Native: Dispatches from an Israeli-Palestinian Life

by Sayed Kashua

Sayed Kashua has been praised by the New York Times as “a master of subtle nuance in dealing with both Arab and Jewish society.” An Arab-Israeli who lived in Jerusalem for most of his life, Kashua started writing with the hope of creating one story that both Palestinians and Israelis could relate to, rather than two that cannot coexist together. He devoted his novels and his satirical weekly column published in Haaretz to telling the Palestinian story and exploring the contradictions of modern Israel, while also capturing the nuances of everyday family life in all its tenderness and chaos.

With an intimate tone fueled by deep-seated apprehension and razor-sharp ironic wit, Kashua has been documenting his own life as well as that of society at he writes about his children’s upbringing and encounters with racism, about fatherhood and married life, the Jewish-Arab conflict, his professional ambitions, travels around the world as an author, and—more than anything—his love of books and literature. He brings forth a series of brilliant, caustic, wry, and fearless reflections on social and cultural dynamics as experienced by someone who straddles two societies. Written between 2006 and 2014, Native reads like an unrestrained, profoundly thoughtful personal journal.

Genres: Nonfiction, Memoir, Israel, Middle East, Essays, Politics, Journalism

304 pages, Hardcover

First published April 1, 2015

About the author

Czech name version: Sajjid Kašua.
Slovak name version: Said Kašua

Sayed Kashua (Arabic: سيد قشوع‎, Hebrew: סייד קשוע‎; b. 1975) is an Israeli-Arab author and journalist born in Tira, Israel, known for his books and humoristic columns in Hebrew.

هو كاتب وصحفي فلسطيني إسرائيلي يعيش في القدس ويكتب بالعبرية. ولد سيد قشوع في مدينة الطيرة، مدينة عربية وسط إسرائيل، لأب يعمل موظفا في البنك ولأم تعمل معلمة. هو الثاني من بين أربعة أبناء. حين كان في ال15 من عمره تم قبوله لمدرسة العلوم والفنون في القدس، وهي مدرسة مرموقة، تعمل باللغة العبرية ومعظم تلاميذها من اليهود. بعد انهائه تعليمه الثانوي تعلم في الجامعة العبرية في القدس موضوع الفلسفة والعلوم الاجتماعية. بعد انهائه تعليمه عمل مراسلا للصحيفة العبرية المقدسية "كول هاعير" ("כל העיר") وبعد ذلك تحول أيضا إلى ناقد تلفزيوني وصاحب عمود شخصي في صحيفة هآرتس. كتب قشوع بالعبرية فقط، على عكس غيره من الكتاب العرب في إسرائيل الذين كتبوا بالعربية.

Reviews

[Orsodimondo · Rating 4 out of 5]

LA CONDIZIONE CHIAMATA “CITTADINO ISRAELIANO PALESTINESE”


I protagonisti della popolare serie tv scritta da Sayed Kashua, “Avoda Aravit – Arab Labor”.

Quando ci si ama bisogna accettarsi per come si è.
Ma io ti amo per quello che sei. Non m’importa neanche che tu sia araba.

Essere arabi e vivere in Israele: parlando ebreo, vivendo in un quartiere ebraico con amici ebrei, e lavorando tra e con ebrei.
Perfino assumere una colf ebrea (ma dover nascondere ogni traccia del proprio essere arabo).
Vivere in un paese dove il 20% della popolazione commemora la catastrofe, il disastro (= l’esodo), la Nakba, mentre il resto del paese festeggia l’Indipendenza.
È la grande spiegazione che mi aspettavo leggendo questo libro, il grande compito che volevo attribuirgli.


Più soap che serie.

Ma risposta non c’è. Né una né più.
M’è venuto in mente che sarebbe un po’ come cercare di capire gli ebrei ortodossi di Williamsburg leggendo i libri di Woody Allen: qualche assaggio, molte battute, qualche situazione esilarante. Ma alla fine, ne sappiamo come all’inizio.

Woody Allen viene a pennello, perché anche questa volta Sayed Kashua, col suo umorismo satirico, me lo ricorda.
Certo l’editore italiano calca per aumentare le aspettative in questa rivelazione: Ultimi dispacci di vita palestinese in Israele è il titolo nostrano al posto del più semplice, in originale, Ben Ha’aretz, dove Ha’aretz è il giornale per il quale Kashua ha scritto una rubrica d’argomento molto libero per una decina d’anni (ogni settimana dal 2004 al 2014).
Ma già gli inglesi avevano imboccato questa strada (Native: Dispatches from an Israeli-Palestinian Life), ma con una sfacciataggine più trattenuta, manca quell’ultimi che da al tutto un senso di imprescindibilità.


Norman Issa, il protagonista Amjad.

Io, che non ho mai letto un’Amaca o una bustina, che le rubriche evito come la peste, sfuggo i giornalisti d’opinione, mi sono comunque letto tutte le trecento e rotte pagine, le circa settanta rubriche lunghe mediamente quattro pagine e mezza ciascuna, e mi sono anche divertito.

