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Il racconto di un muro
Nasser Abu Srour, detenuto in una prigione israeliana dal 1993 e condannato all’ergastolo, con questa ode alla libertà ci fa sentire, alta e forte, la voce di una Palestina destinata a “fare a pezzi l’immagine stereotipata che ci vede come un Oriente barbaro, bisognoso di una guida che metta un freno alla sua brutalità e alla sua atavica arretratezza”. E chiamando a raccolta Mahmud Darwish e i poeti preislamici, ma anche Søren Kierkegaard, Karl Marx, Sigmund Freud e un pizzico di Italia, ci consegna la storia dell’amore per una donna, un amore più potente delle sbarre, delle catene e delle quattro mura di una prigione, perché “quando ami, sei il tuo tempo e sei il tuo spazio, niente ti delimita, niente ti si oppone, prima di te non c’è nulla e non c’è nulla dopo di te”. Una “lettura scomoda” ma necessaria. Questa appassionata autobiografia – allo stesso tempo lezione di storia, memorie carcerarie, indagine metafisica e storia d’amore – racconta l’occupazione israeliana, la lotta del popolo palestinese e come le circostanze più difficili possano edificare una persona invece che demolirla.
323 pages, Paperback
Published June 11, 2024
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1173 people want to read
About the author
Nasser Abu Srour
2 books18 followersNasser Abu Srour is a Palestinian writer serving a life sentence in Israeli prison. Born in 1969 in a refugee camp near Bethlehem, he was sentenced to life in prison in 1993 after confessing — apparently under torture — to involvement in the killing of an Israeli intelligence officer.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 38 reviews
July 31, 2025
Reading this devastated and exhausted me – I can't imagine having to live it, as Nasser Abu Srour has since 1993, when he was sentenced to a life in prison by the occupying Israeli authorities. Mixing autobiography, memoir, metaphysics and poetry, The Tale of a Wall is both a chilling account of the Palestinian condition and a portrait of existential resilience in the absence of hope.
Here, Nasser Abu Srour tells us how he grew up in a refugee camp near Bethlehem, came of age experiencing the conditions that led to the 'intifada of the stones', and was soon convicted for a crime he didn't commit, based on a forced confession extracted through torture. Though his narrative is shaped directly by the occupation and the events that led to the fracturing of Palestinian society and resistance, he is forced to observe the political developments conducive to his continued dehumanisation from a distance. Indeed, his a tale of two walls: the Apartheid wall separating East Jerusalem from the West Bank, and the prison wall which serves as a stable point of reference throughout the brutal isolation and violence of his incarceration. As he says:
Here, Nasser Abu Srour tells us how he grew up in a refugee camp near Bethlehem, came of age experiencing the conditions that led to the 'intifada of the stones', and was soon convicted for a crime he didn't commit, based on a forced confession extracted through torture. Though his narrative is shaped directly by the occupation and the events that led to the fracturing of Palestinian society and resistance, he is forced to observe the political developments conducive to his continued dehumanisation from a distance. Indeed, his a tale of two walls: the Apartheid wall separating East Jerusalem from the West Bank, and the prison wall which serves as a stable point of reference throughout the brutal isolation and violence of his incarceration. As he says:
I was born twice, and I was killed the same number of times. In the beginning, I was born from the womb of a confining camp that hung me for a short time upon its walls. It told a story I believed, and upon that story I built my many lies. I lived in the camp's center and upon the margins of an imitation city. I maintained my lies, my hanging, and my marginality until I was killed by a farsighted crusher machine, so blinded by all its killing that it no longer discerned what fell between its jaws. Then it hid the traces of its crime by burying me deep within a vault. Like someone who had been through it all before, I endured my killing and I lived upon the wall that was my grave.Remarkably, Srour's philosophical development sets his narrative apart from other prison memoirs; as translator Luke Leafgren says, he 'shows us how he has lived through the imagination, how his reading expanded the walls of his cell'. But it is impossible to forget how his sanity costs him everything. By a small miracle, Srour dares to hope again – is 'born again' – when he falls in love with a lawyer who visits him from the outside. But it is a love that cannot last, for prison not only limits movement but also quashes dreams, relationship and potential futures. His strategy, of personifying the prison wall and using it as his center of gravity, is threatened by the brightest thing in his life; he loses his hold on the wall, and only through penning this memoir does he find his way back.
Take your wound to the edge of any sky you wish. Beat it against every inch of your body. You die if your wound remains conscious, so let it die instead! Or let it sleep. Don't disturb its slumber by expecting it to heal. Reject all its claims of pain and suffering, for just like dreams, things only come true if we believe them. Be deeper than your wound. Be bigger. Don't exist on its margin: let it exist as yours. Let your prior life grant you a thousand other lives, with similar opportunities for pain. We are not our pains. We are every-thing that existed before them and everything that will exist after them. Don't fall in love with your wound. Don't ever be seduced by the role of a victim. You are the master of your wounds. In prison, you are your prison. Part of your prison is you. If your father falls, catch him. If the one you love leaves you, do not despair, and do not believe she is gone if her love was sincere. If your mother comes to visit, do not stop yourself from collapsing before her: those are your pains. So come near to learn the enormity of your pain! Don't be afraid to come closer, for all pains are possible except those we don't understand.Overall, The Tale of a Wall is gut-wrenching, a book that not only shows the realities of the Israeli occupation but also makes you feel them: the fear, the claustrophobia, the heartbreak. It is a miracle it exists at all, and I do hope more people read it.
