Amir is a 9-year old Syrian boy who survives a shipwreck. Everyone else to be seen has washed up on shore, dead. He is on an island, but doesn’t know where he is, nor does he understand the language. When two men see him and point and shout, Amir gets scared and runs. He runs into Vanna, 15-years old and though they are unable to communicate verbally, she hides him.

The story then shifts to “Before”, which brings us up to date on how Amir got where he is. We go back and forth between Amir’s before and “After”. Much of after is told from Vanna’s POV, but occasionally we switch to the POV of a colonial who is dead set on finding Amir, the little boy who ran away.

Given that it’s (primarily) from a 9-year old’s POV, it took a bit to figure out what was going on through much of the story. I am still not sure I understand the ending. But it was a “good” (powerful) story, even so. ( )

In September 2015, the world was horrified by the image of 2-year-old Alan Kurdi, a refugee from the war in Syria, washed up on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea in Turkey. Of course, that photo seems to have done little to encourage wealthier nations to open their borders to refugees or address the sociopolitical and climate crises causing the refugee crisis. What Strange Paradise begins with a similar image of bodies washed up on the shores of the Greek island of Kos where the locals see the refugees as harmful to their tourist economy. The only survivor is a 9-year-old Syrian boy, Amir Utu, who is protected from the authorities by a 15-year-old Greek girl Vänna Hermes.

Alternate chapters narrate the story before and after the shipwreck. In the "before" story, Amir inadvertently follows his “Quiet Uncle” Younis aboard a ship smuggling refugees to Europe. Amir ends up with the better-off passengers on the deck, while Younis is forced below decks. Amir gets to know the other people on the ship including the crew of smugglers who know little about operating and maintaining the ship (and charge extra for life vests), as well as other passengers who share their dreams of a better life. In the "after" story, Vänna helps Amir find clothes and food and tries to get him to ship that takes migrants to the safety a mainland refugee camp all the while avoiding the military lead by Colonel Kethros who is determined to catch Amir.

It's a book that's heartbreaking and enraging rooted in contemporary events. The structure of the novel is interesting and I found myself hoping against hope rooting for Amir and Vänna to succeed. ( )

Haunting.
The story of a shipwrecked group of refugees told from the point of view of the child who survived and the girl who helps him. The tale pulls you right along, cheering for Amir and Vanna, wanting them to make it to safety. The casual heartlessness of the tourists in the area who demand to know when the beach will reopen after the bodies are swept up, the inhumanity of people forced into intolerable conditions, and the shining goodness of those who reach to help are all portrayed in such a way that we are there, shivering with them.
And then, the last chapter, well, it brings it all home, slaps us upside the head, makes us feel vaguely guilty for enjoying such a story, when the reality is so harsh.
Omar El Akkad is not letting us off with a simple “wow, good book!” Instead he brings a call to action, or for those of us with no power, a wash of regret at our ineptitude. How can we stop this cruelty from happening? How do we step up, be the people we need to be to respect ourselves, to do good, be a force for good?
Thought provoking, and high residue. It will play in my mind for quite a while. ( )

Actual rating: 4.5/5

What Strange Paradise is one of those books that left me thinking long after the final page had turned, with its deceivingly simple plot hiding multiple layers of complexity and possible interpretations.

This book is rooted in a modern drama, the so-called "refugee crisis", and the daily tragedy of people forced to make a perilous journey in appalling conditions, risking (and often losing) their lives in the process. When the story starts, one such tragedy has just occurred: a boat sank near a small island, all its passengers washing to shore dead. All except one boy, Amir, the only survivor who manages to elude the officials and meet Vänna, a local teenage girl determined to save him.

The story is told in alternating chapters, moving between "Before" and "After" the shipwreck. In the time before, we follow Amir on the path that will take him to finding himself on that boat in the first place, while the "After" focuses on the two children's attempts to reach safety and evade the capture attempts made by the local military officials.

I liked the structure of the novel and how information was slowly unveiled in the alternation between before and after. Many things could be written or said about this topic, and I liked how the author chose to focus on a few aspects of the journey and the different people who might find themselves caught up in a situation such as this.

The complexity of the issue emerges very clearly, and I was particularly struck by the reflections weaved throughout. A subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle) critique of modern society emerges at several points throughout the novel, its hypocrisy and performative solidarity being openly discussed by characters at several points and evidenced by the actions of others, like the tourists whose reaction to the tragedy unfolding before their eyes is annoyance at having lost a day on the beach. As one character at one point puts it:

You are the temporary object of their fraudulent outrage, their fraudulent grief. They will march on the streets on your behalf, they will write to the politicians on your behalf, they will cry on your behalf, but you are to them in the end nothing but a hook on which to hang the best possible image of themselves.

