In this lyrical debut, three generations of Palestinian women must put the haunting of their ancestral home to rest, before the secrets of the past drown them all. Our Cut of Salt is a powerful and intimate look at what it means to make a home, to lose it, and to return, only to find it irrevocably changed.
There is something haunting Nuhad’s childhood home in Haifa. Cats avoid its perimeter, strange noises come from within, and residents have mysteriously vanished without a trace. Although Nuhad has not returned to her home since the Nakba in 1948, she always held a place for the house in her heart.
And, in return, the house did the same for her.
After Nuhad passes away, her granddaughter, Marina, is determined to visit her grandmother’s home after a lifetime of being kept in the dark about her culture and family history. Marina's mother, Haifa - named for the city that was lost to their family - reluctantly agrees to her trip, though she knows firsthand that some secrets are better left buried.
But the house is no longer a home. It is a painful, festering wound that infects everything it touches. The more Marina digs into her family’s past, the sicker she becomes. Despite Nuhad’s ghostly warnings, Haifa rushes to help her daughter.
As the three women converge in their ancestral home, they must put the haunting to rest before the secrets of the past drown them all.
Deena Helm (she/her) is a mixed Palestinian-American author, and OUR CUT OF SALT is her debut novel. Her other works can be found in Fikra Magazine and So To Speak. You can find her @deenahlm in most places.
*The publisher has provided me with an advance readers copy in exchange for an honest review.*
More and more, I find myself convinced that book editors have functionally stopped editing - or at least, they've stopped providing developmental edits, which are the most valuable part of the process. Because there was no reason for this book to be as badly written as it is! There was no reason for the clunky dialogue or bad Instagram poetry or out-of-place happy (?) ending! And yet, here we are. The publisher saw a book with an eyecatching premise, and threw it out onto shelves without doing their due diligence in helping the author develop her skills and sharpen her story so that the final product would be worth reading. The whole thing feels like a first draft, with mixed metaphors, weak adjectives, and characters repeatedly announcing the themes of the book in conversation.
"an anguished fury that is rooted in impotence and helplessness." (p. 83) Impotence and helplessness mean the same thing!
"'Responded to you how? And did Rania elaborate? What are these hauntings?' Haifa says with an urgency that scares Marina." (p. 99) Clunky as hell, and also there should be a comma there. There's no description of how the urgency manifests in her voice, or what Marina's fear feels like. It's just narrating the conversation dispassionately while also expecting the reader to share in the characters' emotions.
"But the Nuhad that Rania grew up with, the one of childhood, had long since disappeared by scarred adulthood." (p. 125) I . . . huh? Was this supposed to read "disappeared INTO scarred adulthood?"
"in the distance, a Zionist flag waved over a home." (p. 138) This is just a bizarre place to deploy passive tense. You're describing the violence of a colonization, the POV character watching everything she knows and loves be ripped away from her by a violent paramilitary force, so why are we distancing the reader from the horror with "a" instead of "the" and "her?" "the Zionist flag waved over her home." See the difference?
"Her heart hurts - not just the flesh, but the chest and the rib cage and the lungs that surround it begin to ache with a heartbreaking pain." (p. 189) why would you use "heartbreaking" here? It's technically an adjective, but it's not a very good one. A burning pain, an excruciating pain, a pain that sends her to her knees - anything stronger than this!
"her mother had to endure so much that it fundamentally changed who she was as a person, even into adulthood." (p. 189) This is reiterated over and over again, always in plain language like this, and it's maddening. Don't tell me, SHOW me! This is a work of art, not an essay!
"The sheer power of the gusts slams [the vase] against the living room pillar. Diamond-glinted shards of ceramic fly in every direction and both Marina and Haifa hold their arms up by their faces instinctively. Small, superficial cuts appear on Haifa's skin, visible only by the faint lines that bead to the surface." (p. 213) Again, why would you use passive voice here? The characters are in a haunted house that's actively combusting in order to keep them from leaving, we need to FEEL the violence of that! The cuts didn't "appear" on Haifa's skin, her skin was cut by the ceramic.
