The Parisian

This, children, is how it worked in the good old days. At the weekend I read a long rave review about this new book, which followed the life of a young Palestinian man, from a life-defining early stay in France, through his return to Nablus, marriage and advancing age. It’s subtle, personal and sensitive, but it’s also brilliant on the surrounding context, of a turbulent Middle East between the wars. I ordered it online from the brilliant Shropshire Library service, and for 75p collected it within a week. It’s over 550 pages, the first novel Isabella Hammad (who to judge by her photo is barely out of her teens). she’s also got a rave review from Zadie Smith on the back but hey, that’s what the younger generation are for, to blow our socks off with stuff we couldn’t do.

But things have changed. I’ve read it all, and loved it, but it can’t go back. anyone else like me who took a note of it, can’t check in to the library to borrow it, and this brilliant career is put on hold, hovering in mid air. Who knows if anyone will remember by the time we’re back to normal. so this is me, doing my little bit to give Isabella a hand. Isabella Hammad - The Parisian. Don’t nod wisely and smile. Write it down.