Review of One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This by Omar El Akkad
From the moment I picked up One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This, I was struck by the audacity of its title. It stirs curiosity, inviting readers to explore the complexities of conflict—particularly one as fraught as the Israeli-Palestinian struggle. Omar El Akkad, known for his powerful debut American War, promised a narrative that engaged with profound themes of identity, morality, and suffering. However, what unfolded was a journey marked more by grievance tourism than the nuanced exploration I had hoped for.
As I delved into the book, I was confronted with the stark dichotomy it presents. Every Israeli action is painted in shades of genocide, while Palestinian civilians are undeniably sanctified. The Western journalist, in this narrative, emerges as a martyr, perpetually weeping for the “cause.” This one-dimensional portrayal feels more like a propaganda pamphlet than a genuine literary exploration, and it made my reading experience unsettling.
El Akkad’s writing is emotive—sometimes to the point of melodrama. His prose, which often teeters into self-indulgence, attempts to tug at heartstrings but falls flat in depth and authenticity. The line “We are all complicit in the silence that screams louder than bombs” encapsulates a grand yet hollow sentiment—its loftiness betraying a lack of substance. My mind grappled with the implications of such statements, feeling a disconnect between profound language and the mere echoes of ideology.
Diving deeper into the plot, it felt less like a cohesive narrative and more like a collage of selectively presented tragedies. Graphic scenes of conflict became almost surreal in their depiction, reducing complex histories to shock value—like a TikTok sob story that lacks context. The historical inaccuracies, such as the portrayal of Gaza as an unspoiled haven prior to Israeli intervention and the misrepresentation of the Oslo Accords, left a lingering sense of frustration. I found myself wondering how a book could wield such power, while simultaneously erasing the intricate socio-political realities that define this enduring conflict.
El Akkad’s characterization, too, struck me as severely lacking. Characters emerged not as individuals with depth, but rather as mouthpieces for ideological statements. The predictable and often tiresome tropes of victimhood and villainy thrummed beneath the surface, offering little new insight or revelation. It was as though the plot was hastily woven from clichés, leading to an uninspired reading experience.
Yet, amid my critiques, I recognize that this book may resonate with those who share El Akkad’s perspective. Its emotional landscapes may appeal to readers entrenched in its ideological frameworks, seeking affirmation more than inquiry. For anyone craving balanced storytelling that delves into the layered complexities of conflict, however, I would recommend looking elsewhere—perhaps even a history textbook for a foundational understanding.
In conclusion, while One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This promises a compelling exploration of an urgent topic, it ultimately succumbs to the weight of its ideological ambitions. My reading journey became a reminder of literature’s potential to enlighten or distort. As I closed the book, I found myself reflecting on how narratives can shape perceptions and, in turn, drive real-world implications. If anything, El Akkad has reignited my desire for authentic dialogue around difficult topics, compelling me to seek out voices that honor the nuances of human experience.
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