Also: the ending.
All of this - all of it - could have been fixed with a thorough, competent editing job. I get angry in my reviews of bad books sometimes, but I always try to stress that it's not an anger directed at the author, because it is not their fault. And that goes triple for a book like this one, where the author was writing about a personal, painful trauma that is actively playing out in the news right now. Her editors had a responsibility to her to treat her story with care and respect, not half-ass the process so that they could have the book on shelves while people were still talking about Palestine. It's cynical and it's lazy and it really pisses me off.
This is one of the most powerful books that I have read in a long time. Deena Helm takes a subject, the continued genocide of the Palestinian people, that I personally thought I understood fairly well and makes it so real, so personal, so human, it absolutely broke my heart. This is a book that can change minds. And the fact that it is written in the context of a, albeit remarkably unconventional, haunted house story is even more amazing.
The writing here is so excellent, as well, beautiful prose that is incredibly descriptive and poetic. The three main characters and generations of women, Nuhad, Haifa, and Marina, are all such extraordinary and fully created people. I was driven to tears multiple times throughout this book and I think anyone that picks it up will be thinking about it long after they are finished.
A historical and intimate novel, beautifully composed grief horror, leaving you with an ache in your body on how genocide and human cruelty can and does impact everything.
RTC but WOW. The way Deena Helm explored grief and memory as a haunting, plus the authors note at the end…I’m sitting here with tears pouring down my face in silence and awe.
⁀➷ thank you to @tornightfire @libbycollins19 for the physical ARC copy and @deenahlm for writing this masterpiece 🫶
💌 Our Cut of Salt is a beautiful, lyrical debut following three generations of Palestinian women who have to put their haunted house in Haifa, Palestine to rest before it devours more.
💌 my thoughts: the entire time I was reading this, I was wondering “how is this a debut?”. I found myself crying within the first 10 pages due to how devastatingly beautiful the prose was - not to mention how my highlighter and pen was working overtime because of my intense annotating. The plot itself kept me so engaged but that’s not what I loved most about this book. What I loved most was how real and raw these characters were. Their struggles, their actions, and most of all their perseverance.
⁀➷ At the end of the day, Our Cut of Salt is about the effect of war not only on the people directly in the midst, but the generations to come after. To end this review, I wanted to quote one of my favorite lines from the book: “I just want to move freely. It’s not much. But it’s my dream.”
immediately immersive, transgressive, and undeniably topical Deena Helm dives deep into the Palestinian genocide through the lens of three generations of women. The symbolism of salt, and the names Marina and Haifa was just brilliant here. I loved the use of disembodied poetic verse throughout and how you’re not exactly given all the clues all at once. I love and admire an author who can talk about sensitive topics while blazing a trail for other authors to follow suit.
Ultimately, I felt that the characterizations were not fully fleshed out but that in and of itself is a detail that makes this story work in that each of the main characters is looking for themselves and their identity.
I absolutely recommend this book and look forward to what Deena Helm comes up with next.
Gave this one a fair shot but the writing is unfortunately abysmal. I feel like the author did not figure out a clear path to intertwine the different narratives and in turn made it so clunky. The story lacks editing. There is an absurd amount of hand-holding. And it’s a shame because a haunted house in Palestine is so compelling!
Now THIS is a horror book, real life mixed with some paranormal that will both traumatize you and make you cry. I have never had a horror book rip my heart out and terrify me at this same time and I think that's what makes this book so special. I ATE this book up and highly recommend going in blind and just letting your emotions take over What an amazing Palestinian American voice to add to the horror space. And a debut no less?! Just wow.
“Her father had always told her that time heals all wounds, but time did no such thing for the port city. Time worsened the occupation.”
