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You Will Not Kill Our Imagination: A Memoir of Palestine and Writing in Dark Times
A vital, fearless memoir in the vein of Between the World and Me that explores what it means to be a Palestinian in this moment, the effects of the genocide on Palestinian art and imagination, and that to even claim a belonging to the land from a country thousands of miles away is an act of subversion.
Imagination is a more powerful force than hope.
Acclaimed author Saeed Teebi was at work on his first novel when the attacks on Gaza began in late 2023. The violence and cruelty of the attacks, accompanied by the assent and silence of international governments, stunned many across the globe, like Teebi, into a new state of permanent horror.
What does it mean to be of the Palestinian diaspora in such a moment? What does it mean to be of a people who have sustained such a large-scale assault not only on their homeland, but their entire identity? What is the role of art, of language—of imagination—in asserting one’s identity, when that very assertion is read as an act of subversion?
In this incisive work, Teebi explores, with searing, razor-sharp prose, the effects of genocide on the bodies, minds, and imaginations—of Palestinians especially, and humanity in general.
This is at once a memoir of one family’s displacement, a scathing indictment of global complicity in the face of brutality, and a profound rumination on art and imagination as a means of defiance. It is an astonishing work of resistance by a major intellect, and it is both urgent and timeless.
Imagination is a more powerful force than hope.
Acclaimed author Saeed Teebi was at work on his first novel when the attacks on Gaza began in late 2023. The violence and cruelty of the attacks, accompanied by the assent and silence of international governments, stunned many across the globe, like Teebi, into a new state of permanent horror.
What does it mean to be of the Palestinian diaspora in such a moment? What does it mean to be of a people who have sustained such a large-scale assault not only on their homeland, but their entire identity? What is the role of art, of language—of imagination—in asserting one’s identity, when that very assertion is read as an act of subversion?
In this incisive work, Teebi explores, with searing, razor-sharp prose, the effects of genocide on the bodies, minds, and imaginations—of Palestinians especially, and humanity in general.
This is at once a memoir of one family’s displacement, a scathing indictment of global complicity in the face of brutality, and a profound rumination on art and imagination as a means of defiance. It is an astonishing work of resistance by a major intellect, and it is both urgent and timeless.
240 pages, Hardcover
Published September 30, 2025
27 people are currently reading
1240 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 36 reviews
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December 10, 2025🍉
August 22, 2025
At the time of writing this, the reviews section for this book is utterly blank. I'm aware it's not out until September 30th, but there's a lot of pressure in being the first review! I want this book to be widely read, to be discussed, to be celebrated for existing - and it's hard to encapsulate that with a single review.
What I can tell you is this: this is a once-in-a-lifetime book. This is a book that comes around and shifts your world view, not just on Palestine or the ongoing genocide, but on the very core of complicity and injustice themselves. Teebi is an incredible writer, and I found myself absolutely engrossed by every page of this. It's haunting, imaginative, poetic, and so important.
Teebi tells his family's story and the generations before him that also faced exile, violence, and discrimination based on being Palestinian. He incorporates his personal experiences with those of his parents and grandparents, and offers a haunting reminder to the reader: these experiences are not extraordinary. They're shared by many.
The memories and excerpts flow into broader social and political commentary about Palestine, the constraints of language, and how complicity is a driving enabler for Israel. Every argument is multi-faceted, nuanced, and critically analyzes how we've gotten here. The collection is scathing, profound, and unforgettable.
This is getting a well-deserved spot on my 'all-time favourites' shelf, and I can't wait for more readers to pick this up. Thank you to Simon & Schuster Canada for the ARC.
What I can tell you is this: this is a once-in-a-lifetime book. This is a book that comes around and shifts your world view, not just on Palestine or the ongoing genocide, but on the very core of complicity and injustice themselves. Teebi is an incredible writer, and I found myself absolutely engrossed by every page of this. It's haunting, imaginative, poetic, and so important.
Teebi tells his family's story and the generations before him that also faced exile, violence, and discrimination based on being Palestinian. He incorporates his personal experiences with those of his parents and grandparents, and offers a haunting reminder to the reader: these experiences are not extraordinary. They're shared by many.
