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Notes on a Foreign Country: An American Abroad in a Post-American World
In the wake of the September 11 attacks and the U.S.-led invasion of Iraq, Suzy Hansen, who grew up in an insular conservative town in New Jersey, was enjoying early success as a journalist for a high-profile New York newspaper. Increasingly, though, the disconnect between the chaos of world events and the response at home took on pressing urgency for her. Seeking to understand the Muslim world that had been reduced to scaremongering headlines, she moved to Istanbul.
Hansen arrived in Istanbul with romantic ideas about a mythical city perched between East and West, and with a naive sense of the Islamic world beyond. Over the course of her many years of living in Turkey and traveling in Greece, Egypt, Afghanistan, and Iran, she learned a great deal about these countries and their cultures and histories and politics. But the greatest, most unsettling surprise would be what she learned about her own country -- and herself, an American abroad in the era of American decline. It would take leaving her home to discover what she came to think of as the two Americas: the country and its people, and the experience of American power around the world. She came to understand that anti-Americanism is not a violent pathology. It is, Hansen writes, "a broken heart ... A one-hundred-year-old relationship."
Blending memoir, journalism, and history, and deeply attuned to the voices of those she met on her travels, Notes on a Foreign Country is a moving reflection on America's place in the world. It is a powerful journey of self-discovery and revelation -- a profound reckoning with what it means to be American in a moment of grave national and global turmoil.
Hansen arrived in Istanbul with romantic ideas about a mythical city perched between East and West, and with a naive sense of the Islamic world beyond. Over the course of her many years of living in Turkey and traveling in Greece, Egypt, Afghanistan, and Iran, she learned a great deal about these countries and their cultures and histories and politics. But the greatest, most unsettling surprise would be what she learned about her own country -- and herself, an American abroad in the era of American decline. It would take leaving her home to discover what she came to think of as the two Americas: the country and its people, and the experience of American power around the world. She came to understand that anti-Americanism is not a violent pathology. It is, Hansen writes, "a broken heart ... A one-hundred-year-old relationship."
Blending memoir, journalism, and history, and deeply attuned to the voices of those she met on her travels, Notes on a Foreign Country is a moving reflection on America's place in the world. It is a powerful journey of self-discovery and revelation -- a profound reckoning with what it means to be American in a moment of grave national and global turmoil.
288 pages, Paperback
First published August 15, 2017
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August 22, 2017
No doubt my rating is skewed by reading this in Istanbul, where I can see proof of Hansen's assertions about the effects of American imperialism all around me. She uses James Baldwin's astute, pellucid writing to establish a paradigm about American "innocence," the willed blindness that allows US citizens not to know who Mossadegh was, even as our tax dollars unseated that democratically elected leader of Iran and ushered in decades of terror, fundamentalism, and economic devastation throughout the Middle East. Hansen extends Baldwin's analysis of structural racism in the US to explain why Americans equate progress and modernity with consumerism, without seeing its human, cultural, and environmental costs.
Hansen dissects capitalism and Cold War rivalries in not only Turkey, but also Greece and Iran, as well as enumerating the dictators we've propped up in Central and South America, refuting even the benevolence of the Marshall Plan. While none of this is new information to weary students of imperialism, the catalogue of destruction, from mining disasters through coups to torture makes daunting reading.
Thankfully Baldwin, whose insights are so instructive about how Americans frame cultures we fear as "others" in need of control and debasement, also offers a chilly hope. He lived in Istanbul on and off for ten years, finding in the warmth of the Turkish people an acceptance that eluded him even in Paris and New York. He counsels us all to acknowledge our pasts, bear witness to suffering, and ultimately love as much and as many as we can. "I have to be hopeful," he said to an interviewer, "because I'm alive." A veteran of ten years of reporting in the region including Afghanistan, Hansen herself experiences the pragmatic generosity of Istanbullus when she lives through first the crackdown at Gezi Park and then the coup attempt of 2016. Rather than railing at her for being an American, the grocers from whom she buys water and cigarettes to see her through the uncertainty of the coup give her advice and tell her to take care of herself. They know that while countries as a whole can be monsters, individual people can be neighbors, and we all have to live together. Reading this book will open some people's eyes, confirm the heart-breaking skepticism of others, and attest to the value of admitting what we don't know.
Hansen dissects capitalism and Cold War rivalries in not only Turkey, but also Greece and Iran, as well as enumerating the dictators we've propped up in Central and South America, refuting even the benevolence of the Marshall Plan. While none of this is new information to weary students of imperialism, the catalogue of destruction, from mining disasters through coups to torture makes daunting reading.
Thankfully Baldwin, whose insights are so instructive about how Americans frame cultures we fear as "others" in need of control and debasement, also offers a chilly hope. He lived in Istanbul on and off for ten years, finding in the warmth of the Turkish people an acceptance that eluded him even in Paris and New York. He counsels us all to acknowledge our pasts, bear witness to suffering, and ultimately love as much and as many as we can. "I have to be hopeful," he said to an interviewer, "because I'm alive." A veteran of ten years of reporting in the region including Afghanistan, Hansen herself experiences the pragmatic generosity of Istanbullus when she lives through first the crackdown at Gezi Park and then the coup attempt of 2016. Rather than railing at her for being an American, the grocers from whom she buys water and cigarettes to see her through the uncertainty of the coup give her advice and tell her to take care of herself. They know that while countries as a whole can be monsters, individual people can be neighbors, and we all have to live together. Reading this book will open some people's eyes, confirm the heart-breaking skepticism of others, and attest to the value of admitting what we don't know.
December 1, 2017
Tore through this in a day when I ought to have been working on my own writing. Hansen beautifully blends a travelogue/capsule history of Turkey (and its relationship to the USA) and some other countries with her own loss of innocence/ignorance about America's heavy cultural and political boot-print in the world.
Hansen was a successful NYC-based journalist who won a fellowship to live and research abroad. She picked Turkey for an idiosyncratic but ultimately very resonant reason: because she had once stumbled across the fact that James Baldwin had lived there and had claimed to be more comfortable as a black, gay man in Istanbul than he'd ever been at home in the US.
As Americans in the Trump era have now entered a heightened, event violent stage of national self-definition--I'm writing this one week after the alt-right rally in Charlottesville--this is the kind of book we desperately need. We should all hope to hear from more Suzy Hansens: Americans brave enough to deconstruct the patriotic/nationalistic myths we've grown up with and see ourselves the way the rest of the world sees us.
Hansen was a successful NYC-based journalist who won a fellowship to live and research abroad. She picked Turkey for an idiosyncratic but ultimately very resonant reason: because she had once stumbled across the fact that James Baldwin had lived there and had claimed to be more comfortable as a black, gay man in Istanbul than he'd ever been at home in the US.
As Americans in the Trump era have now entered a heightened, event violent stage of national self-definition--I'm writing this one week after the alt-right rally in Charlottesville--this is the kind of book we desperately need. We should all hope to hear from more Suzy Hansens: Americans brave enough to deconstruct the patriotic/nationalistic myths we've grown up with and see ourselves the way the rest of the world sees us.
