“People have lost family, land and houses—but not the pride in who they are,” says Aboud Ahmed, in Ramallah, a college student who reminds Patinkin of the diversity of belief and thought among Palestinians, pointing out “We’re not a Muslim monolith.” Visiting Palestinians in Ramallah, including people he had met in the early 90s when he was covering the first Intifada, Patinkin reports encountering anger but also incredible hospitality and painful stories of occupation and seeing rights were stripped by the Israeli government. The interview subjects don’t offer much hope of peace anytime soon, with even a one-time Israeli “peacenik” saying, of civilian casualties, “I hate it. But I don’t think we should stop.”
Patinkin’s approach of allowing people to tell their stories reveals patterns: speakers on both sides believe their claim to the land is irrefutable, beliefs that the escalation of violence confirms for them. Patinkin leaves readers with the hopeful story of a Muslim/Jewish husband and wife who have created a mixed-faith school for young children as a way of trying to transcend these differences. Without explicitly saying so, Patinkin suggests it will take new modes of thinking to stop the conflict, and it's this gentle, humane approach that makes this such a moving work of narrative journalism.
Takeaway: Deeply humane accounts of life on both sides in Israel and Gaza after October 7th
Comparable Titles: Cathy Sultan’s Israeli and Palestinian Voices;Ben Ehrenreich’s The Way to the Spring
Production grades
Cover: A-
Design and typography: A-
Illustrations: A
Editing: A
Marketing copy: A