Kashua parla molto della sua famiglia, di aspetti di vita familiare che conosciamo bene: cene, accompagnamenti, spesa, lavatrice, pannolini, compiti a casa eccetera.
Poi si arriva all’ultima sezione del libro, chiamata Storie che non oso raccontare, che accompagna il lettore fino quasi alla partenza della famiglia Kashua (Sayed, sua moglie, la figlia maggiore, il figlio di mezzo, e l’ultimo nato) per l’Illinois dove lui insegnerà per un anno (cosa? Ma, ovviamente, lingua ebraica!), si arriva all’ultima sezione del libro e la condizione chiamata “cittadino israeliano palestinese” viene più fuori. Fino al terzultimo intervento che è un inno alla pace e all’integrazione senza prevaricazione di sorta.



Rimane difficile capire e spiegare perché un così gran numero di israeliani sia tanto facilmente portato alla diffidenza, se non vogliamo parlare proprio di razzismo: e mica solo verso i palestinesi, che sono comunque il 20% della popolazione, o gli arabi in genere, o i musulmani, o i cristiani, o i neri, gli africani e quant’altri – ma anche verso i sefarditi, e i falasha, anche verso i loro correligionari.
Però questo esula da qualsiasi responsabilità di Kashua!

Quanto è difficile vivere con questa sensazione, quanto è dura questa eterna paura del futuro, questa sensazione che devo essere sempre pronto al peggio. La sensazione che nel giro di un attimo tutto quello che ho potrebbe andare perso. Che la casa non è mai una certezza e che la condizione di profugo è una spada sospesa sopra di me.

[Esil · Rating 4 out of 5]

If you're not familiar with Sayed Kashua's background, I would start at the very end of Native with a short piece that explains how he came to be an Arab author living in Jerusalem writing in Hebrew. Having that background adds a lot of context to the book that I wish I had from the beginning. Having said that, even without that background, I found Native made for powerful, funny, sad, depressing and interesting reading. Kashua is a fiction writer and journalist, and Native collects many of his columns written for an Israeli paper between 2006 and 2014. The columns are very personal, dealing with his family, writing career and life as an Arab living in a Jewish part of Jerusalem. The anecdotes from his life often read more like satirical pieces -- no doubt that truth is generally bent to create a desired effect. Kashua is irreverent, unabashedly self-deprecating and comfortably outside of all norms in this polarized world he depicts. It's hard to say that this is a funny book -- although I often laughed and Kashua has a wicked sense of humour -- because there is also a pervasive sense of sadness bordering on despair -- and Kashua himself constantly refers to occasions that made him cry real tears. I read this as a North American with some political savvy, but without intimate knowledge of Israeli politics or without the benefit of having traveled to Israel. When I first started reading Native, I felt that this was perhaps too much inside baseball and I wasn't sure I was getting enough of what Kashua referred to to make it worthwhile reading for me. But that feeling quickly dispelled, and I really got caught up in Kashua's insight, sensibility and humour. I had many "aha" moments when I wanted to dwell on a particular passage. His underlying message is a hope for some kind of peace and reconciliation in Israel, but sadly he also makes clear that this hope has waned over the years. Again, if you're not familiar with Kashua, read the last entry first. For me, regardless, this was a worthwhile powerful read, and I'm now going to look for Kashua's works of fiction. Thank you to the publisher and Netgalley for an opportunity to read an advance copy.

[Elyse Walters · Rating 5 out of 5]

I first learned of author "Sayed Kashua", from his debut novel called "Dancing Arabs",
a terrific darkly humorous and deeply portrayal of a young man coming of age between two cultures. It was a story about family - divided identities -pushing through stereotypes and political challenges.
It was hilarious, yet the bitter truth of the story was felt.

Sayed Kashua himself was born in Tira, an Arab village in Galilee- in the triangle of Israel- to Palestinian parents. He attended a prestigious private boarding school on scholarship and went on to study at Hebrew University in Jerusalem. He studied sociology and philosophy.
At one point he was a resident of Beit Safafa, but later moved to a Jewish neighborhood with his wife and children.

He publishes a weekly column in the Hebrew 'Haaretz' newspaper, and has written many 'tongue-and-cheek' style articles addressing problems between Arabs and Israeli's.
Kashua and his family moved to Chicago a couple of years ago ... and continues to write some very funny articles ( had me in stitches)...,from understanding the America Dream through Donald Trump...to Jewish food in the states, etc.

In his new book, "Native", he narrates through expediting his articles - as he has been writing a weekly column for the 'Haaretz' ,(Israeli newspaper), for more than ten years.
In the beginning he shares how writing the column became a way of life for him, but
sometimes was a nightmare trying to figure out what to write. He said he never looked for an idea, but rather a feeling.
"The method I adopted was to write about what had moved me most that week. I honed my senses and pursued emotions--fear, pain, hope, desire, anger, happiness. My promise to myself was that I would convey those feelings to the reader by means of personal stories."
He goes on to say that even when writing fiction, he tried to tell the truth as he perceived things. Kashua delivers on his intentions.
With dry wit, he writes about his family - on being a father - husband- and through a very hilarious scene describes ( to his daughter), why it's almost impossible to live as an Arab in a Jewish state. Later in the book... nothing about this feels funny at all.
By sharing 'personal examples' of his own life...we see how alarming, appalling, shameful, and preposterous the present 'unity' conditions are in the Middle East

Kashua's writing is clever -- showing us the bitter criticism from both sides - Jews and Arabs ... but he shows us something else ....(something so raw - and hopeless it makes you angry)....
At the same time...thank God, Sayed Kashua is a funny guy, or else it would be too painful to digest these complex problems in the Middle East!

