Where the Wind Calls Home

by Samar Yazbek, Leri Price (Translator)

Ali, a nineteen-year-old soldier in the Syrian army, lies on the ground beneath a tree. He sees a body being lowered into a hole―is this his funeral? There was that sudden explosion, wasn’t there ... While trying to understand the extend of the damage, Ali works his way closer to the tree. His ultimate desire is to fly up to one of its branches, to safety. Through rich vignettes of Ali’s memories, we uncover the hardships of his traditional Syrian Alawite village, but also the richness and beauty of its cultural and religious heritage. Yazbek here explores the secrets of the Alawite faith and its relationship to nature and the elements in a tight poetic novel dense with life and hope and love.

Genres: Fiction, War, Literary Fiction, Middle East, Translated Fiction

194 pages, Paperback

First published June 1, 2022

About the author

- Syrian writer
- born in Jableh city, 1970
- published her first stories collection in 1999
- wrote many scripts for movies and TV series while working in the Syrian state TV, and she produced and presented the show of "Library Story" in 2008
- worked in Al-Hayat newspaper for 10 years, and published in many Syrian and Arab newspapers
- published four novels, and three books
- her A Woman in The Crossfire was translated into five languages
- co-founded in 2012 "Women NOW" development organization that is concerned with educational and economical empowerment of women and children

Reviews

[فايز غازي Fayez Ghazi · Rating 4 out of 5]

مجرد ورقة صغيرة، تمنعه رموشه المتشابكة من رؤيتها تحت شمس الظهيرة!

المأساة السورية من جديد، لكن بعيدًا عن العويل والمشاهد الدموية، وبعيدًا عن التنميطات. رواية من قلب حاضنة "الرئيس"، تلك الحاضنة التي عانت أيضًا وقٌدم فقراؤها على مذبح الكرسي بينما أغنياؤها في قصورهم ينعمون! رواية من القرية العلوية البسيطة الفقيرة حيث أغلب الناس بسطاء وفقراء ومعدمون تحركهم وتضحي بهم قلّة مستفيدة دينيًا وسياسيًا.

"ثم سيأتي لاحقًا الزمن الذي يتوقفون فيه عن القول: نموت فداءً للرئيس والوطن. فقد فقدوا الأرض والأولاد والحياة، ومن تبقى منهم لم يعد يملك ثمن خبزه."

رواية تعتمد على تقنية الإسترجاع، لجندي أصابته قذيفة من الطيران "الصديق"، تجري كلها بين لحظة الإنفجار ولحظة الإنعتاق ويتخللها تداعيات واستحضار ذكريات الجندي (المجنّد غصبًا) عن أخيه الأكبر الذي مات، ووالدته الفقيرة التي أمضت عمرها تتعب وتعمل في السهول بالأجرة، ووالده القاسي، وذكريات الطفولة، وخرافات الولادة، والمعتقدات العلوية، ورجال الدين "الجدد"، والملاكين والأغنياء في القرية، وشبيحة الحرب، ومليشيات النهب وغيرها...

"كانت البلاد حينها تخترع أشكالًا غريبةً للمقابر، مقابر معلنة وأخرى مخفية. مقابر صغيرة، تدفن فيها أعضاء بشرية مقطّعة، وأخرى عملاقة، تتسع لمئات الأشخاص في حفرةٍ واحدة."

الرواية نفسية بإمتياز، تغوص في أعماق الشخصية الرئيسية، زاوجت الكاتبة ما بين الصوت الأول وصوت الراوي العليم وعادت بنا الى احلام الطفولة المقتولة، وغرابة المراهقة، والخيال الخصب لعليّ وحياته وعلاقته مع الأشياء كالأشجار والريح والقمر والرائحة. كما ان الرواية فيها الكثير من الرموز والتضمينات التي اتت بصيغة أدبية ولغة رفيعة جدًا.

أعجبتني بعض القصص الصغيرة في الرواية والتي تحمل رمزيات مميزة مثل قصة العجل المذبوح وكيف أعطاه علي معناه ورفض ان يأكل منه، قصة الصورة التي تجمع أولياء وزيد عليها صورة "الرئيس الأب"، هذا المزج الديني - السياسي الذي اعتدناه في الشرق، قصة العين في بداية الرواية وذلك التداعي ما بين الواقع والخيال والذكريات، وغيرها.

رواية مبنية بإتقان وبهدوء، يحسب للكاتبة غياب صوتها عن النص وترك الأمر للشخصيات مما ساعد النص ان يبتعد عن الإنفعال. يعيب النص البطء في الدخول للحدث خصوصًا في ال10 بالمئة الأولى من الرواية

مع هذا الإقتباس المقصود أخيرًا:

"الله يجيرنا من هالضحك! شفت الناس إذا بتضحك بتخاف... لك منخاف حتى نضحك!""

