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When We Return: The Perils, Pleasures and Politics of Going Home
A Globe and Mail , Hill Times and CBC Best Book of the Year Have you ever wondered what it would be like to return to your roots? Drawing on astute political analysis and extensive reporting from around the world, Why We Go Back to Where We Come From illuminates a personal quest. Kamal Al-Solaylee, author of the bestselling and award-winning A Memoir of Extremes and What Being Brown in the World Today Means (to Everyone) , yearns to return to his homeland of Yemen, now wracked by war, starvation and daily violence, to reconnect with his family. Yemen, as well as Egypt, another childhood home, call to him, even though he ran away from them in his youth and found peace and prosperity in Canada. In Return , Al-Solaylee interviews dozens of people who have chosen to or long to return to their homelands, from Basques to Irish to Taiwanese. He does make a return of sorts himself, to the Middle East, visiting Israel and the West Bank, as well as Egypt. A chronicle of love and loss, of global reach and personal desires, Return is a book for anyone who has ever wondered what it would be like to return to their roots.
336 pages, ebook
First published September 7, 2021
25 people are currently reading
411 people want to read
About the author
Kamal Al-Solaylee
6 books44 followersKamal Al-Solaylee (born 1964) is a Canadian journalist, who published his debut book, Intolerable: A Memoir of Extremes, in 2012.
Born in Aden, his family went into exile in Beirut and Cairo following the British decolonization of Yemen in 1967. Following a brief return to Yemen in his 20s, Al-Solaylee moved to London to complete his PhD in English, before moving to Canada.
He has worked extensively as a journalist in Canada, including work for the Globe and Mail, Report on Business, the Toronto Star, the National Post, The Walrus, Xtra! and Toronto Life. He is currently the director of the undergraduate journalism program at Ryerson University.
His book Intolerable: A Memoir of Extremes is a memoir of his experience as a gay man growing up in the Middle East. The book was a shortlisted nominee for the 2012 Hilary Weston Writers' Trust Prize for Nonfiction, the 2013 Lambda Literary Award in the Gay Memoir/Biography category, and the 2013 Toronto Book Award.
He served on the jury of the 2012 Dayne Ogilvie Prize, a literary award for emerging LGBT writers in Canada, selecting Amber Dawn as that year's winner.
Intolerable was selected for the 2015 edition of Canada Reads, where it will be defended by actress Kristin Kreuk.
Born in Aden, his family went into exile in Beirut and Cairo following the British decolonization of Yemen in 1967. Following a brief return to Yemen in his 20s, Al-Solaylee moved to London to complete his PhD in English, before moving to Canada.
He has worked extensively as a journalist in Canada, including work for the Globe and Mail, Report on Business, the Toronto Star, the National Post, The Walrus, Xtra! and Toronto Life. He is currently the director of the undergraduate journalism program at Ryerson University.
His book Intolerable: A Memoir of Extremes is a memoir of his experience as a gay man growing up in the Middle East. The book was a shortlisted nominee for the 2012 Hilary Weston Writers' Trust Prize for Nonfiction, the 2013 Lambda Literary Award in the Gay Memoir/Biography category, and the 2013 Toronto Book Award.
He served on the jury of the 2012 Dayne Ogilvie Prize, a literary award for emerging LGBT writers in Canada, selecting Amber Dawn as that year's winner.
Intolerable was selected for the 2015 edition of Canada Reads, where it will be defended by actress Kristin Kreuk.
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Displaying 1 - 22 of 22 reviews
March 16, 2022
Thought-provoking and very readable exploration of why and how people return to places they or their families came from. The author was born in Yemen but moved to Toronto by way of Cairo, over time losing much of his Arabic, but he finds himself dreaming about regaining his language and returning to Yemen, even as it is embroiled in war and the pandemic. This leads him to explore the concept and experience of return more broadly. Al-Solaylee looks, for example, at:
- the experiences of those who choose to return to Jamaica from abroad and those who are deported there (often after having left as children)
- Black Americans who ‘return’ to Ghana, which designated 2019 the Year of Return and successfully markets its history as a starting point for the transatlantic slave trade
- the return of diasporic Irish to Northern Ireland after the Troubles
- the competing ‘returns’ of Jewish and Palestinian people to the same contested land.
Really interesting.
