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Readers of Arabic can find it here.
This is a book to be read slowly, deliberately. Though the writing is rich, varied, hard, and lyrical, some of it breathtaking, a treasure house of the sort you want to read out loud just to feel it in the mouth, the prose and poetry found here shape a portrait of the tragedy of two peoples, the Palestinians, whose lives, held so unimportant by the world, daily become more intolerable, and the Israelis, who, through their government’s monstrous policies, are responsible.
To read the rest of the review, visit Consequence Magazine.
Sinan Antoon: Another thing I would point out is this myth that’s prevalent amongst our peers. They think, “Well, I’m a writer, but I’m not political.” As far as I’m concerned, there is power everywhere in the world, so everything is political in various degrees. Maybe it’s old-fashioned to believe, but as writers and as citizens, we have a responsibility. We’re representing the world and representing it in a certain way. I don’t believe in this myth of neutrality.
To read the rest of the interview, visit Electric Literature.
To read the full story, visit Tin House.
At an earlier gathering, a few contributors to the book were photographed, and one said, “What is there to smile about–” in reference to the situation in Palestine. And Freeman reflected that in her own extensive travels, “some of the warmest, wittiest, most joyful people I’ve ever met I met in Palestine,” and they had told her: Don’t cry for us. “Go back and do whatever you can do.” This book, she said, “is that can-do for me.”
To watch videos of the event, visit Mondoweiss.
Of the two and a half thousand Palestinians who died in the last attack, over 500 were children. Omer tells their story with poignancy. There is Fares al-Tarabeen (age three months), whose body came to the overworked Shifa hospital. “He was still wearing his diapers,” writes Omer. Umm Amjad Shalah talked of her son, Salman (age 10) who could not let her go, being in terror of the noise of the explosions and the death around him. “Sometimes he screams so loud,” she says, “it almost sounds like he’s laughing loudly.”
To read the rest of the review, visit Economic & Political Weekly.
Freeman does believe that it is a duty to write about those who have been deliberately silenced: “My goal is not to have a fight with every person who disagrees, but to gather the people who might feel differently and have them speak. I think that writers should speak because we expect this world to pay attention to the things we say so it might improve us to pay attention to the world also and to do for it what we can. I don’t by any means think this book is going to stop the demolishing of the Bedouin villages or the arrest of the children, but it is a way of changing a corner of the world where we have some power to change something and I believe it is the responsibility of every person to do that in whatever place they find themselves.”
To read the rest of the review, visit Middle East Monitor.
An anthology calling upon American writers to address the plight of the Palestinians. Editor Freeman notes in her introduction, “what can and cannot be done in America is a question that carries enormous hope on the part of people who do not live here.” ….A vibrant, high-spirited collection that will appeal to those on one side of this complex geopolitical conundrum.
To read the full review of Extraordinary Rendition, visit Kirkus Reviews.
A succinct, disturbing report on the prevalence of malpractice in modern medicine. Fortunately, Lieber doesn’t decorate his study with scare tactics or confusing jargon; his perspective is clearly that of an informed consumer concerned with the welfare of those seeking American medical care. …An imperative analysis that begs for discussion by industry watchdogs and consumers alike.
To read the full review of Killer Care, visit Kirkus Reviews.
As shouts of celebration about the cease-fire ring out across Gaza, 10-year-old Thaeer Juda lies in Gaza’s Shifa hospital ICU unit.
He’s badly injured and has had his right leg and some of his right fingers amputated. His left side is only marginally better off. His hands have been shattered, while his face and chest have been pocked by shrapnel that ripped through his little body after an Israeli strike.
Thaeer will survive, but will have to do so without many of the loved ones he expected to know for the rest of his life. He doesn’t know what happened to his mother, Rawia, or his two sisters, Tasnim and Taghreed, nor his brothers Osama and Mohammed. But they are all gone — killed in one foul swoop by the same Israeli strike that landed Thaeer in hospital and will keep him there, long after the “victory” cries outside have died down.
To read the rest of the excerpt, visit Huffington Post.