[John Darnielle · Rating 5 out of 5]

I got this from the McNally Jackson table at NYU, at the reading the night before the National Book Awards. I think it’s the first Syrian book I’ve read. It’s rich fare — a young man in a militia bleeds to death on a mountainside and contemplates his life — and very, very good. The human cost of war is not a new theme, but its horrors mutate as material conditions change — even if the needs of the people afflicted by said conditions don’t change, but go less and less attended to. This book is partly about that, and is partly a lament for what modernity does to the places it visits: which is all the places. Hard and very good book.

[Kate O'Shea · Rating 5 out of 5]

Absolutely stunning book. I certainly appreciate all the praise of Samar Yazbek's work.

The story is a simple one on the face of it. Ali is a young soldier, blown up by friendly fire. He finds himself lying in a crater next to a tree. The book centres around him trying to climb the tree to safety.Ali's attempts to work out how badly he is hurt and how to reach the trees branches are interlaced with thoughts of his life.

The distinction between the two realities is so subtle you barely notice the switch happening. The stories are almost dreamlike in quality and as Ali tries to process his reality it becomes difficult to separate what is real and what isn't.

The writing is quite spare but emotionally charged. You're left in no doubt as to what life is like for the average family in Syria and how appalling the circumstances are for people living there. And this war is just the latest in a long list of wars that Syria has been involved in during the 20th and 21st centuries. Samar Yazek conveys all this in what is a short, sparse novel.

It is beautifully written, very moving and I'd love to read more of her work. I'd highly recommend this book to anyone.

Many thanks to Netgalley and World Editions for the advance review copy.

[Cathy · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ali, the protagonist of Where the Wind Calls Home, sees the world differently from others having formed from early in his life an intense relationship with nature, particularly trees. ‘Trees were simple, unlike people.’

As a boy, one particular oak tree became his sanctuary, a place from which he observed the clouds, and the mountains that surrounded his village. As he lingers between life and death, injured – probably fatally – by a bomb dropped in error on its own soldiers, his sole objective becomes to reach a nearby tree in search of that familiar sanctuary. He sees the tree’s presence as a sign that it will take care of him, that it is no coincidence he finds himself close to it.

Hallucinating because of his injuries, he relives moments from his life: the death of his brother, an arduous trek to a shrine with his mother Nahla, a visit to the palace of a local chief whose lavish lifestyle demonstrates how power and wealth has been concentrated in the hands of a few. These episodes give an insight into life in a rural village whose peaceful, albeit harsh, existence has been transformed by war: its menfolk killed leaving grieving families without fathers, sons, brothers.

Although any loss of life in war is devastating, it seems particularly tragic that a gentle soul like Ali, who harboured ambitions to follow a religious life, should be caught up in a violent conflict – ‘one of the many wars that humans are so busy inventing’. In fact, as we learn, his involvement results from an act of sacrifice. Ali recalls his mother’s anguish at not being able to view the body of Ali’s brother, so devastating were his injuries, and is determined she not should not suffer in the same way again. ‘Ali reflected that even if he didn’t survive, at the very least, he had to keep this promise to himself: to make sure his body stayed whole, so Nahla could see it and say goodbye to him…’

Where the Winds Calls Home has a dreamlike quality as Ali’s thoughts move, often imperceptibly, between past and present. There is striking imagery, particularly the presence of a mysterious ‘Other’ whose movements seem to mirror Ali’s own struggles to achieve his objective. It’s a heartbreaking story of the destructive impact of war and a reminder that seemingly intractable conflicts persist in many parts of the world.

[Maxwell · Rating 2 out of 5]

I first heard about this book because it was longlisted for the National Book Award for Translated Literature this year (2024). My library had a copy so I figured I'd give it a shot to try something new and expand my horizons, reading a book from a Syrian author written originally in Arabic.

The story follows Ali who is a 19 year old conscript in the Syrian army. His story begins at the end, after he's been hit by friendly fire on the top of a mountain, below the shade of a tree. As night begins to fall and he tries to crawl to safety beneath the tree, perhaps his only living companion on the mountaintop, he swiftly moves in and out of the present day, reflecting on past experiences and significant moments that led him to this moment. The death of his brother, his unconventional upbringing at the hands of a local 'madwoman,' his conscription into the army. These experiences shape him and guide the narrative that is balanced by his present struggle to survive.

Unfortunately, I felt like this book was not written in a way that I could enjoy fully. I found the ideas and Ali's story to be compelling, but it was bogged down by dense and confusing prose. It's hard to say whether this was the author's intended writing style or a shoddy translation, since I can't compare to the original. But the English version was full of sentences with unclear subjects or changes in tense that made for an awkward reading experience.

I was intrigued to learn more about Syria and see through the eyes of a young, social outcast that embraces nature and detests the corrupt individuals wreaking havoc on his country. However, instead it felt very distant to me (perhaps a 1st person narration would've suited the story better here?) and ultimately underwhelmed me.

[Sookie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ali, a young soldier from a small village in Syria, lies underneath a tree, gravely injured due to some sort of explosion. As he lies there, he relives his life as he starts with recounting his brother's funeral, his mother's breakdowns during the course of his formative years.

