"This is not a political book," Anthony Lewis asserts in his foreword to this revealing memoir of a father-son relationship set against the backdrop of more than thirty years of life under military occupation. "Yet in a hundred different ways it is political. . . . Shehadeh shatters the stereotype many Americans have of Palestinians."Three years after his family was driven from the city of Jaffa in 1948, Raja Shehadeh was born in Ramallah. His early childhood was marked by his family's sense of loss and impermanence, vividly evoked by the glittering lights "on the other side of the hill." He witnessed the numerous arrests of his father, Aziz, who, in 1967, was the first Palestinian to advocate a peaceful, two-state solution for the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. He predicted that if peace were not achieved, what remained of the Palestinian homeland would be taken away bit by bit. Ostracized by his fellow Arabs and disillusioned by the failure of either side to recognize his prophetic vision, Aziz retreated from politics. He was murdered in 1985.
The first memoir of its kind by a Palestinian living in the occupied territories, Strangers in the House offers a moving description of daily life for those who have chosen to remain on their land. It is also the family drama of a difficult relationship between an idealistic son and his politically active father, complicated by the arbitrary humiliation of the "occupier's law."
Raja Shehadeh (Arabic: رجا شحادة) is a Palestinian lawyer, human rights activist and writer. He is the author of Strangers in the House (2002), described by The Economist as “distinctive and truly impressive”, When the Bulbul Stopped Singing (2003), Palestinian Walks (2007), for which he won the 2008 Orwell Prize, and A Rift in Time (2010). Shehadeh trained as a barrister in London and is a founder of the human rights organization Al-Haq. He blogs regularly for the International Herald Tribune/The New York Times and lives in Ramallah, on the West Bank.
A fascinating memoir of an idealistic Palestinian lawyer and human rights activist Raja Shehadeh.
His family lived in Jaffa, and to escape the fighting and attacks in 1948, the family moved to their summerhouse in Ramallah. They could never return.
His father, Aziz, was also a prominent lawyer, and the first Palestinian to advocate a peaceful, two-state solution.
The main focus of this book is on the personal relationship between Raja and his father Aziz, which wasn't a very good one. Raja's never-ending struggle to live up to his father's expectations was a bit boring but the book became more interesting once the author finally got his act together.
Раџа Шехаде је палестински правник и активиста за људска права и потиче из угледне и прилично имућне палестинске породице. Отац Азиз, такође правник, један је од првих Палестинаца који се залагао за решење сукоба са Израелом по принципу "две државе", још док је то било веома непопуларно међу палестинским естаблишментом, због чега је и називан издајником, због чега му је прећено, а напослетку је, због својих уверења и убијен.
У овом делу, Шехаде се осврће на своје детињство проведено у Рамали (где је породица протерана из Јафе, након израелске окупације и "Накбе" из 1948. године), на своје младићке године, период студирања у Бејруту и Лондону и потом, на своју правничку каријеру, оснивање организације за борбу за људска права и свој начин борбе за "палестинску ствар". Иако је, у односу на своје сународнике, у далеко лагоднијој позицији, Раџа Шехаде нема арогантни став незаинтересованости за "опште добро", напротив. Раџа, преосетљив дечак, израста у дубоко интроспективног младића, који посматра сву неправду која се око њега дешава и то оставља велики печат на његовој личности и формира одлуке о сопственом путу и начину деловања против те неправде. Важно је, такође, напоменути да Раџа Шехаде, као ни његов отац, немају романтичарски став о народу из кога потичу - обојица су и критична према манама и инертности сународника, желећи да их освесте и продрмају из летаргије.
Велики део књиге представља сагледавање односа са оцем, што се у ширем контексту може посматрати и као однос међу генерацијама Палестинаца стасалим у различитим временима и под различитим околностима. Иако често у тињајућем сукобу, син и отац су на много начина сличнији него што обојица мисле. Овај, лични део у коме описује константни труд да испуни очева очекивања ми је био репетитиван, па ми је то мало снизило укупан утисак.