This book tells the story of the seven weeks of Operation Protective Edge, launched by Israel in July 2014, from the perspective of the people of Gaza. Each chapter is a journalistic record of what is happening as seen through the eyes of Mohammed Omer. The writing is clear, concise and evocative whilst remaining professionally detached. Within that attempt to provide a detached, historical record, a sense of deep and burning anger shines brightly without ever detracting from the author’s task. That task, it seems to me, as Eduardo Galeano argues in Days and Nights of Love and War (Monthly Review Press 2000), is to ‘make audible the voice of the voiceless’ (Galeano, p.8) and so to expose the ‘distorted reality’ (Omer, p.8) in which the people of Gaza live. In this, the author absolutely succeeds and it is a crucial task as the ‘Palestinian narrative is underrepresented in the media’ (p.10). Not only is this view underrepresented, but the horrific human cost in terms of lives lost and people being forced into abject, inhumane conditions, is rarely if ever told when covering this or any conflict. The inhumanity of violence and its consequences told through real-life stories is an essential lesson about this or any conflict.
To read the rest of the review, visit Counterfire.
“Shell-shocked” is a term that was used commonly to describe veterans of the First World War suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, the term more commonly used today. One year after the onslaught, the whole of Gaza remains in the cross-hairs, the whole of Gaza remains an open-air prison, and this account leaves little doubt that the whole of Gaza must inevitably be shell-shocked.
To read the rest of the review, visit Electronic Intifada.
Timely and filled with harrowing accounts of life on the ground during Israel’s brutal carnage in the tiny, besieged coastal enclave, Omer’s eyewitness dispatches make a profound contribution to our understanding of Gaza’s tragic plight. In 300 pages, Shell-Shocked bears testimony to Omer’s extraordinary professionalism and amazing tenacity to capture in words the horror unleashed by the occupying power, Israel.
To read the rest of the review, visit Middle East Monitor.
Mohammed Omer’s Shell-Shocked is a vivid series of despatches from what in other conflicts would be called the front line. In the open-air prison of Gaza, though, everywhere is the front line. Or as he puts it, “everyone is running everywhere and nowhere, because there is nowhere to hide”.
To read the rest of the review, visit The Independent.
This excerpt from Mohammed Omer’s Shell-Shocked: On the Ground Under Israel’s Gaza Assault discusses the reality of life in the Gaza Strip, noting the humanity that persists there against all odds:
Every minute of every day we live in a distorted reality, a man-made catastrophe crafted to protect and enshrine a peculiar manifestation of overt racism that grants privilege and life solely on the basis of religion and race, and then denies it exists. Its purpose is to make the lives of those of us who belong to the non-favored race and religion unbearable. Its objective is to force us to “volunteer” to abandon our country, businesses, family, homes, ancestry and culture. The tool of this persecution is systemic and infects all aspects of life. It ranges over preventing us from rebuilding our homes to military aggression, targeted killings, imprisonment, starvation diets enforced by siege and an array of punishments that dehumanize and strip us of our rights. And then there are the obstacles to our movement— walls and checkpoints for “security.”
And yet, despite all this, we’re still here. It’s true: In Gaza we find ways to survive. Our women recycle the spent tank shells that have destroyed our homes into flowerpots. Students return to bombed-out schools determined to complete their education. Torn books are taped together, pens are jerry-rigged back into service. At night we often study by candlelight. The frequent cutting off of gas, water and electricity is another daily reality of life in The Strip. And so we carry on, focusing on the basics and muddling through with proud determination. We are human, with dreams and nightmares, equally strong and equally vulnerable. We pride ourselves on our self-sufficiency and humbly thank God for the help of others as we hope and pray for justice.
To read the rest of the excerpt, visit Truthout.
In an exclusive excerpt of Shell-Shocked: On the Ground Under Israel’s Gaza Assault, Mohammed Omer surveys Gaza one year after Operation Protective Edge and finds two reasons for hope:
I conclude on two positive points: the resilience of Palestinians is intact, despite being constantly hit hard with daily despair and huge unemployment throughout the Gaza Strip. The younger generation do all they can to hold on to their lives and human rights–they attend schools and colleges, and continue to value education highly as a foundation for their future careers, even if very few have been allowed by Israel to leave the Gaza Strip and pursue their dreams. This is the new generation that Israel should be seeking to make peace with, rather than setting up as an enemy.
The second positive point relates to the United States. I can recall my first talks at Harvard and Columbia universities, and in several synagogues across the USA, where most people listened but some came to heckle and shout against the truth being told. This trend is now changing, and there is a stronger connection with young Jewish American people. The tide is turning toward justice and equitable peace. I know it is a slow process and may take years, but it feels right. Change is coming. And that is a good thing.
To read the rest of the excerpt, visit Socialist Worker.