For the past two months, I made slow progress through a book called
A Thousand Farewells. The book is a memoir of sorts written by Nahlah Ayed, a Canadian freelance journalist working from the Middle East. It follows Ayed from her arrival in Pakistan following the September 11 attacks, through a number of conflicts, uprisings and protests, to her return to Canada at the time of the book's completion.
There is no flattering way to put it; the book is a dry, heavy read through most of its 339 pages. Aside from the occasional anecdote that reads as more personal and reflective, it presents like a never-ending run-on news story written in the first person. However, this style does seem to serve a purpose.
While the stories may come off as cold, removed and overly objective at times, the dry journalistic style does an effective job of shifting much of the reader's focus away from Ayed's personal experience, toward the stories of others and the places and events at which she was present. Assuming this was the goal, it was accomplished in full and with careful tact. At first, I found the tone and execution of the narrative to be unengaging and impersonal, but as I began to consider the stories of the people and places above her own, I came to appreciate it for what it was.
On one hand, I would have liked to have seen more of her personal reflections on and reactions to her experiences. As it stands, she saves most of this for the end of the book, with only a few comments on very major experiences actually placed within the stories. However, I can see that the choice was intentional, and I believe it works.
The stuttering barrage of seemingly irrelevant names, places and qualifying details was the only thing about the book that I have yet to find justification for. I found it very difficult at times to process the stories when I was trying to either sound out or cross-reference half a dozen names and locations within the space of a few paragraphs.
Part of my school assignment on this book requires me to describe what a journalist might learn from this book. Aside from the obvious value to a journalist potentially working in the Middle East or amidst some sort of uprising, I found the book to be surprisingly lacking in journalistic relevance. The main lesson that a journalist could (and should) take from it is spelled out near the end: "People are not quotes or clips," Ayed writes, "used to illustrate stories about war and conflict. People
are the story, always."
She also talks about the value of living in a place in order to really become immersed in the stories, and the importance of connecting with people at length and off camera. These ideas are backed up by the rest of the book, to be sure, but are also not strikingly original or unintuitive. To a journalist, I imagine the book would simply serve as a tool to strengthen existing values and instincts rather than to impart new ideas.
Another piece of the assignment asks for a comparison to another work of non-fiction. I haven't been a consumer of much non-fiction lately, but I believe an interesting comparison would be to Naomi Klein's
The Shock Doctrine. Klein, also a journalist, presents an extensive essay on what she calls "disaster capitalism," or the forced conversion of a society to extreme capitalism in the wake of a major disaster.
While the subject matter and purpose of the books are completely different, I would have expected more similarities in the style and delivery. However, Klein's book manages to feel decidedly more personal, despite the academic nature of her subject.
The Shock Doctrine contains only a handful of interviews - in fact, very little human interaction at all - but portrays a warmth and humanity that persuades the reader to adopt her view
This is very intentional; Klein's book is, after all, a persuasive essay of sorts, while Ayed's chooses to remain as objective as possible. A stark juxtaposition is formed: Klein creates an impassioned argument from research, history and a few personal interactions, while Ayed coolly and objectively tells the story of her own interactions and experiences with a bit of history thrown in.
In the end, I came away from reading
A Thousand Farewells with a greater understanding of some Middle Eastern conflict, as well as a strong appreciation for foreign correspondents dealing with stories of major conflict. Beyond this, the book did not affect me to any great degree.
