Angol
FINALIST FOR THE PULITZER PRIZE
LONGLISTED FOR THE NATIONAL BOOK CRITICS CIRCLE AWARD AN NPR BOOK OF THE YEAR ONE OF TIMES 100 MUST-READ BOOKS OF THE YEAR AN ELECTRIC LITERATURE BEST NONFICTION BOOK OF THE YEAR The rich and deeply personal debut memoir by award-winning Palestinian American poet and novelist Hala Alyan, whose experience of motherhood via surrogacy forces her to reckon with her own past, and the legacy of her familys exile and displacement, all in the name of a new future.
After a decade of yearning for parenthood, years marked by miscarriage after miscarriage, Hala Alyan makes the decision to use a surrogate. In this charged time, she turns to the archetype of the waiting womanthe Scheherazade who tells stories to ensure another dawnto confront her own narratives of motherhood, love, and inheritance.
As her baby grows in the body of another woman, in another country, Hala finds her own life unravelinga husband who wants to leave; the cost of past traumas and addictions threatening to resurface; the city of her youth, Beirut, on the brink of crisis. She turns to family stories and communal myths: of grandmothers mapping their lives through Palestine, Kuwait, Syria, Lebanon; of eradicated villages and invading armies; of places of refuge that proved only temporary; of men that left and women that stayed; of the contradictions of her own Midwestern childhood, and adolescence in various Arab cities.
Meanwhile, as the baby grows from the size of a poppyseed to a grain of rice, then a lime, and beyond, Hala gathers the stories that are her legacy, setting down the ones that confine, holding close those that liberate. It is emotionally charged, painstaking work, but now the stakes are higher: how to honor ancestors and future generations alike in the midst of displacement? How to impart love for those who are no longer here, for places one can no longer touch?
A stunningly lyrical and brutally honest quest for motherhood, selfhood, and peoplehood, Ill Tell You When Im Home is a powerful story of unraveling and becoming, of destruction and redemption, and of homelands lost and recreated.