Nasser Abu Srour was arrested when he was 18. This November he will turn 56 and have lived most of his life in prison, one of many Palestinians who continue to be detained on the basis of forced confessions from before the Oslo Accords. Do you still think this began on October 7?
November 21, 2024
The Tale of a Wall is one of the most haunting and heartbreaking books I’ve read in a long time. Its profound ability to evoke both emotional and physical reactions left me feeling deeply claustrophobic and unsettled. Nasser Abu Srour masterfully brings the oppressive reality of life in Palestine into sharp focus, particularly for those who live under the shadow of occupation and the literal and figurative walls that divide them.
From the very first page, I felt like I was there—trapped within the confines of the wall, unable to escape the weight of its presence. The descriptions of the wall itself are so vivid that it becomes more than just a physical barrier. It’s a manifestation of despair, a structure that limits not just movement but also dreams, relationships, and futures. The author’s ability to translate this suffocating feeling into words left me gasping for air, feeling the same sense of entrapment that so many endure daily.
What struck me the hardest was the heartbreaking toll it takes on his mother. Abu Srour paints her as a symbol of quiet resilience, but her suffering is palpable. She carries the burden of holding her family together while watching it crumble under forces beyond her control. Her pain, as described in the book, is not just from the daily indignities and hardships but also from the slow, agonizing realization that her son’s future is slipping away from her. This is especially clear in the moments when she’s forced to make impossible choices, torn between hope and despair. Those scenes brought me to tears—they’re raw, honest, and deeply affecting.
One of the most poignant themes in the book is the isolation Abu Srour experiences. Time and again, he is left behind, forgotten by those who have the means or privilege to escape. Friends and loved ones leave, pursuing better opportunities or seeking refuge elsewhere, while he remains tethered to the wall and all it represents. This feeling of abandonment lingers throughout the narrative, and it broke my heart every time. His loneliness is palpable, and the reader feels the weight of it alongside him. You start to wonder: how does someone keep going when everyone else has moved on? The book doesn’t offer easy answers, but it captures the emotional devastation of being left behind.
By the time I finished the book, I found myself haunted by a lingering question: what happened to him? Is he still there, living in the shadow of that wall? The narrative ends on an ambiguous note, leaving readers to grapple with the uncertainty of his fate. This lack of closure feels intentional—it mirrors the unresolved reality of so many Palestinians whose lives are suspended in a state of limbo. It’s frustrating and heartbreaking, but it’s also profoundly honest. Life in Palestine doesn’t come with tidy endings or neat resolutions.
The Tale of a Wall is not an easy read, but it’s an important one. It forces you to confront the realities of oppression and isolation in ways that are visceral and unforgettable. It made me feel deeply uncomfortable and emotionally raw, but that’s precisely what makes it so powerful. This book doesn’t just tell a story; it makes you live it, and in doing so, it fosters a sense of empathy and understanding that few books achieve.
I still think about Abu Srour and his mother, wondering if they ever found peace or freedom. That uncertainty lingers, just as the wall itself continues to loom over their lives. The Tale of a Wall is a masterful, heartbreaking work that will leave readers questioning, grieving, and, hopefully, inspired to understand and advocate for justice. Five stars, without hesitation.
From the very first page, I felt like I was there—trapped within the confines of the wall, unable to escape the weight of its presence. The descriptions of the wall itself are so vivid that it becomes more than just a physical barrier. It’s a manifestation of despair, a structure that limits not just movement but also dreams, relationships, and futures. The author’s ability to translate this suffocating feeling into words left me gasping for air, feeling the same sense of entrapment that so many endure daily.
What struck me the hardest was the heartbreaking toll it takes on his mother. Abu Srour paints her as a symbol of quiet resilience, but her suffering is palpable. She carries the burden of holding her family together while watching it crumble under forces beyond her control. Her pain, as described in the book, is not just from the daily indignities and hardships but also from the slow, agonizing realization that her son’s future is slipping away from her. This is especially clear in the moments when she’s forced to make impossible choices, torn between hope and despair. Those scenes brought me to tears—they’re raw, honest, and deeply affecting.
One of the most poignant themes in the book is the isolation Abu Srour experiences. Time and again, he is left behind, forgotten by those who have the means or privilege to escape. Friends and loved ones leave, pursuing better opportunities or seeking refuge elsewhere, while he remains tethered to the wall and all it represents. This feeling of abandonment lingers throughout the narrative, and it broke my heart every time. His loneliness is palpable, and the reader feels the weight of it alongside him. You start to wonder: how does someone keep going when everyone else has moved on? The book doesn’t offer easy answers, but it captures the emotional devastation of being left behind.