“‘The dead may be buried,’ Raina says, ‘but when a city is built atop them, their blood never washes away.’”
If you’re one of the lucky ones, you know what it means to have a place to call home. A place that shaped you, molded you, raised you as it cradled you. A space in your heart that remains long after you leave home, forced or not. Your body remembers it. I can still feel the way the corner of the top of the door frame at the bottom of the stairs felt in the crook of my thumb. Can still feel that tender web of skin as it supported my body running down those stairs, skipping all the spots that creaked. It defines you. For the rest of your life.
Ignorantly, I have only been aware of what Palestinians face since October 7, 2023. But since then, I have come to think of the Palestinian people as resilient. But oh, still, the ignorance. Deena Helm cracked my brain and soul open with this book.
"It makes people feel like they don't need to help us because we're so resilient." An exhausted disdain drips off the word. "A grandmother in Gaza cultivates a garden, growing her flowers again and again, even as Israel bombs it. A father in Ramallah has to deal with the tiny water allowance Israel grants him and make it last each week between five children. In Haifa, we ride the tram with soldiers. But this resilience is forced on us." He sighs, and his voice is quiet when he speaks again. "You have to remember that were just people. What's the alternative? To stop living? To stop growing plants, or drinking water? Of course not."
Our Cut of Salt needs to be required reading. Because the love Palestinians have for their land should be all of us, if we’re so lucky. How many of us can say we love our land so much to haunt it for generations? To smell it, taste it, feel it, even if we’d never been? Palestine is in their blood. And I cannot imagine anything more beautiful and painful, this love for their land.
This is one of the hardest books I’ve ever read. I felt the ghosts of Palestinians whose deaths I’ve witnessed on the other side of the world over my shoulder. It was one of the most beautiful I’ve read. Thank you, Deena Helm.
*I won this book in an Instagram giveaway directly from the publisher, but all reviews and opinions are my own*
I'm honestly a little torn about this one. On the one hand, I felt like the author did a truly excellent job turning the spotlight on the Palestinian experience, both throughout history and in current day. Since this novel follows three generations of Palestinian women, you get to see the start of the 1948 Nakba and how that impacts Palestine in current day. That alone, I feel, would be horrific enough, until you add the hauntings.
Unfortunately, the haunted house element, to me, felt like the weakest aspect of the book. For one thing, the way this book was written could be a bit confusing at times, particularly where it concerned the horror elements. I also felt like the resolution to the hauntings didn't completely work, for me. The writing kept me at a bit of a distance, but also seemed to suck some of the horror out of both the varied hauntings and the existence of the house itself.
The other thing that I struggled with is that I felt like this book was advertised as trying two sets of mothers and daughters trying to mend their generational trauma. Unfortunately, I... don't think it worked, at least for me. I wanted more build up between their relationships, more time spent connecting Nuhad and Haifa and Haifa and Marina. An attempt was made, but I don't think the amount of build-up we got justified how the book ended. It felt like a speedrun, cutting out moments between them that would have made the ending hit hard and gave that emotional resonance that the author was looking for. I can't spoil exactly why this didn't work, but I will say that removing one POV and shifting another would have helped, I think.
This is a short book, trying to accomplish a lot of different things in under 300 pages (at least, that's how many pages my ARC copy has), and unfortunately I don't think it fully hit the mark. However, I also think it's incredibly important, especially when too much of what's happening in Palestine and the voices of the Palestinian people are being silenced and suppressed. For that alone, I think it's worth giving it a try, even if I think the gothic horror element with the haunted house ends up hurting more than helping the core of the novel.
Our Cut of Salt is not your traditional haunted house horror story. I mean, sure, Nuhad's childhood home has some major issues that it needs to work through, but first and foremost this is a novel about genocide and occupation and displacement and generational trauma. The house is but a product of its environment, and you can't help but feel a bit sorry for it even as it's getting a little … feisty.