Ово је, дакле, комбинација приватног и ширег друштвеног сећања. Кога занима палестинско-израелски сукоб, сигурно ће му бити занимљиво.
My interest in Shahadeh stems from his involvement in the Palestinian movement called "The Third Way", which is the political party of serving Palestinian Prime Minister Salaam Fayyed and is associated neither with Fatah or Hamas; .and through the recommendation of another reviewer, Matthew Smith. I finished the book in April and its one of 4 Palestinian biographies that I've recently read.
Raja Shehadeh is a West Bank lawyer, as was his father Aziz. The family lived in both Ramallah and Jaffa; his parents were cousins. In 1948 they estimated that the worst case was Partition. "I realized that in my father's calculations the worse that could happen was the implementation of the UN plan for the partition of Palestine into a Jewish and Arab state; if this happened Jaffa was slated to be on the Arab side." If this was the worst case, a peaceful implementation of the UN plan, what was his best case - annihilation of the Jews?
Raja relates an Interesting personal life. Goes to London, has a girlfriend, flirts with homosexuality (not explicit but implied), tries a couple of weeks in an ashram in India, returns home and winds up practicing law with a social justice bent, eschews violence however the narrative gets a little dodgy around the time of the second intifadeh.
However its a good book and an honest approach, but I feel that the other reviewers would like to see Shehadeh as a saint beleaguered solely by the Israelis - and this is not what he is portraying. He treats Israelis and Palestinians as human beings, some good, some not so good - he humanizes rather than demonizes and in that there is hope. His descriptions of defending a client (all lawyers present their clients as innocent, some may even be innocent) and the various personages he meets could be said of any Western court system as well. Courts and prisons are not friendly places in any society.
What is frustrating is that he bridges on the edge of insight but doesn't seem to get it. In Ch 19 - he relates that his offices were visited by inspectors from the Customs office. They did not have a search warrant. The investigators broke into a drawer and a few days later he recieves a bill for 5 million shekels. for 6 years of unpaid Value added tax. (Note: Shehadah claims they did not have a warrant, however 6 years without filing a return would give ample reason for issuing one.) Shehada agrees that the tax wasn't paid and notes that he was active in urging people not to pay it. I'll get back to this point in a moment.
Chapter 20 deals with the subsequent investigation of the knifing and death of his father by Palestinian clan members on the opposite side of a case he (the father) had taken on. "An ambulance was sent for... " and I'm waiting for the penny to drop, but it just doesn't happen. He father bleeds to death and nobody comes out to help him and no ambulance arrives. Further, when he decides to pursue the investigation though the Israeli police and courts instead of the "traditional" method of using family members to beat confessions out of suspects (Raja notes that this was an option he considered) he feels stymied by the Israeli legal system. Some of its members try to be helpful but the investigation goes nowhere.
Let me state the obvious here. Aziz Shehadeh is killed by Palestinian thugs who are playing both sides of the fence. They are enforcers for their extended families but are also apparently informants with the Israelis which may have given them some form of immunity.. That stinks but we don't know this for sure or what the trade off was. However back to the ambulance. I really feel sorry for the guy and his son but its not the fault of the Israelis that the ambulance didn't come. Ambulances are a municipal responsibility paid for through taxes. No taxes, no service. It really doesn't matter whether to me whether he paid those taxes to an Israeli authority or a Palestinian Benevolent Society, if you are in a position to pay for municipal services and fail to do so then you can't complain when they aren't there when you need them. .
Arafat absconded with at least a billion in aid that was meant to help the Palestinian people. Some of it went to buy Mercedes and villas for high ranking PLO officials, or guns or bombs or went to bribes or women. Perhaps his wife Suha knows where that money went, but it didn't go to the people, it didn't go for infrastructure and it didn't pay for Palestinian policemen, detectives, hospitals and ambulances.