Set during the time that is on the brink of civil war, Ali runs contradictions in his mind with his current state - a sort of fugue between life and death, and the life he lead before the war. Through his eyes, Samar Yazbek gives a poetic narration of Syrian countryside, the simplicity of life and the way war is brought to them.

As expected from this author, the narration is rich, haunting and engaging.

Thanks to World Editions and Net Galley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

[Amber · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.25/5

A sparse yet powerful novel about an injured Syrian soldier and the moments before his flee to safety, or perhaps death. The writing has a dream-like quality with no chapters or breaks at all. The author/translator seamlessly blends the current state of Ali’s injury with his past life, evoking a deep sense of loss as his situation worsens.

While there is violence and poverty as Syria becomes increasingly authoritarian, the writing never feels over sensationalized, and we experience love and gratitude through Ali’s eyes.

Great for readers who appreciate poetic and rhythmic prose that pack a punch!

[André · Rating 4 out of 5]

Samar Yazbek is een Syrische schrijfster en journaliste, geboren in Jableh in 1970. Ze is de auteur van verschillende fictiewerken, waaronder Cinnamon. Yazbek, een uitgesproken criticus van het Assad-regime, maar ook van wat zij identificeert als onjuiste percepties van ideologische conformiteit binnen de Syrische alawitische gemeenschap, is nauw betrokken bij de Syrische opstand sinds deze uitbrak op 15 maart 2011. Uit angst voor het leven van haar dochter moest ze haar land ontvluchten en leeft nu ondergedoken. Drie jaar lang ging Samar Yazbek spreken met vijfenvijftig vrouwen om hun getuigenissen op te nemen. Gewone Syriërs, in de leeftijd van 20 tot 77 jaar, uit Damascus en Ghouta, Idlib en zijn platteland, Aleppo, de kuststreek, Homs, Hama, Quneitra, Raqqa, Deir ez Zor. Syriërs uit de middenklasse en vaak universitair afgestudeerden, die, ver weg van de stereotypen van het slachtoffer en de passieve vrouw, er allemaal met gevaar voor eigen leven voor kozen om deel te nemen aan de opstand, dromend van een vrij Syrië en democratie, niet alleen voor vrouwen maar voor al hun medeburgers.
Yazbek ontving de Pen/Pinter International Writer of Courage Award 2012, toegekend aan een auteur van uitstekende literaire verdienste die een 'onverschrokken' blik op de wereld werpt.
In haar laatste werk Waar de wind huist schrijft Samar Yazbek over de uren waarin de stervende soldaat Ali zijn leven overdenkt tot op het moment dat hij met het leger in aanraking kwam en werd opgeroepen, of beter gezegd werd ingelijfd.
Ali ligt op de grond onder een grote boom. Hij droomt over een begrafenis, die van zichzelf? Is de vrouw die haar armen om de kist slaat zijn moeder? Wanneer hij weer bij bewustzijn komt, herinnert Ali zich de begrafenis van zijn broer, ongeveer een jaar geleden. Op hetzelfde moment realiseert hij zich dat hij gewond moet zijn geraakt door een bom die het leger eerder die dag per ongeluk liet vallen. Ali, een dromerige jongen wil niets liever dan de spirituele tradities van zijn volk in leven houden. Maar de oorlog staat tussen hem en zijn droom. De lezer leert Ali kennen terwijl hij zwaar gewond de nacht probeert door te komen.
De auteur laat de lezer rechtstreeks aanspreken door Ali. Met grote overtuiging weet de auteur de lezer aan zich te binden door Ali taal en vooral beelden te geven waardoor meeleven iets vanzelfsprekends wordt. De verteller spreekt in springerige associatieve beelden doordat elke herinnering een volgende oproept en de angst iets belangrijks over te slaan groot is.
Een heel aangrijpend en sterk werk!

[Nadia · Rating 4 out of 5]

9 ساعات احتضار و 19 سنة استرجاع للزمن .
بعيدا عن أي تنمط أو كليشيه تنقلنا سمر يزبك عبر سطور روايتها إلى قرية علوية المذهب في سوريا بكل ما تحيله تفاصيل يومية مركزة على ثيمة الأرض و على ثيمة الوطن عبر لحظات برزخية يعيشها علي بعد إصابته بنيران صديقة و نعيشها معه و مع باقي الشخصيات : الام نهلة و الأب و الإخوة و الحميرونة و باقي أهل القرية و طبعا لا ننس الشجرة التي تربط علي بكل ما يحبه و تربطه بنفسه.
العمل مميز بلغته الشعرية و بالقدر على التنقل الزمني بين الزمن الحقيقي و زمن التذكر .
حبيت العمل رغم انه عمل مؤلم .