By the time I finished the book, I found myself haunted by a lingering question: what happened to him? Is he still there, living in the shadow of that wall? The narrative ends on an ambiguous note, leaving readers to grapple with the uncertainty of his fate. This lack of closure feels intentional—it mirrors the unresolved reality of so many Palestinians whose lives are suspended in a state of limbo. It’s frustrating and heartbreaking, but it’s also profoundly honest. Life in Palestine doesn’t come with tidy endings or neat resolutions.
The Tale of a Wall is not an easy read, but it’s an important one. It forces you to confront the realities of oppression and isolation in ways that are visceral and unforgettable. It made me feel deeply uncomfortable and emotionally raw, but that’s precisely what makes it so powerful. This book doesn’t just tell a story; it makes you live it, and in doing so, it fosters a sense of empathy and understanding that few books achieve.
I still think about Abu Srour and his mother, wondering if they ever found peace or freedom. That uncertainty lingers, just as the wall itself continues to loom over their lives. The Tale of a Wall is a masterful, heartbreaking work that will leave readers questioning, grieving, and, hopefully, inspired to understand and advocate for justice. Five stars, without hesitation.
July 10, 2024
3.5 stars rounded up to 4 stars
This book is many things--prose poetry, philosophy, a dream, a nightmare, a man's life narrated from a cell where he will spend the rest of his life, a tragic love story--but it is not really a memoir. And that's all right, because it doesn't need to be, although I wish it wasn't marketed as such. This is, in the end, nothing more--and nothing less--than the realizations of a man who has had a lifetime to think and read and no time to do anything but that.
This is not, emphatically, a discussion on the politics or mechanisms of the Israel-Palestine Conflict, and while it is obvious where Srour's sympathies lie (he was imprisoned for the murder of an Israeli intelligence officer, a crime which he neither bothers to describe, even to deny or admit to), he has no praise for Palestinian political leaders and considers the narrative of Revolution (and revolution in general) a lie, even if a necessary one. It is not a polemic, and he comes so close to political and religious heresy in places, I suspect if he were outside an Israeli prison his life would be in even more danger than it is locked up.
It is also, contra the title, not a reflection on hope at all. In fact to borrow a phrase from Camus, the book is more a proof that "man may live without hope." Srour tells the reader and his lover (discussions with her form the last, more uneven, half of the book) repeatedly there is no hope, but, unlike Srour's confidence that he will never be released, we as readers (and his lover) seem to nurse some hope for a happy ending, despite his repeated warnings that hope is a fool's game, that the only thing to hold onto is The Wall, his metaphor for prison and life in general.
Srour is an absurdist in the style of the post-War French, particularly Camus and Sartre, and after all, how could he not be, facing a life in prison for a crime he cares so little about he doesn't even talk about, done in the service to a cause he no longer really believes in? Srour is Palestinian, and not just any Palestinian, but a Palestinian prisoner, making him doubly incarcerated, both in the State and by the State. He is a man who has learned to live without hope but to live anyway, a man who will tell readers, if they're brave enough to listen, how they can do the same.
And when he is on, he is lyrical and insightful and brilliant. Alas, he is much more of that in the first half of the book and much less in the latter, where he reduces his tragic love story to that of a woman desperately in love with him and the idea of him (he reproduces lots of her glowing letters praising him) and him a wiser, more distant soul who knows the truth of reality and what it will cost her (he reproduces very little of what he says to her, although I do not doubt his love for her in the least). Unfortunately, the second half of the book, while beautiful in a tragic way, is much more uneven and less insightful than the first--we could have used more discussions of what she meant to him rather than repeated paens to him as seen through her eyes.
This book is many things--prose poetry, philosophy, a dream, a nightmare, a man's life narrated from a cell where he will spend the rest of his life, a tragic love story--but it is not really a memoir. And that's all right, because it doesn't need to be, although I wish it wasn't marketed as such. This is, in the end, nothing more--and nothing less--than the realizations of a man who has had a lifetime to think and read and no time to do anything but that.
This is not, emphatically, a discussion on the politics or mechanisms of the Israel-Palestine Conflict, and while it is obvious where Srour's sympathies lie (he was imprisoned for the murder of an Israeli intelligence officer, a crime which he neither bothers to describe, even to deny or admit to), he has no praise for Palestinian political leaders and considers the narrative of Revolution (and revolution in general) a lie, even if a necessary one. It is not a polemic, and he comes so close to political and religious heresy in places, I suspect if he were outside an Israeli prison his life would be in even more danger than it is locked up.
It is also, contra the title, not a reflection on hope at all. In fact to borrow a phrase from Camus, the book is more a proof that "man may live without hope." Srour tells the reader and his lover (discussions with her form the last, more uneven, half of the book) repeatedly there is no hope, but, unlike Srour's confidence that he will never be released, we as readers (and his lover) seem to nurse some hope for a happy ending, despite his repeated warnings that hope is a fool's game, that the only thing to hold onto is The Wall, his metaphor for prison and life in general.
Srour is an absurdist in the style of the post-War French, particularly Camus and Sartre, and after all, how could he not be, facing a life in prison for a crime he cares so little about he doesn't even talk about, done in the service to a cause he no longer really believes in? Srour is Palestinian, and not just any Palestinian, but a Palestinian prisoner, making him doubly incarcerated, both in the State and by the State. He is a man who has learned to live without hope but to live anyway, a man who will tell readers, if they're brave enough to listen, how they can do the same.