And, yeah, this is probably going to be a polarizing book. The author is Palestinian-American, and the book is set in Palestine and is about Palestinians and the Israeli occupation of their homeland. Hardcore Zionists probably aren't going to enjoy this one much, but I think no matter which side of the Israel-Palestine conflict we fall on, all of us can agree that war and death and violence leave their mark on both those who experience them firsthand and on future generations. (And also, apparently, on their sentient houses. Who knew?)
This is a depressing read. It's well-written and thought-provoking and I wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone who wants to learn more about Palestine (particularly the events of 1948), but it's absolutely not a happy story. The ending isn't devoid of hope, however, and the main characters are sympathetic and likeable. It's not particularly scary — the horror here is more of a subtle literary horror — but it's certainly dark and there are some genuinely unsettling moments. It's a slow burn, but it's never boring.
Also, I do think this is the only book I've ever read where some of the sections are narrated from the point of view of a sentient house. It's a novel approach and while it took me a bit to get used to the format, I certainly didn't hate it.
Really, though, this is just one of those books that you have to read to appreciate, and whether you love or hate it isn't going to be influenced by me rambling on for entirely too many paragraphs. If you're interested in the history of Palestine and enjoy literary horror, definitely consider giving this one a read because it really is fantastic.
4.35 stars, rounded down.
Many thanks to NetGalley and Tor Nightfire for providing me with an advance copy of this book to review. Its expected publication date is September 22, 2026.
Thank you Tor Nightfire for this gifted ARC from an Instagram giveaway.
Our Cut of Salt is not your traditional horror novel. While there is a paranormal element involving a sentient haunted house, the true horrors are the Israeli occupation and the lasting pain and trauma they inflict.
This book follows three generations of Palestinian women, each harboring their own trauma and secrets. When Marina plans a trip to Palestine to visit her grandmother's childhood home in Haifa, despite her mother's warnings about the city, she discovers that the house is haunted. It's not haunted by ghosts, but by its own despair and longing for its family who was displaced during the Nakba.
This is an incredibly raw, emotional story that feels especially relevant today, given the ongoing displacement and genocide of Palestinians. The grief, the longing, the generational trauma, it's all so heartbreaking, and it had me in tears.
I loved the characters, they felt real and relatable. The writing was beautiful and at times, quite poetic. The unique chapters from the house's point of view were fascinating and somehow made my heart hurt for it. Some of the paranormal elements were a little confusing, and I still don't have a clear visual of what was happening at certain moments, but that didn't take away from my enjoyment of the book at all.
Our Cut of Salt is Deena Helm's debut, and after finishing it, I know I'll be picking up anything and everything she writes.
Here are a few quotes from the book that I wanted to share because they made me feel something:
“The settlers say that the haunted house in Haifa is evil. Rania knows that stealing homes and land, lives and histories, and then erasing them as if they’ve never existed—that is evil.”
“Rania is one of four thousand Palestinians left in Haifa now. There were sixty-five thousand before April 21, 1948. Now, one month later, there are four thousand. Everyone left by boat or car or foot or gun or mortar.”
“It makes people feel like they don’t need to help us because we’re so resilient…but this resilience is forced on us…What’s the alternative? To stop living? To stop growing plants, or drinking water? Of course not.”
I don’t know if I’m just slumpy or something else is up, but I feel awful rating this 3/5 stars. This book and this story is so important and necessary in this day and age, and for a Palestinian author to write and publish this is a huge deal when pretty much the entire world is trying to silence Palestinian voices. The premise of this book is focused on a haunted house in Haifa that belonged to the main character’s grandma. Throughout the book, we see how genocide and colonization and trauma are passed down through generations and how much it affected Haifa and how hard she was trying to not pass that same trauma down to her daughter Marina. At the same time, Haifa doesn’t understand why her mom treated her the way she did because Nuhad never talks about what happened to her. And Marina, in turn, also doesn’t understand who she is and where she comes from. So this journey all three women go on in this book really sheds light on what it was like during the Nakba and how the pain of genocide, displacement, and loss continue to affect generations to come.
