Perhaps this way madness lies, especially in an autobiographical endeavour. The sad shade of madness does haunt Atyaf but only as a domesticated concept and not as a possible autobiographical mode of being. A pity that having been visited by an apparition the affable autobiographer did not spend more time with the mad woman in her attic. Having decided to keep Shagar at a very safe distance one wonders why Ashour kept her at all. Though Atyaf, conventionally speaking, is neither a novel nor an autobiography, the reader need not fear finding himself or herself in a bewildering Borgesian or unsettling Steppenwolfian Hall of Mirrors.
Identity is safe and sound.
Having said this, Atyaf is still as challenging to read as it must have been challenging to write.