The Lemon Tree, by Sandy Tolan
‘Bashir and his siblings breathed in the atmosphere of humiliation and defeat, and for Ahmad’s firstborn son, avenging the loss of Palestine became a singular goal, even in play. His siblings and neighborhood children would find pieces of wood to fashion as guns and play “Arabs and Jews,” like cowboys and Indians, in the dirt streets. “He insisted that he always play the Arab,” Khanom remembered. “He would be very angry if anyone would try to get him to play the Jew.”’ (Tolan 98-99)
I have just begun a new novel, a ‘non-fiction narrative’ as the author describes it, on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. It presents the deeply rooted histories of two families, an Arab and a Jew, battling over the same ‘homeland’ at the height of the war. This quote gets to the heart of the inbred prejudices that even the youngest members of society are subject to. It caused me to pause, and reflect inwardly on those beliefs that I have accepted as an individual. Being submissive to another’s way of thinking grants them a power over you that can be dangerous and limiting. That frightens me, and I hope to always maintain a broad scope that is not ignorant, but liberating.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
Quote Reaction #5
Reading Lolita in Tehran, by Azar Nafisi
“The war came one morning, suddenly and unexpectedly. It was announced on September 23, 2980, the day before the opening of schools and universities: we were in the car returning to Tehran from a trip to the Caspian Sea when we heard about the Iraqi attack on the radio. It all started very simply. The newscaster announced it matter-of-factly, the way people announce a birth or a death, and we accepted it as an irrevocable fact that would permeate all other considerations and gradually insinuate itself into the four corners of our lives.” (Nafisi 157)
I can’t imagine myself in a position where the message of war is delivered so diffidently. Of course, the context in which the author lived in is diametrically opposite the culture I am currently immersed in. However, the war does manage to seep into every facet of her life, despite its subtle beginnings. It is interesting to hear the first hand account of the progression from stubborn resistance to completely succumbing to a force/fear-based regime. I know I would not tolerate it even remotely well with my sheltered Western upbringing.
“The war came one morning, suddenly and unexpectedly. It was announced on September 23, 2980, the day before the opening of schools and universities: we were in the car returning to Tehran from a trip to the Caspian Sea when we heard about the Iraqi attack on the radio. It all started very simply. The newscaster announced it matter-of-factly, the way people announce a birth or a death, and we accepted it as an irrevocable fact that would permeate all other considerations and gradually insinuate itself into the four corners of our lives.” (Nafisi 157)
I can’t imagine myself in a position where the message of war is delivered so diffidently. Of course, the context in which the author lived in is diametrically opposite the culture I am currently immersed in. However, the war does manage to seep into every facet of her life, despite its subtle beginnings. It is interesting to hear the first hand account of the progression from stubborn resistance to completely succumbing to a force/fear-based regime. I know I would not tolerate it even remotely well with my sheltered Western upbringing.
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