagines the novel’s world and physical setting, bringing it to life visually.

The The Thief and the Dogs comic was published in monochrome (black and white), spanning approximately 130 pages. While 115 pages were dedicated to illustrating the story’s events, the final 15 pages featured character portraits, complete with their names, clothing, hairstyles, and accessories. Unlike the screenwriter, who relied heavily on the novel’s text while drafting the script, the illustrator drew inspiration for the characters’ features, belongings, furniture, architecture, and clothing from the 1962 film adaptation The Thief and the Dogs, directed by Kamal El Sheikh and starring a cast of classic Egyptian actors. “The film was a valuable visual reference for gathering materials because it was produced just a year after the novel was published,” explains Migo.

The decision to use only black and white was made to convey the drama of prison life, theft, car and foot chases, and the overall noir spirit of the novel. This approach was intended to immerse readers in a constant sense of movement and tension, drawing inspiration from the style of American writer and illustrator Frank Miller.

Although the format of The Thief and the Dogs comic aligned with standard sizes for Arabic graphic novels, the font used inside the dialogue balloons was difficult to read in some sections. Migo explains: “We chose a sharp font to match the novel’s tone, but it turned out to be the only negative feedback we received. So, for the second edition, we changed the font, balloons, and boxes, adjusting their sizes. We opted for a less common font and are working toward creating a proprietary font collection for the studio to use in upcoming novels.”

While the studio’s production machine worked in parallel, the illustrator felt that doors, windows, and cars could not appear “pale.” These details not only relate to the novel’s historical period but also convey an impression of the novel itself. Readers of literature often visualize such elements in their imagination. “In illustration, you often take shortcuts with backgrounds—a square becomes a door, or a rectangle a window,” Migo notes, explaining his search for real visual references from the 1960s to aid in his drawings. Thus, the processes of scriptwriting and character design ran simultaneously, followed by illustration and later inking.

In The Thief and the Dogs, Said Mahran frequently slips into what feels like daydreams to recall specific memories—moments with his wife, his old theft partner, and conversations with Rauf Alwan in the past. These moments differ visually from the rest of the comic. Mahran’s internal monologues and the narrator’s voice appear in rectangular boxes, while the dialogue between characters is contained in speech balloons. To capture Mahfouz’s narrative style, which plays with time, illustrator Gamal Qebtan joined as a new cog in the studio’s machine.

During these sequences, the reader senses Mahran’s presence, yet his features change as he revisits the past in his imagination. “These moments in the novel are incredibly inspiring for any illustrator, as they allow for experimentation with surreal drawing styles,” Qebtan explains. He references Frank Miller’s techniques, particularly the use of light and shadow, which helped him reflect Mahran’s psychological state—his confusion between good and evil, his fear of death, and his desire for revenge.

The gears turn faster and faster. Migo and Qebtan began working on “découpage”—the process of breaking down the literary script from written language into a visual narrative using imagery. These découpage fragments, which precede sketching, serve as the complete visual roadmap for the novel, to be followed by the illustrators during the sketching process. “The découpage defined the shot angle, panel size, and the rhythm of the characters’ movement. It helped ensure a smooth transition from one scene to the next,” Qebtan explains, likening comic creation to filmmaking, where this tool plays a similar role to visual storytelling in cinema.

Once the découpage for the panels was complete, the illustrators began sketching together. With every finished page, they sent it to artist Hussein Mohamed, who started the inking phase, a task in which they also participated.

Finally—though not quite the last step—came the phase of lettering, speech balloons, and text placement on the illustrations. This task was completed by artist Maha Eidaros, as indicated on the comic’s credits page listing the studio team’s roles. The novel’s cover was then designed by graphic artist Reham El-Sayed.

The silent yet ever-present contributor emerged at the project’s completion. The comic’s yellow-colored title was designed by artist Ali Galal before his passing. “Years ago, Ali Galal worked on The Thief and the Dogs for his Fine Arts graduation project. He knew I was working on Awlad Haretna, so we often shared sketches and hoped to collaborate on it together someday,” Migo recounts. Before Galal passed away, he sent Migo the title artwork, which was later used as a tribute to his late friend. Galal’s long-held wish was, sadly, fulfilled only posthumously.

The final page of the comic features the “Naguib Mahfouz Map,” designed by artists Jojo and Mohamed Sarsawy. “It’s inspired by visual materials provided by Dr. Hussein Hammouda [critic and professor of modern Arabic literature at Cairo University] and Dr. Radwa Zaki [writer and researcher specializing in Islamic civilization, Egyptian architecture, and heritage], who helped us identify the locations Mahfouz referenced in his novels,” Migo explains. This map is part of a larger, evolving visual map the studio is building, with sections set to appear across the upcoming series of graphic novels.