[Dree · Rating 3 out of 5]

I had high hopes for this book, as I thought Planet of Clay was very good. However, I found this book a bit gimmick-y, in that the entire book is narrated by one reluctant Syrian soldier, as he lays injured. He alternates between his current predicament and how he ended up as a soldier. Even though this is quite short, it is also quite repetitive.

[Dunja Brala · Rating 5 out of 5]

Es gibt Bücher, die nimmt man sich nicht vor, sondern die kommen zu einem zum richtigen Zeitpunkt. So ist es mir mit diesem Buch hier passiert, zu dem ich genau an dem Tag griff als die Rebellen in Syrien auf dem Vormarsch waren und das Regime Assad stürzte. Das Setting in dieses Romans hätte nicht passender sein können.

Der 19-jährige Ali ist Soldat der syrischen Armee. Er liegt schwer, verletzt durch eine Granate getroffen, an einem Hügel östlich von Latakia. Wir sind von dem Moment an bei ihm, wo er zum ersten Mal die Augen öffnet, langsam zu Bewusstsein kommt und merkt, dass ein kleines Blatt auf seinen Augen liegt und er über und über mit Erde bedeckt ist. Über die gesamte Geschichte hinweg spürt er immer mehr in sich rein, ordnet Schmerz zu, nimmt Veränderungen an seinem Körper war, macht sich Gedanken über ihn und den Baum, der in unmittelbarer Nähe steht den er zu erreichen versucht. Wir sind in seinem Kopf und auch wenn seine Gedanken abdriften oder er in Bewusstlosigkeit fällt, bewegen wir uns mit ihm in seinen Gedanken und Erinnerungen zwischen Leben und Tod. Wir erfahren viel über sein Leben, als mittlerer Sohn, der weder durch große Stärke noch durch Intelligenz den stolz seiner Eltern hervorruft. Wir lernen seine Mutter kennen, die den Tod des ältesten Sohnes nicht verkraftet, den schlagenden Vater, und die Humairuna, ein spirituelles Kräuterweib, welches gleichermaßen verachtet und geschätzt wird. In einer bildhaften, poetischen Sprache wird uns von dem Ort erzählt, in dem er aufwuchs, dem Sorgen und Traditionen der Landbevölkerung und von dem Baumhaus, in dem er wohnte. Überhaupt spielen Bäume eine besondere Rolle in diesem Buch.

Der Kontrast zwischen den Rückblicken die hinter einem Schleier liegen und der brutalen Sinnlosigkeit des Krieges üben einen besonderen Sog aus. Dabei wirken besonders die Szenen, in denen Ali seine Verwundungen ortet und seinen inneren Zustand beschreibt, sehr sinnlich. Yazbek schafft es den Schmerz und die Surrealität der Situation gut zu transportieren. Dabei schafft sie durch ein Spiegelbild auch den Blick von außen, der kurz erscheint und dann wieder verschwindet. Ali scheint sich selbst betrachten zu können.

Die Autorin gibt uns einen guten Einblick in die kriegerische Realität ohne genauer zu beschreiben und setzt ein Zeichen für die ganzen namenlosen Soldaten, die in diesem oder anderen bewaffneten Konflikten als Kanonenfutter verheizt werden und nicht wirklich eine Wahl haben. Dass ihr das so gut gelingt, liegt auch an dem von mir sehr geliebten arabischen Erzählton. Das, was ich jetzt sage, klingt vielleicht wie ein ausgelutschtes Klischee, aber mich erinnert die Struktur des Textes durchaus an die Tradition der Erzählkunst einer Sheherazade. Eine besondere Erfahrung und eine große Empfehlung an alle die anspruchsvolle Lektüre zu schätzen wissen.

[Mina Widding · Rating 4 out of 5]

En berättelse som vecklar ut sig styckevis, med en ramberättelse i realtid där en ung man vaknar upp bredvid ett träd efter att platsen bombats av ett flygplan. Vi följer hans orediga uppfattning om vad som hänt, halvt medvetande, och minnen som väcks och berättar om den unge mannens liv. Eftersom jag nyss läst Zabor av Kamel Daoud, förs mina tankar till böckernas likhet, som är att båda pojkarna anses vara säregna, kanske galna. Genom berättelsen speglas också förvirringen av ett land i krig. Skickligt berättad, bitvis lite upprepande och ibland svårt att riktigt få grepp om, men den splittrade känslan återkopplar jag också till mannens halvdöda tillstånd, in och ut ur medvetandet, hopplösheten i att ha överlevt bomben men att ingen kommer och räddar honom.

[Kim Daniel · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

This beautifully-written book, translated from the Arabic, tells the story of a young man named Ari, a soldier who has been gravely injured in action. As he lies on the ground and tries to come to terms with what happened and the extent of his injuries, he thinks about the things in his life that have led up to this moment.
The magic of this story lies in the author's poetic descriptions of both a country (Syria) and its people during conflict, as well as the gentle and sometimes gritty development of Ari's character. I highly recommend this intriguing story.

[Paola · Rating 4 out of 5]

A devastating story about war and family, about religion, submissiveness and human connection with nature.