- the experiences of those who choose to return to Jamaica from abroad and those who are deported there (often after having left as children)
- Black Americans who ‘return’ to Ghana, which designated 2019 the Year of Return and successfully markets its history as a starting point for the transatlantic slave trade
- the return of diasporic Irish to Northern Ireland after the Troubles
- the competing ‘returns’ of Jewish and Palestinian people to the same contested land.
Really interesting.
January 16, 2022
Were it not for the Jamaica returnee chapter, I might have rated it higher. The research here was lacking and I was mainly disappointed by his reductive focus on violence which he acknowledged but made no attempt to rectify instead writing “blame me and not Jamaica if the stories dwell too much on the island’s darker side. It’s a reading of the situation that reflections my own anxieties around violence.” At one point in the chapter, unfamiliar with the vernacular and life experiences of some Black folks in America, where one subject returned from, he writes that his responses “sound like a collection of pop culture signposts—Scarface, blaxploitation, street dancing.” What is happening here?
There are many more issues I had with the book including his weak analysis, how he approached returnee experiences in Palestine and Israel and the occasional unkind opinion/assumption he held about his own subjects but the Jamaica chapter was by far the most egregious.
While I learned a lot from the Basque and Northern Ireland sections, I came away from this thinking that the author lacks the range to explore diverse returnee experiences with the depth, nuance, and even—at times—the respect required and perhaps should have written more of a memoir exploring his own homeland longings. This is where it shined and his language felt most evocative.
I had hoped to read a book that would help me navigate my own desires to return to the region of my birth but instead I feel more unmoored. People’s stories and lives are sacred and I feel saddened that a prominent Canadian journalist made such a terrible contribution to research/literature about the Jamaican returnee experience.
There are many more issues I had with the book including his weak analysis, how he approached returnee experiences in Palestine and Israel and the occasional unkind opinion/assumption he held about his own subjects but the Jamaica chapter was by far the most egregious.
While I learned a lot from the Basque and Northern Ireland sections, I came away from this thinking that the author lacks the range to explore diverse returnee experiences with the depth, nuance, and even—at times—the respect required and perhaps should have written more of a memoir exploring his own homeland longings. This is where it shined and his language felt most evocative.
I had hoped to read a book that would help me navigate my own desires to return to the region of my birth but instead I feel more unmoored. People’s stories and lives are sacred and I feel saddened that a prominent Canadian journalist made such a terrible contribution to research/literature about the Jamaican returnee experience.
February 11, 2022
I'm a little biased because Kamal Al-Solaylee was my first-year reporting professor in journalism school, but I nonetheless loved this book. So much has been written about immigration and what it's like once you depart from your home country, but very little has been written about returning home. Al-Solaylee himself is originally from Yemen and longs to return, but can't due to its ongoing civil conflict, COVID-19, and his own fears of his diminishing Arabic.
He processes the complicated feelings about wanting to return "home" by looking at return stories from across the world: Taiwan, Ghana, and Jamaica just to name a few. Interspersed with the personal stories of why people chose to return home are the complicated issues of what people can and cannot call home. The Basque region of Spain wants to be self-governing, much to the chagrin of the Spanish government; Israel and Palestine have very different philosophies of why they deserve the land Israel currently occupies.
There are no easy answers to why people return and whether it is the right choice once they get there, and Al-Solaylee makes it obvious at the end of the book that his own feelings about returning to Yemen are still complicated.
December 23, 2022
a captivating and very personal read. kamal al-solaylee does an impressive job of weaving together so many different narratives to explain what return means to different diasporas. this book made me question what home means to me, as well as what home might be to me in the future.
June 5, 2022
Although at times I got lost in some of his personal reflexions, I enjoyed his insight into this longing many people have to "return". He definitely helped me in my understanding of the " Middle East Crisis". It is hard to believe that I know so little about Palestine/Israeli issue when it has been at a head since 1948. He also draws on other historical return home which were enlightening and thought provoking. My simple desire to "return home" to the Windsor/Detroit area seems simple and mundane but I still feel the draw and Kamal's book helped me understand a bit better why.
September 24, 2021
This is an interesting premise, made more so by the author's personal connection to the theme. Kamal Al-Solaylee is an intelligent and insightful writer, and he is clearly a good interviewer. I also appreciate his determination to avoid bringing his own political views to bear as he navigates nodes of international conflict. There's something strang,e though, about the way this book works on the paragraph level. Normally, I'm not a big fan of transition devices; however, this is an extreme. He hops from topic to topic without warning, leaving the reader struggling to catch up. There are some writers who do this effectively: by challenging readers to make their own deductions, they generate engagement. Sometimes this is also a way of convincing the reader of an argument that might be resisted if it were stated directly. However, neither of these things happened when I was reading Return: Why We Go Back to Where We Come From . The reader merely experiences confusion and frustration as they go back over previous pages searching for clues.