The memories and excerpts flow into broader social and political commentary about Palestine, the constraints of language, and how complicity is a driving enabler for Israel. Every argument is multi-faceted, nuanced, and critically analyzes how we've gotten here. The collection is scathing, profound, and unforgettable.
This is getting a well-deserved spot on my 'all-time favourites' shelf, and I can't wait for more readers to pick this up. Thank you to Simon & Schuster Canada for the ARC.
October 24, 2025
It's hard to characterize "You Will Not Kill Our Imagination."
In some ways, it is a memoir - an honest one, where the author doesn't portray himself as a daring hero, but as someone fraught with fear, who weighs his job security against his Palestinianness, who struggles against enforced silence *of* his Palestinianness.
In other ways, this book is a reminder of how and why art - writing - creativity - is used to construct narratives, and to counter them; to position and reposition; to demand condemnations and to justify genocide - and to condemn genocide and launch resistance.
There is an anecdote that the author read at his event here in Victoria that, at the time, had me seething with rage on his behalf (and on behalf of us who have been canceled for being too Muslim/ Palestinian/ Other).
Reading to the conclusion of that anecdote had me trembling with something beyond rage, not because of how outrageous it was - but because of how constant and insistent it is - when it's not just the external factors silencing us, but our own people enabling and enforcing the censorship.
When our masaajid blacklist us for our uncomfortably anti-Zionist stances, when our own MSAs are too fearful to challenge university censorship, when our own people tell us to shut up and play polite games in the hope that if we are just nice enough, just respectable enough, just deferential enough, the Powers That Be will give us crumbs of attention - is it any wonder how useless we are as a community?
Anyway. Enough of my getting triggered, I supposed.
This is a great book. I underlined many sentences. I tabbed many tabs.
Thanks to Simon&Schuster Canada for the ARC!
In some ways, it is a memoir - an honest one, where the author doesn't portray himself as a daring hero, but as someone fraught with fear, who weighs his job security against his Palestinianness, who struggles against enforced silence *of* his Palestinianness.
In other ways, this book is a reminder of how and why art - writing - creativity - is used to construct narratives, and to counter them; to position and reposition; to demand condemnations and to justify genocide - and to condemn genocide and launch resistance.
There is an anecdote that the author read at his event here in Victoria that, at the time, had me seething with rage on his behalf (and on behalf of us who have been canceled for being too Muslim/ Palestinian/ Other).
Reading to the conclusion of that anecdote had me trembling with something beyond rage, not because of how outrageous it was - but because of how constant and insistent it is - when it's not just the external factors silencing us, but our own people enabling and enforcing the censorship.
When our masaajid blacklist us for our uncomfortably anti-Zionist stances, when our own MSAs are too fearful to challenge university censorship, when our own people tell us to shut up and play polite games in the hope that if we are just nice enough, just respectable enough, just deferential enough, the Powers That Be will give us crumbs of attention - is it any wonder how useless we are as a community?
Anyway. Enough of my getting triggered, I supposed.
This is a great book. I underlined many sentences. I tabbed many tabs.
Thanks to Simon&Schuster Canada for the ARC!
November 29, 2025
Teebi is an excellent writer.
He speaks about linguistic apartheid when it comes to Palestinians, how they are forced to « play nice » so as not to be labeled violent.
Resistance fighters labeled as terrorists
« Property disputes » over actual land grab
« The circumscription of language is a way to strip us of our own hearts. What’s in us does not belong to us »
« The victim must make sure not to offend the oppressor »
« The policing of language makes it so that what we say is no longer important, what’s important is saying it in conformance of those whose first preference is we don’t say it at all »
His writing style reminds me of Omar El Akkad.
Omar is an observer, and Saeed is an actual descendant of Nakba survivors.
Easiest 5 ⭐️
He speaks about linguistic apartheid when it comes to Palestinians, how they are forced to « play nice » so as not to be labeled violent.
