The Crossing is not a book you “enjoy”– it is far too profoundly horrifying, and yet from the very opening sentences (“The barbed wire lacerated my back. She also encountered men who had come from other countries, who were fighting for different, less clear causes, in a country where various powers and interests have turned neighbour against neighbour. They looked after her, protected her, told her about themselves, their neighbours, and the price they had paid and were still paying for what had begun as a peaceful protest against the president. During her three crossings from Turkey into Syria, she met men, women and children who gave her warm hospitality even when it meant giving her the little they possessed. Her aim was to set up small schemes to train women to become financially independent and provide education to children. A year later, with what comes across as a feeling of unfinished business, she re-entered Syria illegally three times, determined to do whatever she could to help her homeland and its people, doing what she believed was right. I swore quietly, and as her palm came down on my head it felt like a rock might have shattered from the force.’įalling foul of Assad’s regime and pursued by the Syrian intelligence services, journalist and writer Samar Yazbek fled to France in 2011. “Swear by the thing you hold most dearly deep in your heart.” “Do you swear by God that you’ll tell the world what I have to say?” she asked.
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