Kashua's love for books is an added enjoyment...,( should make any reader smile)...
had a little too much to drink at times...( but understandably)...and no those little
whiskey bottles are not for children.

A side note... Sayed Kashua is not only a humorous- bright- insightful talented -*knowledgeable* writer on the Middle East but the reader 'feels' his warmth as a human being. This book - (and - Kashua), are quite touching and incredible.

Thank You to Grove Atlantic, Netgalley, Sayed Kashua,

[Lauren · Rating 4 out of 5]

"I wanted to tell the Israelis a story, the Palestinian story. Surely when they read it they will understand, when they read it they will change, all I have to do is write and the Occupation will end. I just have to be a good writer and I will free my people from the ghettos they live in, tell good stories in Hebrew and I will be safe, another book, another movie, another newspaper column and another script for television and my children will have a better future."

From NATIVE: Dispatches from a Israeli-Palestinian Life, by Sayed Kashua, tr. from Hebrew by Ralph Mandel, 2014/2016.

Laughing through tears.
Laughing at the absurdity, the despair, at the racism, the terror, and the system designed to make you fail.
Laughing until you cry. Crying until you laugh.
Coin toss.

NATIVE is a collection of satirical newspaper columns by Kashua over ~4 years in the Israeli newspaper Haaretz

The birth of his youngest son at a Jerusalem hospital (should he be circumcised by the hospital's rabbi?) / his uneasiness when his once-secular parents suddenly become religious and decide to make Hajj / his tears and anguish over the racism his son experiences at the neighborhood pool / his Jewish friends who stop calling, his code-switching Hebrew and Arabic with friends, family /his cafe meeting with Philip Roth - "how do you handle everyone hating you?" / the literary events that only seem ask him about being "a poor Arab" when all the authors get to talk about their work.

There's so much here to glean and learn here. Kashua is a man who drinks and smokes excessively. One who thinks and overthinks. A man who loves his family and life deeply, but is also angry and tired and tired of being angry. Arab Bukowski... taking place here in Israel and Palestine, but circumstances we see in every region of the world.

Readers will likely empathize and criticize, just as I found myself doing. That seems to be what Kashua encourages - a deep look.

His novels sometime soon... Very intrigued after learning so much about him in NATIVE.

[Sabrisab · Rating 3 out of 5]

Dopo aver letto i primi dispacci ho avuto la tentazione di abbandonare la lettura, l'autore sembra fare di tutto per rendersi antipatico e sembrare un beone incallito. Siccome non mi piace abbandonare ho continuato dato che la lettura è facilitata dalla brevità dei dispacci (5/6 pagine ognuno) slegati tra di loro, che mi hanno permesso di accostare altre letture. I dispacci sono brevi riflessioni su eventi vissuti dall'autore di origini palestinesi, vive con la famiglia in un quartiere ebraico di Gerusalemme, lavora per un giornale di Israele, i suoi figli frequentano scuole ebraiche e parlano entrambe le lingue. Se ne deduce che l'integrazione non è facile ma non è impossibile.

[Kathrina · Rating 3 out of 5]

Kashua offers a fresh perspective on the experience of being Arab under occupation. These are a collection of articles from a column he's published weekly over decades for a Hebrew-language paper in Jerusalem. He's tried desperately to stay apolitical, to simply be a writer, to reflect on the everyday, but in the end he cannot avoid how blatant racism, terror, and the politics of the Palestinian conflict have damaged his optimism, his family, his hope. In the end, he allows, the only way to protect himself, his family, and his values, is to emigrate.

[Samar Dahmash Jarrah · Rating 5 out of 5]

What an interesting book....First time i hear the voice of the largest native minority who live as foreigners on their own Native land Palestine. Funny and full of heartfelt anecdotes on life and identity of a Palestinian with Israeli passport.

[Ary アリ · Rating 3 out of 5]

'In one sentence, I would say that the book is undoubtedly a rare look into the very heart of Arab society.'

The book is categorised into 4 chapters of the author's life in Israel/Palestine in a span of almost 10 years. It shies away from the general idea I had of an Arabic living in Palestine/Israel, what more of the only Arab in a Jewish neighbourhood. He was a columnist, writing in Hebrew for an Israeli magazine.

In the earlier part of the book, Kashua told about his life as a husband and father who seemed like leading an ordinary life, like any other husband and father in most parts of the world. It almost felt like a journal when he told of his life in Jerusalem, with the characters revolving around his family and parents. He ranted about mostly daily mundane, random life like buying a house and sending his kids to school, instead of the occupation and the apartheid condition. There were minor instances where he told of his encounters of racism but it was so minor that it did not feel like the center of his life. 