Resistance fighters labeled as terrorists
« Property disputes » over actual land grab
« The circumscription of language is a way to strip us of our own hearts. What’s in us does not belong to us »
« The victim must make sure not to offend the oppressor »
« The policing of language makes it so that what we say is no longer important, what’s important is saying it in conformance of those whose first preference is we don’t say it at all »
His writing style reminds me of Omar El Akkad.
Omar is an observer, and Saeed is an actual descendant of Nakba survivors.
Easiest 5 ⭐️
September 25, 2025
“I believe that when we have people's stories, we are responsible for them. The closeness we form to others through their stories makes us their keepers-not just of the stories, but of the people themselves. We owe them care and understanding. And if they have our stories, they are our keepers too.”
A brilliant & sharply written memoir encapsulating the perspective of a Palestinian author / lawyer living in Canada, detailing the experiences of his displaced parents and grandparents before him, alongside witnessing the atrocities of Gaza and embarrassing response of the Western world in present day. A must read, truly.
A brilliant & sharply written memoir encapsulating the perspective of a Palestinian author / lawyer living in Canada, detailing the experiences of his displaced parents and grandparents before him, alongside witnessing the atrocities of Gaza and embarrassing response of the Western world in present day. A must read, truly.
September 17, 2025
This book took me out of my complacency and made me think!!
The first part of this book explores the generational effects that displacement and exile can have on one’ identity. Relayed to us through the experiences of the author’s own family. This book also compels us to confront how the Palestinian narrative is portrayed by the Western world, often skewed and minimized. Finally, Teebi implores us to end the silencing of voices that are necessary in changing our coloured view.
Thank you @simonschusterca for the complimentary copy.
The first part of this book explores the generational effects that displacement and exile can have on one’ identity. Relayed to us through the experiences of the author’s own family. This book also compels us to confront how the Palestinian narrative is portrayed by the Western world, often skewed and minimized. Finally, Teebi implores us to end the silencing of voices that are necessary in changing our coloured view.
Thank you @simonschusterca for the complimentary copy.
Read
November 6, 2025the final line will stay with me for a long time
January 15, 2026
*thank you to Simon & Schuster Canada for the advanced reader’s copy in exchange for an honest review.
2026 is the year i’m intentionally diving into memoirs and stories that need to be heard. i know i should have started sooner, but i’m doing it now. reading saeed teebi’s story reaffirmed something i already knew: we, as humans, need to do better. more importantly, we need to stop hiding behind fear of having our comfortable routines disrupted. we need to do better.
to this day, it makes me livid that we continue to allow a genocide to unfold right in front of our eyes. and oh, suddenly we don’t want to call it a genocide in today's modern world? no. let’s call it exactly what it is. a genocide.
moving on.
i was completely captivated by teebi’s words and by how honestly he recounted both the good and the bad. his story made me angry, as it should have. we need to read these stories. we need to acknowledge them. and we need to take action. strike conversations, join rallies, advocate for those who can't and don't remain silent.
this book is not meant to be comfortable, and it shouldn’t be. it exists to unsettle, to educate, and to demand reflection. stories like this are not optional reading, they are necessary. listening, learning, and speaking up are the bare minimum, and this memoir is a powerful place to start.
2026 is the year i’m intentionally diving into memoirs and stories that need to be heard. i know i should have started sooner, but i’m doing it now. reading saeed teebi’s story reaffirmed something i already knew: we, as humans, need to do better. more importantly, we need to stop hiding behind fear of having our comfortable routines disrupted. we need to do better.
to this day, it makes me livid that we continue to allow a genocide to unfold right in front of our eyes. and oh, suddenly we don’t want to call it a genocide in today's modern world? no. let’s call it exactly what it is. a genocide.
moving on.
i was completely captivated by teebi’s words and by how honestly he recounted both the good and the bad. his story made me angry, as it should have. we need to read these stories. we need to acknowledge them. and we need to take action. strike conversations, join rallies, advocate for those who can't and don't remain silent.
this book is not meant to be comfortable, and it shouldn’t be. it exists to unsettle, to educate, and to demand reflection. stories like this are not optional reading, they are necessary. listening, learning, and speaking up are the bare minimum, and this memoir is a powerful place to start.
