While I waited for a colleague to go to lunch, I chatted with a young woman from the Sudan who graduated from one of our master’s programs I used to manage, and who recently joined us as a researcher. Somehow we stumbled upon my favorite book, The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night. When I mentioned it to her, she drew a blank. After lunch I found an electronic-mail message from her. She knew the book, of course, but the English translation had somehow eluded her. It is Alf Laila wa Laila in Arabic. And it is her father’s favorite book, as well. Excited by this sudden discovery, I wrote back to her at once and asked for a literal translation. I just received her response. Predictably, alf is “thousand”; laila is “night,” as well as a very popular female name, Laila; and wa is “and.” And now I am left with a big question no-one but myself will be able to answer for me: how come it has never crossed my mind to ask an Arab friend for the name of my favorite book?