Allow me to be ridiculously pedantic for a second. (If you just said, “Again?” then we are in a fight.) Memoirs worry me when I start them. I am always concerned that the author will make themselves either the eternal victim, or worse, the unsullied hero of their own story. If you call yourself the hero, then you are no hero. It’s a rule I have. So, with that annoying little requirement in my head, I opened Defiance.
Loubna Mrie is no hero. At least, according to her. I think she defines herself as a survivor. I, however, consider her a hero.
Mrie grew up in relative privilege in Syria as part of the ruling class. She also grew up in abject terror as her father is, well, let’s just say not a nice person. For the sake of avoiding spoilers, I won’t comment further on him. I want the reader to experience this story the way I did because this book is one of the most powerful I have read.
What makes this narrative so exceptional is the utter emotional abandon in which Mrie writes. She is a reluctant revolutionary. In fact, she is a naive young girl who gets dragged into the resistance because she’s just naturally inquisitive (and maybe a bit rebellious in the way most teenagers are). This is not a memoir of a budding standard bearer with nerves of steel. She is a flawed, scared woman who is trying to find a life of her own on her own terms. Her innermost destructive thoughts are never hidden. She makes decisions that, while understandable, will make the reader wince. She hides from consequences of her own making or completely out of her control and drowns her trauma in drink. And yet, she persists. Mrie will continually question her choices but consistently chooses to move forward to help save her homeland.
The book is a true page-turner. It begins almost like a normal coming-of-age story only to morph into a litany of near-death experiences, loss, and despair. While that all sounds like a very challenging read, I should also point out that Mrie is also very funny. Yeah, I didn’t expect to find that in here either, but somehow Mrie’s sardonic humor will come through to relieve the pressure. It’s the type of nonfiction book which reminds me why I don’t read fiction all that much. I have everything I need right here, and it’s all true. Mrie went through hell, got her bruises, made her mistakes, and then was willing to show the world the unvarnished truth in order to shed light on the homeland she loves. That’s where the heroism is.
(This book was provided as a review copy by the author and Viking Books.)
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