December 8, 2025
absolutely brilliant … that last sentence will stay with me forever
January 31, 2026
Fear that nothing I write here will be enough to stress to you how important this read is. How heartbreaking but how important. Teebi’s writing is gorgeous and I wanted to highlight the entire book. So grateful for the opportunity to read and review, I’ll be recommending this to everyone. (Our high school library already has a copy). Thank you to Simon and Schuster for the physical arc (sorry it took me so long to read it)
December 19, 2025
Very gripping and sad book, but beautifully written
December 28, 2025
All I can say is that this is an important book (as well as a very accessible book)
January 6, 2026
“The only true way to honour the dead is to work for futures that would’ve saved them.”
January 16, 2026
Essential reading. Expert weaving of personal stories, history, reflection, critique, and so much more. Reading this was a profoundly emotional experience
September 10, 2025
A must read book.
I wrote and deleted several lines to open my review of YOU WILL NOT KILL OUR IMAGINATION. But how can one sentence ever introduce the magnificence of this memoir? This book is for everyone—and its splendour is its mere existence as Teebi writes about loosening “the chains that once made anything like it possible.” I am grateful to have read this.
Here’s a list of attempts at opening lines:
This book will be a reference in a future essay about what it means to live in an era where an accepted historical truth was once forbidden.
This book is a reminder to all that while the silence and conformity of some might elicit empathy, “the gentleness doesn’t mean they haven’t failed, because they have.”
This book is a call to artists to “take on the challenge of writing a story that has not been written, that is forbidden to be written, a story that occurs in a history that has not been accepted.”
This book requires a notebook and a pen, for I believe every reader will have the pages of notations and quotes I am now reciting to memory.
In one essay, Platform and Safety, Teebi explores the role of the artist and the reasons regimes target artists and cultural institutions first. “…the artist is almost by definition a humanist. This means they have the potential to slash past the political and instead prioritise human values. Artists are uniquely positioned to take on the enormity of entrenched power relationships, and via their work foment further action.” An essential chapter for the writers of the world grappling with words, because there is no easy answer, especially for those whose jobs may be at risk, but it asks, where does your humanity live?
I read the final chapter half a dozen times. Imagination. A manifesto as much as it is an elegy to past generations, the author’s father, who would no doubt feel the danger of writing such an honest book.
This book holds the heart of a people that will not be erased. It is a statue in the literary town square we’re erecting where future generations will safely sit and write their own stories, where they’ll find themselves and their ancestors, where they’ll be comforted by the truth.
I wrote and deleted several lines to open my review of YOU WILL NOT KILL OUR IMAGINATION. But how can one sentence ever introduce the magnificence of this memoir? This book is for everyone—and its splendour is its mere existence as Teebi writes about loosening “the chains that once made anything like it possible.” I am grateful to have read this.
Here’s a list of attempts at opening lines:
This book will be a reference in a future essay about what it means to live in an era where an accepted historical truth was once forbidden.
This book is a reminder to all that while the silence and conformity of some might elicit empathy, “the gentleness doesn’t mean they haven’t failed, because they have.”
This book is a call to artists to “take on the challenge of writing a story that has not been written, that is forbidden to be written, a story that occurs in a history that has not been accepted.”
This book requires a notebook and a pen, for I believe every reader will have the pages of notations and quotes I am now reciting to memory.
In one essay, Platform and Safety, Teebi explores the role of the artist and the reasons regimes target artists and cultural institutions first. “…the artist is almost by definition a humanist. This means they have the potential to slash past the political and instead prioritise human values. Artists are uniquely positioned to take on the enormity of entrenched power relationships, and via their work foment further action.” An essential chapter for the writers of the world grappling with words, because there is no easy answer, especially for those whose jobs may be at risk, but it asks, where does your humanity live?
I read the final chapter half a dozen times. Imagination. A manifesto as much as it is an elegy to past generations, the author’s father, who would no doubt feel the danger of writing such an honest book.