August 22, 2017
While I would definitely recommend this book, I'm very conflicted about it. There is a lot that I loved, mostly focused on the parts that are a travelouge of the author's time in Turkey. The part about her being seen as a potential "spy" or "CIA" also amused me as a longterm expat who sometimes hears that from local friends or those I come across.
What I didn't like about the book was when she goes forth and moralizes or faces her own white girl/USA privilege. Her complaints about American lack of knowledge of the wider world isn't something in any way unique to Americans. I know that my background and school quality isn't par for the course in the US, but many of these things she talks about are things that were covered in high school, or at least touched on.
That leads me to where the conflict comes in. She does make some excellent points that a lot of Americans need to hear, but in the current stratified world we live in, this book is just going to be preaching to the choir, instead of being read by those Americans who most need to read it.
What I didn't like about the book was when she goes forth and moralizes or faces her own white girl/USA privilege. Her complaints about American lack of knowledge of the wider world isn't something in any way unique to Americans. I know that my background and school quality isn't par for the course in the US, but many of these things she talks about are things that were covered in high school, or at least touched on.
That leads me to where the conflict comes in. She does make some excellent points that a lot of Americans need to hear, but in the current stratified world we live in, this book is just going to be preaching to the choir, instead of being read by those Americans who most need to read it.
September 13, 2017
This book should be assigned to every incoming college freshman in the United States. Every American should put down "Hillbilly Elegy" and read this book instead.
November 26, 2018
Suzy Hansen moved to Istanbul and found she had a lot of work to do to confront what it means to be a white American in the world. I found it thought provoking although I did get a little bogged down in the Iran-Egypt-Afghanistan parts at the end, just too much information to absorb.
"I judged the Turks; every time I read of another massacre, another disgrace, I somehow brought it to bear on the collective character of the people I was meeting, as if that history had formed then. But then what of mine, and what of me?"
"If people produced by an unjust society wanted to understand the world, they had to accept that they might not be ethical people, that there was something about how their minds worked that was fundamentally unethical. The levers and pulleys worked in an unethical way. The machine had been built by an unethical system, and eroded over time in an unethical environment, and only if people learned to anticipate the grinding of the gears would they be able to confront a world they had spent most of their lives disregarding."
"'It is different in the United States,' I once said.... 'We are told it is the greatest country on earth. The thing is, we will never reconsider that narrative the way you are doing just now. Because to us, that isn't propaganda, that is truth. And to us, that isn't nationalism, it's patriotism. And the thing is, we will never question it because at the same time, all we are being told is how freethinking we are, that we are free. So we don't know there is anything wrong in believing our country is the greatest on earth. The whole thing sort of convinces you that a collective consciousness in the world came to that very conclusion.'
'Wow,' a friend replied, 'How strange. That is a very quiet kind of fascism, isn't it?'"
(I have to admit - this connection between freedom rhetoric and fascism, which permeates the book, is disturbing and fascinating.)
"The similarities between Turkey and America were ones I never expected. The United States had been a tabula rasa, and so had the modern Turkish Republic. Denial and forgetting were crucial to the patriotism that held the idea of the Turkish nation together, and to its nationalism. They had been crucial to America's nationalism, too.... In 2006, before I left America, I had written about the Turks and the Armenian genocide: How does a people go about forgetting the past? Now I asked myself, How did I, and worse: What else did I not know?"
"I judged the Turks; every time I read of another massacre, another disgrace, I somehow brought it to bear on the collective character of the people I was meeting, as if that history had formed then. But then what of mine, and what of me?"
"If people produced by an unjust society wanted to understand the world, they had to accept that they might not be ethical people, that there was something about how their minds worked that was fundamentally unethical. The levers and pulleys worked in an unethical way. The machine had been built by an unethical system, and eroded over time in an unethical environment, and only if people learned to anticipate the grinding of the gears would they be able to confront a world they had spent most of their lives disregarding."
"'It is different in the United States,' I once said.... 'We are told it is the greatest country on earth. The thing is, we will never reconsider that narrative the way you are doing just now. Because to us, that isn't propaganda, that is truth. And to us, that isn't nationalism, it's patriotism. And the thing is, we will never question it because at the same time, all we are being told is how freethinking we are, that we are free. So we don't know there is anything wrong in believing our country is the greatest on earth. The whole thing sort of convinces you that a collective consciousness in the world came to that very conclusion.'
'Wow,' a friend replied, 'How strange. That is a very quiet kind of fascism, isn't it?'"
(I have to admit - this connection between freedom rhetoric and fascism, which permeates the book, is disturbing and fascinating.)
"The similarities between Turkey and America were ones I never expected. The United States had been a tabula rasa, and so had the modern Turkish Republic. Denial and forgetting were crucial to the patriotism that held the idea of the Turkish nation together, and to its nationalism. They had been crucial to America's nationalism, too.... In 2006, before I left America, I had written about the Turks and the Armenian genocide: How does a people go about forgetting the past? Now I asked myself, How did I, and worse: What else did I not know?"
November 4, 2017
I read part of this book on a U.S. military base, half an hour before the opening of a USO center. Her words were still in my mind as the keynote speaker brought up the North Korean threat, the Marshall plan, the importance of American military might in sustaining peace in the Pacific and the support the USO provides by ensuring that American service members never have to leave the U.S., no matter where they may be stationed, they are "home away from home."
This goes straight to the heart of the book. One of the things Suzy Hansen emphasizes is that no matter where Americans go, they can never leave America. She means this metaphorically, as in Americans cannot shed their American mindsets, and literally, as in America is an empire that has its footprints all over the world.
But most Americans, because of their mindsets, do not realize they are part of an empire. Hansen moved to Turkey at age 29 and spent a decade re-learning how to see the world. This is the heart-rending experience that gives this book its emotional power, its depth and soul: What if the rest of the world knows America better than Americans know it?
America sees itself as a peacekeeper as a force for modernization and progress. It stomps out terrorism and provides a pathway to democracy and civilization. It is generally good-intentioned. Along the way, it may have been implicit in violent regime change, torture and repression, but this was all toward some "greater good." And as long as America continues to see itself this way, it will continue to wreak havoc.
The rest of the world has a more nuanced view of America. It sees more clearly the hypocrisy between what America says and what America does. This isn't a book of black and white. Hansen is dealing in gray areas. So she's not saying "America is evil, America is only a liar that is out to ruin the world and the rest of the world is good and perfect and victims of America." What she says is America is deluded. Like someone with a mental illness, America cannot really see and understand itself and its problems. And if America cannot see this, then America cannot fix it.
She feels love, an ache in her heart for America. She realizes that as far as she has come, she too is American. The most we can do is try to take this love of America, a love that is humbled by the realization of what America truly is, and offer it to the rest of the world.
There are so many moments in this book where Hansen turns things on their heads to make her point. One of them is when she describes doctors from Iran visiting the Mississippi Delta to help an African-American doctor try to to implement a medical program similar to a very successful one in Iran. The very idea that Iran would have a medical program that might be superior to anything the U.S. has come up with...the idea of America taking advice from Iran instead of vice versa! And also, the Iranians reaction to seeing America's poor: This is America? THIS is American health care???
