An unprecedented and unforgettable first-person account of resistance and transformation from a young Syrian woman—raised with deep family ties to the authoritarian government—who risked everything to rebel against the regime
Loubna Mrie was raised a staunch Syrian Alawite—a member of the same insular, historically oppressed Muslim sect as then-President Hafez al-Assad. Her mother’s father helped plan the coup that saw Hafez seize power in 1970 and bring the Alawites out of hiding and into a position of total control; her father was intimately involved in Hafez’s government as an enforcer and assassin. In her household and community at large, the president was seen less as a political figure and more as an object of near-religious devotion.
When the Arab Spring reached Syria in 2011, and popular discontent with the rule of Hafez’s son, Bashar al-Assad, triggered large-scale protests and prodemocracy rallies across the country, Loubna sought out an antigovernment demonstration out of curiosity and found herself forever changed by what she genuine passion for a better future for all Syrians being brutally repressed by government forces. When she returned to her grandparents’ home in Damascus, her jeans spattered with fellow protesters’ blood, her grandmother called her a traitor. Unable to ignore her political awakening, Loubna plunged ahead into a life of activism—in opposition to both the regime and her abusive father—with unimaginable consequences.
An account that includes her mother’s murder as a direct consequence of her resistance activities and the kidnapping and execution of her American boyfriend, Peter Kassig, at the hands of the Islamic State, Defiance is a searing, ground-level view of surviving the unendurable at the flash point of one of the most visible and least understood wars in recent history, from a perspective that is rarely considered, let alone heard—that of a Syrian Alawite woman.
Allow me to be ridiculously pedantic for a second. (If you just said, "Again?" then we are in a fight.) Memoirs worry me when I start them. I am always concerned that the author will make themselves either the eternal victim, or worse, the unsullied hero of their own story. If you call yourself the hero, then you are no hero. It's a rule I have. So, with that annoying little requirement in my head, I opened Defiance.
Loubna Mrie is no hero. At least, according to her. I think she defines herself as a survivor. I, however, consider her a hero.
Mrie grew up in relative privilege in Syria as part of the ruling class. She also grew up in abject terror as her father is, well, let's just say not a nice person. For the sake of avoiding spoilers, I won't comment further on him. I want the reader to experience this story the way I did because this book is one of the most powerful I have read.
What makes this narrative so exceptional is the utter emotional abandon in which Mrie writes. She is a reluctant revolutionary. In fact, she is a naive young girl who gets dragged into the resistance because she's just naturally inquisitive (and maybe a bit rebellious in the way most teenagers are). This is not a memoir of a budding standard bearer with nerves of steel. She is a flawed, scared woman who is trying to find a life of her own on her own terms. Her innermost destructive thoughts are never hidden. She makes decisions that, while understandable, will make the reader wince. She hides from consequences of her own making or completely out of her control and drowns her trauma in drink. And yet, she persists. Mrie will continually question her choices but consistently chooses to move forward to help save her homeland.
The book is a true page-turner. It begins almost like a normal coming-of-age story only to morph into a litany of near-death experiences, loss, and despair. While that all sounds like a very challenging read, I should also point out that Mrie is also very funny. Yeah, I didn't expect to find that in here either, but somehow Mrie's sardonic humor will come through to relieve the pressure. It's the type of nonfiction book which reminds me why I don't read fiction all that much. I have everything I need right here, and it's all true. Mrie went through hell, got her bruises, made her mistakes, and then was willing to show the world the unvarnished truth in order to shed light on the homeland she loves. That's where the heroism is.
(This book was provided as a review copy by the author and Viking Books.)
