Review by : Alison Hramiak
Alison Hramiak reviews Hope Not Fear by Hassan Akkad. The book is his autobiography, it tells of how growing up in Syria, and how his political protest led him to becoming a refugee, a filmmaker and a hospital cleaner. Alison’s review shows how many lessons there are for us all to learn from this book.
From the start, this book is very easy to read and follow, and because it flows well throughout it keeps the reader engaged not just because of what is written, but also because of the way it is written.
The introduction lays the foundations for the rest of the book, including, as it does, some interesting and moving links between the Covid pandemic and the author’s own situation when he was a child in Syria. There are some thought-provoking parallels made here between his prison cell in Syria and the Covid wards in London that might raise eyebrows and possibly questions.
The seam of the story is first presented in the introduction: that of hope not fear, and this reverberates throughout the rest of the book. Although some very difficult realities and issues are described within, the reader is still left feeling (overall) that there is hope. Something we can all cling on to in these present days.
The writing is honest and authentic; Hassan Akkad is not afraid to be both sincere and simultaneously self-critical, and ironically so too at times. For example, when he talks about his own racism and xenophobia from his days as a child of 12 in Syria, and compares this with his own first -hand experience of such issues in Europe and the UK – but as a victim this time.
The chapters are short and self-contained and neatly encompass the narrative of the topics they cover. One by one they build up to give a very moving, often disturbing, account of the author’s challenging and lengthy passage from his childhood in Syria to his success as a Filmmaker in the UK (via cleaning for the NHS).
This journey is one of immense highs and frequently incalculable lows, the latter culminating for me, in his account of the suicidal thoughts he had seemingly triggered by something so simple as a jumper – or lack of (p173). This part of the story will resonate with many, especially so, as many reading this book will also have had times in their lives where they question everything they have done to date. Many too, will also have had to leave family at some time or other in their lives, and this too is covered so very compassionately in this story.
Interspersed with the heart ache in the pages are some very humorous reality checks, like the comparison of kebabs that you can buy here in the UK, with what an authentic Syrian kebab actually is, (p186). Or how we in the UK strive for organic and free -range food and deliberate over what type of milk to buy. Too much choice is a first world problem, and maybe we should all endeavour to get some perspective at times.
There are some unexpected turns in the book at times too. I was pleasantly surprised to read about the friendship the author had, (and still has) with the actor Emma Watson, for example (p208). The way this is so modestly and unpretentiously described gives the reader a sense of how friendship is so much more important than that of possessions or wealth, and of how chance meetings can lead to greater things for both parties.
Another unanticipated, but very welcome surprise, was the way in which the author describes being displaced from his homeland. There is much to learn from his story about mental health and the way it relates, for some, to being a stranger in a strange land. The author very intelligently describes his feelings around this and explains precisely how this affected him in a way that made him feel ‘disembodied’ from his own culture, (p225). There is lot of learning for all of us in this, in trying to understand the perspectives of those who seek refuge in the UK.
The book comes full circle at the end covering Covid and the injustice of the system we live in – and the times we lived through – in relation to the NHS (p288). In the final paragraphs on p288 the author very succinctly, candidly and movingly echoes his earlier message and the resounding seam of the book – that there is hope, and that we are all united by our humanity. He perceptively and sincerely drives home the point that those who choose to make this country their home, can and do make a difference by being here.
At the start of the book, you begin a journey with the author that takes him from his childhood birthplace and family in Syria through Calais and finally to England where he makes his home. This ‘voyage’ is harrowing at times, often brutal, but what comes across more than anything, even more than the inhumanity he had to endure, is his colossal bravery in the face of such unimaginable horrors, (unimaginable I suspect (assume?) for most white British people). Horrors become, at times, an everyday occurrence. For him to write this, to give voice to those who ‘wouldn’t otherwise be heard’ is a remarkable achievement. To do so and simultaneously leave the reader believing in hope rather than fear, is awe-inspiring, and that is exactly what he does.
