And then there were none: Wknd interviews Palestinian author Ibtisam Azem

Hindustan Times

a day ago

What is the fate of Gaza? What will it be? North Gaza in May. (Reuters)
In the 77 years since the formation of Israel, there have been no clear answers.
The newest plan for its future envisions another gleaming city in the desert, one that is being called a 'Riviera of the Middle East'. Images from the news show starving children and bombed-out hospitals. A media tent has been bombed and journalists killed. There is now talk of Israel seizing Gaza City.
Eleven years ago, when the Palestinian journalist and writer Ibtisam Azem wrote her work of speculative fiction about the sudden disappearance of all Gazans, she couldn't have predicted that AI-generated images of this region, cleared of its people and populated instead by luxury high-rises and berths for yachts, would be posted online by the President of the United States.
In her book, nonetheless, she takes what she calls that 'one ardent wish' to its final conclusion: all Palestinians vanish one day.
The Book of Disappearance was written in 2014, translated from the Arabic by the Iraqi writer Sinan Antoon (also, incidentally, Azem's husband), released in the UK in 2024, and longlisted for the International Booker Prize this year.
In it, the protagonist Alaa Assaf, a cameraman, vanishes along with all other Palestinians, halfway through the narrative. From then on, the tale is taken over by Ariel Levy, an Israeli journalist who lived next door to him.
'Storytelling is part of surviving,' says Ibtisam Azem.
After the vanishings, Levy goes into his neighbour's home and finds a diary that contains his memories, the memories of his grandmother, and details of the life of a Palestinian in Israel, with all its contradictions and agonies.
This is Azem's second novel. Her first, The Sleep Thief (2011), was about the absurdities and microaggressions faced by a young Palestinian man in Jerusalem.
The author now lives in New York City. One reason she writes fiction, she says, is to preserve her history, which is not reflected in official history books. 'Storytelling,' she adds, 'is also part of surviving.' Excerpts from an interview.
* How did the idea for this book come about?
In New York, in 2010 or 2011, I heard the then mayor of Jerusalem Nir Barkat (now minister of economy) say on TV that Palestinians and Israelis are treated as equals in that city.
It infuriated me when the Western journalist he was speaking to didn't challenge this false claim. I started to write an article, but felt it was more suited as a novel.
I was reminded of Israeli prime minister Yitzhak Rabin saying, in 1992, 'If only the sea would swallow Gaza.' I remembered a 2004 interview with Haaretz newspaper in which Israeli historian Benny Morris said that Zionist militant groups should have finished the job of ethnically cleansing all Palestinians in 1948.
And I thought: What would the Israelis do, as a settler colonial society, if their so-called enemy were to suddenly disappear? But I didn't want to write a novel that only dealt with the colonisers, and this is where Alaa's memories come into play.
The Gaza Strip in June. (AFP)
* Was there a reason you chose Jaffa in particular as the setting?
I grew up in a small town called Taybeh, about 30 km north of Jaffa. Like Alaa, my mother was born in Jaffa in 1947 and internally displaced with her family in 1948. So, as a child, I grew up hearing stories of displacement and of what Jaffa used to be. On visits to Jaffa with my grandmother, she would tell me about places and neighbourhoods that no longer existed because they had been taken over and occupied by Israelis.
Because I grew up hearing these histories from my parents and grandparents, I had a wealth of material already. But I also had to do a lot of research about the city and other issues to be on firm ground.
* What do those of us on the outside not understand about the loss of Jaffa?
This was one of the most important cities in Palestine. It had about 100,000 residents, the majority of whom were Palestinians, with some Jewish inhabitants. In 1948, most of the Palestinian inhabitants were displaced. Only 4,000 or so remained. The ones who were displaced left for other parts of Palestine or for neighbouring countries. Many of those living in Gaza today are children and grandchildren of Palestinian refugees from Jaffa and other cities and villages.
In all, 750,000 Palestinians were displaced. Palestinian society was taken apart.
Despite a UN Resolution legalising the right of the Palestinian people to return, they were not permitted to do so. Large parts of their land had been confiscated.
* Through history, marginalised peoples have turned to storytelling as a final act of resistance — a way to keep from being forgotten, or erased. You've said that is how you feel too…
Writing fiction, especially for the colonised, allows us a space for our alternative history, as it is not reflected in official history books. Writing novels is also liberating since it accommodates oral history, passed down from our grandparents or survivors. We are adding our voices to those that came before us, and also wrote; and we bequeath our voices to those who will come after us.
It was through my reading of other Palestinians' works that I began to understand my place in the world. Reading the works of other colonised peoples helped me understand how others have also suffered, and helped me feel less alone.
Growing up, my parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, would sit around and tell stories of how things had been, passing down our history and preserving our memories. Often, in the worst stories, there would be dark humour, to help themselves and others process what had happened or was happening.
With time, I realised that storytelling is also part of surviving.
* Is the war in Gaza the disappearance you feared?
The Palestinian people, like all other people, are resilient and continue to resist and fight for justice. We will not disappear!
The disappearance in the book is a metaphor for how Palestinians lead an invisible existence. It was an attempt to capture the internal conflicts: What does it mean to live in this place and try to decolonise yourself? What does it mean to try to tell your story in a world in which you are neither seen nor heard? Let me say that no one could have predicted the magnitude and scale of the horrors taking place in Gaza.