Between Argentines and Arabs: Argentine Orientalism, Arab Immigrants and the Writing of Identity, by Christina Civantos, is an illuminating study of cultural interweavings whose importance extends far beyond its immediate objective, the study of Argentine Orientalism as presented in literary works by both Arab and non-Arab Argentine writers. Its main focus is on the construction of the Arab and how this is inserted into Argentine nationalist notions of self, a discussion which leads to a reappraisal of what constitutes national identity. The stated aim of this fine work is that in demonstrating the complexities of all cultural histories, those of the host country as well as of the immigrants, a better foundation for co-existence may be achieved.

Civantos looks at different aspects of works which deal with the topic, starting with an examination of Arab tropes in essays and literary texts by Argentine authors of European and of Arab descent, whether written in Argentina, in the Arab homeland, in Spanish or in Arabic. Her approach, exemplary for its thoroughness and insight, consists of examining the presentation of things Arabic and, beyond this, their implications and attendant consequences.

The importance of the topic can be illustrated by a number of facts. First, Syria is the world's largest importer of Argentine mate, a useful indication of the scale of the links between the two countries. Second, Arabs make up roughly the fourth-largest immigrant group in Argentina today. Third, Carlos Menem, the son of Syrian immigrants, became the country's president from 1989 to 1999. This was in spite of past periods of intense anti-Arab sentiments.

In Part 1 of the book, Civantos discusses different ways in which the Arab is inserted into Argentine culture, starting with an examination of how the figure of the gaucho has been used by different writers. Making the point, for example, that Sarmiento had travelled in Algeria before he knew the gaucho of the pampas, Civantos traces the different intersections of the Arab nomad and the Argentine gaucho in his writings, noting how the author identifies himself at times with the Arab nomad in his ambivalent negotiation of civilisation and barbarism. Mansilla and Marmol also link Arab ‘fierceness’ to Argentine barbarism, and indirectly to Facundo and Rosas.

Lugones, writing in the wake of massive immigration to Argentina, reconfigures the gaucho in the nationalist interests of the ruling elite, as an iconic figure representing pre-immigration Spain. The argument is ingenious: if Spanish ancestry can be traced to the peaceful cohabitation of moros y cristianos, a similar place can be found for the gaucho moro in the nationalist project of Argentina for inscribing ‘barbarism’ into the national make-up. All these writers use the Arab as a useful metaphor for understanding the gaucho. Interestingly, Arab writers such as Hallar and Yaser also use Sarmiento's idea of the gaucho moro in order to insert themselves into a pre-immigration Argentina. Repeating the argument that the Spanish settlers had considerable Arab blood in their veins, they claim that this gives them greater legitimacy and precedence over later immigrants. Civantos shows convincingly that the contention that Arabs formed part of the colonising forces disturbs the notion of a pure white and all Christian criollo elite, highlighting instead that racial miscegenation was there from the start.

Part Two, ‘Writing the Orient to Write the Self’, examines Euro-Argentine Orientalism and Arab-Argentine self-(re)-presentation of the Orient (Auto-Orientalism). Among the former, some writers repeat Romantic Orientalist notions of eroticism and mystery, but also negative images like those encompassed in the derogatively used appellation turco (peddler, miser, gambler and generally unassimilable). However, Arlt and Borges write ironically against Orientalism's feminisation of the Orient as a place of escape, although their deconstruction of the stereotype does not extend to the Arab presence at home.

Argentine Arab writers can be divided between those whose works deal with the homeland without reference to the Arab presence in Argentina and those who deal with this more directly. The first are interested in enhancing their position in Argentina by focussing on the Orient's rich cultural heritage rather than by directly contesting the strong anti-Arab sentiments which prevailed in the first half of the twentieth century. The reason for this was in order not to appear more Arab than Argentine.

The second (Arslan, Guráieb, for example) are more intent in refuting old stereotypes yet, while creating their own more positive images, they also urge their fellow Arabs to try harder to be perceived in a more positive light. By this they mean appearing not to be so exclusively interested in commerce, and being less ‘different’ in appearance. Other negative images of the Orient based on topics such as the harem, the veil, or castration are counteracted by Arslan, for instance, who argues that these are things that happened in Europe and in ancient Greece. His aim is to highlight the commonality between East and West, as well as showing both places as culturally heterogeneous.

In this way, accepted discursive practices are challenged but they cannot be entirely dispensed with; inevitably, some Orientalism persists in this revised (self)-presentation of the Orient.

Part Three of this study examines the way in which Arab-Argentine novels work towards undercutting the notion that purity of language is linked to morality and as such, central to nation-building. Through their plots, they show how the Arab immigration can work towards the national project, for instance by writing about immigrants and their offspring who can speak with moral authority and can position themselves as loyal and upstanding citizens. Moreover, these Arab Argentine writers depict not only Arab immigrants with faulty Spanish, but also natives of the interior of Argentina whose Spanish is different from that of the porteños and elite criollos. The widespread heteroglossia of this society affects the notion of purity of language, for not only is Arabic not a homogeneous language relating to a single culture, being diverse in its registers and local inflections, but the same applies to Spanish, the assumed ‘mother tongue’.

In closing, Civantos extends her analysis of the way in which Arab immigration has inserted itself into the language and culture of Argentina to that of all subaltern groups' ability to ‘talk back’ (in Spivak's celebrated terms), and shows both the limitations and the power of the subaltern to affect the society in which they live. What emerges is not only a reaffirmation of Latin America as a plural, heterogeneous society, but a contestation of all essentialising stereotypes of European discourse, whether directed at the Orient or other cultural productions (popular classes, indigenous peoples, Afro-Hispanics, women). The inescapable conclusion is, in Civantos's final words, the recognition of ‘our heteroglot reality’ (p. 222).

This brief summary cannot do justice to a work in which almost every page vibrates with some valuable, and often fascinating, information, whether this be of some canonical texts revisited or others by less well-known Arab Argentine authors. With her scholarly, imaginative and cogently argued discussion of immigration in literary texts, Civantos has given us an inspiring model for future research on this topic.