The thing that bothered me was the writing style. I understand why the book was written the way it was. Especially when it comes to passages that are from the House’s perspective, there’s lots of long, run-on sentences and streams of consciousness that feel never-ending. Maybe it’s because I’ve been tired or something, but I found it hard to focus and follow along sometimes. It makes sense with what the author was trying to do though, it just didn’t work for me. I was craving more dialogue between the characters.
The book itself isn’t scary, but there is an underlying horror that stems from just the setting this book takes place in and the flashbacks to the Nakba and the ongoing genocide we’re seeing to this day in Palestine.
Despite my lower rating, I do think this book should be read by everyone. I probably would have enjoyed it more if I just sat down and read it in one sitting (which rarely happens these days unfortunately).
I'm not a huge fan of haunted house stories, but books like Manor of Dreams by Christina Li, and She is A Haunting by Trang Than Tran intrigue me since they talk about colonization and family trauma. This book seemed to fall into that category, so I was eager to read it.
And it was so much better than I thought it would be, and I learned so much more than I thought I would. The "haunted house" is more of a traumatized house, a house that mourns the loss of its long time family, and aches with loneliness as generations of settlers steal the house and fill its rooms. The Sayadi family flees the house the night of the Nakba, and are never allowed to return after the displacement of Palestinian people. Generations later, Marina, the granddaughter of the last resident of the house attempts to return to Palestine to visit her people. Along the way she finds her grandmother's childhood friend, and the house her grandmother lived in happily until the Nakba of 1948. The story shifts perspective a lot (and it's a little annoying that one of the main characters has the same name as the city where the story takes place) so the story takes some piecing together, but it's ultimately a great story of three generations of women trying to find themselves in the trauma the settlers left behind.
As a Native person I have always been deeply sympathetic with the people of Palestine, but this book made me reflect very hard on the similarities of the Native people of North America and the Palestinian people who have both faced settler colonists who are determined to rewrite the history they forced on the people who were already there. I thought a lot about the forced stealing of actual property, the actual houses and all the belongings Palestinians were forced to turn over to the settlers when they invaded their country. It's all so much like what Native people have gone through and continue to go through in this country.
My FAVVV things Palestine + horror in a book?? = 🤯🤩 the first time I came across a reel of the author, I knew I immediately had to grab it. It's a short book, less than 300 pages.
This book reads like a mystery thriller, it's a lived and shared experience of different Palestinians. The characters are diverse, from different religious backgrounds and beliefs, which I loved.
This book is a breath of fresh air for those who love vengeance. The real horror isn't even the house itself, but what's happened to it. Imagine grief, as a paranormal entity. 🥲 It's a beautiful metaphor isn't it? There's so much grief that it breathes life of its own. Life to the rebe1lion. A rebellion such, that a little girl uses salt to chase away her oppressors.
The story revolves around three generations of women, each stuck in their own cycles that they break free from, by the end of the story. It's so emotionally intense that I took breaks from the book in between. It made me tear up. Another reason why I love this book is because whenever we read something about Palestine, media always talks about victims in huge numbers, like they're just a bundle of twigs to throw away. Palestinians are not humanised enough. Media deliberately does this so we get desensitised to the news. And THIS story is a reminder that every single Palestinian has their own little hobbies, friendships, favourite foods and dreams. Like me and you.
This is one of those books that should be a required reading. Apart from the haunted house, nothing is fiction in this book. It's all real. 💔
Thankyou to Deena Helm, Tor Publishing Group, Tor Nightfire, and NetGalley for the ARC. ❤️
When Nuhad was a girl, she was forced out of her ancestral home by massacre. She named her daughter Haifa, to never forget the home she would never see again. But her home remembers her too, and it's grief and rage has twisted it into something dangerous, the kind of house that people cross the street to avoid and the unwary disappear from. After her grandmother's death, Marina visits Palestine to try to connect with the family history that has been kept from, but Haifa has enough secrets and tragedies to drown in.