Another way to put it: Hansen spent over a decade overseas to finally see what Ta-Nehisi Coates was describing from his living room.
I can't do this book justice. If I could read only one book this year, this might be it. I hope you read it too and let yourself be wrecked by it.
This goes straight to the heart of the book. One of the things Suzy Hansen emphasizes is that no matter where Americans go, they can never leave America. She means this metaphorically, as in Americans cannot shed their American mindsets, and literally, as in America is an empire that has its footprints all over the world.
But most Americans, because of their mindsets, do not realize they are part of an empire. Hansen moved to Turkey at age 29 and spent a decade re-learning how to see the world. This is the heart-rending experience that gives this book its emotional power, its depth and soul: What if the rest of the world knows America better than Americans know it?
America sees itself as a peacekeeper as a force for modernization and progress. It stomps out terrorism and provides a pathway to democracy and civilization. It is generally good-intentioned. Along the way, it may have been implicit in violent regime change, torture and repression, but this was all toward some "greater good." And as long as America continues to see itself this way, it will continue to wreak havoc.
The rest of the world has a more nuanced view of America. It sees more clearly the hypocrisy between what America says and what America does. This isn't a book of black and white. Hansen is dealing in gray areas. So she's not saying "America is evil, America is only a liar that is out to ruin the world and the rest of the world is good and perfect and victims of America." What she says is America is deluded. Like someone with a mental illness, America cannot really see and understand itself and its problems. And if America cannot see this, then America cannot fix it.
She feels love, an ache in her heart for America. She realizes that as far as she has come, she too is American. The most we can do is try to take this love of America, a love that is humbled by the realization of what America truly is, and offer it to the rest of the world.
There are so many moments in this book where Hansen turns things on their heads to make her point. One of them is when she describes doctors from Iran visiting the Mississippi Delta to help an African-American doctor try to to implement a medical program similar to a very successful one in Iran. The very idea that Iran would have a medical program that might be superior to anything the U.S. has come up with...the idea of America taking advice from Iran instead of vice versa! And also, the Iranians reaction to seeing America's poor: This is America? THIS is American health care???
Another way to put it: Hansen spent over a decade overseas to finally see what Ta-Nehisi Coates was describing from his living room.
I can't do this book justice. If I could read only one book this year, this might be it. I hope you read it too and let yourself be wrecked by it.
November 15, 2017
The author is an empty receptacle receiving the ideas of the Turks with no intellectual scrutiny, no historical exegesis and inadequate consideration of the legacy of Communism. According to her, the US is a doe eyed imbecile bull in a China shop. I find it ironic that in this self-flagellating rant about how condescending and ignorant we are of what the US has done to other countries, she is guilty of depriving these victims of any agency in their own history. They are absolved of any responsibility in how their history unfolds, absolved of the repercussions of ancient inter-ethnic hatred and factionalism. Only the US is to blame. In Indonesia I was told the 2004 tsunami earthquake was a result of the US performing nuclear bomb experiments - how else could the US Navy hospital ship get there so quickly? While living in Tajikistan, the locals were convinced the earthquakes were because the US was bombing nearby Afghanistan. The US is always to blame. What most of these countries share in common is willful ignorance and reluctance to admit any wrongdoing, and the endless practice of scapegoating. US is flawed, but we do examine our faults. We do try to do better and we do prefer to go home. One could could argue the Fourth Estate is our biggest hope.
February 2, 2019
"This is hard for many people in the West to understand," I said. "I think they cannot understand Turkey," he said. "First of all, Turkey's a narcissistic society. One way we think we are the best, the other way we are very fragile. We can easily believe that we are humiliated. Yet we also have arrogance of an empire. If you try to teach something to Turks, they reject it. You must praise them first: Turks, yes you are the best." He paused, smoking. "For example, we learn that Atatürk said, 'One Turk is equal to the world.' We believe that." (66)
"American supremacy, or "greatness," or "exceptionalism," had not, contrary to what many said painfully after the election, been a by-product of America's melting pot, or of America's celebration of diversity, or of its values of freedom, human rights, and democracy; it had been built on the presupposition that America was, and should be, the most powerful country on the planet." (244)
"From abroad, when I used to hear President Obama say that America is the greatest country on earth, I never felt contempt, I felt like I did as a child, not wanting to admit to my parents I knew there was no Santa Claus." (245)
Notes on a Foreign Country: An American Abroad in a Post-American World is among the most conflicting of books. In it, author Suzy Hansen analyses one of the most important political, historical, and cultural Middle Eastern countries while at the same time developing a jarring account of American foreign policy in a post-WWII political landscape of capitalism versus communism. In many ways it succeeds in the mission is it set out to do and covers fair and important points, but in an equal amount of ways Hansen falters, limiting depth and encompassing perspective . While in no means a definitive account, it is an important read to be considered.
In her late 20's Hansen makes the move to Istanbul as a reporter, and it quickly becomes a journey where her own ideals and innocence she grew up with in a conservative-minded community are turned upside down. The realisation of the daily lives of the Turkish people she experienced are such fascinating things to be read about. She's labeled a spy, surprised by the concept of numerous sports cars in high-end Turkish communities, and undertakes the difficulties of learning the language. Turkey as a country with depth, character, and charm, but also with a past that carries a lot of restless weight to it. What is perhaps most significant is just how much Turkey resembles the United States in character, from its own history of human rights abuses like the Armenian genocide, an inhuman act comparable to the treatment of Native American tribes, to its various political ideologies that are all fighting for control. The Ottomans even had quite an elaborate slave trading system. Unfortunate events like these are what help tie the United States and Turkey together historically.
Hansen further delves into the restlessness and problematic nature of American foreign policy with the histories of Turkey, Greece, Iran, Egypt, and Afghanistan. All can be traced to either fears of communist takeover or terrorism, along with aggressive political placeholders put up by the American government. Part of the problem with each analysis is just how short it is, along with how cherry-picked the information feels. This isn't to say the conclusions of Hansen's observations aren't true or entirely accurate, but how everything is presented doesn't do justice to the difficult subject it is trying to present. There is a depth, complexity, and perspective to each case that should really be further elaborated on.
While the personal perspective lends touch to the eye-opening problems of the countries Hansen visits, uncovers, and reports on, the consistent self-multilation of her diagnosis of being an "ignorant white girl" feels more counterproductive as the book goes on. We get it, you grew up in a bubble of ignorance, but knowing who is probably reading this book, we as an audience would like to hear more from the people she is talking to, i.e. her friends in Istanbul, the Turkish miners, the Greek businessmen, or the Egyptian government officials. This is particularly true of her friends Caner (a young man of Kurdish identity), and Rana (an Americanised woman critical of Islam). Let their voices ring more loudly and frequently, as we don't get a chance to hear from them as often as we should. Her self-diagnosis feels more like preaching to the choir than anything, as the Americans she references as ignorant will most likely never read this book, let alone know of its existence. Lumping together whites (or more specifically white-Americans) as an ignorant class doesn't help the problem either, as such criticising only seems to increase votes and admiration for people like Donald Trump.
