Palestine: Mornings in Jenin Review

Title: Mornings in Jenin
Author: Susan Abulhawa
Publisher: Bloomsbury

Blurb: Forcibly removed from the ancient village of Ein Hod by the newly formed state of Israel in 1948, the Abulhejas are moved into the Jenin refugee camp. There, exiled from his beloved olive groves, the family patriarch languishes of a broken heart, his eldest son fathers a family and falls victim to an Israeli bullet, and his grandchildren struggle against tragedy toward freedom, peace, and home. This is the Palestinian story, told as never before, through four generations of a single family.

Me: Such an important story for our world today, but the writing doesn't do the story justice.

The conflict in Israel and Palestine is one that has defined our recent history. It's often looked at a case study in modern geography or politics classes, discussed as the consequence of identity discrimination and the cause of extremely difficult peacemaking. 

In the case that we do get a personal, emotional story about the issue, it is usually from the side of Israel. History has been written by those on their side - the modern Western world. Narratives of pain and trauma throughout history until the horrors of World War II infuse our understanding of Israel's right to land.

But the problem with this one story is that it doesn't show how pain and trauma rarely ever stop at one generation or one people: it is a vicious cycle that turns people against each other. That's where Palestinian stories come in. 

The Ups: In this book, the descriptions of Palestine and its people are so loving and heartbreaking. It makes you physically feel the history and culture of the people who lived on the land for thousands of years. It shows them in their prosperity and in their absolute tragedy. Each generation of one family is shown in their love and joy, until the reader is the only witness to their constant suffering and loss. 

It's one of the most heartbreaking stories I've read. The dedication and hope with which the Palestinian people live is beautiful. One character, Huda, lives her entire life hoping to see the ocean once more. Abulhawa writes that perhaps because Palestine has seen such sadness, it also knows to love deeper than any other. 

Sara, the main character, eventually is able to come to the United States. I thought that transition was great to see just how different the worries of people were in both situations, to understand more of a refugee's perspective. It also gave an opportunity to display the disparity between the American news and perspective, and the emotional, complex truth of what was happening as Palestinians and Israelis began to actively terrorize each other. 

The Downs: My major issue with this novel was the way it was written. The story broke my heart not because the writing did, but because the actual situation in Palestine is so unjust. Abuldawa's writing often fell into cliches and oversimplified, dramatized statements. There were plot points that didn't make logical sense, and often threads of the story that had been introduced at the beginning were nearly abandoned until the end. 

Abuldawa also changed perspectives at seemingly random points through the novel. It would've been fine had it been a technique, but the different points of view didn't offer any other experience to what the main character, Sara, was feeling. 

For many of the same reasons, the writing didn't create full impressions of many of the characters. The only truly complex characters were Sara, her brother Yousef, and maybe her mother Dalia. All the other surrounding characters were significant to the story but felt two-dimensional. 

Overall: A moving and significant story that would've been phenomenal with stronger writing. 

For if life had taught her anything, it was that healing and peace can begin only with acknowledgment of wrongs committed.

To have lived so long, only to be crushed to death by a bulldozer. Is this what it means to be Palestinian?

Amal,I believe that most Americans do not love as we do. It is not for any inherent deficiency or superiority in them. They live in the safe, shallow, parts that rarely push human emotions into the depths where we dwell.

For I'll keep my humanity, though I did not keep my promises. 
... and Love shall not be wrested from my veins.

Rating: 3 kisses!