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November 27, 2021I’d so been looking forward to reading this - having devoured his previous two titles - but something just isn’t connecting for me… and I’m not entirely sure that it’s the book... I’m not at all certain that it’s not more about where my head is at this moment in time. I’m having trouble following along as it moves back and forth. I think my brain just needs something more linear in the telling, and more escapist. I’ve had enough of reality for now.
I’ll put another hold on this and try again in a few months time...
I’ll put another hold on this and try again in a few months time...
September 13, 2025
I found Return well written and insightful for most of the book. Al-Solaylee covers the idea of returning to one’s homeland from many angles and perspectives, and I was genuinely enjoying his exploration—until I reached the final chapter on Israel and Palestine.
Here, the book takes a deeply disappointing turn. He adopts a troubling “both sides” narrative, framing Palestinians and Israelis as having equally valid and “competing” rights of return. This framing—whether out of oversight or deliberate choice—distorts the history and present reality of occupation, dispossession, and systemic violence against Palestinians.
The author equates Palestinians—who were forcibly expelled during the Nakba and have lived under 76 years of displacement, occupation, apartheid, and now genocide—with Israelis, whose claim he presents as rooted in a religious promise that “this land was promised to them by God.”
This false equivalence is troubling. Palestinian displacement is a documented historical and ongoing reality, with massacres like Deir Yassin marking the beginning of a continuous process of ethnic cleansing. To place this on the same level as a religious or ideological claim is to erase the power imbalance between occupier and occupied.
The language Al-Solaylee uses reinforces this distortion. Palestinian resistance is framed as what “they believe” to be illegal occupation. He writes that “Palestinians view themselves as the land’s indigenous inhabitants,” as if this were merely a perspective rather than fact. He even describes the return of six million Muslim and Christian Palestinians as “understandably” an existential crisis for the Jewish state—subtly suggesting that Palestinian rights are a threat, while normalizing the settler-colonial project.
What’s more, he highlights Palestinians throwing stones at settlers, but downplays settlers’ violence against Palestinians. He portrays Zionism largely as a religious belief, ignoring that Theodor Herzl—the founder of Zionism—was an atheist, and that Zionism is better understood as a political ideology of occupation, not faith.
Al-Solaylee draws heavily from sources like Adi Schwartz and Einat Wilf’s The War of Return, which argue that the Palestinian right of return is a “fantasy” sustained by UN structures like UNRWA.
By uncritically engaging with such claims, Al-Solaylee risks amplifying a narrative that portrays Palestinians as indulging in “fantasy,” while treating the ongoing realities of dispossession as negotiable.
He admits that “I couldn’t think of a book about returns without engaging with a conflict that comes down to two ‘competing’ narratives of return.” But presenting this as simply a clash of narratives erases the reality: Palestinians are an indigenous, displaced people fighting for survival; Zionism is a settler-colonial project enforcing their erasure.
Overall, Return offers valuable insights in many places—but the final chapter left me frustrated and disheartened. What could have been a nuanced engagement with the Palestinian struggle for return instead falls into the trap of false balance and distortion.
Here, the book takes a deeply disappointing turn. He adopts a troubling “both sides” narrative, framing Palestinians and Israelis as having equally valid and “competing” rights of return. This framing—whether out of oversight or deliberate choice—distorts the history and present reality of occupation, dispossession, and systemic violence against Palestinians.
The author equates Palestinians—who were forcibly expelled during the Nakba and have lived under 76 years of displacement, occupation, apartheid, and now genocide—with Israelis, whose claim he presents as rooted in a religious promise that “this land was promised to them by God.”
This false equivalence is troubling. Palestinian displacement is a documented historical and ongoing reality, with massacres like Deir Yassin marking the beginning of a continuous process of ethnic cleansing. To place this on the same level as a religious or ideological claim is to erase the power imbalance between occupier and occupied.