Using dreamlike, poetic language, the author tells a story about a young man now -- torn apart by a bomb, trying to climb a tree in hopes of surviving -- and before -- snippets of important moments in his life, before enlisting in the army. I loved reading about this village and all the connections between these ordinary people living in circumstances that shouldn't be as ordinary as they are.

"...in the same way that they reused food, soil, rocks, everything, even grief."

I found some parts of the 'now' perspective redundant. Him constantly slipping between life and death made a lot of his thoughts and actions repetitive, which, consequently, made me a bit bored and drowsy at times. But once I came to the realization that these repetitions are a product of him dying, I grasped how brilliant it all is. From that point onward, I reveled in his fascination with nature and his persistence. The story of the main character is, ultimately, miserable. He is misunderstood from his childhood and surrounded by death. Even though his birthplace provided beautiful moments, it is also, and unfortunately, a tragedy in itself.

"He realised that the curse of mothers was not merely their love, but the ropes with which their love binds its object."

A huge thank you to NetGalley, World Editions and the author for sending me an ARC of this book!

[pae (marginhermit) · Rating 4 out of 5]

It started off as Ali, in between of living and dying, found himself, his soul, at least, scattered around a funeral. He could hear and see vividly the soil piled up, the talqin, nd her loved ones sobbing around the grave. He couldn't be the one that's dead, could he? Or is hir brother?

We were then taken to jog Ali's memory; life pre-civil war. His childhood, his school-less days, his birth story, which surrounded by mystics element (he's not crying ffs). How he ended up being indebted to Humayrouna, his brother's passing, and his mother's breakdowns. Ali described his movement as flying (take it as you will), and soon, we're becoming the spectator of civil war, which started as violently surpressed protests.

The storytelling and character description are told seamlessly, with deeply empathatic characters. The emotional gripped, charged and punched you in the gut. I've reached the point of sobbing when the mother screams cathartically while being told to keep demure because she's a woman. Like bro, she lose a child. Yazbek's approach on Syrian conflict is powerful, being told from a kid unfit for school. Her ability of telling everything in laymen terms (think Flower of Algernon pre-smart surgery) is mind-blowing.

[Jim · Rating 4 out of 5]

A book that requires the proper mood to thoroughly experience. Maybe? Or maybe I just want to believe my sadness made the story more compelling. Regardless, the writing is beautiful and lyrical, hardly a word out of place. A drifting and ephemeral narrative that resists limitations or definitive answers. Rooted in the history of a place but could be a story of many places, too many probably. A powerful sense of purpose, but one that each reader will need to find for themselves.

[Joanna · Rating 4 out of 5]

A simple story, almost fable-like, and beautifully written.

[Star Gater · Rating 3 out of 5]

Thank you World Editions for allowing me to read and review Where the Wind Calls Home by Samar Yazbek on NetGalley.

Published: 02/06/24

Stars: 3

Confused.

Where the Wind Calls Home had sentences that made sense working well together and sometimes there were a few sentences that were descriptive and pretty. I couldn't make them into a story. I had convoluted thoughts without any rationale.

I finally gave in and am declaring the book is written for a deep thinker. Reading this was not enjoyable; it felt like work. I was drained every time I picked the book up.

Recommend for those who enjoy Literary Fiction.

[Karl Verdickt · Rating 3 out of 5]

Over een 19 jarige soldaat die gewond is geraakt en in zijn wellicht laatste levensuren denkt aan zijn jeugd, zijn ervaringen en het leven. Samar Yazbek, de auteur van de Blauwe pen, schrijft andermaal over de wreedheid van het leven, over vernietiging en maar ook over goedheid, en over de veerkracht van de mens. De oorlog in Syrië is altijd aanwezig op de achtergrond, maar het hart van dit verhaal ligt bij de rijkdom in de eenvoud van de mensen in Syrië die gewoon hun dagdagelijks leven willen voortzetten.

Het boek is op literair vlak zeker hoogstaand. De auteur weet de gevoelens, de pijn, het rauwe van oorlog op een subtiele wijze te omschrijven zonder aan geloofwaardigheid in te boeten. Dat neemt niet weg dat het thema (een stervende soldaat die eenzaam op het front zijn leven in ogenschouw neemt) vrij zwaar overkomt. Ook de wijze waarop de auteur alles verwoordt, maakt dat je het boek niet op je gemak in een luie zetel of onder de parasol kan uitlezen. Het vergt aandacht, zelfs moed en doorzettingsvermogen om hoofdstuk na hoofdstuk te lezen en tot je laten door te dringen. Pagina na pagina zal de lezer zich steeds meer identificeren met de jonge soldaat, met zijn herinneringen, met zijn pijn, met zijn leed en.... met zijn nakend afscheid aan deze wereld. Zware kost die wel veel van de lezer vergt. Bovendien is het niet altijd eenvoudig voor de Westerse lezer om zich in de Syrische samenleving in te leven, laat staan er zich mee te identificeren. Maar ondanks alles blijft oorlog en het daarmee verbonden leed universeel!