'you only used the word "Nakba" twice, and you mentioned the occupation only once. And you didn't use the word "colonialism" at all.'

He has the style of ending each chapter so abruptly, at some point it left me hanging, because the chapters were always followed with new unrelated stories. As the book progressed, he admitted lost at his own war, that his ideal world of the state can never exist. That he cannot stop the occupation. That despite excelling in a Jewish boarding school, mastering the Hebrew, working for a Jewish publication, nothing around him changed. The Arabs and the Jews can never coexist. In accepting this defeat, he left the place for good.

'whatever you do in life, for them you will always, but always, be an Arab. Do you understand?'

I think this is a pretty light reading, but I am not sure if it's a book I would suggest if you want to learn more about the Israeli occupied Palestinian.

[Will · Rating 5 out of 5]

It's rare to find a collection of columns or articles that has a true narrative force. Sayed Kashua, a Arab columnist for Haaretz, Israel's prestigious, left-leaning newspaper, is an expressive writer, employing both dark humor and heartrending storytelling to compile a masterful collection. Kashua is an Arab citizen of Israel living in a Jewish community in West Jerusalem, in the hopes of providing a better education and quality of life for his children.

Kashua is an optimist with a serious sense of humor. The collection opens with a letter to the editor of Haaretz from Kashua's ever-suffering wife, who cries foul of his negative, nagging portrayal of her. Her tongue-in-cheek criticisms of her own husband set the tone for the rest of the collection, mostly stories about Kashua's family life and the impossible contradictions that an Arab, who identifies as a Palestinian citizen of Israel but writes in Hebrew, must endure. He experiences systematic discrimination and roadblocks at every turn.

At a pool, a young Jewish boy innocently asks Kashua's son what language they were speaking, and when the boy replies "Arabic", the Jewish boy curses him and runs away. Completely forgetting his desire to be Kashua's son's friend, the Jewish boy rejects him solely because of his Arab roots. This one incident struck me because of its sheer brutality, its racist clarity. Kashua outlines the constant contradictions that a successful Arab Israeli must decode every day.

Read this collection because of its remarkable perspective and cohesion, but be prepared to be angry, confused, and resigned by the end.

[Genia · Rating 4 out of 5]

איני קוראת הארץ ולכן לא הכרתי את טוריו של סייד קשוע.
חלקם היו פוליטיים מידי, משעממים או מתאמצים. מרביתם גרמו לי לצחוק בקול רם על כל הבית שהסובבים תהו מה עובר עליי.
ממליצה

[Sam Bahour · Rating 4 out of 5]

Palestinian-Israeli writer Sayed Kashua should be commended for writing this book, as should be the publishers who took on the task of bringing it to the English reading community. Where diplomacy has failed, politics has stumbled, and common sense remains a rare commodity, one hopes that Kashua’s shrewd satire and political barbs can break open closed minds and pave the way for a breakthrough for Palestinians and Israelis. If not, Kashua is fully content in just making the reader laugh, then freeze, knowing the words are reality, then cry, as he pokes fun at everyone, mostly himself.

Kashua’s poor wife! She seems like such a wonderful person, loving and caring, but she is the target of his relentless attacks and haphazard lifestyle. I’m actually considering starting a humanitarian drive to support her, a sort of Brexit, maybe we’ll call it Kaexit. You’ll understand after you read the book.

This book of short stories is organized into four parts based around specific timeframes, as is each story. The parts are: Warning Signs (2006-2007), Foreign Passports (2008-2010), Antihero (2010-2012), The Stories That I Don’t Dare Tell (2012-2014). For anyone living in Israel/Palestine, or even having an inkling of knowledge about the places, the ability to relate to the story lines is immediate. Kashua dives much deeper than the superficial political issues; he enters his home, family, culture and so much more. The most volatile chapters are when he enters his own mind; read with caution, always remembering that satire comes from reality.

Given I read this book while on a vacation with my family in the US, it took on even more of a meaningful read. Kashua writes, “There are Israelis who say that only after leaving the country did they realize how illogical life is there, how stressed they were, and how all of a sudden there are different concerns now. Concerns related to work, to everyday life, to the weather, and mainly to the family.” He could have easily replaced “Israeli” with “Palestinians,” as he frequently does, and all would have remained true. Kashua comically amplifies the convoluted reality in both Palestine and Israel, which is causing the younger generations to voluntarily walk out and relocate to saner corners of the world—I would add, only to find those new corners are called Brussels, Paris, London and Orlando, all with their own share of convolution.

As Kashua walks the reader through his family’s decision to leave Israel and emigrate to Chicago, he writes, “I must help my children understand that Israel is not the end of the world—that if, God forbid, they don’t succeed there and they feel ostracized, different, or suspect, or when reality blows up in their faces, they’ll know that there are other options. It’s true that they’ll be different, but in a different way. They’ll be immigrants, and maybe they’ll have an accent, and they’ll feel a little strange. But they’ll be strangers in a strange land, and not in their homeland.” That last line says it all! Palestinians, be they citizens of Israel or residents living under Israeli military occupation in the West Bank or Gaza Strip, awaiting their long-delayed state, are all being made to feel like strangers in our own land. The result will be tragic.