This book holds the heart of a people that will not be erased. It is a statue in the literary town square we’re erecting where future generations will safely sit and write their own stories, where they’ll find themselves and their ancestors, where they’ll be comforted by the truth.
October 18, 2025
Years from now we will look back on this time with embarrassment and disgrace at how we all sat idly by while yet another massacre on an innocent populace took place. We won’t be able to feign ignorance, because we are constantly bombarded with horrific stories and images of what can legally be classified as genocide. And yet, there is a sort of desensitization either through lack of connection or compassion when it comes to Palestine.
This story was heartbreaking and maddening in alternating parts, because it was so truthful. It wasn’t laden with emotional outbursts or plights towards an ongoing war, rather it was a frank observation on the Palestinian diaspora. How identity and home come into question when a group of people has been constantly under assault or abandonment.
A large section of this memoir is a rumination on language, the power it has lost by being censored and washed by a colonial lens. When the language used by a victim must not offend the oppressor, how reality becomes skewed. By directly associating them with another historically marginalized group, this band of ordinary people can be labeled as inhuman and thus worthy of hatred and mistreatment. It was fascinating to find that this extends to Palestinians themselves and how there is a level of shame that accompanies this self censorship.
The way words and stories characterize a people through a singularity. That a Palestine life of value has a requisite death arc, as though the small stories of their being are only given weight if the result ends in tragedy. The culture and joy we typically characterize humanity with is missing from the way we see this group of people. It is a difficult truth to acknowledge and yet it becomes hard to separate the Palestinian people from trauma, though they are so much more than that.
This is not an easy memoir to read. I had to interchange it with episodes of John Oliver, but the truth is something that cannot be ignored. I hope everyone picks up this book and learns how language and hope and imagination are all integral to our humanity and contextualizes how the war is part of a much larger systemic imprint. Thank you to Simon & Schuster Canada for an advanced copy.
This story was heartbreaking and maddening in alternating parts, because it was so truthful. It wasn’t laden with emotional outbursts or plights towards an ongoing war, rather it was a frank observation on the Palestinian diaspora. How identity and home come into question when a group of people has been constantly under assault or abandonment.
A large section of this memoir is a rumination on language, the power it has lost by being censored and washed by a colonial lens. When the language used by a victim must not offend the oppressor, how reality becomes skewed. By directly associating them with another historically marginalized group, this band of ordinary people can be labeled as inhuman and thus worthy of hatred and mistreatment. It was fascinating to find that this extends to Palestinians themselves and how there is a level of shame that accompanies this self censorship.
The way words and stories characterize a people through a singularity. That a Palestine life of value has a requisite death arc, as though the small stories of their being are only given weight if the result ends in tragedy. The culture and joy we typically characterize humanity with is missing from the way we see this group of people. It is a difficult truth to acknowledge and yet it becomes hard to separate the Palestinian people from trauma, though they are so much more than that.
This is not an easy memoir to read. I had to interchange it with episodes of John Oliver, but the truth is something that cannot be ignored. I hope everyone picks up this book and learns how language and hope and imagination are all integral to our humanity and contextualizes how the war is part of a much larger systemic imprint. Thank you to Simon & Schuster Canada for an advanced copy.
January 5, 2026
You Will Not Kill Our Imagination: A Memoir of Palestine and Writing in Dark Times
Saeed Teebi 2025
This incredible memoir by @saeedteebi was one of my most impactful reads of 2025. It’s brave, honest, moving, urgent, and defiantly alive. As @rdassaly wrote in the @torontostar, it is “storytelling as an act of resistance.” I couldn’t agree more—this is necessary reading.
I had the privilege of hearing Saeed read in person twice, at the @silkroadinstitute Literary Festival and at the @topalestinefilmfestival —both powerful, unforgettable experiences. If you ever have the chance to hear him speak, take it.