[Lauri]

I couldn't finish this one. It's a very short book, but I just couldn't get wrapped up in it. The overly descriptive stream of consciousness style of writing is just not for me. I made it about a third of the way and all that had happened so far was a funeral and some vague references to a civil war. I still wasn't sure if Ali is actually dead or alive yet, and I just didn't want to be in his head any longer. The writing may be well done, but it just isn't a style of writing that I enjoy.

Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for a copy of this book for review.

[Ilona Plichart · Rating 3 out of 5]

Bijzonder, confronterend, poëtisch.

[Miki · Rating 1 out of 5]

The title Where the Wind Calls Home piqued my interest because I was interested in reading Samar Yazbek—a highly praised, Syrian author—and wanted to read about a place that I know very little about. So it is with great disappointment that I announce from the outset that I wasn’t a fan of this novel. I generally don’t post negative reviews, but I think that it’s important that the right readers know about this book and those who aren’t fans of styles such as stream-of-consciousness, avoid it and allow this book to enjoy praise from the right crowd.

The structure of the chapters are as follows: Ali, a soldier who is disoriented and confused about whether he is dead or alive, observes what is around him and what he thinks is happening. This content is written in stream-of-consciousness. Then there’s a shift in the timeline via a flashback in which Ali reflects on a part of his life in the past: an event and/or a certain person or people who are part of that memory, and at times it’s unclear why this flashback is important to the narrative. Presumably, the flashbacks are to give the reader a more comprehensive understanding of Ali—who he is, his history, and how he has come to be a soldier in the present. Flashbacks aren’t written in stream-of-consciousness. After the flashback, the reader is returned to the present where we return to stream-of-consciousness.

The content written in stream-of-consciousness (the present timeline) is focused on nature, how Ali interacts with nature, his surroundings, the supposed “Other,” where Ali is, how he got there, and if he is dead or alive. These sections are extremely repetitive and considering what—traditionally—stream-of-consciousness is meant to signify, “solipsism, the philosophical doctrine that nothing is certainly real except one’s own existence” which we the readers don’t even know for certain because we’re always held in a state of not knowing whether Ali is dead or alive is ineffectual as a writing style (David Lodge, “The Art of Fiction”). One could argue that Ali’s stream-of-consciousness is meant to reflect his state of mind, but the writing style is ineffective because it never gives the reader a better understanding of who Ali is and would have been better used in the flashbacks.

For me, the stream-of-consciousness sections weren’t effective because they ultimately didn’t add anything to the plot or character development. It ended up feeling like Ali was just incoherently rambling. Perhaps that was when he died? But wait, did he actually die? Was he able to climb the tree and jump? This kind of anything-could-be-reality but also anything-could-be-Ali’s-imagination story without a more concrete division between the two and highlighting why Ali disassociates with others, lives in his own world, and feels closer with animals and natural elements I felt was a missed opportunity for readers to truly connect with Ali and feel empathy for him. Instead, I just felt a bit cold. Alternatively, if the lack of clear division between the anything-could-be-reality and anything-could-be-Ali’s-imagination could have been better implemented to tell a different story that, again, focused on Ali’s deeper understanding of who he is and his place in the world, but even those moments as they are in the story now feel only touched on but never studied.

Overall, the narrative felt fractured and two-dimensional/too surface level, especially since the narrative timeline written in the past was more engaging and informative but only towards the end, and to expect readers to commit to a short novel that doesn’t provide a solid plot and/or character development for more than half the book is asking a lot, in my humble opinion. While it’s clear that readers are meant to slowly learn about Ali through the flashbacks, I felt that the timeline in the past still didn’t offer us insight to who Ali was but rather who everyone else in his life was and what he had experienced in life, but nothing about who Ali is at his core. Yet towards the end, the flashbacks were the driving force of the story.

I am aware that my reading of this novel could be an issue with the translation. I’m also aware that is my own individual reading experience and that my opinion is clearly the unpopular one. So let me conclude with this: If you’re a reader who enjoys reading: translated fiction; stream of conscious, shorter fiction where plot, character development, or lyrical/prosaic writing are lacking; and/or war stories, then this could be for you!

In spite of my opinions, I’m very happy to see that others loved Where the Wind Calls Home written by Samar Yazbek, translated by Leri Price, and published by World Editions. Many thanks to World Editions and NetGalley for giving me the opportunity to read an ARC of Where the Wind Calls Home in exchange for an honest review.