Kashua repeats a phrase that his father repeatedly told him, “only the beginnings are hard.” Let’s believe that and hope that new beginnings don’t have to include one reaching a point where they can no longer live in their own homeland, but rather restart their lives right at home.

Reviewing this book evoked a serious contradiction in my mind. On the one hand, the book deserves to be read and commented on in its own right, having been written in Hebrew and translated into English. It’s a book aimed at our funny bone, but the underlying truths are too close to home. A hopeful takeaway from this heartfelt effort is that more Palestinian citizens of Israel are making their voice heard, in other than Arabic, which holds the hope that as more people, especially Jews around the world, get a peek into what Israel has become, change will be forthcoming.

The Saqi Books website states, “Sarah Cleave, publishing manager of Saqi Books, who acquired rights from Abner Stein in association with the Deborah Harris Agency, said ‘Native is a wickedly sardonic, moving and hugely entertaining collection that offers real insight into the lived experiences of Palestinians in Israel.’” This is so true.

If you are Palestinian or Israeli, Jewish, Muslim or Christian, or simply human, you will enjoy these short stories tremendously. If you are none of the above, then just buy the book and place it on your bookshelf for all to note in awe the powerful one word title, Native, which says it all!

[Magdelanye · Rating 4 out of 5]

I tried to be honest and to tell the truth as I perceived it, even though what I wrote was sometimes complete fiction. from the introduction p xii

What's new already? Even the war has looked the same the past 100 years. p56
I'm not serious, never have been, but I won't go under. p72

Sayed Kashua has tread a narrow line as a Palestinian Israeli living in Jerusalem and writing in English in the mainstream Israeli newspaper. His nonchalant attitude is obviously hard won as he reigns in his sarcasm with humour if not much tact. He loves his family so much that any reader may be forgiven for overidentifying. He writes about everyday existence and how that includes everyday terror, "the idea that I must always be prepared for the worst...that at any moment everything I have could be lost." p225. This is not funny. Yet I have the feeling that if I were to run into him in the halls, we might have a lively conversation.

deep down I'm still a revolutionary...every day I think about how the world could be saved.... p229
You'll see, All you have to do is just believe and someday it will be a paradise here. p125
I am available, therefore I exist. p279

[Lina Ahmad · Rating 2 out of 5]

سيد قشوع : الطيرة _ بيت صفافا
#בן_הארץ הוא כינוס של מיטב הרשימות שכתב הסופר "הערבי" סייד קשוע בשנים האחרונות למוסף "הארץ". הספר הזה מחבר רשימות שנכתבו בין השנים 2006 ל 2014.
סייד קשוע מגלה מאחורי הקלעים "כמה זה קשה להיות ערבי כאן".
בנימה אישית ובהומור שנהפך למזוהה כל כך עם כתיבתו תיעד קשוע ברשמותיו סיפורים מכל מיני סוגים , לפעמים הרגשתי שעמום לדעת דברים על חייו .
כתב על חיינו וחייו , על גידול ילדיו , יחסיו עם אשתו . ובעיקר על הסכסוך היהודי - הערבי , בית צפאפא וטירה.

[Daniele Scaglione · Rating 4 out of 5]

L'ho trovato bello, mi ha coinvolto. Abbastanza spesso mi ha fatto stare male, ma in un modo che ne valeva la pena. La cosa che mi ha più sorpreso è che Sayed Kashua parla di sé, in continuazione, di sé e della sua famiglia ma, nonostante questo, mi ha parlato di un paese, di un'intera epoca.

[Shawn Mooney (Shawn Breathes Books) · Rating 5 out of 5]

I wanted to read this book--a collection of newspaper columns by a Palestinian citizen of Israel, writer Sayed Kashua--to learn more about the plight of Arabs born-and-raised, living, working and voting within those contested borders and thus, perhaps, more about the troubled region in general.

In encountering Kashua's irreverent, self-mocking, and largely apolitical voice, my oh-so-noble agenda was frustrated. Here were highly-fictionalized slices of family life--the first piece sets the tone well: a letter to Kashua's newspaper, Haaretz, from Kashua's long-suffering wife, calling for his abrupt dismissal if he continued to lie about her in his columns.

Here was about as non-observant a Muslim as you can get: he portrays himself as a hard-drinking, heavy-smoking, irreligious fellow. There is delightful banter between him and his wife that, the occasional geographical and Muslim references aside, could be about your parents or mine or the neighbors next-door; his relationship with his preteen daughter and younger son – another baby boy comes along later – is loving and smart alecky.

Hold on, he seemed to be saying to me: you want some sociopolitical insights? You better goddamn wait until you can actually see my family, see me in all my bad-assedness.