And when he is on, he is lyrical and insightful and brilliant. Alas, he is much more of that in the first half of the book and much less in the latter, where he reduces his tragic love story to that of a woman desperately in love with him and the idea of him (he reproduces lots of her glowing letters praising him) and him a wiser, more distant soul who knows the truth of reality and what it will cost her (he reproduces very little of what he says to her, although I do not doubt his love for her in the least). Unfortunately, the second half of the book, while beautiful in a tragic way, is much more uneven and less insightful than the first--we could have used more discussions of what she meant to him rather than repeated paens to him as seen through her eyes.
August 18, 2024
UNBELIEVABLE!!! This must be mandatory reading
June 17, 2025
You can tell that this was written by a poet. This will stick with me, both for its heart-wrenching depiction of love severed by prison bars and for its political detail and acumen: I can't believe that there are still Palestinian detainees serving life sentences due to forced confessions dating back to the pre-Oslo era. The dissonance of entering political imprisonment during a historical phase of the struggle, only to be deprived of the developments within that same struggle over the decades, is unfathomable. So, too, is his description of the "parallel time" etched into the geography of the land, one that he only discovers at a distance by being transported to jails within the very homeland that he was fighting to return to. What does it mean to return, but only in the form of perpetual confinement?
Every word made my heart ache as I imagined Mahmoud's experience over the past 100 days.
Every word made my heart ache as I imagined Mahmoud's experience over the past 100 days.
February 12, 2025
Such a powerful book.
February 22, 2025
The translation is excellent. It feels like it was written in English. It gave me a lot of insight as to how one's world, and mindset, shifts during a long incarceration.
May 14, 2024
“The Tale of a Wall” by Nasser Abu Srour, translation by Luke Leafgreen, is not the book I expected. Ostensibly about a Palestinian prisoner for life, this memoir is an existential work that questions life and freedom itself.
I’ll be honest - I didn’t like this book. There a few reasons why, some of them more about me than not.
I did not care for Nasser’s flowery prose. I felt it was way too strong and I outright skipped his poetry altogether. I can enjoy some lyricality, but Nasser turns it to the extreme. If it can be said in 1 word, Nasser uses 10. It drove me nuts! I’m not sure if it’s a writing style or effect of translation, but I did not care for it at all. It really harmed my enjoyment of this piece.
The book has a romance for the second half. It’s told in a creative way, between letters and dialogues, but the actual words feel incredibly adolescent. The way the two lovebirds talk reminds me of 14 year old days on Facebook. Again, not sure if its translation or Nasser’s style, but I was trying not to roll my eyes into the back of my head. Am I just heartless? Maybe.
I have been trying to understand Palestine more, considering the recent conflict. I got this book alongisde Rashid’s “The Hundred Years of Palestine”, to try and get a personal story to tie to the non-fiction work. This book was not really about that conflict - past the cause if the writer. It’s definitely more about the existential question of freedom and deliverance.
I don’t want to say the book didn’t have some personal ties to the conflict, though. Nasser does give the soul of Palestine and the Palestinian cause. He talks of his death from the camp he was born into, the love of freedom and the birth of heroes during the First Infitada, as well as the harsh reality of those left behind in Israeli prisons. These pieces were the standouts of the work and were the primary reason I finished the book.
Nasser is a philosopher in his writing, which I think some people really enjoy. Unfortunately, I can’t stand philosophy - I knew I was in the wrong book when Kierkegaard was mentioned. Still, there are passages in this novel dripping with soul that make up for (what I saw as) the adolescent relationship that dominates the book.
My feelings for the book are complex, but I would say it is very okay. I felt Albert Woodfox’s book on solitary confinement was stronger, and I was somewhat disappointed on Nasser’s conversation about the conflict. This was more a result of my expectations than a poor book, so it makes it hard to evaluate.
In the end, I’ll give it a 2.75/5. If you are looking for a philosophical work on confinement and liberation with a heavy lyrical prose, you would love this book. If you are looking for a somewhat emotional non-fictional account of the oppressed peoples of Palestine from their own mouth…this isn’t really that helpful.
I’ll be honest - I didn’t like this book. There a few reasons why, some of them more about me than not.
I did not care for Nasser’s flowery prose. I felt it was way too strong and I outright skipped his poetry altogether. I can enjoy some lyricality, but Nasser turns it to the extreme. If it can be said in 1 word, Nasser uses 10. It drove me nuts! I’m not sure if it’s a writing style or effect of translation, but I did not care for it at all. It really harmed my enjoyment of this piece.
The book has a romance for the second half. It’s told in a creative way, between letters and dialogues, but the actual words feel incredibly adolescent. The way the two lovebirds talk reminds me of 14 year old days on Facebook. Again, not sure if its translation or Nasser’s style, but I was trying not to roll my eyes into the back of my head. Am I just heartless? Maybe.
