I received an eARC of this book through NetGalley and the author. It will be on sale August 2020. All opinions are my own.
I didn’t know what to expect from this book and I couldn’t help but wonder if we needed a book about the war in Syria from a white American. Shouldn’t we be listening to these stories from Syrians themselves? Of course we should but sometimes it is not safe or possible for them to do so. (I was reminded of the book Death is Hard Work by Syrian author Khaled Khalifa, which I read last year. Khalifa is a Syrian author who lives in Syria and his works are banned by the government there.) Instead, it felt like Dan Mayland used his own position of privilege to amplify the voices of those who cannot speak out as easily as he can. The book is fiction but heavily researched and the acknowledgements at the end give an idea of the many real people whose stories he listened to.
The story here is nuanced, passionate, and immensely readable. It begins in 2012 with Hannah, a Syrian-American working in Aleppo along with her boyfriend, Oskar, a Swede. When they get caught up in a protest against the regime and Oskar is seriously injured, Hannah ends up in a situation she never expected.
At the same time, we meet the doctor himself. Samir, or Sami, is hardworking and dedicated if a little gruff. He and Hannah meet when he treats Oskar and then are thrown together again together when Hannah unexpectedly returns to Aleppo. The city is falling deeper into the chaos and violent of war and Hannah’s position as a carrier of both Syrian and American passports become more precarious as their freedoms are more and more restricted.
While Hanna and Sami are the main characters we also get to see the perspectives of Rahim, a Mukhabarat officer for the regime, Oskar after he and Hanna are separated, and Samir’s young son, Adam.
Rahim’s sections offer a perspective on the ordinary people behind a terrifying and evil regime while Adam’s show the way that war tears down children, while also demonstrating the normal lives that people like Samir lived before the war.
This was something I really appreciated about The Doctor of Aleppo. At the height of the Syrian Refugee Crisis a few years ago, when there was a lot of footage of refugees entering Canada and other countries, some people criticized them for what they carried. How can they have cell phones if they’re refugees? people asked. Mayland subtly highlights how familiar the life of the average Syrian looks to our own. Sami reminisces about meals with family, trips he took with his wife. It’s an important reminder that refugees lived lives like ours and it is circumstances beyond their control that have forced them to leave behind everything they know.
I also really appreciated that most of the action, redemption, and solutions come from within Syria and the characters there. There is no American hero, no foreign power swooping in. While Oskar ends up as a helpful outsider toward the end, it is Hannah and Samir who are the driving force of their own salvation. They make their own decisions; sometimes brave, something foolish, sometimes forced by the circumstances around them, but their own.
Parts of the book are very hard to read. It’s gut-wrenching to remember what recent and ongoing history this is. Wikipedia tells me that the actual civilian death toll between 2012 and 2016 (the timeline of this book) is still unknown but estimated to be in the thousands. Mayland does assume his reader has some knowledge of the war in Syria but he also does a fine job at establishing the basics and many chapters begin with an orientation of year and place, letting the reader know whether the action takes place in an area of the city held by the regime or by the rebel forces. The book covers a fair amount of time for these characters and at times it felt like it was moving too quickly without offering enough detail but it didn’t take long for me to appreciate how Mayland always kept the plot moving. As I neared the end and the climax of the novel I could hardly put it down, desperate to find out what happened to Hannah and Sami. The conclusion was both devastating and hopeful and felt like the natural, right culmination of what the story had been building to.
14 thoughts on “Book Review: The Doctor of Aleppo by Dan Mayland”
Great review! It sounds like this handles the subject matter with due care, which is encouraging!
Thank you! Yes, I really felt like it did. It can be hard when writing from an outsider perspective but this felt worthwhile.
Great review! I’m glad this one turned out so well for you. I was a bit wary when you mentioned it was a Syrian story written by a white American, but everything else you say about it makes it sound like a meaningful and carefully-handled book- one I would perhaps like to read. I’ll keep an eye out for it later this year. But also, thank you for mentioning Death is Hard Work! I still need to read that one as well, and I think I would benefit from picking it up before reaching for Mayland’s book.
Thank you! Yes, that was my concern too but Mayland did seem very thoughtful in his approach. I definitely think it’s a good idea to read it in addition to Syrian writers but it’s a good one for readers who might not pick up a translated work.
This book sounds really good. I think people have a hard time remembering that refugee doesn’t mean poverty, it means someone who needs refugee. To judge refugees for having cell phones feels like looking for a reason to be mad. Homeless people often have cell phones because in this century you are completely unmoored without one. There are no pay phones.
Yes! Very much this! To not have a cell phone now (especially when you don’t have the luxury of permanent housing) is to be seriously disenfranchised. And cell phones are so common around the world that they’re really not the luxury item some people still think of them as. Plus, of course, refugees are not poor people; they are people who need refuge. (Duh.)
I feel so awful when people come into the library and mention the pay phone that used to be here (it’s gone) and want to use our desk phone (they can’t). We’ve had people come in who are applying for jobs who have nothing but their cell phone to anchor them. In South Bend, we had a homeless camp just recently, and one gentleman on the news said that he’d been laid off during the quarantine, became homeless, and all he wanted to do was work. He knew the only way his boss (who might be able to rehire him) could find him was that phone.
This has made me realize yet another point of privilege I have. I feel like I could go into a lot of places and ask to use the phone and there would be no problem with that (barring a strict policy like the library) but I’m sure that’s not the case for many people, particularly those who actually need it.
What jerks criticize refugees for having cell phones? Ugh, it just disgusts me what people point to to make them feel better about their own privilege. I don’t mean to sound so irritated in my comments but reading about that kind of ignorant reaction just makes my blood boil. On a lighter note, great review! hahah
Sometimes I make the mistake of reading the comments sections of news articles and I remember this being a criticism I saw a few times back in 2015. Mayland actually shows in the novel how important cell phones are to the characters and how obviously someone escaping their home to save their life would cling to a cell phone.
Everyone would cling to their cell phone-if there was a fire in your house, you’d most likely run for your phone after getting your kids and pets!
Haha yes, never read the comments, its the worst of humanity in those sections
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