Mornings in Jenin

At a well attended meeting last night we shared our views on Mornings in Jenin by Susan Abulhawa. It turned out to be one of those books which provoked a good deal of interesting discussion but one on which we largely shared similar thoughts. One reason for this might perhaps be because none of us had the political or historical insights and depth of knowledge needed to challenge this most moving and beautifully crafted Palestinian story. We acknowledged that it was a one-sided account of a sustained period of devastating conflict (the story opens in 1941 in Palestine and ends, under Jewish fire, on the West Bank in 2002) but we felt that this was acceptable as it was the story of one Palestinian family's struggle, generation after generation, to survive endless political turmoil, violence and war. The portraits of the Jewish characters are more one dimensional and less powerful than the wonderful and very moving characterisation of Amal, her parents and friends.

There is a strong sense in this book of the importance of land - the family lived off the land, cultivated the land, were dispossessed of it and yearned for it throughout the book. And, in my view, the writing is at its most poignant and moving when the author describes the land and what it means to Amal's family. An early sentence illustrates this exquisitely:


In a distant time, before history marched over the hills and shattered present and future, before wind grabbed the land at one corner and shook it of its name and character, before Amal was born, a small village east of Haifa lived quietly on figs and olives, open frontiers and sunshine.


It's enough to make you weep at the outset and a number of us last night confessed to tears as the story progressed. This is a book which educates you about the Palestinians and their cause, provokes you to think about the Middle East and linger longer over the news stories and which undoubtedly stays with you. As Huda (what a sage and honest character) says to Amal on her return from the US: "The roots of our grief coil so deeply into loss.....Our anger is a rage that Westerners cannot understand. Our sadness can make the stones weep." Anything I write is inadequate to explain the beauty and sadness of this book.