I have been trying to understand Palestine more, considering the recent conflict. I got this book alongisde Rashid’s “The Hundred Years of Palestine”, to try and get a personal story to tie to the non-fiction work. This book was not really about that conflict - past the cause if the writer. It’s definitely more about the existential question of freedom and deliverance.
I don’t want to say the book didn’t have some personal ties to the conflict, though. Nasser does give the soul of Palestine and the Palestinian cause. He talks of his death from the camp he was born into, the love of freedom and the birth of heroes during the First Infitada, as well as the harsh reality of those left behind in Israeli prisons. These pieces were the standouts of the work and were the primary reason I finished the book.
Nasser is a philosopher in his writing, which I think some people really enjoy. Unfortunately, I can’t stand philosophy - I knew I was in the wrong book when Kierkegaard was mentioned. Still, there are passages in this novel dripping with soul that make up for (what I saw as) the adolescent relationship that dominates the book.
My feelings for the book are complex, but I would say it is very okay. I felt Albert Woodfox’s book on solitary confinement was stronger, and I was somewhat disappointed on Nasser’s conversation about the conflict. This was more a result of my expectations than a poor book, so it makes it hard to evaluate.
In the end, I’ll give it a 2.75/5. If you are looking for a philosophical work on confinement and liberation with a heavy lyrical prose, you would love this book. If you are looking for a somewhat emotional non-fictional account of the oppressed peoples of Palestine from their own mouth…this isn’t really that helpful.
December 5, 2024
An incredibly beautiful and painfully difficult read. Reflections on hope and freedom through the darkest lens, beyond my ability to comprehend that level of pain and then looking through it. Just an amazing book.
May 29, 2025
The Tale of a Wall is nothing short of a literary masterpiece, one of my all-time favourite books. The story takes us into the harsh reality of life in indefinite detention in Palestinian-occupied territories, offering a haunting portrayal of what happens in Israeli detention centers. While most biographies stick to a factual, straightforward style, this book transcends that. It’s written with a richness of metaphor that transforms the narrative into something deeply immersive and moving.
This is not just another prison memoir. While most biographies lean on factual retellings, Abu Srour’s work transcends that form. Through rich metaphor and lyrical prose, he invites us not just to understand the horrors, but to feel them. Every sentence is deliberate, every image evocative. You are not merely reading events, you are experiencing them.
This book is especially vital reading in the current context. Today, Israel continues to hold thousands of Palestinians, including children, in illegal detention, often without charge or trial. The situation in Gaza has escalated to an unprecedented humanitarian catastrophe which we continue to bare witness to. The latest UN communication warns that more than 14,000 babies are at risk of dying from starvation, as Israel imposes strategic starvation. This is a violation of the most basic principles of international humanitarian law.
At this point, Israel has breached nearly every international legal standard, from the Geneva Conventions to the Convention on the Rights of the Child, with impunity. The Tale of a Wall is a chilling reminder that these atrocities are not new, but part of a decades-long pattern of dehumanisation and abuse.
If you value literature that goes beyond the surface and engages with both the soul and the conscience, this is a must-read. Abu Srour doesn't tell you how to feel, he gives you the raw materials, the aching silences, the flickers of dignity and despair, and lets the truth speak for itself.
A haunting, necessary, and profoundly moving work of art that I really, truly wish was a work of fiction.
This is not just another prison memoir. While most biographies lean on factual retellings, Abu Srour’s work transcends that form. Through rich metaphor and lyrical prose, he invites us not just to understand the horrors, but to feel them. Every sentence is deliberate, every image evocative. You are not merely reading events, you are experiencing them.
This book is especially vital reading in the current context. Today, Israel continues to hold thousands of Palestinians, including children, in illegal detention, often without charge or trial. The situation in Gaza has escalated to an unprecedented humanitarian catastrophe which we continue to bare witness to. The latest UN communication warns that more than 14,000 babies are at risk of dying from starvation, as Israel imposes strategic starvation. This is a violation of the most basic principles of international humanitarian law.
At this point, Israel has breached nearly every international legal standard, from the Geneva Conventions to the Convention on the Rights of the Child, with impunity. The Tale of a Wall is a chilling reminder that these atrocities are not new, but part of a decades-long pattern of dehumanisation and abuse.
If you value literature that goes beyond the surface and engages with both the soul and the conscience, this is a must-read. Abu Srour doesn't tell you how to feel, he gives you the raw materials, the aching silences, the flickers of dignity and despair, and lets the truth speak for itself.
A haunting, necessary, and profoundly moving work of art that I really, truly wish was a work of fiction.
October 12, 2024
Nasser Abu Srour es condenado a perpetuidad por las autoridades israelíes cuando solo tenía veinticuatro años. Sin apenas haber vivido, solo le queda el muro de su celda (o sus celdas, pues lo van trasladando de prisión). De sus conversaciones con el muro, nacen estas memorias. Para resistir, no guardar esperanzas. Aprende a ser libre, aceptando el muro.