The language Al-Solaylee uses reinforces this distortion. Palestinian resistance is framed as what “they believe” to be illegal occupation. He writes that “Palestinians view themselves as the land’s indigenous inhabitants,” as if this were merely a perspective rather than fact. He even describes the return of six million Muslim and Christian Palestinians as “understandably” an existential crisis for the Jewish state—subtly suggesting that Palestinian rights are a threat, while normalizing the settler-colonial project.
What’s more, he highlights Palestinians throwing stones at settlers, but downplays settlers’ violence against Palestinians. He portrays Zionism largely as a religious belief, ignoring that Theodor Herzl—the founder of Zionism—was an atheist, and that Zionism is better understood as a political ideology of occupation, not faith.
Al-Solaylee draws heavily from sources like Adi Schwartz and Einat Wilf’s The War of Return, which argue that the Palestinian right of return is a “fantasy” sustained by UN structures like UNRWA.
By uncritically engaging with such claims, Al-Solaylee risks amplifying a narrative that portrays Palestinians as indulging in “fantasy,” while treating the ongoing realities of dispossession as negotiable.
He admits that “I couldn’t think of a book about returns without engaging with a conflict that comes down to two ‘competing’ narratives of return.” But presenting this as simply a clash of narratives erases the reality: Palestinians are an indigenous, displaced people fighting for survival; Zionism is a settler-colonial project enforcing their erasure.
Overall, Return offers valuable insights in many places—but the final chapter left me frustrated and disheartened. What could have been a nuanced engagement with the Palestinian struggle for return instead falls into the trap of false balance and distortion.
August 5, 2022
“Whether it’s the Promised Land or Africa, the motherland, something other than economics governs this particular kind of return. How do you call a place your homeland when you’ve never set foot in it? Or when you know that your ancestors either fled or were forced to leave centuries before? How much of that homeland lingers in the DNA, and how much resides in the narratives that have been kept alive by descendants?”
“Kwame is home. I feel his joy. I pray that it’s contagious, that all return stories, including mine, will land in that happy place. I know it can’t be, but contemplating the possibility of it gives me licence to keep looking and dreaming.”
What an amazing reframing of the refugee and immigrant story, a personal but also objective view of both sides of each country and returnee and the people that stayed. As the daughter of an immigrant whose grandparents and father called Slovenia “the old country, “ and eradicated all remnants of it, I have been feeling a longing to see it that I cannot explain. Partly because a love of mine called it the most beautiful area in Europe when he visited and the only place he would return, and partly just to find some trace of the roots, my roots. It is complex. I have an old photograph of a grave that ostensibly meant something deeply to either of my grandparents and I would love to find it. So I have a tiny idea what returnees and yearners like the author might be motivated by and the book fleshes out those stories well.
As I made my way back to the car, I noticed a plaque in the courtyard of the castle. I make a note of what it said, as it encapsulates the centuries-spanning resonance of this return story: May those who died rest in peace. May those who return find their roots. I wrote these words down in my little notebook, but I also took a photo of the plaque. I needed a visual reminder of this prayer for peace and roots—two things I wish for Yemen and my return to it.
She shares with them the enormous relief of not having to deal with racism or its psychological effects on a daily basis. There’s something to be said about living in a country where everyone—from the president to the children’s teachers to the shopkeepers—is Black, Gail tells me. “There’s comfort in belonging, in the positive reinforcement of what you could be.
When his grandfather and other relatives were forced to leave the village in 1948, they packed all the land deeds they could lay their hands on and sought refuge in Hebron for what they thought would be a few months at most. Seventy-one years later, the original deeds are hidden, but copies are posted on Facebook to prove that “we’re connected to that place to this day, even though we’re far from it,” Youssef tells me.
“Kwame is home. I feel his joy. I pray that it’s contagious, that all return stories, including mine, will land in that happy place. I know it can’t be, but contemplating the possibility of it gives me licence to keep looking and dreaming.”
What an amazing reframing of the refugee and immigrant story, a personal but also objective view of both sides of each country and returnee and the people that stayed. As the daughter of an immigrant whose grandparents and father called Slovenia “the old country, “ and eradicated all remnants of it, I have been feeling a longing to see it that I cannot explain. Partly because a love of mine called it the most beautiful area in Europe when he visited and the only place he would return, and partly just to find some trace of the roots, my roots. It is complex. I have an old photograph of a grave that ostensibly meant something deeply to either of my grandparents and I would love to find it. So I have a tiny idea what returnees and yearners like the author might be motivated by and the book fleshes out those stories well.
