I think it’s important to be aware of what this book is and what this book is not.
This book is a memoir, one which frequently veers into polemic. Pamela Olson decided to backpack in the Middle East after college. She ended up in a Palestinian town called Jayyous. She was warmly embraced by several Jayyous residents and inspired to return later on, this time to Ramallah, to volunteer and advocate for the Palestinian cause. A large part of this book is basically “Eat Pray Love” set in Palestine. I enjoyed “Eat Pray Love” as the story of a woman’s journey. I have no illusions about “Eat Pray Love” having educated me about Italians, Indians, or Indonesians.
This book is not, as some Amazon and other online reviewers claim, a “great understanding of Palestine,” a “truly informative work,” or an “important look into the heart of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.” In order for a book to provide the reader with great understanding, or to be informative, the book would need to present a far more nuanced view of both sides of this conflict. The view Pamela presents is black and white. Perhaps this is excusable if we view the book as a memoir. Pamela is certainly entitled to her memories and her perspective. It’s problematic, though, to take this book as anything more than a personal and highly polemical account of one woman’s selective experiences.
Pamela’s perspective is painfully clear when she describes a new Israeli settlement: “It looked like something out of colonial Africa – people of European descent living on islands of red-roofed suburbia on land belonging to someone else…” This is a rather loaded and evocative metaphor. If you remember to read the book as a polemical memoir, you can keep statements like this in perspective and respect the fact that this was the image the settlement evoked for Pamela. You can view this image as serving a poetic purpose and providing insight into Pamela’s frame of mind. If you’re reading the book as something which is meant to educate the reader, though, you may forget to be sensitive to the possibility that your view can be subtly manipulated by such metaphors and their associations.
Every Israeli soldier in this book is cruelly and gratuitously aggressive, unless they’re lazy or incompetent. For the one or two decent Israeli citizens we meet, for example a sympathetic friend of Pamela’s who decides to visit Jayyous and is moved by what he sees, there are tens or hundreds of reports of Israeli violence in the book, many of which are informal and originate in uncorroborated word of mouth* (incidentally, Pamela’s Arabic is initially limited and she often relies on translators when she is first forming her impressions).
Mention of Palestinian violence is remarkably scant by comparison. One sentence reads: “[Hamas] carried out their first violent attack in 1989 targeting soldiers and settlements.” This sentence is immediately followed by a highly detailed paragraph about Israeli settler Baruch Goldstein’s attack in a mosque, specifying the numbers of wounded and dead and noting that the Hebron settlers erected a monument in Goldstein’s honor. Putting aside the clearly uneven emphasis here, I lived in Israel for six years and visited Hebron multiple times; this is the first I am hearing of this monument. Perhaps it exists; I don’t know. What I can tell you with certainty is that the Israeli response to Baruch Goldstein was far from monolithic. It is grossly misleading to report on this alleged monument in isolation, as if it fairly represents the normative Israeli reaction to this incident. When news channels showed footage of Palestinians singing and dancing to celebrate 9/11, they were criticized. Using an alleged monument celebrating Baruch Goldstein as the sole representative of Israeli views belongs in the same category of inflammatory reporting.
Another online reviewer makes a related claim: “Olson's focus is overwhelmingly on Palestine's moderates and Israel's extremists…” On Amazon, Olson responds: “Many of my experiences with Israeli families and peace activists did have to be left out for reasons of length… I had to choose a focus for my first book, and that was the under-represented perspective of Palestinians living under occupation in the West Bank and Gaza.” In other words, Olson acknowledges that she is only sharing one perspective and omitting others. Fair enough, especially if we judge this book by the standards of a polemical memoir which does not claim to offer an objective truth or be educational. But in that case, the “informative” nature of this book is sharply limited. It would behoove readers to be conscious of this and read it accordingly.
Go ahead and enjoy “Fast Times in Palestine” as the readable story of a woman’s journey and of the people she meets. Have no illusions that it will, or should, greatly inform your views of the Palestine-Israel conflict.
*As the book progresses, Olson gradually begins to increase her use of footnotes when accusing Israel of violent behavior. This can lead the reader to overlook or forget that many of her more damning claims in the book are not footnoted. Additionally, several of her footnotes cite “Betselem,” an organization which has been accused of misleading and inaccurate reporting. Other footnotes criticizing Israel cite “Haaretz,” an Israeli newspaper which frequently attacks Israel’s behavior. It’s noteworthy that both Betselem and Haaretz, which in combination represent a large proportion of Olson’s cited source material vilifying Israeli behavior, are Israeli organizations. I would be curious to read accounts of Palestinian self-criticism from Palestinian sources. But in presenting the Palestinian view, Olson does not share dissenting Palestinian voices or Palestinian self-criticism. This is yet another reason this should be read as a polemical memoir rather than an educational piece of journalism; even the Palestinian viewpoint which Olson does claim to represent is presented in a limited and unnuanced fashion.