‘La historia de un muro’ es un testimonio desgarrador. Me sorprenden las críticas que destacan fallos narrativos; no habría ni estructura ni puntos de giro. ¿Y puede haberlos cuando un hombre se enfrenta al encierro permanente ? Aquí están los pensamientos de un preso, su diálogo con el muro y con los autores que lee, tan bello y duro. A veces divaga: hablarse para no enloquecer. El estilo es poético y poderoso. Son unas memorias tremendas: la historia personal y colectiva de los palestinos.
Recuerda la miseria de su padre, hijo de la Nakba, la vida en el campo de refugiados de Nazaret, la fuerza de la madre, la primera intifada, las torturas. La vida de Nasser Abu Srour es la de tantos palestinos. Mientras nos habla de su vida con el muro, en el exterior van transcurriendo procesos que de paz solo tienen el nombre. Desde las cárceles, los presos asisten a las concesiones continuadas de los negociadores palestinos, a la aceptación por las elites de la ocupación israelí como irreversible. Las memorias de Abu Srour condensan la historia reciente, entre pensamientos que le mantienen cuerdo. En estas páginas, está la brutalidad de la ocupación, los malos tratos y las torturas en las cárceles, las condenas abusivas sin esperanza, la desposesión. Entonces aparece Nanna, ¿por el amor de Nanna dejar el muro? No es solo un testimonio importante, es una obra literaria.
‘La historia de un muro’ es un testimonio desgarrador. Me sorprenden las críticas que destacan fallos narrativos; no habría ni estructura ni puntos de giro. ¿Y puede haberlos cuando un hombre se enfrenta al encierro permanente ? Aquí están los pensamientos de un preso, su diálogo con el muro y con los autores que lee, tan bello y duro. A veces divaga: hablarse para no enloquecer. El estilo es poético y poderoso. Son unas memorias tremendas: la historia personal y colectiva de los palestinos.
Recuerda la miseria de su padre, hijo de la Nakba, la vida en el campo de refugiados de Nazaret, la fuerza de la madre, la primera intifada, las torturas. La vida de Nasser Abu Srour es la de tantos palestinos. Mientras nos habla de su vida con el muro, en el exterior van transcurriendo procesos que de paz solo tienen el nombre. Desde las cárceles, los presos asisten a las concesiones continuadas de los negociadores palestinos, a la aceptación por las elites de la ocupación israelí como irreversible. Las memorias de Abu Srour condensan la historia reciente, entre pensamientos que le mantienen cuerdo. En estas páginas, está la brutalidad de la ocupación, los malos tratos y las torturas en las cárceles, las condenas abusivas sin esperanza, la desposesión. Entonces aparece Nanna, ¿por el amor de Nanna dejar el muro? No es solo un testimonio importante, es una obra literaria.
December 31, 2025
I really wanted to like this one more, but... While it is insightful to the thoughts and inner workings of Nasser Abu Srour, life imprisonment in Israel for sketching accusations, there simply was too much abstracted, "makes sense to Srour" redundancy of overly stylezed gushing prose. So much that goes on for pages and doesn't say anything, or says the same thing that had been said each of the past four chapters. On that note, it certainly captures his voice, and his love of language is clear, and a conceit that keeps him writing is vital, as his life is truly this wall (his prison) and the injustice that keeps him there. Yet, there is really not much insight into prison life, and very little accounting of the Palestinian situation nor the Israeli prison system after the first half of the book. Once he becomes engaged with and enraptured with Nanna, his love interest who visits him a lot, it becomes very obtuse and overwrought. I don't know how many times I had to read how he will go to bed with his head on Nanna's chest, or hers on his (all imagined by the way), or how many tears she sheds each visit, etc. It just, it became almost icky. So, I respect and honor this accomplishment of getting a memoir published from prison, and I feel deeply for his plight, but...this doesn't really excuse the poor structure of the text and the redundancy that becomes exhausting (though, isn't a redundancy that becomes exhausting the very experience of prison?). So, I'm glad I read it, but I read it, but, feel like not much shifted in my perspective.
November 25, 2024
2.5 stars.
Yes, this is different, but I still found it dull and much too long. Yes, the author's life in prison--for over 30 years--is undoubtedly dull and repetitive. It is divided into two parts: first describes his life in prison. His wall is his friend/his rock (literally and figuratively). The moves back and forth, visiting day, etc. Interesting, there is little about food, how they pass the hours, friendships, etc, though we know he writes and has completed 2 college degrees. The second part is about his relationship with a lawyer, Nanna, who visits several random prisoners and he is one. I am confused if she is real? Can random people really just go visit those at this prison? Yes his family can come visit, but just...anyone can go?
So, lots of questions. The Afterword by the translator was quite interesting, as this was a very different job for him--translating a book when you cannot easily reach out to the author. He and the publisher had to make more decisions than a translator is usually involved with. He says the author approved the draft they managed to get him--could he read it? Or was it annotated in Arabic for him?
Glad I am done.
Yes, this is different, but I still found it dull and much too long. Yes, the author's life in prison--for over 30 years--is undoubtedly dull and repetitive. It is divided into two parts: first describes his life in prison. His wall is his friend/his rock (literally and figuratively). The moves back and forth, visiting day, etc. Interesting, there is little about food, how they pass the hours, friendships, etc, though we know he writes and has completed 2 college degrees. The second part is about his relationship with a lawyer, Nanna, who visits several random prisoners and he is one. I am confused if she is real? Can random people really just go visit those at this prison? Yes his family can come visit, but just...anyone can go?