An interesting book that I would recommend to others, but not one to be read uncritically
It’s easy to form an opinion about a people or a place when you know nothing about it. When you close the gap and are exposed to real human stories you’re confronted with a reality for at least one person. Being confronted with this story from Raja and the reality of life for a Palestinian from Ramallah over the last 60+ years is heartbreaking and illuminating. Stories like this are essential because it removes the ability to generalize about a whole people group. It takes you up close and personal with the author’s experience.
This book will stay with me for a while. In closing remarks Raja says: “Rather than counting on peace as the best guarantee for its security, Israel continues to count exclusively on its military might refusing to recognize its Palestinian foe as a national group entitled, like all national groups, to self determination.”
“long live the revolution, long live free palestine. revolution until victory.”
there’s some real and serious anger in this memoir, and rightfully so. shehaduh doesn’t shy away from making explicit what other palestinian writers can only allude to. decades of living under fear and violence have fundamentally changed the disposition of the palestinian diaspora, but shehaduh’s life and work carves out a space for candor.
Nie wiem co poszlo nie tak. Na początku byłam bardzo zainteresowana, ale szybko zaczęła mnie nużyć, a co gorsza nie wzbudziła spodziewanych emocji, a przecież jestem bardzo wrażliwa na palestyńskie historie. Ostatnie 50 stron trochę tych emocji nadrobiło, ale wciąż całościowo nie mogę jej dać więcej niż 3/5.
I've known members of Raja's family for some time so it's interesting to see this intimate look at a father-son dynamic that very much parallels the relationship I've had with my own father. Raja said he's still unpacking his father's enigma all these years later.
In his case his Dad and he shared similar views of where they wanted things to proceed but generational differences on how to get there. This part is fairly typical but it's the emphasis Raja put on his search for his father's approval that makes the story so powerful and authentic. This basic human drive for acceptance at the more primal level and how it motivates patterns of belief we assume to originate at higher levels of consciousness is an underlying idea here. That's one I've been looking at in my own relationship to my father.
Raja's nephew told me this week that this is his favorite book of his uncle. It was written in 2003 but human relationships don't change much and unfortunately neither has the situation for Palestinians - the atrocities described in the book and the cases they were addressing are sadly normalized in 2024.
Autobiografisch verhaal van Raja, geboren in Ramallah, waar z'n ouders in 1948 vanuit Jaffa heen vluchtten. Raja groeit op op de West-Bank waar steeds meer Israëlische kolonisten komen wonen. Hij wordt, net als zijn vader, advocaat en zet zich in voor de Palestijnen. Las niet eerder een boek vanuit het perspectief van een Palestijnse burger. Indrukwekkend boek.
'The detainee can say what none of us can. He has more dignity in his prison uniform than I do in a suit. The prisoner has made a decision to fight for his beliefs. He is not afraid of declaring them and taking the consequences. His life has become simpler and more honest. The rest of us hold our beliefs back. We are experts at exercising restraint. And most of us feel guilty. We are guilty.' • Raja Shehadeh's focus on human rights and the (il)legal aspects of the Israeli occupation is what makes his work both important and, I think, accessible for readers who don't know that much about the conflict. He narrates the violations of human rights and the legal loopholes used to expropriate Palestinian land and compromise lives so clearly and with such precision that it's hard for me to imagine how anyone could refute the conclusions he draws about the dire and unfair situation Palestinians continue to find themselves in. He is also exacting about his own society and its failures, detailing the infighting among Palestinian political factions, his father's murder by one of them, and his own sorrow over how his relationship with his father was completely overshadowed by Israeli rule and their different approaches to dealing with it, which placed father and son at permanent loggerheads. While the narration of his father's death is of course very moving, what I mainly took away from the memoir was Shehadeh's exploration of what it means to be political and the feelings of guilt he can't shake for not risking his life in the ways in which the political prisoners he represents do. I think this is a rather profound quandary which extends to so many contexts: when do we speak out? When do we take action? Do we do enough? Do we take risks? I ask myself these sorts of questions all the time these days, knowing deep down that I should do a lot more (in relation to so many issues) given the miserable status quo we are living with. So, here's to being less apathetic!
