Hakawati means storyteller in Arabic. The ostensible haka­wati of this sprawling new novel is Osama al-Kharrat, a Lebanese expatriate who returns to war-shattered Beirut to see his dying father. The term could also refer to al-Kharrat’s grandfather, who became a professional tale teller. The author, too, promises to take us on “a journey beyond imagining,” alternating between a family history in contemporary Beirut and an Arabian Nights–style fairy tale that reinvents the history of Lebanon as legend. For the most part, Alameddine, a painter and fiction writer (I, the Divine; The Perv) who divides his time between San Francisco and Beirut, delivers on his promise, recounting both the legends and the fam­ily saga with warmth and grace. Too often, however, he forces the issue, telling us how bewitching his stories are when he would be better off proving it. “Stories with obvious moral lessons are like eels in a wooden crate,” Osama’s grandfather warns. “They slither all over and under each other, but never leave the tub.” Indeed, all the hakawatis in this ambitious epic, particularly the author, are at their best when they forgo the lessons and simply move on with the tale. B (Alfred A. Knopf)