Adania Shibli

The book opens on August 9, 1949, exactly one year after the Deir Yassin massacre in which 110 Palestinian men, women, and children were murdered in their village on the outskirts of Jerusalem. An Israeli officer and his men are in the South Negev desert along the Egyptian border searching for Arabs. They set up camp, and that night, the officer is bitten in the thigh by a spider. After several days of searching, they discover a small group of Bedouin by an oasis. Within minutes the Arabs show more and their camels are slaughtered, all except for a young woman and a dog. Four days later, she too would be dead.

"We cannot stand to see vast areas of land, capable of absorbing thousands of our people in exile, remain neglected; we cannot stand to see our people unable to return to our homeland. This place, which now seems barren, with nothing aside from infiltrators, a few Bedouins, and camels, is where our forefathers passed thousands of years ago. And if the Arabs act according to their sterile nationalist sentiments and reject the idea of us settling here, if they continue to resist us, preferring that the area remain barren, then we will act as an army.

The second chapter is about a woman in the present day who reads and becomes obsessed with an article about the girl's death because it occurred exactly 25 years to the day before she herself was born. She decides to investigate the incident further, but is hampered by borders: those that physically limit the movement of Palestinians and those that she has internalized in order to protect herself in a highly violent and unpredictable environment that is Israel.

It's the barrier of fear, fashioned from fear of the barrier.

The writing is very spare, and at first I was confused by the focus on minor details in the book (even despite the book's title, my first clue). Why write the minutiae about how the Israeli captain washes up and shaves every day? But as the story unfolded, I realized that every word was there for a reason.

But despite this, there are some who consider this way of seeing, which is to say, focusing intently on the most minor details, like dust on the desk or fly shit on a painting, as the only way to arrive at the truth and definitive proof of its existence.

Obsessions with cleanliness versus decay, the howling dog, chewing gum: every detail would have meaning. Everything ties together despite the fragmentation of history and the unending cycles of violence. The ending is as devastating as it is inevitable. show less

A story told in two parts - two timelines, two women but in one place.

By August 1949, the Palestine war was over - and the army was deployed close to the borders on patrols - looking for infiltrators and anyone else who may wish ill to the new country of Israel. The group we meet is deployed in the Negev desert, close to the Egyptian border because the dunes are a perfect place for people to hide - and to get into the country. For most of that first story we follow the daily life of the show more commander of the group - the endless patrols who find nothing, the daily repetition which are almost ritualistic, the daily cleaning which feels almost like a cleansing. Until something changes - a group of people is found and after the gunfire is over, the only survivor is a girl, a young woman, dressed in black and covered in the tradition of her people.

It all starts innocently enough - the girl is taken to the camp and left on her own (although the bath she was given was anything but friendly and was designed to humiliate) but... things change quickly - soldiers don't leave her alone even after being warned off her and she is raped repeatedly - and then killed - as if she does not matter.

There is a play on the clean/unclean in this part - almost everything has a counterpart - and the daily cleaning takes almost sinister overtones because of the girl and because of a wound. And even if the commander does not tell the story, we see only what he sees - so in a way he does.

A few decades later, some time in the late 2000s or early 2010s (based on some dates that do show up as the past), a newspaper in Palestine runs a story about the rape and murder of the girl. Our unnamed second narrator, a young Palestinian woman from Ramallah, is stricken by the fact that the girl died exactly 25 years (to the day) before she was born. And that is enough to make her want to know more. Except that she cannot - she is not allowed in this part of the country because of where she lives in Zone A. But instead of giving up, she finally finds a way and starts on her way towards the desert.

Her repeated thoughts about crossing borders and her almost obsession with minor details sounds almost compulsive - and adding up some other details, it sounds like our second narrator is autistic or at least obsessive-compulsive to some extent (she even buys 4 different maps). Which explains a lot of what happens later - when she finally gets across the border and starts driving towards a desert on the other side of Israel. And while she is driving, we see Israel through Palestinian eyes - both compared to memories and compared to a map of 1948. And then the last sentence shatters you.

We never get any names - in either part of the story. It is a story that is about anyone - the first part does not even mention which war it is in so it almost can be either. Two women across the centuries end up in the same desert - and get connected in ways noone could have anticipated. It is a heartbreaking story that lacks redemption and hope - but then this is a tone which is pretty common for Palestinian authors.

Despite the hard topic, I still recommend this novella. It is exquisitely written even if it is not an easy read. It is a story about a war and what people do to each other - a story as old as the world. show less

Adania Shabli's Minor Detail is a shattering story, one that fulfils the promise of the author's debut in translation, Touch (2010, translated by Paula Haydar. I reviewed it here.)

Narrated in two parts twenty-five years apart, Minor Detail opens in August 1949 in the wake of what is known as the War of Independence in Israel and as The Nakba in Palestine. An Israeli patrol is in the Negev to secure the border from incursions from the hostile Arab world and to undertake what we now call show more ethnic cleansing, that is, to remove any remaining Arabs in the area. The tone is dispassionate and calm as it describes the daily activities of the officer in charge: washing, changing his clothes, eating and issuing orders to his soldiers and supervising their training.

He does not sleep well in the heat, and his presence as a trespasser is symbolised by the bite of scorpion in the dark. It causes him great pain, and requires constant attention, and although it doesn't kill him, his attempts to eliminate it and the other insects which besiege him are futile because this land is its habitat.

Lured into taking an interest in the welfare of this officer, the readers is then shocked when — in a quiet and unsensational tone — the narrative then tells the story of the rape and murder of a young Bedouin girl when she falls into the hands of this Israeli patrol.

Part two is narrated by a young women, twenty five years later, and it soon becomes apparent that this narrator is neurodivergent. She doesn't relate to other people and doesn't seem to have any intimate relationships. She refers to her work colleagues always as very nice people — and they are, they help her in her quest in significant ways — but she is more comfortable working on her own. She has some obsessive behaviours, and is sometimes almost paralysed with fear, understandably so in the case of the Israeli checkpoints and other aspects of the Occupation, but at other times by the stress of having to interact with others.

To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2023/08/28/minor-details2016-by-adania-shibli-translate... show less

Shibi has crafted an aptly named and harrowing novella whose impact doesn't require hundreds of pages. The first half, set in 1949, recounts an Israeli platoon securing the border with Egypt. Led by a pathologically impassive officer, the story unfolds in third person through his point of view, lending even greater horror to the appalling events.

Part 2 begins in present-day Ramallah, where a woman reads about the war crime depicted in part one, and which happened 25 years to the day before show more her birth. Unlike the previous narrator, her first-person account exposes a highly neurotic personality, scarred and erased like the landscapes she crosses. Often stricken by mental paralysis, her fears sometimes force her from inertia into overreaction, as if no middle ground exists. She becomes obsessed with learning about the nameless 1949 victim, embarking on a road trip to Tel Aviv to discover more. Through her eyes, we experience daily life under occupation: dust and broken glass from distant bombings, identity cards, checkpoints, and the necessity of fabricating stories to hide mundane activities. Her search becomes a wild goose chase she cannot stop, though the risk she's taken by feeling responsible for the woman from the past whom she fears "will forever remain a nobody whose voice nobody will hear," threatens to become her own undoing. show less