I really enjoy Raja Shehadeh's work and found this work so compelling that I stayed up late to finish it! It is a memoir of the author's early life - he was born into a wealthy family who were driven from their home in Jaffa in 1948 at the start of the Israeli occupation.Shehadeh grew up in the shadow of his father,a civil rights lawyer but he himself vowed to live a different life as a writer resulting him studying literature at Beirut uUniversity Inevitably he returns home and becomes involved in his father workand moves to London to train as a lawyer that he would split his time as both a lawyer and a writer and to stay away from politics. Unfortunately in 1985 his father was stabbed to death and despite his fraught relationship with his father he set about finding the person responsible for his father's death but met with resistance with both the Palestinian and Israeli authorities A dignified book written with clarity with a rush of anger beneath the surface.A poignant memoir written simply about the unhappiness and bitter experiences of both his family's and country's history
"We didn't allow the new generation to make a new life for themselvs because we continued to impress them with the glory of what was, a magic that could never be replicated."
Best (written) part: When his grandmother and aunt engage in a border dispute over an unwieldy passionflower plant that grew along their shared fence, and he writes, "their disputes over the two-meter area of land mirrored the other, real war with the Israelis. Through it the two women expressed the depth of emotions that could not be vented on their common enemy."
This is the book that made me understand that "the West Bank" was the West Bank of the Jordan that Israel took from Jordan in the Six Day War and that Jaffa was the Palestinian city the so many exiles came from (and is now subsumed into or surrounded by Tel Aviv.
When the U.N. created the State of Israel many Palestinians were displaced. Amazing book of what the Palestinians went through to adapt, and the hardships they have incurred.
"Obcy w domu" to tekst jeszcze bardziej przejmujący niż "Dziennik czasu okupacji" - bardziej osobisty, z jaśniej nakreśloną perspektywą czasową i rodzinną.
Uważam za świetny zbieg okoliczności, że tłumaczenie na polski słowa "Strangers" to "Obcy" - otwierające możliwość czytania go zarówno jako liczbę mnogą jak i pojedynczą.
Ta dwuznaczność bardzo wpisuje się w samą książkę - obcym w domu ojca czuje się Raja, książka jest zresztą zapisem jego wybijania się na niezależność, znajdowania własnej ścieżki w oderwaniu od społecznych i rodzinnych oczekiwań. Książka jest też długą rozmową z samym ojcem, stałym punktem bolesnego odniesienia w życiu autora.
Obcym w domu palestyńskim jest także jego ojciec Aziz - wielokrotnie naznaczany jako zdrajca palestyńskiej sprawy za swoje dążenia do two states solution jeszcze w latach 70, na długo przed uznaniem OWP przez Izrael.
Obcymi na swojej ziemi czują się wreszcie sami Palestyńczycy -z jednej strony w więzieniu pamieci o tym co było, żyjący przeszłością - z drugiej poddani wojskowo-administracyjnemu terrorowi okupanta.
To opowieść niezwykle ciekawa też pod kątem różnych wyborów strategii oporu.
Raja wybiera drogę cierpliwej dokumentacji izraelskich zbrodni - nielegalnych wywłaszczeń, aresztowań administracyjnych, tortur stosowanych przy "przesłuchaniach", wreszcie specjanej ochrony prawnej jaką cieszą się Palestyńczycy współpracujący ze służbami specjalnymi Izraela.
Raja jako pierwszy dokumentuje też nieoficjalny przecież system apartheidu, podwójnego prawa na ziemiach okupowanych - odmiennego dla osadników i Palestyńczyków.
Cierpliwie walczy z Izraelskim systemem sprawiedliwości, współpracuje z ONZ, spisuje raporty, sporządza ekspertyzy, pisze, zakłada jedną z pierwszych w krajach arabskich i najważniejszą w Palestynie organizację broniącą praw człowieka - Al-Haq. Odżegnuje się od polityki, chce działać praktycznie, zmieniać prawo.