[Circlestones Books Blog · Rating 5 out of 5]

„Der Wind hat einen Platz in seiner Seele, er glaubt, dass er ihn besser kennt als die Wolken, den Regen und den Schnee.“ (Zitat Pos. 1106)

Inhalt
Ali ist ein verträumter Junge, der Bäume über alles liebt und am liebsten mit dem Wind fliegen würde. Als er neunzehn Jahre alt ist, wird er eines Tages während der Feldarbeit von einer Patrouille aufgegriffen und zur Armee verschleppt. Nach einem Granateneinschlag liegt er in der Nähe eines grpßen Baumes irgendwo in den Bergen von Latakia und er spürt, dass etwas mit seinem Körper nicht in Ordnung ist. Der Blick auf den Baum führt ihn zurück in die Erinnerungen an seine Kindheit, an seine Mutter, seine Familie und an seinen geliebten Rückzugsort, sein Baumhaus in einer großen Eiche.

Thema und Genre
In dieser Episodengeschichte geht es um die grausame Sinnlosigkeit von Kriegen, und eine Reise durch die Erinnerungen eines jungen Mannes, ein verträumter Außenseiter, der sich nur ein ruhiges Leben gewünscht hatte.

Erzählform und Sprache
Die Geschichte wird in Episoden erzählt und die Handlung ergibt sich aus den Gedanken und Erinnerungen der Hauptfigur. Ali versucht einerseits zu ergründen, was mit ihm geschehen ist, wobei sich mögliche Varianten der Realität mit Phantasievorstellungen mischen. Seine Erinnerungen verlaufen nicht unbedingt chronologisch, ergeben jedoch durch die genauen Schilderungen von vielen prägenden Details und Gefühlen nicht nur ein umfassendes Bild des Protagonisten, sondern zeigen auch das von Angst und Unterdrückung geprägte Leben in einem von Kriegen gespaltenen Land. Die Kraft der poetischen Sprache malt sofort Gedankenbilder und führt mitten in das Geschehen.

Fazit
Eine poetische, leise Geschichte zwischen Gegenwart und Erinnerung, die durch die tief beeindruckende Erzählsprache zu einem in den Gedanken umso lauteren Plädoyer und Aufschrei gegen Kriege und die sinnlose Gewalt und Machtgier wird, die unschuldige Menschenleben zerstört.

[Kristiana · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for providing me with a copy of the book to review.

Where the Wind Calls Home by Samar Yazbek is a non-linear narrative which embraces reliving memory. The Syrian protagonist, Ali, caught in the balance between life and death, returns to the past in an attempt to make sense of the immediate present. This return charts Ali's coming-of-age as well as his home country's descent into war. At the centre is a focus on the human cost of this war as young men are sacrificed and families are torn apart by grief.

In the beginning, Yazbek's exposition felt too dense, with repetitive description emphasising Ali's confusion as he appears to wake up in the past and present simultaneously. This lack of clarity is no doubt meant to reflect our protagonist's predicament, but it requires the reader to place trust in Yazbek's craft and at times it felt unnecessarily complicated.

But, Yazbek's storytelling is rich and the clarity we crave is eventually delivered. Ali's memories are an attempt to piece together the events which lead to the moment he and fellow soldiers were hit by a friendly-fire bomb. Yazbek's non-linear choice explores how, while Ali's conscription was swift, life as he and his family knew it had been derailing long before this.

Towards the end, Yazbek's writing is exceptionally lyrical, especially when depicting the bond between Ali and his mother, Nahla. Thus, those who enjoyed Ocean Vuong's 'Time is a Mother' will no doubt enjoy Yazbek's style here.

Those in search of a story from a non-Western perspective will also enjoy this, with Yazbek's focus on the human cost and the innocence and children lost in war being reminiscent of Khaled Hosseini's work.

And, of course, the richness of this story in English is thanks to Leri Price, whose translation captures Yazbek's intentions and homage to the Syrian people.

[Roxana Sabau · Rating 3 out of 5]

Similar to Planet of Clay. We see the Syrian civil war unfold through the eyes of people who never had a say in politics.

People who did not care much about the President, people who go about their daily lives, painting their houses, raising their children, hating or loving their spouses. The President dies and is replaced by his son, this matters little, it's just a row of people in power that succeed one another. The Assad dynasty is not even named, precisely because their names do not matter, it's all the same for Ali, for his mother Nahla, for his father, for the mystical Humayrouna, for their village at the foot of the mountain.
The story starts with Ali, a young, wounded soldier, who seems to hallucinate between life and death.
We hear of Ali's pre-war life, in small snippets, punctuated here and there by his current reality: he's trying to climb a tree, he's been wounded by a bomb.

Wonderfully poetic language. Bonus points for the fact that the civil war, politics, dictatorships and rebel groups serve as nothing but a backdrop.
The real star of the story is the age-old Tolstoian approach to family: unhappy, of course, but bound by unfailing love.
The scene where Ali's father begs the soldiers to not take his son to war was my favorite.

However, I did not like that it was too similar to Planet of Clay. Not because of the subject (Syrian war), but because of the main character. It's the same narrative approach: a young person with "learning difficulties" (I am not sure how to label it) and a rich inner life reminisces about pre-war life.

