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A review by ironi
Habibi by Naomi Shihab Nye
2.0
I've been called habibti by Arabic speaking friends and find it adorable but somehow, I've only heard habibi be used sarcastically, kind of like the word "buddy" in English. Anyway, recently all I've been reading is young adult or books about Palestine and well, this is both.
I came across a poem about doubt by Naomi Shihab Nye and absolutely wanted to read more of her work. When I opened Goodreads, I was surprised to find that I had already shelved this book years ago.
So I jumped into reading it! Habibi talks about Liyana, an American teen who moves to the West Bank. I was excited for this book because I felt like it had tons of potential. I, too, grew up in the states and moved back to this corner of the world. I think people don't talk about cultural shock enough so I'd hoped this book would expand that. I was excited to see how Liyana's experiences unfold, to see if I would be able to relate to what is essentially the same experience but on "opposite" sides.
However, I think this book was too ambitious and it ended up backfiring. This could have been a book about a Jewish guy and an American-Palestinian girl. It could have been a book about Armenians and studying in an Armenian school as an "outsider". It could have also been a book about the challenges of moving countries or the particular challenges of reconnecting with your parent's culture or a book about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict through the eyes of an American teen. Maybe at the hands of a different author, it could have been all of these.
By attempting to be so many things, this book felt underdeveloped. None of the plot lines that I mentioned were properly developed. When I try to look at it through one of these perspectives, I don't feel like I have a full story.
Instead, this book is just lots of chapters with various emphasis on these plot lines. I'm sure I could easily go chapter by chapter and say, "this part is about Armenians and doesn't ever get spoken about again, this chapter is about her father". In order to blend it all together, the author sticks in a lot of melodrama and cliches. I was unable to stop myself from rolling my eyes every time Liyana gave a "but why can't everyone get along?" type of speech and don't even get me started on the mock poetry, the "I'm so different and thoughtful" notebook entries.
I realize that Liyana is a teen and that the target audience is teens but like, ugh, she was so obnoxious and pretentious. Is this really how we want to teach kids to interact with conflicts? I assume that we would want to teach listening skills and compassion and not arrogance. We need people with open hearts and minds, we don't need more confidence and bluster.
It's just a shame because I can't even criticize the representation of conflict. There was hardly anything here. Nothing of substance, at least. Nonetheless, there were certain elements that felt like a missed opportunity.
I suppose my bone to pick with this is that Liyana seems to think she knows everything there is to know and yet, she never makes an attempt to understand Omer's side. It's funny because I often claim that Palestinians aren't familiar with the Israeli narrative but here, the sheer lack of interest Luyana has in Omer's life is embarrassing. I mean, he goes to her village and attempts to speak Arabic while she ditches his poetry reading (for a good reason but I have to wonder what message was the author trying to send here), doesn't go to West Jerusalem at all and doesn't even attempt to learn Hebrew. He is invested in her world and wants to know more while she doesn't seem to have an active interest in pursuing peace.
Beyond this, she doesn't really bother to take interest in his narrative. She complains about the "chosen people" thing but doesn't care to listen more about what it means. As if Jews thinking they're the chosen people is the cause of the conflict, like come on, that's not even the beginning of the iceberg. She makes assumptions about the conflict without ever questioning them and somehow, her father supports this.
And together, it makes me wonder. Omer knows she isn't Jewish or Israeli from the start and that doesn't stop him from being a good friend to her while she panics when she hears he's Jewish, even if she grew up in America so why would that be such a big deal to her?
Her parents were yet another missed opportunity. Her mother is American and her father is Palestinian. There could have been more room for her mother's perspective, to understand what it's like for an American to suddenly move to a foreign country, to be submerged in her husband's culture. That's not easy and yet, her mother doesn't have much of a role here. I would assume that especially in the moments when they get involved with the stickier parts of the conflict, her mother would be a pivotal voice but nope. Liyana idolizes her father but even there, the entire relationship lacks complexity. When a crisis happens, it gets solved immediately and with more idealism thrown her father's way.
The army is also an interesting point here. Soldiers are portrayed as violent and mindless, destructing everything without even any type of thought. I'm not going to defend the army because heck, the army can defend itself but I do want to say that I found it to be lazy story telling. I mean, there's a scene where one of her relatives tells Omer to remember their meal together when he joins the army. And that's it. There's no real conversation about what the army means and who exactly joins and why it looks the way it does.
I suppose that the author was basing this (partly) on her own experiences but this was just such a messy book. I find it hard to see a central message here. I have no idea what she was trying to accomplish here or what message was she trying to express, other than "I lived in the West Bank for a while and wow, some Jews are okay but I'm not going to engage with them beyond the one Jew that I like and there are Armenians living in Jerusalem but let's not dig deep into their story and hey, the Old City is beautiful and there are stores there".
Even though I didn't like it that much, [b:All the Rivers|31159192|All the Rivers|Dorit Rabinyan|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1478027693l/31159192._SY75_.jpg|41923214] was better in the sense that it was more cohesive, diverse, complex (and depressing). I feel tempted to edit this book and turn it into something better because right now, it's a wasted opportunity. If you want to read about an Israeli-Palestinian romance, All the Rivers is the book to read (and then read my review because I don't feel like I can recommend that book wholeheartedly either).
What I'm Taking with Me:
-Her father doesn't seem to be very friendly to Jews either, despite all the preaching. Really, the brother is the only what that seems like, okay.
-The conversation about religion is a little lame as well, let's not pretend organized religion is the (only) problem.