Ignorance is by no means a strictly American phenomenon. One could observed in countless examples from around the world. Hansen's book is super important to understand in the context of 21st century thinking and American policy shortcomings. However, it would've been nice for her to dive deep into the current conflicts of Turkish identity, the relationship of Islam in a modernising world, and the current trends of American foreign policy in many of the places she visits. The book is rather short because of those factors, but nonetheless is an important piece to the American foreign relations puzzle.
Rating 3.5/5
"American supremacy, or "greatness," or "exceptionalism," had not, contrary to what many said painfully after the election, been a by-product of America's melting pot, or of America's celebration of diversity, or of its values of freedom, human rights, and democracy; it had been built on the presupposition that America was, and should be, the most powerful country on the planet." (244)
"From abroad, when I used to hear President Obama say that America is the greatest country on earth, I never felt contempt, I felt like I did as a child, not wanting to admit to my parents I knew there was no Santa Claus." (245)
Notes on a Foreign Country: An American Abroad in a Post-American World is among the most conflicting of books. In it, author Suzy Hansen analyses one of the most important political, historical, and cultural Middle Eastern countries while at the same time developing a jarring account of American foreign policy in a post-WWII political landscape of capitalism versus communism. In many ways it succeeds in the mission is it set out to do and covers fair and important points, but in an equal amount of ways Hansen falters, limiting depth and encompassing perspective . While in no means a definitive account, it is an important read to be considered.
In her late 20's Hansen makes the move to Istanbul as a reporter, and it quickly becomes a journey where her own ideals and innocence she grew up with in a conservative-minded community are turned upside down. The realisation of the daily lives of the Turkish people she experienced are such fascinating things to be read about. She's labeled a spy, surprised by the concept of numerous sports cars in high-end Turkish communities, and undertakes the difficulties of learning the language. Turkey as a country with depth, character, and charm, but also with a past that carries a lot of restless weight to it. What is perhaps most significant is just how much Turkey resembles the United States in character, from its own history of human rights abuses like the Armenian genocide, an inhuman act comparable to the treatment of Native American tribes, to its various political ideologies that are all fighting for control. The Ottomans even had quite an elaborate slave trading system. Unfortunate events like these are what help tie the United States and Turkey together historically.
Hansen further delves into the restlessness and problematic nature of American foreign policy with the histories of Turkey, Greece, Iran, Egypt, and Afghanistan. All can be traced to either fears of communist takeover or terrorism, along with aggressive political placeholders put up by the American government. Part of the problem with each analysis is just how short it is, along with how cherry-picked the information feels. This isn't to say the conclusions of Hansen's observations aren't true or entirely accurate, but how everything is presented doesn't do justice to the difficult subject it is trying to present. There is a depth, complexity, and perspective to each case that should really be further elaborated on.
While the personal perspective lends touch to the eye-opening problems of the countries Hansen visits, uncovers, and reports on, the consistent self-multilation of her diagnosis of being an "ignorant white girl" feels more counterproductive as the book goes on. We get it, you grew up in a bubble of ignorance, but knowing who is probably reading this book, we as an audience would like to hear more from the people she is talking to, i.e. her friends in Istanbul, the Turkish miners, the Greek businessmen, or the Egyptian government officials. This is particularly true of her friends Caner (a young man of Kurdish identity), and Rana (an Americanised woman critical of Islam). Let their voices ring more loudly and frequently, as we don't get a chance to hear from them as often as we should. Her self-diagnosis feels more like preaching to the choir than anything, as the Americans she references as ignorant will most likely never read this book, let alone know of its existence. Lumping together whites (or more specifically white-Americans) as an ignorant class doesn't help the problem either, as such criticising only seems to increase votes and admiration for people like Donald Trump.
Ignorance is by no means a strictly American phenomenon. One could observed in countless examples from around the world. Hansen's book is super important to understand in the context of 21st century thinking and American policy shortcomings. However, it would've been nice for her to dive deep into the current conflicts of Turkish identity, the relationship of Islam in a modernising world, and the current trends of American foreign policy in many of the places she visits. The book is rather short because of those factors, but nonetheless is an important piece to the American foreign relations puzzle.
Rating 3.5/5
April 30, 2018
A decent book, and I definitely learned things from it. I know more about Turkey and about Kabul than before I read it, and I'm grateful to it for that. But it can be frustrating, too. A lot of Hansen's book is about how troubling it can be to travel to a country without knowing it's history. That's true! And I genuinely do appreciate her honesty in sharing that.
But it's also somewhat annoying to see Hansen project her own experiences onto the entirety of America. America, as a whole, does not have the best education system. That's undeniably true. But even in that context it can be frustrating to see an entire book framed around personal revelations that would be obvious if you happened to crack open a basic history book about the Middle East.
As I history teacher I am always happy to see someone discover that history, in fact, is important! But framing that as revelatory also had me rolling my eyes a little, even when I was mostly enjoying Suzy Hansen's story.
But it's also somewhat annoying to see Hansen project her own experiences onto the entirety of America. America, as a whole, does not have the best education system. That's undeniably true. But even in that context it can be frustrating to see an entire book framed around personal revelations that would be obvious if you happened to crack open a basic history book about the Middle East.
As I history teacher I am always happy to see someone discover that history, in fact, is important! But framing that as revelatory also had me rolling my eyes a little, even when I was mostly enjoying Suzy Hansen's story.
August 3, 2017
The author of “Notes on a Foreign Country” grows up in small town on the Jersey Shore, gets an Ivy League education, becomes a journalist in New York and then gets a two-year fellowship to live in Turkey, a country she knows absolutely nothing about. She stays for 10 years.
This is an interesting memoir for a lot of reasons.
It nicely recounts the process of learning a new language and immersing oneself in an unfamiliar culture. Anyone who’s gone through this – as an exchange student or an immigrant - will enjoy reading Hansen’s stories about her own experience.
It describes with crystal clarity the cultural desolation of small towns – in this case, the New Jersey suburbs/exurbs. If you grew up pretty much anywhere in New Jersey, this will resonate.
It’s a love letter to a country that is mostly invisible to Americans.
The best part, though, is the author’s story of her political awakening. As Hansen learns Turkish and experiences Turkey directly - without the filter of American media or American handlers - she comes to the realization that America is an empire and that Americans are largely oblivious to this. One of the things that I love about the book is that she succeeds so beautifully in explaining her political views without becoming polemical. In every sense, she’s the antithesis of Ann Coulter.
As a footnote, it was also interesting to me was that Hansen is strongly influenced by James Baldwin, who lived and wrote in Istanbul in the Sixties. I found her writing about Baldwin much more interesting than anything that emerged from “I Am Not Your Negro,” the recent documentary about him. Hansen’s book made me want to read Baldwin, while the movie only made me mildly curious.
As a second footnote, I found Hansen’s analysis of social dysfunction in the Mississippi Delta very insightful. She explains how many of the elements of US foreign policy are mirrored in domestic policy. She makes the case that places like the Delta and Indian reservations are managed like colonies.
This is an interesting memoir for a lot of reasons.