[Dima · Rating 4 out of 5]

The story of Ali, who, while struggling to understand where he is in the present after what might have been a bomb that explodes next to him, is remembering momentous episodes in his life in a small mountainous village in Syria in the run up the the civil war that ravaged the country.

While essentially an anti war novel, it is also a nuanced and tender exploration of what it means to be a sensitive soul living in those conditions, and what it takes to keep it the way it is while your reality constantly tries to toughen it. It is also an homage to mothers, with a particularly memorable quote being: "the curse of mothers was not merely their love, but the ropes with which their love binds its object".

While I can't say I enjoyed this book, I am happy I read it and experienced it. It reminded me of Trumbo's Johnny Got His Gun in some ways, with more softness and care. The indictment of war is doubly powerful when it touches people who just can't understand or comprehend it.

The writing was great, and while the parr dealing with Ali's current state were a bit complex and dreamlike, it was worth persevering.

Recommend it to anyone interested in recent Syrian history, and anyone who needs a reminder what corrupting effect war can have, especially on a country that is already somewhat corrupt.

My thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for the opportunity to review this book ahead of publication, in return for an honest opinion.

[karla JR · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is my first contact with the author and I need to thank NetGalley for the access to this book. I like the way the narrative is made in this book. Is no lineal so it made the reading a bit more interesting for me since we following memories from the character. We follow a Syrian character in the start of this book I find some bit a bit repetitive and is base in the memories of the protagonist so it sense to get confusing but it worth stick on it because I think the characters are well constructed I loved how empathetic most of them are describe and we need to remember this book isn’t just about happy memories it show what most of us don’t want to hear or see. One of the things I love most in this book is how lyrical the book can turn and for me is rare to find narratives in crafted so beautiful now days. The book isn’t easy to read we need to remember this books show you the reality, the real costo of war, the millions of life hurt and innocence’s of kids destroyed. The book was translated from the Arabic and I like to think it was a great job since for me it didn’t lost the spirit of the author. The use of trees in this book is such a beautiful metaphor that it touch me when I read the book. This novel is out the 6th of the February 2024 so it worth to preorder if you think you want give the book a chance.

[Bree · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thank you to NetGalley and Word Editions for providing me with an ARC.

In Samar Yazbek’s new novel, Where The Wind Calls Home, Ali, a nineteen-year-old soldier in the Syrian army, is wounded, and reflects on his life and what led him to this point. The novel shows us Ali’s memories through vignettes, and follows him through the day in which his is the sole survivor of a bomb that killed his fellow soldiers.

We find out about Ali’s life, growing up in a traditional Syrian Alawite village, and the hardships of life there amongst the Syrian civil war. Yazbek also makes the beauty of Syria and the people living there known, it’s rich cultural and religious heritage made clear by the poetic language used.

Although brief, this novel is truly beautiful – it is hard to read, but Yazbek’s every word is chosen deliberately, making this a powerful piece of fiction. The descriptions of the landscape are especially memorable, offsetting the graphic nature of the depictions of the every day realities of war.

This is a powerful, important novel that shows us what life is like for soldiers in the Syrian army in unflinching detail. It is certainly impressive and memorable, and something I would definitely recommend to those interested in literary fiction from across the world.

[Jax · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Syrian war was still a distant crisis in Ali’s impoverished mountain village, but its presence was made real by the new Graveyard of Martyrs, a reality that was replicating throughout the region. Ali was nineteen when he was recruited to protect the homeland, by the same man who had recruited his brother. Before the bomb exploded, Ali wanted only to study with the old village sheikh and commune with nature where his heart and soul lived. But that was before. Now, Ali’s body is damaged as he lies under an oak tree, piecing together what happened, drifting in and out of consciousness, in and out of the past and present in a rolling wave, questioning why his youth is now spent in these few meters between a bomb and an oak tree, what he will be after.

Told in beautiful, deeply moving prose, this story is about a family and village dragged into a battle that is not theirs, a cause that need not affect them. It is a quiet and devastating story of one young man’s introspection in the long moments before his death. A profound and necessary read.

Thank you to World Editions and NetGalley for providing this eARC.

[Alejandra (Allie) · Rating 3 out of 5]

I found this one to be very interesting in terms of its promise and I really love the way that there wasn’t a clear narrative arc rather, it it was the main character in the limbo between life and death, reflecting on various aspects of his life through vignettes. I really enjoyed the imagery and some of the characters that that appear through the stories and memories. I think this book paint a very vivid picture of the devastation of war, but also the healing power of nature, and to a certain extent spirituality. I think that some of the vignettes could have been tighter and more clear to really convey a cohesive message, but the blur of the book is pretty accurate and describing this, as a portrait of Syrian life, culture, and nature-grounded spirituality. I just think that for my own personal taste that I have as much narrative structure as I would’ve liked, and some of the nature descriptions did get very old. We have to hear about the same few trees many many times, about the branches and the roots and the leaves, and it just ends up being a little too repetitive for my taste, because there are so there are only so many ways you can describe the same scene essentially.