Jego ojciec ratunek widzi tylko w rozwiązaniu politycznym. Już w latach 70 przewiduje pogłębianie się problemu nielegalnych osiedli na terytorium okupowanym. Postuluje natychmiastowe wdrożenie two state solution widząc, że czas nie działa na korzyśc Palestyny. Działalnośc syna widzi jako zagrożenie dla prowadzonej wspólnie rodzinnej kancelarii, której los zalezy od przychylności Izraelskiej administracji.
Książka bardzo dobrze naświetla też schematy rasizmu systemowego w praktyce, mikro i makroagresje, piętrzące się trudności administracyjne, niewydolne procedury i niechętną warstwę urzędniczą, (pomijam przecież niezwykłą brutalnośc wojskową i osadniczą) sumujące się do niewyobrażalnego wprost codziennego ciężaru rzeczywistości.
Ta książka - podobnie jak i "Dziennik czasu okupacji" to zapis nie tylko zbrodni na ludziach, ale i na przestrzeni, brutalnie ujarzmianej przez buldożery izraelskich osadników. Dramatyczne zmiany krajobrazu i znajomych do niedawna wsi i miast przebija się też mocno w niezwykle mocnym "Drobnym szczególe". Fragment odwiedzin rodzinnej Jaffy przez Aziza dwadzieścia lat po Nakbie, szukającego w przestrzeni śladów dawnego życia to coś absolutnie porażającego.
Najbardziej gorzkim wątkiem (choć jest z czego wybierać) jest historia morderstwa Aziza i próby dochodzenia sprawiedliwości przez Raję i jego rodzinę. To jest tak kurwa smutne że nie mam słów. WYjaśnia też gniew i gorycz obecną w później napisanym "Dzienniku", markując zabójczy cios w wiarę Rajy w oddolną walkę o sprawiedlwość.
Jest tutaj jeszcze mnóstwo innych watków - multikulturalizm przedmandatowych ziem Palestyńskich i Bejrutu przed 73, zderzenie podejścia świeckiego z religijnym, próby i ciężar budowania mostów przyjaźni palestyńsko-izraeliskich i wiele wiele innych.
Chapter Fifteen [cf. pg 140-141] goes into great detail about how oppression works by making resistance boring and mundane, how if "heroism lies in determination" to stay put and lead a 'normal' existence in the face of horrific and impossible standards and arbitrary ever-changing laws, eventually it grinds down both the individual and a population more than bursts of what we consider active heroism. Perhaps the most demoralising is how that sort of resistance becomes impossible to 'sell' to an outside world, including your own former compatriots-at-heart and fellow countrypeople.
Then Chapter Sixteen details physical abuse, torture, solitary confinement, and more, in detail.
It's this kind of "just because X, does not mean also not Y" the book does so well, talking about complexities in intimate personal relationships living alongside evolving relationships with one's homeland, the geographic territory remapping and razing along with the specificity of shaving one's face or lugging a giant Buddha statue from one temporary-yet-years-long house to another.
Reading the foreward, the years spanning, and the afterward, over a period of time involving ongoing genocide and now yet another temporary-yet-perhaps-not-even-that-long-observed ceasefire in Gaza is frustrating, heartbreaking. The final paragraph of the afterword gives a summation of Raja's lifelong struggle to understand his country in light of himself, a complicated and fraught battle between love and loathing which took most of his life to find any modicum of closure:
"I am convinced that only when these weird contortions of history, religion and international law are challenged will Arabs and Jews come to accept each other, as my father and I were able to do. No strangers will then remain in our house."