As I made my way back to the car, I noticed a plaque in the courtyard of the castle. I make a note of what it said, as it encapsulates the centuries-spanning resonance of this return story: May those who died rest in peace. May those who return find their roots. I wrote these words down in my little notebook, but I also took a photo of the plaque. I needed a visual reminder of this prayer for peace and roots—two things I wish for Yemen and my return to it.
She shares with them the enormous relief of not having to deal with racism or its psychological effects on a daily basis. There’s something to be said about living in a country where everyone—from the president to the children’s teachers to the shopkeepers—is Black, Gail tells me. “There’s comfort in belonging, in the positive reinforcement of what you could be.
When his grandfather and other relatives were forced to leave the village in 1948, they packed all the land deeds they could lay their hands on and sought refuge in Hebron for what they thought would be a few months at most. Seventy-one years later, the original deeds are hidden, but copies are posted on Facebook to prove that “we’re connected to that place to this day, even though we’re far from it,” Youssef tells me.
December 12, 2022
I had previously read the author's other works and thought this would be very interesting. As others have noted, there's a lot out there that talks about why people leave from their home of origin, but there is not as much discussion on why many return. For many, this is simply not possible for a multitude of reasons but for others, it is something they want and often done also for complicated reasons.
Al-Solaylee looks at various stories, from Basques to the Irish to the Taiwanese, and also talks about his own return journey. Some stories are touching, some are funny, many are thoughtful, etc. Many are also quite sad, because of the change and losses that occur with moves like these, which can never be returned or reverted for many reasons.
That said, while I think this is an important side to tell, I'm not sure Al-Solaylee was the right person to tell the stories? Some of the writing isn't very compelling or even good and it seems like there are too many stories here: Al-Solaylee covers a bunch plus his own, but ultimately it feels like his own journey might have made for a better read in a different format: his own book, a magazine read, a series in the Sunday papers, etc.
Still, I think it's an important read and an important story to tell. It's not quite along the lines of the author's text but I think of the Trump administration which was known to deny entry to those seeking asylum or even willfully repatriate people who fled horrible conditions, likely to further harm or death, separating children from their parents to discourage people from coming to the US at all, etc. Again, this isn't the author's focus, but is part of the conversation of the reasons why people return (although Al-Solaylee's really about those who want to go back).
Got this as a bargain buy but would say it's skippable overall. Library borrow if you're interested.
Al-Solaylee looks at various stories, from Basques to the Irish to the Taiwanese, and also talks about his own return journey. Some stories are touching, some are funny, many are thoughtful, etc. Many are also quite sad, because of the change and losses that occur with moves like these, which can never be returned or reverted for many reasons.
That said, while I think this is an important side to tell, I'm not sure Al-Solaylee was the right person to tell the stories? Some of the writing isn't very compelling or even good and it seems like there are too many stories here: Al-Solaylee covers a bunch plus his own, but ultimately it feels like his own journey might have made for a better read in a different format: his own book, a magazine read, a series in the Sunday papers, etc.
Still, I think it's an important read and an important story to tell. It's not quite along the lines of the author's text but I think of the Trump administration which was known to deny entry to those seeking asylum or even willfully repatriate people who fled horrible conditions, likely to further harm or death, separating children from their parents to discourage people from coming to the US at all, etc. Again, this isn't the author's focus, but is part of the conversation of the reasons why people return (although Al-Solaylee's really about those who want to go back).
Got this as a bargain buy but would say it's skippable overall. Library borrow if you're interested.
January 18, 2025
I enjoyed the focus on personal stories. A good treatise on the complexities of globalization and ever shifting borders/identities. A dialectical disaster with a big o’l heart if you will. A testament to the fact that who gets to return, why, and how, are central to the mythos of return stories. However for a book published in 2021 it feels very focused on Gen X and older millennial experiences with returning and diasporic belonging. It feels like a waste to not widen the perspective considering the pressing urgency of younger generations and our growing ability to comment on our future. It feels dated besides the fact that it is four years old.
Overall it feels though at times accessible and well varied it is at other times wholly simplistic and without a real point, also the Jamaica chapter, and embarrassing and frankly irresponsible way the Palestine/Israel chapter was handled. It is baffling to read narratives of violence and displacement to refugee camps alongside lukewarm takes on gated communities and ideological justification. I find the hesitation to be more cutting when discussing one of the central issues around land and returning of the last decades a sign of weak journalism. This is far from the disruptive journalism we need.