Thus whipped into submission, I settled into reading what he'd actually written, and began to experience the text as a novel. It didn't matter how true to life the representations of Kashua and his family were; they were true in the way that only fiction can be.

Such that, when politics and religion do intrude in the early sections of the book, it was a shock. (There was a method to his madness.) He takes his daughter to a shopping center, a security guard hears his daughter speaking Arabic and reacts in an over-the-top, security-conscious, racist way. Another time, Kashua, alone, observes an Arabic girl of his daughter's age being interrogated by the police about whether the bike she is riding is stolen. The girl doesn't understand the policeman's Hebrew; the policeman appeals to nearby strangers to ask if anyone speaks Arabic. Kashua remains silent.

He just wants to live his life: apolitical, a funny guy, a writer, a joker, a family man sneaking around the corner for a cigarette or a swig of whiskey.

The world had other plans. As his television writing career takes off, he moves from his hometown within Israel into a Jewish neighborhood section of Jerusalem. His is one of the only Palestinian families there. There, he and his kids face more blatant suspicion and outright racism.

Unfolding alongside the stalemate in the Israeli-Palestinian peace process, punctuated by terrorist attacks against Israel retaliated with by Israel's disproportionate war-crimes in Gaza, Kashua decides just a couple of years ago that he can't stay. He uproots his family and ends up teaching at an American college in Urbana, Illinois.

Just before his departure, he publishes two of his most powerful columns. In "A Revolutionary Peace Plan," he doesn't, thankfully, keep his tongue out of his cheek in spelling out all of the 40 points, but long enough to make some very common sense proposals.

And in the final column in the book, "Farewell" (July 2014), he puts away the smart-ass, fictionalized mask long enough to chart his beginning as a writer, the so-called lucky break his high marks afforded him in his youth – a chance to attend an (almost) all-Jewish school, and finish his high school education in Hebrew. How his choice to write in the oppressor's tongue reflected his youthful optimism that telling Palestinian truths to Israelis in their native language might help heal the divide. Heartbreakingly, how by 2014, he was ready to walk away from it all, and give up.

[Ярослава · Rating 4 out of 5]

Добірка есеїв Кашуа, які він протягом багатьох років щотижня писав до ізраїльської щоденної газети "Гаарец".
Траєкторія така: спочатку наратор підсміюється над ксенофобіями
(до героя в барі підсідає дівчина і починає розповідати, як вона ненавидить арабів - араби самі нарвалися, раз навіть вона, з такої дуже ліберальної родини, що виросла у ліберальній спільноті... "Ця спільнота - нелегальне поселення на палестинській території", каже герой, і одразу знічується, чого це він перебиває багатообіцяючий флірт такою фігньою.
- Ти сказав, що Френч Гілл - це нелегальне поселення?
- Так, - протягнув я, перепрошуючи, - та байдуже. Географія-шмеографія, кому до того є діло. Найважливіше - це те, що ти відчуваєш. Прошу, продовжуй, дуже цікаво.)
і над бажаннями звести його досвід до очікуваних трагічних штампів
(журналістка питає його, як він почувається в День Незалежності Ізраїлю, як араб.
- В День незалежності мені хєрово, та ще й у дітей у школі вихідний.
- Я не розумію.
- Та, кажу, бісять вони мене на День незалежності, мені з ними увесь день товктися.
- Що ви кажете своїм дітям у День незалежності?
- Кажу, щоб ішли бавилися у вітальні. Інколи матюкаюся.)
і над бажанням звести його романи виключно до антропологічних звітів
(журналістка запрошує його поговорити на радіо про його новий роман
-Ви не могли б розповісти мені у кількох реченнях, про що цей роман?
- Звісно. Це роман про одруженого правника в Єрусалимі. Заходить він якось до книгарні...
- Стривайте, хвилиночку, - перебила вона. - То цей роман не про конфлікт?
- Взагалі-то, ні.
- Але ж він про умови, в яких живе арабська меншина в Ізраїлі?
- Та не зовсім.
- То, може, він про проблемні ідентичності?
- Я б так не сказав. Це роман про правника.
- Тоді я... перепрошую, я мушу порадитися з начальством... бо ми думали...
- Чекайте, чекайте! - закричав я, перш ніж вона встигла кинути слухавку. - Правник - араб.
- А, добре, розказуйте.
- Отже, це роман про правника-араба з проблемною ідентичністю, породженою статусом арабської громади під час палестинсько-ізраїльського конфлікту.)
Наратор думає, нафіга йому кидати палити, якщо ото тільки помучишся кілька місяців дарма, доки кидатимеш - а там знову почнеться війна, і доведеться знову закурити, щоб нерви заспокоїти; чи розказує, що тягає доньку на фортеп'яно - не для того, щоб вона виросла піаністкою, а щоб вона виросла "білою людиною, яка може розказувати, що батьки тягали її на музику".
А потім тіні все згущаються і згущаються, і закінчується роман есеєм-визнанням поразки: наратор каже, що протягом 25 п'яти років писання івритом сподівався на можливість діалогу, що пам'ять про День Незалежності не конче відмінятиме пам'ять про Накбу, що громадяни будуть рівні - якщо просто розповісти про це достатньо переконливо достатньо добрим івритом. На тлі наростання ксенофобії під останню війну він вирішує, що хай краще його діти будуть чужинцями на чужій землі, ніж на своїй, і пакує речі в Америку, налаштований шукати собі іншу мову, якою б писати.