„Ramallah i jego wzgórza nie były dla mnie wartością samą w sobie, lecz miejscem do obserwowania tego, co było dalej, Jafy, której nigdy nie znałem. Kiedy szliśmy wieczorem do domu, babcia zatrzymywała się ze mną na szczycie wzgórza, przed zejściem ulicą prowadzącą do naszego domu: „Popatrz - mawiała - Popatrz na te światła na horyzoncie”, i przystawała w nabożnym milczeniu. Stawałem obok niej, trzymając jej miękką, ciepłą rękę, i z zapartym tchem starałem się skupić cała uwagę na rozjarzonym horyzoncie, wyobrazić sobie, jak wygląda miejsce oświetlone przez te światła. Długo zostawałem zakładnikiem cudzych wspomnień, spostrzeżeń i poglądów, których nie umiałem porzucić. Żyłam czyjąś świadomością miejsca i nigdy nie myślałem, że mam prawo do własnej. Starsi wiedzieli lepiej. Sądziłem, że to naturalne, iż zdaję się w takich sprawach na nich.”
Po lekturze „Dziennika czasu okupacji” obiecałam sobie przeczytać wszystkie wydane przez Karakter książki autora, dlatego nie zwlekałam długo i chwyciłam po „Obcego w domu”. Obcy w domu zabiera nas do wcześniejszych lat życia autora, kiedy to próbuje odnaleźć swoją ścieżkę poza surowymi wymaganiami swojego ojca, który całe życie pragnął, by jego syn został prawnikiem, podobnie jak on, ożenił się i spłodził potomstwo. Marzył również, że Raja będzie w bezpieczny sposób stawiał opór i zaufa osądowi i poradom ojca. Syn okazuje się jednak być tytułowym „obcym w domu”, który w sposób naturalny dla dorastania, rozmyje wizję ojca, który na zawsze pozostanie dla syna niedoścignionym.
„Obcy w domu” w moich oczach jest pisany z jeszcze bardziej osobistą nutą niż „Dziennik czasu okupacji”. To intymny portret siebie i próby szukania sprawiedliwości w opresyjnym systemie, który ostatecznie zamordował jego ojca. To fresk trudnej relacji ojca i syna, od którego trudno odwrócić wzrok, ponieważ niesie w sobie również uniwersalne treści walki syna o akceptację ojca. Nie zabraknie tu oczywiście też obcości we własnym okupowanym państwie. Trzy lata przed narodzinami autora Izrael zmusił rodzinę do opuszczenia ich rodzinnego domu w Jafie. Z cytowanego fragmentu czuć niewypowiedzianą tęsknotę, która nigdy nie opuściła rodziny Rajy. Poczujemy ją i my, to piętno utraconego, które nigdy nie opuszcza żadnego Palestyńczyka, a mi dzięki takim lekturom możemy je bardziej zrozumieć.
If you have already decided on "the truth" of the Israel-Palestine conflict, then this book will probably not be for you. For me, it helped temper my pro-Israel stance, to bring me to a deeper understanding of what it must be like to live in the "Occupied Territories" (and to understand the limits and requirements for a just and peaceful solution to the conflict). One passage that struck me: the author is describing a gathering he is attending at the home of Palestinian expats in the U.S.: "I knew what was expected of me: an inflamed passionate denunciation of the Zionist enemy as the source of all our troubles... They had to realize that I was like them; my society had an integrity of its own that was not derived from the negation of the existence of the Zionist enemy. It was a living viable society, always changing and developing with a multiplicity of needs; a society that had to survive under difficult and trying conditions. If they really cared they could learn about these conditions and would try to put themselves in our shoes. Only then would they be able to understand our needs and contribute to our struggle." At the heart of this book is a rich portrayal of the history of those conditions, embedded in a loving, if difficult, father-and-son relationship.