You Will Not Kill Our Imagination is a searing memoir that traces Teebi’s personal and familial journey: beginning with his grandparents’ displacement during the 1948 Nakba, through a childhood in Kuwait, resettlement in Canada, and ultimately grappling with the horrors unfolding in Gaza after the 2023 attacks.
With implosive honesty and razor-sharp prose, Teebi explores how art, language, and imagination become acts of resistance and defiance. This book blends intimate family histories with a broader indictment of global indifference, confronting the genocide being perpetrated by Israel against Palestinians, and interrogating how stories are silenced—or reclaimed—in dark times.
Through a series of deeply personal stories, Teebi invites us into his world with care and consideration. He offers glimpses into a Palestinian family that has endured displacement and indescribable trauma, crafting a poignant meditation on what it means to assert identity, memory, and belonging when every assertion feels subversive. It’s beautifully written, profoundly necessary, and will stay with you long after you finish.
Saeed Teebi 2025
This incredible memoir by @saeedteebi was one of my most impactful reads of 2025. It’s brave, honest, moving, urgent, and defiantly alive. As @rdassaly wrote in the @torontostar, it is “storytelling as an act of resistance.” I couldn’t agree more—this is necessary reading.
I had the privilege of hearing Saeed read in person twice, at the @silkroadinstitute Literary Festival and at the @topalestinefilmfestival —both powerful, unforgettable experiences. If you ever have the chance to hear him speak, take it.
You Will Not Kill Our Imagination is a searing memoir that traces Teebi’s personal and familial journey: beginning with his grandparents’ displacement during the 1948 Nakba, through a childhood in Kuwait, resettlement in Canada, and ultimately grappling with the horrors unfolding in Gaza after the 2023 attacks.
With implosive honesty and razor-sharp prose, Teebi explores how art, language, and imagination become acts of resistance and defiance. This book blends intimate family histories with a broader indictment of global indifference, confronting the genocide being perpetrated by Israel against Palestinians, and interrogating how stories are silenced—or reclaimed—in dark times.
Through a series of deeply personal stories, Teebi invites us into his world with care and consideration. He offers glimpses into a Palestinian family that has endured displacement and indescribable trauma, crafting a poignant meditation on what it means to assert identity, memory, and belonging when every assertion feels subversive. It’s beautifully written, profoundly necessary, and will stay with you long after you finish.
January 27, 2026
“If people witness the disposability of their bodies enough times, perhaps they come to consider their national consciousness disposable as well—something that can be shuffled at will by the colonizer.” (p. 53)
This thoughtful memoir traces the distinct victories of two men: a father and his son. The author’s father, Dr. Ahmad Teebie, confronted exile head-on by refusing to cave. He redid his medical studies from scratch and went on to become a world-renowned physician.
His young son, however—eager to integrate into his new world—experienced a different kind of exile, one impossible to study one’s way out of. Instead, he endured a slow psychological crawl within an environment saturated by sophisticated Zionist propaganda.
Teebie examines the language-based mechanisms of colonization that invert reality, recasting Zionist aggressors as beleaguered victims while assigning blame to those they dispossess.
The late Dr. Ahmad Teebi might have admired the surgical precision with which his son excises propaganda’s shameful, malicious obfuscations.
One passage among many stayed with me:
“When the literate are oppressed, they always resort to books, because that’s where the loneliness of their misery finds companionship—and where despair can be quelled through understanding and triumphing in the experience of others.”
A riveting, unflinching, and meaningful memoir I could not put down. Free Palestine.
Eleanor Cowan, Canadian writer
This thoughtful memoir traces the distinct victories of two men: a father and his son. The author’s father, Dr. Ahmad Teebie, confronted exile head-on by refusing to cave. He redid his medical studies from scratch and went on to become a world-renowned physician.
His young son, however—eager to integrate into his new world—experienced a different kind of exile, one impossible to study one’s way out of. Instead, he endured a slow psychological crawl within an environment saturated by sophisticated Zionist propaganda.
Teebie examines the language-based mechanisms of colonization that invert reality, recasting Zionist aggressors as beleaguered victims while assigning blame to those they dispossess.