-The scenes that could have talked about cultural differences were lacking and don't even get me started on the grandmother and the way she was portrayed.
I came across a poem about doubt by Naomi Shihab Nye and absolutely wanted to read more of her work. When I opened Goodreads, I was surprised to find that I had already shelved this book years ago.
So I jumped into reading it! Habibi talks about Liyana, an American teen who moves to the West Bank. I was excited for this book because I felt like it had tons of potential. I, too, grew up in the states and moved back to this corner of the world. I think people don't talk about cultural shock enough so I'd hoped this book would expand that. I was excited to see how Liyana's experiences unfold, to see if I would be able to relate to what is essentially the same experience but on "opposite" sides.
However, I think this book was too ambitious and it ended up backfiring. This could have been a book about a Jewish guy and an American-Palestinian girl. It could have been a book about Armenians and studying in an Armenian school as an "outsider". It could have also been a book about the challenges of moving countries or the particular challenges of reconnecting with your parent's culture or a book about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict through the eyes of an American teen. Maybe at the hands of a different author, it could have been all of these.
By attempting to be so many things, this book felt underdeveloped. None of the plot lines that I mentioned were properly developed. When I try to look at it through one of these perspectives, I don't feel like I have a full story.
Instead, this book is just lots of chapters with various emphasis on these plot lines. I'm sure I could easily go chapter by chapter and say, "this part is about Armenians and doesn't ever get spoken about again, this chapter is about her father". In order to blend it all together, the author sticks in a lot of melodrama and cliches. I was unable to stop myself from rolling my eyes every time Liyana gave a "but why can't everyone get along?" type of speech and don't even get me started on the mock poetry, the "I'm so different and thoughtful" notebook entries.
I realize that Liyana is a teen and that the target audience is teens but like, ugh, she was so obnoxious and pretentious. Is this really how we want to teach kids to interact with conflicts? I assume that we would want to teach listening skills and compassion and not arrogance. We need people with open hearts and minds, we don't need more confidence and bluster.
It's just a shame because I can't even criticize the representation of conflict. There was hardly anything here. Nothing of substance, at least. Nonetheless, there were certain elements that felt like a missed opportunity.
I suppose my bone to pick with this is that Liyana seems to think she knows everything there is to know and yet, she never makes an attempt to understand Omer's side. It's funny because I often claim that Palestinians aren't familiar with the Israeli narrative but here, the sheer lack of interest Luyana has in Omer's life is embarrassing. I mean, he goes to her village and attempts to speak Arabic while she ditches his poetry reading (for a good reason but I have to wonder what message was the author trying to send here), doesn't go to West Jerusalem at all and doesn't even attempt to learn Hebrew. He is invested in her world and wants to know more while she doesn't seem to have an active interest in pursuing peace.
Beyond this, she doesn't really bother to take interest in his narrative. She complains about the "chosen people" thing but doesn't care to listen more about what it means. As if Jews thinking they're the chosen people is the cause of the conflict, like come on, that's not even the beginning of the iceberg. She makes assumptions about the conflict without ever questioning them and somehow, her father supports this.
And together, it makes me wonder. Omer knows she isn't Jewish or Israeli from the start and that doesn't stop him from being a good friend to her while she panics when she hears he's Jewish, even if she grew up in America so why would that be such a big deal to her?
Her parents were yet another missed opportunity. Her mother is American and her father is Palestinian. There could have been more room for her mother's perspective, to understand what it's like for an American to suddenly move to a foreign country, to be submerged in her husband's culture. That's not easy and yet, her mother doesn't have much of a role here. I would assume that especially in the moments when they get involved with the stickier parts of the conflict, her mother would be a pivotal voice but nope. Liyana idolizes her father but even there, the entire relationship lacks complexity. When a crisis happens, it gets solved immediately and with more idealism thrown her father's way.
The army is also an interesting point here. Soldiers are portrayed as violent and mindless, destructing everything without even any type of thought. I'm not going to defend the army because heck, the army can defend itself but I do want to say that I found it to be lazy story telling. I mean, there's a scene where one of her relatives tells Omer to remember their meal together when he joins the army. And that's it. There's no real conversation about what the army means and who exactly joins and why it looks the way it does.
I suppose that the author was basing this (partly) on her own experiences but this was just such a messy book. I find it hard to see a central message here. I have no idea what she was trying to accomplish here or what message was she trying to express, other than "I lived in the West Bank for a while and wow, some Jews are okay but I'm not going to engage with them beyond the one Jew that I like and there are Armenians living in Jerusalem but let's not dig deep into their story and hey, the Old City is beautiful and there are stores there".
Even though I didn't like it that much, [b:All the Rivers|31159192|All the Rivers|Dorit Rabinyan|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1478027693l/31159192._SY75_.jpg|41923214] was better in the sense that it was more cohesive, diverse, complex (and depressing). I feel tempted to edit this book and turn it into something better because right now, it's a wasted opportunity. If you want to read about an Israeli-Palestinian romance, All the Rivers is the book to read (and then read my review because I don't feel like I can recommend that book wholeheartedly either).
What I'm Taking with Me:
-Her father doesn't seem to be very friendly to Jews either, despite all the preaching. Really, the brother is the only what that seems like, okay.
-The conversation about religion is a little lame as well, let's not pretend organized religion is the (only) problem.
-The scenes that could have talked about cultural differences were lacking and don't even get me started on the grandmother and the way she was portrayed.