So, lots of questions. The Afterword by the translator was quite interesting, as this was a very different job for him--translating a book when you cannot easily reach out to the author. He and the publisher had to make more decisions than a translator is usually involved with. He says the author approved the draft they managed to get him--could he read it? Or was it annotated in Arabic for him?
Glad I am done.
November 3, 2025
Questo libro è stato scritto durante la detenzione dello scrittore palestinese nelle prigioni israeliane, nel 2024. Condannato nel 1993 all’ergastolo con l’accusa di coinvolgimento nell’ assassinio di un ufficiale dell’intelligence israeliana, Nasser Abu Srour è stato rilasciato a 56 anni in seguito all’accordo di pace di ottobre 2025 (sorvoliamo sulla parola PACE e sul significato di questo accordo che è stato violato continuamente a scapito, come sempre, di civili e bambini palestinesi). Si trova attualmente in esilio in Egitto e non gli è permesso di tornare in Cisgiordania, la sua terra.
Il libro si divide in due blocchi narrativi: la prima metà dalla nascita dell’autore in un campo profughi, la sete di sapere adolescenziale, la curiosità di scoprire il perché di quella sua condizione e l’ammirazione verso la cultura di un popolo nuovo che si stava insediando nella sua terra, fino all’arresto nel 1993 a 24 anni e ai viaggi da una prigione all’altra; la seconda metà incentrata sull’amore per Nanna, un amore fatto di lettere, di poesie, di incontri fugaci in carcere, un amore platonico che però impegna anima e corpo.
Il tutto è accompagnato da conversazioni con un muro, il muro della cella, il muro di ogni cella che si sia trovato ad occupare, il muro amico, la sua certezza.
Il libro si divide in due blocchi narrativi: la prima metà dalla nascita dell’autore in un campo profughi, la sete di sapere adolescenziale, la curiosità di scoprire il perché di quella sua condizione e l’ammirazione verso la cultura di un popolo nuovo che si stava insediando nella sua terra, fino all’arresto nel 1993 a 24 anni e ai viaggi da una prigione all’altra; la seconda metà incentrata sull’amore per Nanna, un amore fatto di lettere, di poesie, di incontri fugaci in carcere, un amore platonico che però impegna anima e corpo.
Il tutto è accompagnato da conversazioni con un muro, il muro della cella, il muro di ogni cella che si sia trovato ad occupare, il muro amico, la sua certezza.
December 8, 2025
Nasser Abu Srour was imprisoned in 1993, towards the end of the First Intifada. He is by no means the only Palestinian prisoner to write of their experience from within prison. In the past few years alone, Wisam Rafeedie, Walid Daqqa, and Basem Khandaqji have all managed to compose literary masterpieces from prison.
As a Palestinian prison writer, Abu Srour is in good company, yet he crafts a narrative voice that is all his own. He invents a new genre for writing about the experience of incarceration. And whereas Rafeedie, Daqqa, Khandaqji and most other Palestinian prison writers are primarily novelists, Abu Srour writes as a poet who understands the power of literature to break down walls and create ruptures in the fabric of time.
Read the full review at https://rgould.substack.com/p/a-pales...
And stay tuned for my interview with the author!
As a Palestinian prison writer, Abu Srour is in good company, yet he crafts a narrative voice that is all his own. He invents a new genre for writing about the experience of incarceration. And whereas Rafeedie, Daqqa, Khandaqji and most other Palestinian prison writers are primarily novelists, Abu Srour writes as a poet who understands the power of literature to break down walls and create ruptures in the fabric of time.
Read the full review at https://rgould.substack.com/p/a-pales...
And stay tuned for my interview with the author!
May 26, 2024
As the publisher of the book I may not be objective ! Just want to say that the review in the NYT today uses the words "confessed apparently under torture" .. which is to me is a deep offense to both the author and me. We never used that word !!! Nasser chapter's on the use of torture mixed with kind words, coffee and cigarettes teaches us a lot about what is happening in Israeli prisons. Aside from that all I can ask for is to give the book a chance .. it is truly a work of art much closer to us that we suspect - also a brilliant education on Israeli occupation, on the meaning of love and loss and also how things could be so different if only !!! I strongly believe that Jews in particular will find many affinities with Nasser .
December 4, 2025
This book is not a light read. It traces Nasser’s life under Israeli occupation while imprisoned, and it demands the reader sit with the violence, structure, and continuity of colonial power. What stayed with me, beyond the content itself, was the translation: undertaken by a white scholar who casually notes in his afterword that he accepted the project while on a sailboat. That contrast between a text born of captivity, translated from a place of leisure shows how translation can reproduce erasure. It made me think not only about what is written, but what is untranslatable, untranscribed, or quietly filtered out when a text about occupation is delivered through the frameworks of those not shaped by it.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 16, 2025
HAUNTINGLY.
