Samah Sabawit’s “Cactus Pear for My Beloved” is a thoroughly decent book, but - despite the monumental life events described within - I will confess to finding it a bit dull. It is the kind of book that feels more worthy than enjoyable, like something you’re supposed to admire rather than get lost in.

The structure is episodic, which works in fits and starts. Skipping explanations and avoiding deep psychological exploration of characters, it instead relies on the vibrancy of their world to hold your attention. Sometimes, this pays off, but other times, I felt like I was purusing images from someone's family album without the bigger picture to tie it all together.

It’s a semi-memoir, blurring the line between personal narrative and historical account. I always feel a bit wary of this approach. It can work, but here it made it harder for me to settle in. I kept wondering if I was reading fact or fiction, and I’m not sure the book does enough to make that ambiguity feel intentional rather than distracting.

The focus on Gaza and the author’s family history is no doubt remarkable, especially if you’re drawn to personal stories rooted in political struggle. I get why these moments matter to the family, but I have to admit they didn’t always engage me. Perhaps that’s because I already know the broad strokes of Palestinian history, so the material felt familiar rather than revelatory.

I also struggled with the tone. There’s something academic about it, like it’s observing its subjects rather than letting you get inside their lives. It felt distant, and that made it hard for me to stay emotionally invested.

There are some strong images and scenes, and I respect what Sabawit is trying to do. Still, the book never quite grabbed me. It felt more like an intellectual exercise than a story I could sink into.

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