(quote taken from the ARC version, may be different in the final version)

Where I was slightly underwhelmed was in the characters. Perhaps it was exactly the intention here and I completely misunderstood it, but some of the characters felt rather flat and lacking in depth. In the grand scheme of things, it's a minor thing but it stopped me from fully being able to empathise and care about some of the characters, reducing the emotional impact that certain scenes could have had.

Overall, What Strange Paradise is a deeply moving, gorgeously lyrical novel existing in the bittersweet space between fantasy and reality, between hope and desperation. Chock-full of material for a deeper reflection on a wide range of topics, it's one of those books I wish more people close to me had read just so I could discuss it with them, from the beginning right up to that perfect ending. Definitely well suited for a book club discussion!


I received an e-arc of this book from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for my honest review. This did not affect my opinion of the book in any way. ( )

4.5/5 rounded down.
While reading this story I could not help think of three-year-old Alan Kurdi, whose body was found washed up on a beach in Turkey back in 2015 having drowned somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea while fleeing Syria. His story made the headlines and the picture of that beautiful little boy lying lifeless on a beach made the whole world sit up and take note of the plight and treatment of refugees and asylum seekers across the world.

Omar El Akkad’s What Strange Paradise is a story written along those lines. At the onset of the novel we meet Amir Utu, an eight-year-old Syrian refugee - the sole survivor of a shipwrecked boat carrying refugees to the intended destination of the island of Kos. Amir, in a semiconscious state, is found with the bodies of his deceased fellow passengers, washed up on the shores of an island in the Mediterranean. The island is depicted as a vacation destination of choice for international tourists. However, the influx of refugees seeking asylum, shipwrecks and tragedies similar to this one have also attracted much attention in the media.

“Between them, the coast guard and the morgue keep a partial count of the dead, and as of this morning it stands at 1,026 but this number is as much an abstraction as the dead themselves are to the people who live here, to whom all the shipwrecks of the previous year are a single shipwreck, all the bodies a single body.”

The narrative is split across two timelines – generically titled “Before” and “After”. The former traces the events that lead to Amir being washed ashore. We get to know the details of Amir’s family and how he got to be on that boat. We also meet some of his fellow passengers and are privy to their stories and aspirations. While they look for a better life in the West, they are not completely ignorant of the reality of their situation and how they, as refugees, are regarded in a foreign land. In the “After” timeline , we find Amir running from Colonel Dimitri Kethros and his officers who are tasked with rounding up the illegals and processing them through regulated refugee camps, the living conditions in which leave a lot to be desired. While on the run , he ends up near the home of Vanna Hermes, a young girl of fifteen, who takes it upon herself to keep him safe and help him in whatever way possible. Vanna and Amir might not speak the same language but they do communicate with each other through broken words, non-verbal cues, their hearts and humanity. When I say that this is an emotional read, I mean that as a reader you will feel a lot. In my case, I alternated between feelings of anger, frustration, shock and sorrow.
“But you can’t bet your future on work that requires the coming together of people, not now, not with the world the way it is. The days of people coming together are ending; this is a time for coming apart.”

What I found impressive about Omar El Ekkad’s style of writing is that he does not force emotions on the reader. In fact, at times the narrative comes across as factual and detached, especially in the scenes on the boat. The conversations are simply the exchange of dialogue. The events are described just as they happen. The author tells a story and gives the readers space to feel what they need to feel instead of going heavy on melodrama. This is not an entertaining or enjoyable read- the subject matter does not allow it to be. It is, however, hard-hitting and thought-provoking. The prose is straightforward and beautiful and I applaud the author’s restrained tone in narrating a story that revolves around a sensitive, controversial and polarizing issue. I commend the author for humanizing the issue and not overly politicizing it. We see the stark contrasts that define the refugee crisis -brutality and kindness, hope and despair, humanitarianism and political agenda, xenophobia and asylum, cynicism and innocence. The final chapter titled “Now” might change the way you feel about the book but ultimately this is a very well-written and relevant story that will leave a lasting impression.

“You are the temporary object of their fraudulent outrage, their fraudulent grief. They will march the streets on your behalf, they will write to politicians on your behalf, they will cry on your behalf, but you are to them in the end nothing but a hook on which to hang the best possible image of themselves. Today you are the only boy in the world and tomorrow it will be as though you never existed.” ( )