It nicely recounts the process of learning a new language and immersing oneself in an unfamiliar culture. Anyone who’s gone through this – as an exchange student or an immigrant - will enjoy reading Hansen’s stories about her own experience.
It describes with crystal clarity the cultural desolation of small towns – in this case, the New Jersey suburbs/exurbs. If you grew up pretty much anywhere in New Jersey, this will resonate.
It’s a love letter to a country that is mostly invisible to Americans.
The best part, though, is the author’s story of her political awakening. As Hansen learns Turkish and experiences Turkey directly - without the filter of American media or American handlers - she comes to the realization that America is an empire and that Americans are largely oblivious to this. One of the things that I love about the book is that she succeeds so beautifully in explaining her political views without becoming polemical. In every sense, she’s the antithesis of Ann Coulter.
As a footnote, it was also interesting to me was that Hansen is strongly influenced by James Baldwin, who lived and wrote in Istanbul in the Sixties. I found her writing about Baldwin much more interesting than anything that emerged from “I Am Not Your Negro,” the recent documentary about him. Hansen’s book made me want to read Baldwin, while the movie only made me mildly curious.
As a second footnote, I found Hansen’s analysis of social dysfunction in the Mississippi Delta very insightful. She explains how many of the elements of US foreign policy are mirrored in domestic policy. She makes the case that places like the Delta and Indian reservations are managed like colonies.
October 1, 2017
Required reading. Never before have I encountered a text that so fully lives up to the promise travel offers to learn about the self. Hansen goes to Turkey, Egypt, Greece, Iran -- and everywhere, she finds America. Not in some kind of narcissistic, navel-gazing way, but in her willingness to confront hard, ugly truths about US foreign policy, and to go beyond initial observation and dig deep into the history. This is a genuinely eye-opening account of American mythology, and its disastrous -- and ongoing! -- global effects. Absolutely fascinating.
October 4, 2017
Suzy Hansen won a writing fellowship in 2007 from Charles Crane, “a Russophile and scion of a plumbing-parts fortune,” and it allowed her to go abroad for 2 years. She went to Turkey, much to the dismay of her family and friends. This grant was rumored to have been reserved for spies but Suzy was in Turkey as a journalist. The book she wrote is called Notes on a Foreign Country: An American Abroad in a Post-American World. Hansen goes off to Turkey believing that America is the exceptional nation that it claims to be. She had been taught, as we all have, to feel a certain smugness about being American, brought up in a can-do nation where freedom reigns. But the people of Turkey had not been indoctrinated in the American version of American history. They experienced the Turkish version of American interaction and they were not as enamored of America as some of us, in all our innocence, tend to be.
America has had a sort of missionary zeal about spreading the wonders of our Democracy to nations it has deemed might be tending towards Communism. The period after WWII was all about a sort of contest between Russia and America to divide the world’s nations like so many spoils of war, much the way England and Spain, in all their pride, divided up the world (something the world did not necessarily know about or agree to). We tend to think of America as being different from those early imperialists, but what Hansen learned in Turkey, and then in Greece, and Afghanistan is that imperialism was still practiced by America, but in different forms.
America went on a tear after the Marshall Plan went into effect in the post-world war II years and aggressively wooed any nation that it thought might be susceptible to Communism. It offered “modernization” in the form of convincing nations to develop their resources and to welcome industry and business (Capitalism). It tempted citizens with luxury goods and pricey comforts. Before nations even realized what was happening they began to lose their individuality, their unique culture, even in some cases their language.
America tempted governments with weapons and military accessories like planes and ships and if they were reluctant America would even support political turmoil and install a new leader. All these meddlesome things were done in the arrogant belief that people wanted to live like everyone lived in America, If they even had to modify their Muslim faith to fit in these new tastes that it would turn out well for them (or for America anyway) in the end. According to Ms. Hansen, America, in its extreme hubris has wreaked havoc with cultures all over the world and we have a lot to answer for. She is not alone in this belief.
I was torn as I read this book. I have always respected the idea of democratic governance. I also knew that America had never, from its very beginnings, lived up to its creed. Our forefathers said that all men are created equal and they wrote it down for all to see, even though they kept slaves who were also human beings, and some of them even admitted that these slaves were human beings. The very fact that our Constitution was based on a lie may have doomed American democracy from its inception. That may be why we see ourselves in one rather glittery way and why others think that luster is quite tarnished.
I understand what Suzy’s European friends felt and I understand that they experienced America from a different perspective than we often do. I am rather ashamed of the America she describes in this nonfiction book based on her first-hand observations. Probably, although you may resist the message that Ms. Hansen brings us from our neighbors on this planet, you should still give this book your careful attention. She and her favorite author, James Baldwin, can help you readjust America’s halo.
I want America to face up to its flaws and do better. Although that seems quite impossible right now, I want America to eventually succeed in finding a balance between power and humility. If we cannot mend our ways in the world it is possible that the American culture, as many claim, will truly be in decline. I would hate to see the idealistic aims of our democracy disappear because we cannot contain our rapaciousness, which is often a sin that comes with power.
In the Epilogue Suzy Hansen talks about America after Trump:
“But I did believe that in at least one way Trump voters were little different from anyone else in the country. They, like all Americans, had been told a lie: that they were the best, that America was the best, that their very birthright was progress and prosperity and the envy and admiration of the world. I did not blame those voters for Trump’s election…I blamed the country for Trump’s election because it was a country built on the rhetoric and actions of American supremacy or ‘greatness,’ or ‘exceptionalism,’ … it had been built on the presupposition that America was and should be, the most powerful country on the planet.”
I have not given up on my country yet, despite all its flaws, although I have never been more tempted to become an American in exile, a lifestyle I cannot afford. It never hurts an individual to do some introspection and it never hurts a nation (made of individuals) to turn critical and honest eyes inward. Suzy Hansen’s book Notes on a Foreign Country was an emotional and an intellectual journey.
America has had a sort of missionary zeal about spreading the wonders of our Democracy to nations it has deemed might be tending towards Communism. The period after WWII was all about a sort of contest between Russia and America to divide the world’s nations like so many spoils of war, much the way England and Spain, in all their pride, divided up the world (something the world did not necessarily know about or agree to). We tend to think of America as being different from those early imperialists, but what Hansen learned in Turkey, and then in Greece, and Afghanistan is that imperialism was still practiced by America, but in different forms.
America went on a tear after the Marshall Plan went into effect in the post-world war II years and aggressively wooed any nation that it thought might be susceptible to Communism. It offered “modernization” in the form of convincing nations to develop their resources and to welcome industry and business (Capitalism). It tempted citizens with luxury goods and pricey comforts. Before nations even realized what was happening they began to lose their individuality, their unique culture, even in some cases their language.
America tempted governments with weapons and military accessories like planes and ships and if they were reluctant America would even support political turmoil and install a new leader. All these meddlesome things were done in the arrogant belief that people wanted to live like everyone lived in America, If they even had to modify their Muslim faith to fit in these new tastes that it would turn out well for them (or for America anyway) in the end. According to Ms. Hansen, America, in its extreme hubris has wreaked havoc with cultures all over the world and we have a lot to answer for. She is not alone in this belief.
