‘Behind You Is the Sea’ transcends politics with authentic human stories
Mainstream media has a way of curating images, shaping the narratives of people and nations. Terms like “Arabs,” “Muslims” and “Palestinians” are often used interchangeably, frequently accompanied by politicized images of refugees or terrorists. Rarely are Arabic-speaking people portrayed with much nuance or depth.
Which is, in part, what makes “Behind You Is the Sea” such an important work: Its characters come to life, transcending politics, breaking through preconceptions and stereotypes, speaking clearly and lucidly about their uniquely human experiences.
Following three interconnected Palestinian immigrant families in Baltimore, Susan Muaddi Darraj’s debut novel is structured in the style of Sherwood Anderson’s “Winesburg, Ohio”: Each chapter belongs to a different character and functions as a stand-alone story. The first, “A Child of Air,” introduces readers to Reema Baladi. A high school student, Reema has arrived at a crisis point. She struggles to understand the sense of emptiness that haunts her as her father dies of cancer and her mother wanders around in a ghostly trance.
Reema also happens to be pregnant. Her boyfriend, Torrey, expects her to get an abortion, but Reema has already made a different decision. She is young but perceptive, tuned into the cultural differences between her community and her country, and she understands that coexistence between the two is not necessarily easy. When a nurse urges her to speak to her father in his last moments, she reflects: “Americans like to talk about everything, I know. They like to share their feelings, like purging old clothing or dumping clutter. But when you’re like us, you purge nothing. You recycle or repurpose every damn thing. Nothing is clutter.”
These stories are emotionally authentic. While the characters are aware of the political and cultural struggles that their people confront, they’re also individuals; their concerns are private, personal and immediate. In “Ride Along,” a city cop named Marcus Salameh is dating an American woman his father doesn’t approve of. “If there is anything he hates more than Benjamin Netanyahu,” Marcus observes, “it’s Michelle Santangelo.” Marcus shifts between old and new worlds, trying to find his place between conflicting value systems.
The book is filled with stories of immigrant parents who can’t make sense of their American children, but there are also shimmering moments of revelation and reconciliation. In “Mr. Ammar Gets Drunk at the Wedding,” Walid Ammar is affronted by his new American daughter-in-law who, among many other infractions, likes to refer to his son Raed as Ray. Everything about their wedding upsets him: the bride’s family and friends, the food, and the timing of the event – soon after his mother’s death. But just as the day seems about to hurtle toward disaster, a surprising encounter between Walid and one of the bride’s guests results in a moment of genuine connection and introspection. Such twists – enthralling occasions of hope and possibility – spiral through the book.
The novel’s title, “Behind You Is the Sea,” comes from a battleground speech attributed to the Islamic conqueror Tariq ibn Ziyad. Facing the enemy, ibn Ziyad is said to have set his soldiers’ boats on fire, making retreat impossible, declaiming: “Oh my warriors, whither would you flee? Behind you is the sea, before you, the enemy. You have left now only the hope of your courage and your constancy.”
It is a cry for bravery in the face of almost insurmountable odds: For these characters the battleground shifts – between parents and children, men and women, tradition and self-invention. In each of these cases, though, the characters retain their rich humanity. Muaddi Darraj engages in her own battle in this novel, breaking through the stereotypes that reduce Arabs and Arab Americans to clichés, creating a false division between us and the “other.”
In the final chapter, “Escorting the Body,” Marcus Salameh must fulfill a sense of wajib, or duty, to take his father’s body to his homeland. In returning, Marcus recovers a sense of belonging to something larger than himself – a link that will resonate for readers from all sorts of backgrounds. Neither angels nor devils, these characters are portrayed in all their complicated, charming, aggravating, bewitching glory. They are human, and as such, they are us.
Diana Abu-Jaber is the author of “Birds of Paradise,” “Origin” and the culinary memoir “Life Without a Recipe.” Her most recent book is “Fencing With the King.”