(Щоразу, коли мені стає страшно читати українські новини, я читаю якусь літературку з Ізраїлю, щоб зрозуміти, що в нас іще далеко не безнадьога - он люди і при таких розкаладах живуть і навіть тішаться життям, себто нам точно розкисати не треба.)

[Akylina · Rating 3 out of 5]

"Native" is a book brimming with the author's wit, sarcasm and poignant point of view. It consists of many different essays of various lengths, which were originally written for the newspaper the author works for. His thematology is quite broad, as he covers issues such as discrimination, freedom of speech, his daily life, his life as a reporter and even some family moments.

The book opens with a letter written by the author's wife, in which she claims that the version of herself and their kids which appear in Kashua's articles is very distorted and made much meaner for the sake of creating drama for his readers. I found this a very interesting way to begin this book, as it definitely caught my interest. Kashua's writing was delightful and easy to read, though sometimes I had the impression that his essays finished too abruptly, with no real meaning attached to the stories.

It was my first time reading such a diverse author (he is an Arab who lives in Jerusalem and writes in Hebrew) and I certainly enjoyed the experience.

A copy of this book was very kindly provided to me by the publisher via NetGalley.

You can read my full review in The Literary Sisters.

[Alexis · Rating 5 out of 5]

Kashua, an Arab-Israeli living in Jerusalem, originally wrote this book as a series of columns in the (Hebrew) Israeli newspaper Haaretz, and the theme of an Arab working and spending much of his time in a largely Jewish-Israeli milieu runs through the work. Kashua writes himself as a befuddled, sardonic figure, balancing the comic and the tragic, the personal and political, sometimes in the space of only a few pages. Largely without making explicit political pronouncements, he shows the difficulties, even humiliations, of his position through daily events: What does it mean for his daughter to play in a festival for Yom Haatzmaut? How is he treated at Ben-Gurion Airport? What do we do with the mezuzah on the doorpost of our new apartment? narrated with a razor-sharp humor.

In the end, Kashua can take it no more: the cries of "Death to Arabs!" are too much, and he takes his family to the US. I can't help but think that's a loss for us all.

[Mainlinebooker · Rating 4 out of 5]

Knowing Sayed's background is important to understanding the context of this work of non fiction. An Arab Israeli living in Jerusalem , he was a weekly columnist for Haaretz, writing acerbic and humorous accounts about being Palestinian in an Israeli world. This book is taken from his weekly columns showing the trajectory of his emotional relationship with the "illogical" world that he lives in. Currently he is on sabbatical teaching in Illinois, USA..The short essays in the book are funny, sad, satirical, heartwarming ,wry and often showing deep insight.It sheds a giant lightbulb on the difficult world he lives in. To think that he is now in the US experiencing the deplorable divide on immigration is sad indeed.

[Brooke · Rating 5 out of 5]

Such an interesting and compelling read. There is a lot of pain and tension and humor in the narration, and in the ways he's both obviously exaggerating the truth and not so obviously. Despite the constant reminder that he's embellishing it never feels false or unbelievable, because the truth is there in the core. It was a super quick read, broken up into consistent little chunks. I would definitely recommend this.

[Alice Kersting · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a deeply thought provoking book and my star rating grew as I kept reading - the reflection of 10 years of writing obviously and rawly shows Kashua’s growth as both a person - father, partner, son - and thinker/writer. An intimate and unabridged grappling with identity, both in and out of our control.

[Leslie · Rating 5 out of 5]

Native by Sayed Kashua
Rereading
October 31, 2023 this time audiobook.


This book is about everything. It is perfect. 5 Stars.

[Agnese D · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Credo di aver soprattutto cercato di sopravvivere alla realtà con l’aiuto delle parole; di mettere ordine nel caos e trovare una logica interna nelle cose che vedevo e vivevo intorno a me"

[zeynep · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5/5. Somewhat funnier than I expected

[Brook · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book was an eye-opener for me.

The writer's style isn't really my bag (he was/is a columnist for Israeli newspapers), there's actually a bit too much unfunny-Dave-Barry in there. However, reading between the bitching about quitting smoking, issues with the wife, taking care of the kids, is an entirely separate narrative.

The life of an Arab in predominantly-Jewish (or just non-Arab) parts of Israel appears to be, through this book, a direct homologue for American Blacks in the South (all over the U.S., really). The concrete, line-in-the-sand, "you are a second class citizen with the lack of access to social services and all the other benefits of this first-world nation" attitude of many non-Arab Israelis to the author and those like him is haunting. Simply replace "Arab" with "Black" or another disaffected group in the United States, and it fits well. The subtlety (according to the author's telling) of the...racism? theocratic bias? Cultural separation? is, again, haunting.