These maps will be interactive, featuring QR codes accessible via an app. The app will include multiple icons representing the graphic novels and the geographic locations in which their events unfold. Notably, most of Mahfouz’s characters lived in Cairo’s historic neighborhoods, such as Sayeda Zeinab, Al-Hussein, Abdeen Square, and Helmiya, allowing readers to vividly imagine these districts or perhaps locate the novels’ settings geographically. However, many of these Egyptian architectural landmarks—heritage sites or otherwise—have since disappeared or been demolished.

Perhaps comics will serve as the final hope for building a visual memory for generations of readers who may never see the magical worlds Mahfouz so eloquently described.

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Awlad Haretna or Miramar: Which Is Closer?

The studio team plans to select one epic novel each year to be adapted across several parts, alongside shorter works by Mahfouz. More illustrators and writers will also contribute to transforming the author’s short story collections into short-form comics. Layal Al-Rustum, manager of Diwan Bookstore and a board member of the publishing house, shared that the studio is now finalizing the graphic novel adaptation of Miramar. She emphasized that a key part of presenting Mahfouz’s works in a contemporary visual identity is translating the comics into English. “We’re currently working on the English translation of The Thief and the Dogs, and soon each graphic novel will be released with its translated version.”

Al-Rustum explains that the adaptation of Mahfouz’s three novels is entirely distinct in terms of storytelling style, character dimensions, timelines, as well as the writers and illustrators involved. For example, Mahfouz’s Miramar employs a multi-voiced narrative style that interprets reality from various perspectives. Set in Alexandria during the 1960s, the story unfolds inside a pension named Miramar, revolving around Zahra—the beautiful village girl who abandoned her rural life—and the pension’s residents. Love, tension, and jealousy emerge between the characters, each retelling the events from their unique viewpoint.

“The script is entirely separate from the film [Miramar, directed by Kamal El Sheikh in 1969],” says writer Mohamed Sarsawy, who relied on Mahfouz’s 1967 novel while crafting the comic’s script. Sarsawy began by imagining the novel’s central characters as he reread it several times—Zahra, Amer Wagdi, Hosni Allam, Mansour Bahy, and Sarhan El-Beheiry.

He shares some details of the adaptation: “I adjusted Mansour Bahy’s chapter slightly. In the novel, he’s a radio broadcaster, so I made him narrate events as though speaking to listeners in front of a radio microphone. In the film, Hosni Allam uses the phrase ‘Ya Frikiko,’ which I interpreted differently. I felt that Mahfouz treated Frikiko as an imaginary character with philosophical ideas in the novel, while the film depicted Frikiko more as a concept or theory. Hosni Allam even uses it as a sort of callout. So, I turned Frikiko into an actual character within the chapter.”

Sarsawy added a touch of fantasy to the characters while liberating some from their secondary roles. The resulting script spans approximately 126 pages, with Ismail editing the text.

Once Ismail’s edits are complete, Sarsawy sends the finalized script to the illustrator, Salma Zakaria, setting the comic’s production gears in motion again. Zakaria read through the script panels repeatedly, envisioning the characters in her mind. She began by designing the characters first, then arranging découpage scraps as sketches on paper. The découpage phase took Zakaria slightly longer than usual. Not only is this her first graphic novel, but adapting such a widely read literary work added pressure. She even started sketching and inking before fully completing the découpage. “Miramar isn’t like Marvel with its action scenes. It’s a dialogue-driven novel, and turning it into a visually engaging comic where characters are mostly talking is quite challenging,” Zakaria admits.

Her anxiety while sketching Miramar across its five chapters led her to adjust some drawings during the inking phase. Meanwhile, the studio’s workflow for this black-and-white adaptation prompted Qebtan to assist Zakaria with some illustrations of Sarhan El-Beheiry in the fourth chapter. “The sketches Qebtan drew added a distinct spirit and tone to the novel,” Zakaria says, describing his illustrations as “brilliant.”

Zakaria drew inspiration for the pension’s decor, costumes, and characters’ hairstyles from general visual materials reflecting the 1960s. Naguib Mahfouz’s works continue to inspire artists, each in their own way, along the path of art.

Omar Sharara
An Egyptian writer and journalist interested in football, literature, politics, and music.

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