Rabih Alameddine
The Wrong End of the Telescope by Rabih Alameddine explores the plight of refugees arriving on Lesbos. The narrative unfolds in the first-person voice of Dr. Mina Simpson, a transgender Lebanese-born doctor estranged from her family for decades. The short chapters and their quirky titles reflect Mina’s musings, sensitivity, and dry humor.
Mina, born Ayman, has been living in the United States for over thirty years. An experienced physician, she answers the call for help from a friend with a Swedish NGO assisting refugees arriving in Lesbos. Being so close to Lebanon conjures up memories of her childhood and family, the conflicts she had with her abusive mother for being trans, and her ensuing estrangement from her siblings except for her brother, Mazin.
Interspersed with flashbacks on her childhood and her life with her partner in America, Mina encounters refugees and hears their harrowing tales of oppression and escape. She is particularly drawn to Sumaiya, a Syrian wife and mother with terminal liver cancer. Sumaiya wants her condition kept secret for fear it might jeopardize her family’s chance of going to Europe.
While in Lesbos, Mina encounters a gay Lebanese author she had met and admired in the past. He is in Lesbos, presumably interviewing refugees for his novel. She addresses him as “you” in her narrative and includes his back story. But this unnamed author, possibly based on Alameddine, himself, has been severely impacted by the scale of human tragedy. He has become disillusioned and reclusive, hiding in his hotel room to avoid interaction. Mina and her friends temporarily draw him out of his self-imposed shell.
Mina describes the two groups in Lesbos with an acute eye for observation. The first group are the volunteers, some of whom come with genuine concern and desire to serve refugees; others come primarily prompted by a desire to be seen in an altruistic light. They take selfies while posing with refugees and behave with shocking insensitivity. The second group are the refugees, themselves. And, here, Mina’s description is at its strongest. As an Arab and a volunteer, Mina straddles between the two groups. She speaks the language of refugees and understands their culture in ways American and European volunteers do not.
The media posits refugees as a group of indistinguishable individuals hoarded together en masse. Mina gives each refugee she meets a unique identity and background, ranging from the crotchety, grumbling grandmother; to the Iraqi child who holds her hand and guides her through the camp; to the young newlyweds who can barely keep their hands off each other; to Sumaiya and her family; and to countless others. They are unique, well-rounded human beings with a story to tell. All are portrayed with sensitivity, empathy, and compassion. And all are depicted as struggling to make the best of a horrendous situation, waiting patiently in long lines for documents and food amid the squalor and the mud.
The seamless blend of fact with faction grounds the novel in real events. Rabih Alameddine reverses the customary lens. He looks through the wrong end of the telescope to shine a light on the volunteers and journalists as they are perceived by the refugees. In the process, he portrays refugees as complex individuals who have embarked on a heroic struggle to survive after losing their homes, livelihoods, and families. He bears witness to their struggle without being maudlin or creeping toward sensationalism. No matter how brief the encounter, each refugee discards anonymity, assumes a unique identity, is presented as fully fleshed-out and as well-deserving of our sympathy.
Recommended.