Students are asked in primary school to write a report on their family, family name, lineage, and to trace their roots back. Innocuous, if a bit controversial, right? According to Kashua, this is then used to give validity to claims of "we were here first." There are no common surnames as there are with descendants of former slaves and descendants of slave owners, but it works the same. "We were here first. We have claim to this land. You are the usurper."

This book took a while to get off the ground, to become interesting to me. The banal and mundane crap is that, crap. The author tries to be funny but often fails. By the end, however, i had to know more. The subject matter, and the plainness with which Kashua expresses it, really hits the reader in the face. "Yeah, couldn't go to the pool today. Sucks for the kids. Here's why." Couching serious social and political issues in everyday activities is great.

[Mandy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Sayed Kashua is an Arab-Israeli writer who was born in Israel and lived most of his life in Jerusalem, where he hoped that Israelis and Palestinians could find a way to live together. He had a weekly column in Haaretz in which he wrote about his daily life, his family, his work and his reflections on contemporary life in Israel. The book is made up of a selection of these articles, written between 2006 and 2014 when he left Jerusalem for the US. It helps to know all this before starting the book as it puts the writing in context. The columns in Haaretz are very personal and occasionally very moving especially when he talks of the racism and prejudice that he and his family experience, the way that even though they are all Israeli citizens and speak Hebrew they are still considered second-class citizens. It all amounts to a vivid portrayal of the plight of the Arabs who are born and raised in Israel but never fully accepted. These are not the Palestinians of Gaza and the West Bank, but those who live in Jerusalem and have every right to be there. But still the apartheid continues. The difficulties, the hardships, and the humiliations – the book is an indictment of the situation in the country conveyed thought personal experience. The apparent impossibility of integration and the impossibility of living as an Arab in Israel comes over loud and clear. I found it an illuminating and informative book, and sometimes even humorous as Kashua is often self-deprecating. But overall it’s a depressing and deeply pessimistic book.

[Natalie Wainger · Rating 5 out of 5]

Native is a collection of columns from Sayed Kashua, a Palestinian Israeli citizen. Kashua’s insights, experience, humor, and honesty are an important and deeply under represented part to understanding Israel-Palestine conflict.

I highly recommend to anyone educating themselves on the situation.

[Leka]

Accettare l’estraneità come unica condizione per continuare a vivere, vuol dire aver raggiunto un punto di non ritorno nel grado della disperazione.

[Cherie Hicks · Rating 5 out of 5]

“I live in Jerusalem, and I have some wonderful Jewish neighbors, and I have wonderful Jewish friends – writers and journalists – but I still cannot take my children to day camps or to parks with their Jewish friends. My daughter protested furiously and said no one would know she is an Arab because of her perfect Hebrew, but I would not listen. She shut herself in her room and wept.”

Sayed Kashua was born and raised in Israel. He showed promise early and was sent to a Jewish boarding school where he learned to read and write in Hebrew; he already knew Arabic, the language used in his Palestinian parents’ home. He was familiar with all the Jewish customs and honored them, if not actually celebrating them. He assimilated into Israeli society in Jerusalem, rising to write a respected column in an Israeli newspaper, even moving his family into a Jewish neighborhood, although that was rarely allowed.

Still he repeatedly was discriminated against because he is an Arab, rarely getting past a security checkpoint without being searched and/or interrogated.

His “Native: Dispatches from an Israeli-Palestinian Life” is a great, easy read. It’s chapter after chapter of snippets of his life, as well as the story of his grandfather, killed during the  “Nabka,” in which Israel violently expelled and forcibly relocated hundreds of thousands of Palestinians as the new country was created in 1948. His grandmother saved her son – Sayed’s father – and eked out a living after all their property was stripped from them by the new government.

“How hard it is to live with this feeling, with the constant fear of the future, the idea that I must always be prepared for the worst. The feeling that at any moment everything I have could be lost. That a house is never a certainty and that refugee-hood is a sword hanging over me.”

[Angela · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Remember, whatever you do in life, for them you will always, but always, be an Arab. Do you understand?”

Right off the bat, I wish the last article, or essay, had been placed first. I realize the editor made the decision to set the articles chronologically instead but “Farewell” set up the entire narrative so much better and explains Sayed Kashua’s background as an Arab author and journalist living in Jerusalem, writing in Hebrew.

‘Native’ makes for powerful, sardonic, wry and, at times, depressing reading. A collection of Kashua’s columns for an Israeli paper from 2006-2014, this collection is very personal, dealing with his family, writing career and life as an Arab living in a Jewish section of Jerusalem.

“We can be inconsistent when we talk about identity, about language and about nationality. It’s okay, we’ve earned it honestly.”

Kashua has a very irreverent and dark sense of humor that shines throughout his writing and yet, there is still a pervasive sense of sadness. Whether he is harping back and forth with his wife (who gives as good as she gets) [“Without Parents”] or trying to impart life lessons to his children wrapped in barbed wire [“A Lesson In Arabic”], there is a sardonic glint to every story - with some leaving a bitter tang in the back of your throat.