I was torn as I read this book. I have always respected the idea of democratic governance. I also knew that America had never, from its very beginnings, lived up to its creed. Our forefathers said that all men are created equal and they wrote it down for all to see, even though they kept slaves who were also human beings, and some of them even admitted that these slaves were human beings. The very fact that our Constitution was based on a lie may have doomed American democracy from its inception. That may be why we see ourselves in one rather glittery way and why others think that luster is quite tarnished.
I understand what Suzy’s European friends felt and I understand that they experienced America from a different perspective than we often do. I am rather ashamed of the America she describes in this nonfiction book based on her first-hand observations. Probably, although you may resist the message that Ms. Hansen brings us from our neighbors on this planet, you should still give this book your careful attention. She and her favorite author, James Baldwin, can help you readjust America’s halo.
I want America to face up to its flaws and do better. Although that seems quite impossible right now, I want America to eventually succeed in finding a balance between power and humility. If we cannot mend our ways in the world it is possible that the American culture, as many claim, will truly be in decline. I would hate to see the idealistic aims of our democracy disappear because we cannot contain our rapaciousness, which is often a sin that comes with power.
In the Epilogue Suzy Hansen talks about America after Trump:
“But I did believe that in at least one way Trump voters were little different from anyone else in the country. They, like all Americans, had been told a lie: that they were the best, that America was the best, that their very birthright was progress and prosperity and the envy and admiration of the world. I did not blame those voters for Trump’s election…I blamed the country for Trump’s election because it was a country built on the rhetoric and actions of American supremacy or ‘greatness,’ or ‘exceptionalism,’ … it had been built on the presupposition that America was and should be, the most powerful country on the planet.”
I have not given up on my country yet, despite all its flaws, although I have never been more tempted to become an American in exile, a lifestyle I cannot afford. It never hurts an individual to do some introspection and it never hurts a nation (made of individuals) to turn critical and honest eyes inward. Suzy Hansen’s book Notes on a Foreign Country was an emotional and an intellectual journey.
August 30, 2018
It's staggering that a well-educated thirtysomething started out so ignorant about the world and America's sins, especially for someone who studied "civil rights in college." Unsurprisingly Notes on a Foreign Country turns into just another Westerner-discovering-oneself-via-a-foreign-country-experience book.
Her historical narrative removes any agency for people around the world. America acts upon victimized nations. Also, her retelling of American imperial history is ponderous, a little basic, and very wide-eyed, especially for anyone who has cracked open Howard Zinn at least once in their life.
Her historical narrative removes any agency for people around the world. America acts upon victimized nations. Also, her retelling of American imperial history is ponderous, a little basic, and very wide-eyed, especially for anyone who has cracked open Howard Zinn at least once in their life.
December 4, 2022
"Notes" could be partially summed up by saying "American journalist begins to see the U.S. as the rest of the world sees the U.S.; " Or "No, they don't hate us for our 'freedoms' they hate us because we've f*cked with their sovereignty and killed their people for decades." The author relocates to Istanbul on a fellowship planning to write about Turkey and instead finds that she cannot write about foreign nations without examining how U.S. foreign policy has changed these nations irrevocably and for the worst. She also reflects on how our U.S. propaganda systems, which very few of us recognize, helps to keep us uninformed and pacified as to U.S. atrocities overseas. Dismantles U.S. 'exceptionalism' quite well. Not a perfect book but if you're like me and the names of Erdogan, Atatürk, Allende, Arbenz, Papandreou, Dulles, Peurifoy, Mubarak, Nasser, Zia and Mossadegh, just to name a few, ring bells but you don't know how they connect or how they effect the lives of Americans and citizens of other nations today, then you would benefit from this book. American history as it should be taught in high schools and colleges.
July 7, 2018
If you read any of the negative reviews of this book, you’ll see the same sentiment over and over: they want to defend American exceptionalism and point out that America is, indeed, better than Nazis, Russian communists, Islamic leaders, and that we couldn’t possibly be THAT bad so that we need to feel GUILTY about anything.
In short, they further prove Hansen’s point: Americans have an impossibly hard time not seeing themselves as exceptional and heroic, and not viewing capitalism and imperialism as the positive Santa’s granting many gifts of “modernity” to the world. They need this so bad, that they turn their back on, or minimize, or excuse the human costs of this around the world.
Granted, this is a difficult book to read as an American, as I imagine it’s difficult for anyone to come to terms with undoing your nationalist identity that has told you that you were undeniably GOOD WILLED, even in your imperfections.
But to say that America is “better” than other historical powers with imperialist aims is too simple: it’s not about being better. It’s about understanding our impact on lives abroad and how it has brought us to our current moment in time, in which Americans are deeply confused by the anti-American sentiments in the Middle East, dismissing them as fanatic, and, in dismissing them, leaving millions of human lives in disregard, as not worthy of life at all.
This book has taught me more about middle eastern history and the Cold War than any single book has, and I’m constantly reading about these subjects. I also related deeply with the speaker. As someone who went to Palestine and thought myself to be liberal minded, I also found myself constantly having to undo and reconsider prejudices that I didn’t even know I harbored, that I’d never even seen as prejudicial in the first place. And that’s some painful self reflection to go through: to be honest, I don’t know if I believe a lot of people have the strength to do it, because to preserve the myth of your own goodness is much more comfortable than reflection and change. I hope I’m wrong on that, truly.
There were so many beautiful and well articulated passages in this book and it’s a treasure trove of useful history that gives context to our current realities—from Erdogan to Trump, this book illuminates how and why these governments happen. I just think this book is brilliant with a wide scope—I wish all Americans would read it. I know many Americans just wont like its scathing look at our own complicity, however. Still, we should know this history—it’s the least we can do.
In short, they further prove Hansen’s point: Americans have an impossibly hard time not seeing themselves as exceptional and heroic, and not viewing capitalism and imperialism as the positive Santa’s granting many gifts of “modernity” to the world. They need this so bad, that they turn their back on, or minimize, or excuse the human costs of this around the world.
Granted, this is a difficult book to read as an American, as I imagine it’s difficult for anyone to come to terms with undoing your nationalist identity that has told you that you were undeniably GOOD WILLED, even in your imperfections.
But to say that America is “better” than other historical powers with imperialist aims is too simple: it’s not about being better. It’s about understanding our impact on lives abroad and how it has brought us to our current moment in time, in which Americans are deeply confused by the anti-American sentiments in the Middle East, dismissing them as fanatic, and, in dismissing them, leaving millions of human lives in disregard, as not worthy of life at all.
This book has taught me more about middle eastern history and the Cold War than any single book has, and I’m constantly reading about these subjects. I also related deeply with the speaker. As someone who went to Palestine and thought myself to be liberal minded, I also found myself constantly having to undo and reconsider prejudices that I didn’t even know I harbored, that I’d never even seen as prejudicial in the first place. And that’s some painful self reflection to go through: to be honest, I don’t know if I believe a lot of people have the strength to do it, because to preserve the myth of your own goodness is much more comfortable than reflection and change. I hope I’m wrong on that, truly.