Just hauntingly. I loved the experimental style, the way I felt was like reading his personal diary. Intimate thoughts and emotions mixed with material conditions; i. e. the occupation, the prison system etc.
I was soo hoping for him to be freed and am hoping for him to be freed soon and hear from him and read more books. Everything about it gave me goosebumps. The personified wall, his need for solitude and his way of saying things are just incredible. Horrific to imagine someone this talented being locked away in the prison system of The Occupation.
Just hauntingly. I loved the experimental style, the way I felt was like reading his personal diary. Intimate thoughts and emotions mixed with material conditions; i. e. the occupation, the prison system etc.
I was soo hoping for him to be freed and am hoping for him to be freed soon and hear from him and read more books. Everything about it gave me goosebumps. The personified wall, his need for solitude and his way of saying things are just incredible. Horrific to imagine someone this talented being locked away in the prison system of The Occupation.
January 9, 2024
The Tale of a Wall is the reason we have literature. Nasser has made art out of poison with his honesty and golden pen. He brings to light the specificity of experience of the Palestinian prisoner in a manner that makes every reader think about the incarcerated in their own countries without forgetting Palestine. It helps us understand the consequences on others when we do not wield whatever power we each hold for solidarity. A profound and important work.
May 27, 2024
“Give me back myself!” says Nasser Abu Srour after more than 30 years in Israeli prisons.
I read Nasser’s Tale of a Wall all one night and half the next day. I was kept alive, overcome by his devotion to a people, to a land. I saw injustice evolving into murder, war, genocide.
Read and reread Nasser’s Tale. Take his hand and walk with him. You will find humanity, beauty of language, depth of rage, love. “I am a witness,” screams Nasser. His cry will become yours!
I read Nasser’s Tale of a Wall all one night and half the next day. I was kept alive, overcome by his devotion to a people, to a land. I saw injustice evolving into murder, war, genocide.
Read and reread Nasser’s Tale. Take his hand and walk with him. You will find humanity, beauty of language, depth of rage, love. “I am a witness,” screams Nasser. His cry will become yours!
March 23, 2025
It starts good and it's interesting, but be it for itself or for the translation or both, it gets excessively long and abstract. Even the references to real facts - the happenings of the Israel-Palestine conflict, the Intifada, the freeing of prisoners - are abstract and obscure. Might be to avoid issues or censorships, but all in all it's hard to understand and follow.
Eventually, also the emotional parts are so dense that it's hard to empathize.
Still important as a testimony though.
Eventually, also the emotional parts are so dense that it's hard to empathize.
Still important as a testimony though.
August 29, 2025
This book is a beautiful translation of an incarcerated man’s personal journey inside the walls of an Israeli prison. His relationship with a woman on the outside is beautifully chronicled through his letters and dialogue that he shares with us during their sessions in the visitation room. The book can get a tad overly flowerly in its vocabularly, but with a little patience it feels worth reading through.
December 23, 2025
Me cautivó la premisa del autor, que la manera de afrontar una cadena perpetua sea asumiendo el muro como un todo. Las imágenes y la poesía que eso desprende son brutales. Lo mismo que el modo en que aquello subjetiva al propio Nasser. El vuelco que toma su historia una vez conoce a Nanna también me hizo pensar en la subjetividad. Qué cosas te atan y cómo lo hacen, los pasajes entre esa subjetividad los relata de manera maravillosa.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 27, 2024
Una lectura muy recomendable para conocer de primera mano la realidad palestina. No obstante, reconozco que hay algún capítulo que se refiere al amor que profesa a su amada, que se me ha hecho repetitivo. También debo confesar que el lenguaje de la narración es bastante poético y ha habido algún momento que me costaba identificar el objetivo de algunas descripciones.
October 3, 2024
Such a beautiful story that sadly was hard to get into because of the overly poetic and flowery prose and unfocused writing style that couldn’t ever just follow a clear and chronological narrative. I wanted to understand it so deeply but maybe something was lost in translation? I know that’s easy to say for every translated book but this one really missed the mark despite its powerful premise.
March 18, 2025
Es una historia profunda, penetrante y un libro que no puedes soltar. Su prosa parece poesía y retrata las complejidades de vivir en un campo de refugiados, una prisión y un desamor con un arte que parece pintura. Es enternecedora pero a la vez dura. Nasser se aferra a su vida de encierro y procura mantener la cordura pese a que todo se le derrumba.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 11, 2025
chilling, brilliant account of nassar’s life under isr*eli occupation and incarceration. one of the best books i’ve ever read. i’ve underlined half of it because of how poetic, revolutionary, and thought provoking his words are. must read. free Palestine!!!!!
August 26, 2025
L'autore, palestinese, ci racconta la sua esperienza di prigionia ed ergastolo in diversi carceri israeliani. Un libro crudo, realistico, che racconta la situazione nel paese attraverso l'esperienza di Srour. Certamente da leggere, anche se non sempre scorrevole, talvolta ripetitivo.
September 23, 2025
My fault for expecting an informative read about the experiences of a political prisoner in the west bank, not the horny rants of someone that really wants to sounds like he has read the critique of pure reason
July 15, 2024
Gramsci, Malamud’s The Fixer, Srour
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