The late Dr. Ahmad Teebi might have admired the surgical precision with which his son excises propaganda’s shameful, malicious obfuscations.
One passage among many stayed with me:
“When the literate are oppressed, they always resort to books, because that’s where the loneliness of their misery finds companionship—and where despair can be quelled through understanding and triumphing in the experience of others.”
A riveting, unflinching, and meaningful memoir I could not put down. Free Palestine.
Eleanor Cowan, Canadian writer
September 18, 2025
*First off I want to thank Simon and Shuster for sending me a physical arc, this was high on my list of anticipated releases for Fall 2025.
I really enjoyed Her First Palestinian when it came out, so when I heard Saeed had a memoir I knew I had to check it out and I am grateful to read an early copy.
I think stories like this where Palestinians in diaspora share their experiences as a sort of on the outside looking is an important perspective that I think can overlooked at times. Saeed talks about being Palestinian and how he's dealt with that moving in the world at a time when discourse about Palestine is most volatile. The balance of identity he's had to and continues to walk is important to witness. He shares what it's like being Palestinian and being the grandchild of Nakba survivors and how that immediately creates this target on his back and that his mere existence could cause "psychological trauma" to other people.
I also appreciated Saeed talking about working in capitalist corporation and walking that fine line of activism behind the curtain as a way to not impact your livelihood. I think stories like this will be more important then ever and appreciate Saeed with sharing it with us. This memoir is much deeper then I am able to express and I will be recommending it as much as I can.
I really enjoyed Her First Palestinian when it came out, so when I heard Saeed had a memoir I knew I had to check it out and I am grateful to read an early copy.
I think stories like this where Palestinians in diaspora share their experiences as a sort of on the outside looking is an important perspective that I think can overlooked at times. Saeed talks about being Palestinian and how he's dealt with that moving in the world at a time when discourse about Palestine is most volatile. The balance of identity he's had to and continues to walk is important to witness. He shares what it's like being Palestinian and being the grandchild of Nakba survivors and how that immediately creates this target on his back and that his mere existence could cause "psychological trauma" to other people.
I also appreciated Saeed talking about working in capitalist corporation and walking that fine line of activism behind the curtain as a way to not impact your livelihood. I think stories like this will be more important then ever and appreciate Saeed with sharing it with us. This memoir is much deeper then I am able to express and I will be recommending it as much as I can.
September 29, 2025
Picked this up at the official Toronto book launch on Thursday and blew through it in a matter of days. This memoir and reflections on the genocide and the horrors that this inflicts on the body and psyche of those displaced since the Nakba packs a wallop. Teebi writes with eviscerating and precise prose that reminds those of us in the west of the myriad of ways we have been conditioned not to speak up, to dismiss those we've been told not to trust, and the hypocrisy therein. His reflections on his own life as a displaced person (first his family was exiled during the Nakba under horrific circumstances, and then a second time when Iraq invaded Kuwait) are moving, sometimes wry, often impressive, and brimming with laser-focussed observations. Reading this was so gripping; Teebi takes us on a voyage to the inside of the Palestinian heart and mind. One chapter is even told in the second person as a hypothetical, transporting us in the hot seat that has been thrust upon Teebi his whole life. Perhaps my favourite line from the book isn't an obvious one, as it's from a smaller scene in the grand scheme of the narrative, but I find it so striking: "You looked them in their frustrated eyes. You thought: Tell me *what* is so awful, you coward." pg 184. This is required reading for 2025.
January 2, 2026
When Silence Is the First Violence
How did the book make me feel/think?
I read a page. I cry.
I read another page. I cry again.
I see myself in these pages — not in circumstance, never in scale, but in erasure.
I was born to an unwed mother, in a place of shame, where silence was the condition for being allowed to exist at all. Before my birth, the erasure had already begun.
I understand displacement. I understand the need to belong.
But how do you belong when no one is willing to say you exist?
My friends are conditioned. My life is heavy. They lack the bandwidth, and so I am dismissed — gifted the solitude of creativity, born of pain, born of being an outsider.
There are protests in our streets: Free Palestine.