I just finished Loubna’s memoir and it’s a must read! Loubna is Journalist from Jableh my hometown off of the Syrian coast She has always been a figure that I would discretely try to know more about whenever I leave the safe walls of my politically active household In Jableh, every word was carefully spoken as a pro-regime city with assadist warlords running every inch inside it
I’ve never cried, laughed and took breaks so much for a single book Recognizing names of her relatives from my school, names of mutual friends of hers & my sisters that I grew up watching and thought so much of
Loubna has a very sick dark (concerning) funny humor I think some might enjoy lol I laughed a lot, a LOTTTT but it’s not for the weak hahahhahaha
Sharing cries and laughter with my sister while we reminisce memories and faces as Loubna’s squeaky but cute voice narrates in audible was a very warm and memorable experience I wish every person gets to read and hear a memoir or any peace of writing that connects them and revives the feelings i had the chance to get revived with this book
This memoir is truly a gentle gift for me and more for Syrians her age who lived through the uprising and the losses in the last 15 years
I don't know how to review this book, it has absorbed me and I feel something I can only describe as deep grief. I grew up in the Balkans and lived through our civil war. So when I read Loubna's memoir, I found parts of our stories merging. It is a memoir of one of the bloodiest civil wars, but it is also a story of pervasive child abuse and abuse toward women, in a system underpinned by toxic patriarchy and misogyny, so prevalent, so normalized by the culture so as to appear almost biologically factual. I know that system, lived that system, and the rage I felt reading through these pages was incandescent. For it is only in a system like this that murderous systems like Assad's and ISIS's can sprout-they are interdependent, intertwined, they cannot exist without the other. Loubna's courage, defiance, persistence in the face of that system is incredible, beyond courageous...it is legendary. I hope she has disentangled the poisonous vines of the system that made her believe she is to blame for what has happened to her and to her family. I hope she is tending to her wounds and her grief, that she finds peace and heals this devastating trauma. I hope that for all of us victims of various Assads, for they're all the same in the misery and destruction they sow. Different flags, same criminals. May they all burn in hell.
“Normality glides forward, slowly, rapidly, ineluctably, perpetually. It’s horrifying how life can go on, uninterrupted, despite all of the agony taking place elsewhere on the same earth. How is it that the whole world does not pause and come together to do something, anything, to stop this—or at least to mourn?”
This is without a doubt the most powerful and heartbreaking memoir I have ever read. I cannot even begin to find the words to do it justice, and it enrages me that it hasn’t gotten more attention.
“A heavy wave of sadness debilitates me. The sadness of realizing that I had never imagined experiencing a war where I would be overwhelmed with uncontrollable jealously toward someone because he was able to bury the upper half of his mother’s body.”
“Words cannot convey how a revolution transforms you; you have to live it. No matter how many books you read, nothing compares to the first chant you hear emanating from the depth of your heart. Nothing compares to the sound of the first explosion or the sight of the first death.”
While I’m not a literary critic I can tell you with absolute certainty that this story is incredibly important. It’s a reminder that NO country or people are a monolith. The world is complicated and there are no simple answers. Conversely, we are all so very similar. We need only remember our shared humanity.
This is an incredible, powerful, and deeply honest memoir of life in a tumultuous Syria. Its a story of how one woman defied her community, rejected the foundations of her social world, and sought to build new ones, often with great difficulty, confusion, and doubt. What is particularly compelling about this book is that the narrator does not heroize or romanticize herself or her story—it is full of honest reflections about the messy world we inhabit, and especially the moral complexities and ambiguities that result from social upheaval and war. And even though the book is based around the revolution and civil war in Syria, the earnest style of writing makes it actually relatable. If you're looking for a compelling story, wanting to know more about Syria, or even become immersed in a totally different world, this book is for you!
I won this book through a Goodreads giveaway in exchange for an honest review. Thanks to Viking Penguin for choosing me.
I read and listened to this book over a couple of days and I was totally immersed in Loubna's world. She didn't romanticize it, embellish it or make it pretty for the reader. Instead she let her life speak for itself. She allowed the reader (in this case me) into the gritty, not always pretty life of a Syrian woman. It felt authentic from beginning to end. Her memoir is one that will stay with me for a long time.
Defiance is a strikingly honest memoir. What stayed with me most while reading it was the generosity with which Loubna Mrie shares her life. She does not simply recount events, she opens up her inner world with remarkable clarity and vulnerability. There is no attempt to dramatize or romanticize experience. Reading Defiance feels less like being told a story and more like being trusted with someone’s lived experience.
This book feels difficult to meaningfully comment on without feeling trite or disrespectful. It was beautiful, sometimes hard to read or to escape after doing so, a powerful narrative exposition of the desolation of stunted men, and a reminder of the well-deserved guilt due to all (we) comfortable uninterested observers living safely in enabler nations.