There were so many beautiful and well articulated passages in this book and it’s a treasure trove of useful history that gives context to our current realities—from Erdogan to Trump, this book illuminates how and why these governments happen. I just think this book is brilliant with a wide scope—I wish all Americans would read it. I know many Americans just wont like its scathing look at our own complicity, however. Still, we should know this history—it’s the least we can do.
September 17, 2018
I lived in the US for four years and was regularly struck by this unnamed filter through which so many of the people I met seemed to view the rest of the world. This book is essentially Suzy Hansen naming and describing and explaining that filter as she starts to peer around it during her decade of living in Istanbul. An interesting look at US identity hidden under what looks at first to be travel journalism.
November 15, 2018
While this is incredibly complex (as is America's involvement in every part of the planet), it is beautifully written and incredibly thoughtful.
November 11, 2024
Working on deprogramming all that American exceptionalism and propaganda? Add this to your reading list. It’s bit repetitive at times, but otherwise a very good and important read.
June 22, 2022
I’d feel hard pressed to give a synopsis of this book, for “Notes on a Foreign Country” is just that – a largely unstructured set of loose notes.
These revolve around the recurring theme that the US have, for much of its recent history, meddled in foreign countries’ policies – supporting a colorful array of dictators from Mubarak to Pinochet to Erdogan and undermining the very set of democratic values the US profess to epitomize. Needless to say, that is about as daringly original and deep as the script of any James Bond movie. Suzy Hansen somewhat charmingly addresses this by initially admitting her own utter ignorance about international politics, economics, and generally foreign cultures. Making a virtue out of necessity, she thus turns this book into a journey of discovery and self-enlightenment of sorts. However, following her transformation from a state of naive ignorance to one of semi-informed confusion feels tedious, if not to say pointless.
Which brings us to the book’s main fault, which might be benevolently described as a lack of focus.
“Notes on a Foreign Country” starts out as a kind of memoir, laying out her background as a prototypically naïve small-town girl, set on a path to becoming a successful journalist. As she moves to Istanbul on a long-term fellowship, the book turns into a travel blog, as it were. There are a few witty, well-written, and somewhat interesting vignettes on her life there, as it clashes with her expectations as a well-meaning liberal American. However, the book doesn’t go anywhere from here but starts meandering from brief historical notes to rambling moralizations and rather banal thoughts on America’s hypocrisy, to a plethora of quotes, mostly by James Baldwin – and back again.
Hansen has a keen sense of observation and clearly is an eloquent wordsmith. I could well imagine this book turned into an interesting magazine article about life in Istanbul and Turkey’s recent history – endowed with a clear focus, and strapped of the author’s superficial and tiresome political musings.
These revolve around the recurring theme that the US have, for much of its recent history, meddled in foreign countries’ policies – supporting a colorful array of dictators from Mubarak to Pinochet to Erdogan and undermining the very set of democratic values the US profess to epitomize. Needless to say, that is about as daringly original and deep as the script of any James Bond movie. Suzy Hansen somewhat charmingly addresses this by initially admitting her own utter ignorance about international politics, economics, and generally foreign cultures. Making a virtue out of necessity, she thus turns this book into a journey of discovery and self-enlightenment of sorts. However, following her transformation from a state of naive ignorance to one of semi-informed confusion feels tedious, if not to say pointless.
Which brings us to the book’s main fault, which might be benevolently described as a lack of focus.
“Notes on a Foreign Country” starts out as a kind of memoir, laying out her background as a prototypically naïve small-town girl, set on a path to becoming a successful journalist. As she moves to Istanbul on a long-term fellowship, the book turns into a travel blog, as it were. There are a few witty, well-written, and somewhat interesting vignettes on her life there, as it clashes with her expectations as a well-meaning liberal American. However, the book doesn’t go anywhere from here but starts meandering from brief historical notes to rambling moralizations and rather banal thoughts on America’s hypocrisy, to a plethora of quotes, mostly by James Baldwin – and back again.
Hansen has a keen sense of observation and clearly is an eloquent wordsmith. I could well imagine this book turned into an interesting magazine article about life in Istanbul and Turkey’s recent history – endowed with a clear focus, and strapped of the author’s superficial and tiresome political musings.
June 29, 2018
We Americans think lots and lots about ourselves and our country, but maybe not so often about the effects our ideas, choices and behavior have on the rest of the world. This book is a much-needed wake-up call.
March 7, 2021
One of the most powerful, exquisitely written, and simultaneously gutting and eye opening chronicles of identity, about the myth of American exceptionalism, and the extent to which American decline on a global stage operates in lockstep with decline and deterioration on the inside.
September 5, 2017
"I wondered how often it was that anyone told white Americans the truth." Here's a rare book about learning to hear truth anyway.
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May 19, 2024I came across this book when I was reading an article where the author of that article recommended it, saying that it captures the feelings an American discovers about herself while living abroad. It was supposedly about the feelings of guilt, confusion and even shame of her own lack of knowledge about the world beyond the US. Since I am a Turkish person living in Europe, and figuring things out about myself and about the western world almost on a daily basis, I was intrigued to read what it was like for an American to live in and experience Turkey. Boy, I don't know why I was suprised, I should have seen this coming.
What was appaling for me is that very early on in the book, she starts to see and describe the "secular" Turks with a shamingly superficial Western gaze. For someone who claims that meeting other people in the world has given her a new view on her identity as an American and newfound knowledge on the part her country has played in others' history, she sure starts acting with the textbook patronizing attitude very early on.
I guess this book is only for Americans (or the other cluelessly privileged) who think they are very progressive if they superficially make a few self-deprivating remarks about their country without actually knowing anything about the world and lives of others.
What was appaling for me is that very early on in the book, she starts to see and describe the "secular" Turks with a shamingly superficial Western gaze. For someone who claims that meeting other people in the world has given her a new view on her identity as an American and newfound knowledge on the part her country has played in others' history, she sure starts acting with the textbook patronizing attitude very early on.
I guess this book is only for Americans (or the other cluelessly privileged) who think they are very progressive if they superficially make a few self-deprivating remarks about their country without actually knowing anything about the world and lives of others.
January 13, 2019
As the title suggests, this book revolves around an American woman who moved overseas. Hansen highlights what it's like to know only a fraction of your countries history, though some aspects are considered common knowledge to those in other countries. She focuses on Turkey and Egypt in particular, though she makes several over-arching conclusions I also agree with and in general captures the feeling of leaving the country for the first time.
August 21, 2017
It's hard to know where to start with this fascinating book. It's a memoir; a travel book; an examination of American foreign policy of the past century, more or less, particularly in the Middle East; that country's understanding of other cultures (government and people), an examination of Turkish culture and history, and what Turks and others think about Americans, possibly foreigners in general; and America in general, its self-perceptions and presumptions. Other things, too.
Suzy Hansen is an American journalist who ends up in Istanbul after winning a fellowship, and her story is firstly about her home town on the Jersey Shore and what it was like. Nearby Asbury Park, a part title of Bruce Springsteen's first album, is considered a black town; knowledge about the outside world is minimal in overtones similar to the bleaker recent writings of Joan Williams and Arlie Hochschild. University means different people but the same lack of knowledge or interest about the outside world. New York follows and then Istanbul.