Some ask why they don’t protest where they’re from — as if suffering should be kept out of sight — not understanding the complicity in suggesting people struggling to be seen return to an active genocide, simply because it took a few extra minutes to get to the store.
Saeed Teebi’s writing does not allow that silence.
This book is courageous.
It is an appeal for humanity.
We must refuse to be erased.
We must never revert to lying.
This is an essential read.
Written: 2 January 2026
How did the book make me feel/think?
I read a page. I cry.
I read another page. I cry again.
I see myself in these pages — not in circumstance, never in scale, but in erasure.
I was born to an unwed mother, in a place of shame, where silence was the condition for being allowed to exist at all. Before my birth, the erasure had already begun.
I understand displacement. I understand the need to belong.
But how do you belong when no one is willing to say you exist?
My friends are conditioned. My life is heavy. They lack the bandwidth, and so I am dismissed — gifted the solitude of creativity, born of pain, born of being an outsider.
There are protests in our streets: Free Palestine.
Some ask why they don’t protest where they’re from — as if suffering should be kept out of sight — not understanding the complicity in suggesting people struggling to be seen return to an active genocide, simply because it took a few extra minutes to get to the store.
Saeed Teebi’s writing does not allow that silence.
This book is courageous.
It is an appeal for humanity.
We must refuse to be erased.
We must never revert to lying.
This is an essential read.
Written: 2 January 2026
November 11, 2025
I am a fan of @saeedteebi 's careful and thoughtful writing that allows me to consider and think about things in new and challenging ways. His new memoir collection "You Will Not Kill Our Imagination" (also I love this title) explores his life, his father, his becoming a father, silencing writers and opinions and of course writing about Palestine in these dark times. I took my time and allowed myself to reflect on my own feelings and non actions regarding Palestine. Important and reflective reading that is also often hopeful.
September 30, 2025
A deeply moving meditation on what it means to be a Palestinian immigrant forced to witness the horrific genocide and inhumanity going on in Gaza. Not an easy read but such a necessary and important one. It is also just one of the recent books I’ve been reading that does such a great job advocating for more empathy, action and understanding. Many thanks to the publisher for sending me and early physical ARC in exchange for my honest review!
October 23, 2025
IMAGINATION
"I want to revel in being marginal, of existing in the liminal spaces, if that is my fate for telling the truth.
...
I want to think, always, of the souls of our souls. Our children, and the children of others.
I want to never hope, to never be stuck in its expectant static. I want to always imagine, because there is nothing that compares with the engine of imagining.
And last is not something I want, but something I vow: They will not kill our imagination."
"I want to revel in being marginal, of existing in the liminal spaces, if that is my fate for telling the truth.
...
I want to think, always, of the souls of our souls. Our children, and the children of others.
I want to never hope, to never be stuck in its expectant static. I want to always imagine, because there is nothing that compares with the engine of imagining.
And last is not something I want, but something I vow: They will not kill our imagination."
October 20, 2025
2.5* - What was the author hoping to convey to me? I can't say for sure because this was an organizational mess. The book is full of passion but there is no discipline. It's a free for all of his thoughts and observations and experiences. The subject matter is very timely but I was very disappointed in the construct.
October 8, 2025
I have a longer review of things I liked about the book and the things I didn’t like.
I will just say, he is a passionate, solid writer. This conflict is so tough to read about and consider sides.
I am staying in the middle with this rating, and with regards to the conflict.
I will just say, he is a passionate, solid writer. This conflict is so tough to read about and consider sides.
I am staying in the middle with this rating, and with regards to the conflict.
Want to read
September 25, 2025i want to read this book so baaaaaaaad
October 12, 2025
Full of anger, grief and also brilliant analysis. And so intense that I could only read one essay every couple of days. The final chapter could well be a manifesto for any artist.
October 19, 2025
A must read book designed to make you uncomfortable as you're forced to confront your own complacency and complicity during a genocide.
October 25, 2025
A must-read, friends. Timely, powerful, intelligent, humanistic, raw & honest - go today and find it at your local bookstore or library.
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