Shehadeh is a Palestinian lawyer living and working in Ramallah under Israeli rule. He makes very clear the frustrations and complications of his job: essentially that the people he works for don't matter to the governing power. Raja complements his lawyerly work with being one of the founding members of El Haq a group fighting for human rights in the Occupied Territories. Much of this book concerns Raja's fight for the respect of Aziz, his father who is a famous lawyer, without really achieving it. This battle with his dad ends when he is in his mid 30s in 1985 when his dad is murdered. Raja does his best to prod the Israeli police to look into this case but two years of blind alleys and foot dragging get nowhere. It's clearly a sham investigation. As the book ends, the author's hope that either the Intifada or the Oslo Accord will change anything substantial for Palestinians is belied by facts he can clearly see on the ground. This is a sad memoir written not by a zealot but by one who has belief that peace is possible between disparate peoples.
Fun fact, this isn’t the book I wanted when I went to the library but the librarian put it on hold for me and now here we are. I am really glad this little miscommunication happened because I really enjoyed learning about Raja’s family and life journey. Books about Palestine make my heart hurt but my discomfort at this topic doesn’t even begin to validate the atrocities so many people face on a daily basis. Raja shares personal stories about his father’s activism and how he manages to find his own niche and pursue activism without being under his father’s shadow. A tough but tender read about human rights and the illegal takeover of Palestine (one that not only continues but has gotten worse in the last 20 years since the book was published). Would definitely recommend for anyone who is interested in a more personalized take on the Palestinian occupation and how this affects actual people at the end of the day.
One cannot write in a vacuum. The place where you were born defines you, whether you like it or not. Your family leaves an indelible imprint on your psyche, even if you define yourself in opposition to it. And, clearly, that’s the case for Raja Shehadeh, a Palestinian lawyer and human rights activist. In his book, “Strangers in the House,” written more than two decades ago, he walks us through his childhood and coming of age in the West Bank, where the figure of his father, Aziz Shehadeh—an advocate for a peaceful solution to the Palestinian cause—looms large. Raja forges his identity, both as a son and as a lawyer/writer/activist, in the shadow of his extremely hard-working, sometimes impetuous, and not always easy-to-deal-with father in a land marred by the presence of the eponymous ‘strangers’—Israelis who forcibly came to inhabit the same land. This personal memoir does not rest exclusively on a tumultuous relationship between a father and son. As a backdrop, it meticulously describes the reality of the Middle East in general and Palestine in particular. A must-read, especially now.
"All that remained was a shadow life, a life of dreams and anticipation and memory. We didn't allow the new generation to make a new life for themselves because we continued to impress them with the glory of what was, a magic that could never be replicated. We allowed others to inherit all that had been established because we failed to see any of it as ours. We defined our loss as total, forgetting that we still had something; we had ourselves and a life to live. Why had we allowed others to define for us our privation, our bereavement, and the meaning of our past? Why had we accepted our defeat as total and ourselves as maimed and reduced? With this abandonment we made the same mistakes that had led to defeat in the first place. Learning nothing from our experience, we were doomed like Sisyphus."
Raja Shedahdeh has created a beautiful and important memoir of his coming of age in Palestine. It is a personal memoir reflecting heavily on the primary conflict between his father and himself. However, its suffused with the tumultuous politics of the Middle East and and the Palestinian issue which forms much of the makeup of the novel. This therefore contributes to the multiple meanings of the title, which echoes the author's feelings about his family as well as the situation in Palestine in general.
I have read quite a lot of books on Palestine and this truly is one of my favourites - having a quite a different impact on me as shows the personal and both the physical sufferings Raja endures.
Overall, Raja creates a beautiful memoir demonstrating life in exile offering a personal, humane opinion on Palestinian life. For anyone with interest in the Palestinian issue this is a must read.
This is an clearly-written and powerful memoir by a Ramallah lawyer and son of a lawyer who becomes aware of the lawlessness that Israel has used to encroach on the West Bank and founds a human rights organization. The book is most moving when Shehadeh veers from the political and delves into his relationship with his father, an extremely courageous man whom Shehadeh feels he could never replace. "He was the fire, the energy, the anger, the conflict, the explosion, the troublemaker, the instigator, the energizer. It would all be meaningless without him."
I learned more about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict than I knew before, but there were so many instances in the book where the author could have provided more specific details. A book club selection.