This was a powerful book that wasn't at all what I expected it to be. Although marketed as a haunted house book, the murderous house is realistically one of the less disturbing things in this book. This book is not remotely subtle. Colonialism is frequently the true horror, but that is usually more subtext than laid out directly on the page. That being said, I don't know that this book needs to be subtle. Helm lays out the horrors of living under occupation unflinchingly, and while the unrelenting tragedy is sometimes hard to read, it is also emotionally effective. I would have liked to see the house used a little more effectively, and it wouldn't have hurt her to let at least a few metaphors go unexplained, but this is still definitely a very strong debut from an under-represented population.
There are books that entertain, and then there are books that leave a permanent mark on you. Our Cut of Salt is one of those reads.
At its heart, this is a story about home...what it means to belong to a place, what happens when that place is taken from you, and how the echoes of that loss can ripple through generations. The horror elements are beautifully woven into the story, but the true haunting comes from the pain, displacement, and inherited grief carried by three generations of Palestinian women and continued genocide.
Every page feels lyrical and atmospheric. Nuhad, Haifa, and Marina each have distinct voices, and watching their stories intertwine was devastatingly beautiful. Their love for their family, their history, and the home that continues to call to them felt incredibly real.
The haunted house itself becomes a living symbol of memory, loss, identity, and the scars left behind when people are forcibly separated from the places they love and the supernatural elements amplify the emotional weight.
This is a deeply compassionate, unforgettable novel that reminds us that history is never truly in the past. Some wounds refuse to stay buried, and some homes never stop calling us back. I cried multiple times reading this book, and I think everyone should read it for multiple reasons.
Thank you so much Tor Nightfire & Deena Helm for the #gifted copy. All opinions are my own 🖤
Marina was never close to her grandmother, Nuhad. After Nuhad's death, she decides to visit Haifa, the city she grew up in and that her mother was named after, in an attempt to connect with her and her Palestinian ancestry. The Israeli occupation has changed the city since Nuhad's girlhood, and the house that she grew up in has a reputation for forcing its occupants out, sometimes lethally. Why is the house in Haifa haunted?
Deena Helm's debut novel focuses on three generations of Palestinian women displaced from their ancestral home due to Israel's ongoing genocide. Needless to say, it is not an easy read, and Helm writes unflinchingly about the horrors that have and are currently happening in Palestine. The ghosts that haunt 'Our Cut of Salt's pages have nothing on the atrocities committed by the IDF. While Nuhad and her family are fictional, their plights aren't unrealistic.
Certain passages of the book are written in a stream-of-consciousness style, especially with regards to the haunting in the house in Haifa. It's experimental, but it works well for 'Our Cut of Salt', giving the house its own voice and character. It gives the chapters a feeling of unease, and while I can see it bothering some readers, I loved it.
'Our Cut of Salt' is an incredible debut, and I can't wait to read what's next from Deena Helm. Free Palestine.
Two generations after the Nakba, mixed Palestinian-American, Marina, returns home to Palestine to find the house irrevocably changed—and haunted.
When I heard a Palestinian gothic was coming out, I was immediately intrigued. What better a place to feature angry ghosts and a haunted house, then a place where people were forcibly removed from their homes.
Thematically, no complaints.
Stylistically, I would’ve liked a more hands-on editor. The perspective switching between characters, as well as the house, was jarring. Multiple times, I had to restart the chapter to figure out what perspective we were in. There was an entire passage — written for stylistic effect — in entirely lowercase. Many times, the house would suddenly become a perspective, but I would still think we were in the mind of one of the narrators.
The plot was building with the right amount of tension, until the midway point. I started to feel a little cheated. I was expecting more elements of hauntings, ghosts, and other such supernatural entities pertaining to the house. We don't even get to the house until the very end. As a matter of personal taste, I prefer subtle hauntings, rather than the house so obviously killing people.