Overall it feels though at times accessible and well varied it is at other times wholly simplistic and without a real point, also the Jamaica chapter, and embarrassing and frankly irresponsible way the Palestine/Israel chapter was handled. It is baffling to read narratives of violence and displacement to refugee camps alongside lukewarm takes on gated communities and ideological justification. I find the hesitation to be more cutting when discussing one of the central issues around land and returning of the last decades a sign of weak journalism. This is far from the disruptive journalism we need.
March 19, 2024
As someone who has moved around a lot and moved back to my home country, I found this book very intriguing. I found that the places and people that had a more personal link to Al-Solaylee made for more interesting and in depth chapters since he was more devoted by those parts himself. That, however, did not diminish the uniqueness of the stories that other people had to share.
I’m a slow reader and it took me a while to be able to really sit down and find the time to read but once I did, I didn’t regret it.
I’m a slow reader and it took me a while to be able to really sit down and find the time to read but once I did, I didn’t regret it.
December 19, 2021
This really opened my eyes to the idea of returning to your country of origin. Al-Solaylee traveled and talked to people in eclectic countries revealing very personal stories about the decision and experience of returning. He also reflects on his own situation and the idea of returning to his native Yemen. The book is deeply personal, perhaps therapeutic, and revealing. It will stay with me as I go about daily life in my very diverse City.
Want to read
November 28, 2021***Who sucked me in***
Jen from Remembered Reads in their 'Nonfiction November Wrap-Up: Part I' video on YouTube published on 27 november 2021
I can't remember what exactly she said that made me pay attention but the way she described the book made me think that the author had the same kind of longing I sometimes have. And I think he talks to people who also have that. Seems interesting.
Jen from Remembered Reads in their 'Nonfiction November Wrap-Up: Part I' video on YouTube published on 27 november 2021
I can't remember what exactly she said that made me pay attention but the way she described the book made me think that the author had the same kind of longing I sometimes have. And I think he talks to people who also have that. Seems interesting.
November 6, 2022
Loved this! Would definitely recommend it if you're an immigrant somewhere with lingering thoughts of your homeland never too far!
Although a fairly new immigrant, this book has invigorated my love for my home and has given me a lot to chew on about my own decisions, and that of so many others!
Although a fairly new immigrant, this book has invigorated my love for my home and has given me a lot to chew on about my own decisions, and that of so many others!
May 7, 2025
3.5 This book is a mix of the author sharing people's stories of returning to another country and history about the country and why people and why they return. I really enjoyed the personal stories. I liked the history too,but overall there was more history than I needed.
November 30, 2021
It was okay.
Nothing too amazing, but fine enough.
I had a few issues about the reasons for moving back to your hometown.
Anyways.
2.5/5
Nothing too amazing, but fine enough.
I had a few issues about the reasons for moving back to your hometown.
Anyways.
2.5/5
May 18, 2022
3.5 ⭐️
I enjoyed how touching and poignant this book was, but occasionally the writing style was somewhat sloppy.
I enjoyed how touching and poignant this book was, but occasionally the writing style was somewhat sloppy.
April 21, 2025
An interesting listen to stories about return in different cultural and historical contexts
Pacing of the stories slowed my engagement at times
Pacing of the stories slowed my engagement at times
November 30, 2021
Masterpiece
A book for Nobel Prize!
A book for Nobel Prize!
December 7, 2021
I know this book will linger in my mind for a long time. The themes discussed really hit home for me - through the personal journeys of returnees, the author weaves a web of what it means to belong and what home is. A language? The place where you were born? Where your family is? Or where you decide to be? As an immigrant in Canada, I often think about these questions and for me there isn't really a single answer but a tapestry of many interconnected reasons and concepts. For many of the people in the stories, despite their homelands being in places as distant and different as the Basque country and Jamaica, there is a longing to belong. As the author points out, "I continue to marvel at this concept of returning to a land that you've never set foot in", but it seems that for all of us there is always that ache to find your roots. Or in many of the cases in the book, of at least having a choice to do so.
March 14, 2024
An interesting read in the context of my own (temporary) return to Ireland and the ongoing genocide in Palestine. The author gave a relatively unbiased, straightforward reporting of the lived experiences of his interviewees while still incorporating his own opinions, experiences, and dreams of return
Displaying 1 - 22 of 22 reviews