A Controversial Journey Through Grievance: Reflecting on One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This
I picked up Omar El Akkad’s One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This with a mix of curiosity and caution. Having previously read his ambitious novel American War, which offered a gripping exploration of dystopia, I was eager to see how he would navigate the charged realities of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in his latest work. Yet, my anticipation quickly led to unease as I turned each page, drawn into a narrative that feels less like traditional storytelling and more like a polarizing commentary on contemporary grievances.
El Akkad ambitiously constructs a world where emotional landscapes blur the lines between reality and propaganda, crafting a book that feels like both a soapbox and a battleground. The book revolves around an unnamed Palestinian journalist whose experiences in Gaza serve as a vehicle for exploring deep-seated grievances—a landscape where every Israeli action equates to genocide and where Palestinian civilians are almost saint-like in their suffering. This one-dimensional portrayal left me both frustrated and concerned about the complexities of the issues at hand.
The prose, while undeniably vivid, often veered into melodrama that rendered emotional depth akin to TikTok sob stories. Significant scenes piled tragedy upon tragedy—graphic depictions of violence and suffering that felt more like a feverish collage than a cohesive narrative. A line like “We are all complicit in the silence that screams louder than bombs” caught my attention for its grandiosity, yet it feels almost hollow when dissected. The author’s self-assuredness in such moral standing seemed to overshadow any opportunity for nuanced understanding, raising questions about the costs of conviction in storytelling.
One of my more troubling reflections came as I stumbled upon El Akkad’s portrayal of historical events. His depiction of Gaza prior to Israeli intervention as a prelapsarian paradise overlooks a daunting reality, easily leading readers into a simplified narrative. Fiction, after all, carries great responsibility, and historical inaccuracies—whether deliberate or negligent—taint the very essence of storytelling. The fabrications, like the fictional airstrike on a hospital in 2010, made it hard for me to fully engage with the text; instead, I found myself constantly questioning his accounts.
Yet, amidst my critique, there were moments that resonated with me, such as El Akkad’s vivid descriptions and the emotional weight they carried. Despite the overt bias, snippets of truth can be found in his characterization of Western complicity, however misdirected. I appreciated the intensity with which he writes, even when it veers into overt ideology. Still, I couldn’t help but feel that the book would appeal primarily to those already entrenched in its perspective, offering little to challenge or provoke genuine thought among a broader audience.
In conclusion, while there is certainly a readership that might find One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This compelling—those who share El Akkad’s viewpoints or have an interest in his literary style—I came away feeling that the narrative too often sacrificed depth for rhetoric. The emotional impacts lingered, but I couldn’t shake the sense that this was not a well-rounded exploration of conflict; it felt like an echo of grievances rather than a dialogue. For those seeking a comprehensive understanding of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, I would recommend seeking out history books instead—texts that prioritize nuance over outrage.
Ultimately, this was a reading experience filled with intense reflection, but one that left me yearning for more complexity and a wider scope to the narrative than El Akkad offered.
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