When Nuhad dies, her granddaughter, Marina, feels distanced from her heritage and loved one's memories of Haifa. Her mother has the same name as the city, and she desires so badly the answer to the questions: who is she? What does the city hold for her? Despite her family's warnings, Marina travels to the city, and experiences haunting pains unlike any other. When the sickness of the house she is in seems to infiltrate her own mind, making her feel as haunted as the city she inhabits, her family is panicked and rushes to her side to help. This is a book about genocide, colonialism, and violence and horror that has the ability to permeate the bones of your family for years to come. It's not an enjoyable read, nor is it fast paced or subtle. The message will wallop you, open your eyes and enrage you while endearing you. There were several things about the way that was written that threw me off or took me out of the story. This is for those who love books like We Used To Live Here, Model Home, or Tananarive Due. Thank you to NetGalley and Tor Publishing Group for the eARC. All opinions are entirely my own.
Our Cut of Salt reads like a heartbreaking poem. Descriptions conjure vivid imagery, and the haunting feels tangible and all encompassing. Compared to the atrocities experienced by Palestinians, a house becoming haunted feels understandable. This was a difficult read knowing that despite being a novel, much of what is described continues to happen each day. There are many aspects of colonization, many painful details, I had not previously spent time to consider, and Our Cult of Salt lays it all on the table.
While I found some pieces of the story a bit confusing at first, once I got a little more used to the cadence and more poetic approach to some sections I was able to follow along better. It’s particularly moving to see the ways in which a family history, one that has been torn by colonization, has ripple effects throughout each generation. Marina, her mother Haifa, and grandmother Nuhad all have very separate ways of processing, of engaging with one another, and yet are all striving for ways to exist.
Our Cut of Salt by Deena Helm is not your average haunted house story. Following three generations of the women, this book tells the story of the start of the occupation in Palestine and what effects that has on the world today.
I really loved this book. I connected very deeply to the characters and found myself very emotionally invested. Some of this is due to the very lyrical writing style and some is due to knowing that things that are happening in this book are very much rooted in reality. What is more horrific than what Palestinians have witnessed over the last century?
This is one of those books that feels so incredibly relevant to the world today. I feel like I learned so much from this novel because it comes from a Palestinian author. I know this is a book that will stick with me for a long time.
I would honestly recommend this book to any reader. It is a horror book and there are some scary scenes but it is such an important book to read and I’m so happy that I can recommend this to other readers.
"Occupation begets suffocation and is in itself a theft of the air; it becomes impossible to breathe in this sudden grip that chokes life away."
OUR CUT OF SALT is a powerful story of betrayal, family, and the things that haunt us. I don't want to say too much about this book ahead of time, but it's a must-read for all horror fans. Set in present-day Haifa, it is a book that uses a haunting as a metaphor and in-universe extension for occupation under colonial rule in Palestine.
So much of this book is brilliant, but two specific scenes come to mind, one between Marina – a POV character along with her mother – and a Jewish-American girl she meets in the hospital. The other takes place at the airport in the U.S. early into Marina's journey. Both instances remind the reader that the biggest threat isn't any ghost, but the very real occupation.
I...I am speechless. This book is such an incredibly important read for everyone, but especially people who have zero idea what the Nakba was, nor how that impacted Palestinians. I had a little knowledge, but not enough, and this book was very informative and heartbreaking.
I adored all of the characters, but especially the extra special POV we get (avoiding spoilers). I love the very real look we get at what it means to be Palestinian, what it means to lose your ancestral home to settler/colonizers. Deena Helm is a master with her story, with her craft, and this is an incredibly strong debut. I read a lot of horror, especially from non-white authors, and this is one of my favorites that I've read in my journey thus far.
Absolutely add this to your September line up. It is a must-read.