A theme throughout is the notion of American exceptionalism and what its outcome can be, or is. A lack of knowledge about other countries, coupled with a desire to have them emulate the United States in political structure, regardless of culture. There's also the desire of leaders in other countries to emulate the United States, or at least what they think it is.
Particularly interesting is Hansen's examination of Turkish history and the role of Kemal Ataturk, against the growing Islamisation in that country and the American role in that. Its involvement in other countries in the Middle East is also chronicled intelligently, with some details and insights gathered from visiting Afghanistan, Egypt and other places, including Mississippi.
More important in a specific way, though, is how Hansen writes about her encounters with non-Americans, mostly in Turkey, but also elsewhere. They challenge her thought, increase her self-knowledge, and understanding of her country of origin. Her references are to local novelists as well as history, historians and foreign policy and they show insight and curiosity.
A major reason for her going to Istanbul is the novelist James Baldwin who wrote that he felt more welcome in Istanbul than in the United States, and she refers to his words often.
There are so many interesting things in this book that it's impossible to do justice to them. As a person who has spent decades reading about and following American foreign policy, I enjoyed (if that's the right word) the extra insights I gained that corroborated what I already knew about how the United States has operated in the world for the last century, and really how it has squandered its reputation through not engaging appropriately with the people it is ostensibly helping.
The author writes excellently for the most part (it's hard to do great writing when you're describing some events) and some phrases leap off the page. Although it's a book of personal experience, it's not an overly emotional one, which suits this reader. Having said that, the last couple of pages are an impassioned plea for people to love each other, which I couldn't really disagree with.
I came across this book via a piece in the Guardian online, which had an excerpt from the text, and I ordered the book straight away. I read it in a number of sittings, as a priority. It's intended, I think as many things, but probably a piece of reflection for Hansen's fellow Americans. Although Australians are not Americans, I found the text made me think about how my country responds to difference, at home and elsewhere.
Suzy Hansen is an American journalist who ends up in Istanbul after winning a fellowship, and her story is firstly about her home town on the Jersey Shore and what it was like. Nearby Asbury Park, a part title of Bruce Springsteen's first album, is considered a black town; knowledge about the outside world is minimal in overtones similar to the bleaker recent writings of Joan Williams and Arlie Hochschild. University means different people but the same lack of knowledge or interest about the outside world. New York follows and then Istanbul.
A theme throughout is the notion of American exceptionalism and what its outcome can be, or is. A lack of knowledge about other countries, coupled with a desire to have them emulate the United States in political structure, regardless of culture. There's also the desire of leaders in other countries to emulate the United States, or at least what they think it is.
Particularly interesting is Hansen's examination of Turkish history and the role of Kemal Ataturk, against the growing Islamisation in that country and the American role in that. Its involvement in other countries in the Middle East is also chronicled intelligently, with some details and insights gathered from visiting Afghanistan, Egypt and other places, including Mississippi.
More important in a specific way, though, is how Hansen writes about her encounters with non-Americans, mostly in Turkey, but also elsewhere. They challenge her thought, increase her self-knowledge, and understanding of her country of origin. Her references are to local novelists as well as history, historians and foreign policy and they show insight and curiosity.
A major reason for her going to Istanbul is the novelist James Baldwin who wrote that he felt more welcome in Istanbul than in the United States, and she refers to his words often.
There are so many interesting things in this book that it's impossible to do justice to them. As a person who has spent decades reading about and following American foreign policy, I enjoyed (if that's the right word) the extra insights I gained that corroborated what I already knew about how the United States has operated in the world for the last century, and really how it has squandered its reputation through not engaging appropriately with the people it is ostensibly helping.
The author writes excellently for the most part (it's hard to do great writing when you're describing some events) and some phrases leap off the page. Although it's a book of personal experience, it's not an overly emotional one, which suits this reader. Having said that, the last couple of pages are an impassioned plea for people to love each other, which I couldn't really disagree with.
I came across this book via a piece in the Guardian online, which had an excerpt from the text, and I ordered the book straight away. I read it in a number of sittings, as a priority. It's intended, I think as many things, but probably a piece of reflection for Hansen's fellow Americans. Although Australians are not Americans, I found the text made me think about how my country responds to difference, at home and elsewhere.
July 25, 2017
Suzy Hansen is awarded a fellowship that sends Americans abroad to report on foreign countries. Her first stop, on what turns into the better part of 10 years over seas, is to Turkey. She chooses Turkey because her favorite author James Baldwin lived in Instanbul and said "he felt more comfortable as a black, gay man in Instanbul than in Paris or New York City" which made no sense to her. She quickly learns that while she knows next to nothing about Turkey or the many other places she references throughout this book, the rest of the world is consumed by us, largely due to our interference in their soveignty. She goes on to explain in detail about our involvement in coups worldwide to include Turkeys in 1980, Greece, Guatemala, the overthrow of Mossadegh in Iran etc...
Overall this is a well researched and thought provoking book about white privilege and American exceptionalism and the impact our foreign policy has on the rest of the world. Her argument is, even though we are largely ignorant and complacent doesn't mean we aren't responsible.
Thank you to Farrar Straus and Giroux publishers for making this available to me through netgalley and I hope this title finds a large readership.
Overall this is a well researched and thought provoking book about white privilege and American exceptionalism and the impact our foreign policy has on the rest of the world. Her argument is, even though we are largely ignorant and complacent doesn't mean we aren't responsible.
Thank you to Farrar Straus and Giroux publishers for making this available to me through netgalley and I hope this title finds a large readership.
August 28, 2017
I probably have no qualifications to write a review for this book since I will be the first to admit that I'm not a very good American. I withdrew from the American political process decades ago for reasons I'm not sure I can entirely articulate, but Hansen's impressions resonate with me in so many ways: "The America that exists within its own borders is not the same America that exists beyond them," and "The world is not necessarily a better place simply because America deigns to interfere with it." This was part travelogue, part foreign affairs, part memoir, and entirely thought-provoking.
August 31, 2017
Well written and provocative stories which show a less-than-benevolent American foreign policy and the author's discovery of what it really means to be an American abroad.
Many of her American readers will bristle at this evidence-based account set over 10 years primarily in Turkey, with sojourns to Egypt, Afghanistan and indeed a return to the USA.
Suzy Hansen is an excellent story-teller with a journalistic style and a nose for the truth. Her book has made me think hard about my own role as an educator abroad.
Many of her American readers will bristle at this evidence-based account set over 10 years primarily in Turkey, with sojourns to Egypt, Afghanistan and indeed a return to the USA.
Suzy Hansen is an excellent story-teller with a journalistic style and a nose for the truth. Her book has made me think hard about my own role as an educator abroad.
February 16, 2024
wow! i really loved this book. i admit, i was skeptical at what it would hold, but ended up really resonating with author’s candid journey of discovering how deep american imperialism and self-serving interventionism goes around the world. this book also helped me understand turkish history and politics better, for which i’m sure my boyfriend is grateful.
September 14, 2018
A must-read for Americans willing to face our country's responsibility for creating the world we live in.
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