PRINCESS NAI

Fifteen stories artfully weave beauty and joy with the tragedies of war and political persecution.

Saeed wrote many of these stories during the 12 years he spent as a prisoner of conscience in Syria, others after the Syrian uprising in 2011. This history makes its way into many of the stories, which sometimes fly with the beauty of impressionistic poetry and sometimes groan under the weight of horrors and atrocities inflicted on oppressed people. Even in the several stories that depict young, desperate love, there’s a palpable sense that Saeed is writing about a freedom that was taken from him. He sketches a world both beautiful and fragile, indeed beautiful because it’s fragile: The lack of freedom makes the overlooked aspects of freedom all the sweeter. In the book’s final story, “My Grandmother Fatima’s Cough,” a gut-wrenching exchange occurs between the narrator and his 7-year-old brother. The little boy asks: “How many times does a person have to be displaced in their life?” The narrator wonders why he’s asking the question, and he explains: “So I know how many more times I have left.” Loss of innocence is a theme in many stories. So is the daily toll of war, oppression, and genocide painted in broad strokes across news broadcasts; here, its sufferers—people who want to live without the constant fear of death—have names and faces. Saeed’s ability to tell their stories with breathtaking beauty and clarity is a marvel. Among the exchanges that will linger in readers’ memories: A passerby in “An Olive Tree” asks Mr. As’ad: “Who does this tree belong to?” He replies, “The tree is free.” “Then it belongs to everyone,” the stranger says. “No,” answers As’ad, “it owns everyone.”

At times heart-wrenching, but often delightful: a testament to the human spirit and the capacity to love.