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The Home I Worked to Make: Voices from the New Syrian Diaspora
War forced millions of Syrians from their homes. It also forced them to rethink the meaning of home itself. In 2011, Syrians took to the streets demanding freedom. Brutal government repression transformed peaceful protests into one of the most devastating conflicts of our times, killing hundreds of thousands and displacing millions. The Home I Worked to Make takes Syria’s refugee outflow as its point of departure. Based on hundreds of interviews conducted across more than a decade, it probes a question as intimate as it is What is home? With gripping immediacy, Syrians now on five continents share stories of leaving, losing, searching, and finding (or not finding) home. Across this tapestry of voices, a new understanding home, for those without the privilege of taking it for granted, is both struggle and achievement. Recasting “refugee crises” as acts of diaspora-making, The Home I Worked to Make challenges readers to grapple with the hard-won wisdom of those who survive war and to see, with fresh eyes, what home means in their own lives. 2 maps
- GenresNonfictionHistoryWar
304 pages, Hardcover
First published July 9, 2024
16 people are currently reading
2063 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 20 of 20 reviews
April 28, 2024
I received this advanced reader copy from Liveright publishing. Thank you so much for the opportunity to review this book - it was absolutely worth the time I spent and the reflections that came to me while reading. Weaving stories directly from Syrian refugee voices (though I hesitate to generalize calling these individuals refugees, as I think it sometimes takes away the complexities of their experiences) from as recent as late 2023, it paints the picture of the Syrian diaspora with its heartbreak and beauty that has spanned more than a decade.
In a lot of ways, the world has moved on from the Syrian crisis with newer headlines of catastrophe in other places. However, this book illustrates how the Syrian War and its displaced peoples has endured to this day. Stories from Syrians now making homes in Sudan, Turkey, Japan, Brazil, Europe, shows the versatility of human hope and strength. Though many feel they have found their new home, I felt that these Syrians acknowledge their ache for their homeland that will never be the same. In addition, I felt that though many confirm and appreciate their safety and new lives, there is still a strong sense of loss and uncertainty that continues and probably will continue for years to come.
The introduction and the mini chapter introductions felt a bit redundant in places.
In a lot of ways, the world has moved on from the Syrian crisis with newer headlines of catastrophe in other places. However, this book illustrates how the Syrian War and its displaced peoples has endured to this day. Stories from Syrians now making homes in Sudan, Turkey, Japan, Brazil, Europe, shows the versatility of human hope and strength. Though many feel they have found their new home, I felt that these Syrians acknowledge their ache for their homeland that will never be the same. In addition, I felt that though many confirm and appreciate their safety and new lives, there is still a strong sense of loss and uncertainty that continues and probably will continue for years to come.
The introduction and the mini chapter introductions felt a bit redundant in places.
February 21, 2025
loved this book and i found the stories so moving. I think Pearlman does a great job of respecting stories and letting people speak for themselves (and anyone who knows me knows I am super critical of non-Middle Eastern people writing about the Middle East). It was a little hard to follow so many stories when they were chopped up in the phases, but they were all so powerful
December 23, 2024
I'm a huge fan of Wendy Pearlman's book, We Crossed a Bridge and It Trembled (I recommend it every chance I get!), and I waited forever for this book to go on audible so I could listen to it. I wish I had read it instead; I wanted to underline so many lines in this! This book felt more academic than the other work I've read, but that did not make it any less moving.
March 15, 2025
A moving, essential read on the Syrian refugee crisis and what it means to be a human and have a home. Lotsa tears reading this.
May 14, 2025
stories stories stories with real real life
(really like the term diaspora creation)
(really like the term diaspora creation)
February 9, 2025
Gifted this book by a manager who used Pearlman’s prequel work “We Crossed a Bridge and it Trembled” in their master’s thesis.
Extremely timely to read in light of the fall of the Assad regime in late 2024, and also in early 2025 when the Trump “regime” has closed U.S. borders to refugees and already begun deporting many, this book was a rare window into the raw, often gut-wrenching, often inspiring stories of Syrian refugees.
Pearlman’s clearly intentional editing and compilation of these precious human stories was immaculate. Each narrative was laced with the political history and the devastation of living in, dying in, or fleeing Assad’s Syria. But the overwhelming theme of each narrative, as evident in the title, is how each refugee came to conceptualize home through their experiences.
Some longed for Syria, others couldn’t feel nostalgic for food or grandmothers because they hated what the country had become and what the Assad regime had done to them and their families. Some had been successful in working extremely hard to build homes for themselves in their new places if residence- in Germany, Türkiye, Australia, Denmark, Canada, the U.S., Lebanon, Jordan and Egypt.
I am taking away a much deeper understanding of what it has been like to be Syrian over the past two decades, and what “home” and also “success” means for people who have had to leave everything to save their lives. 5/5
Extremely timely to read in light of the fall of the Assad regime in late 2024, and also in early 2025 when the Trump “regime” has closed U.S. borders to refugees and already begun deporting many, this book was a rare window into the raw, often gut-wrenching, often inspiring stories of Syrian refugees.
Pearlman’s clearly intentional editing and compilation of these precious human stories was immaculate. Each narrative was laced with the political history and the devastation of living in, dying in, or fleeing Assad’s Syria. But the overwhelming theme of each narrative, as evident in the title, is how each refugee came to conceptualize home through their experiences.
Some longed for Syria, others couldn’t feel nostalgic for food or grandmothers because they hated what the country had become and what the Assad regime had done to them and their families. Some had been successful in working extremely hard to build homes for themselves in their new places if residence- in Germany, Türkiye, Australia, Denmark, Canada, the U.S., Lebanon, Jordan and Egypt.
I am taking away a much deeper understanding of what it has been like to be Syrian over the past two decades, and what “home” and also “success” means for people who have had to leave everything to save their lives. 5/5
March 10, 2025
As a Syrian, reading this book had a therapeutic effect on me. I found details of my life in each story, and details of each story in mine. Difficulties I faced, struggles I've been through, existential questions/crises, and much more. Just as the book suggests, home becomes a struggle/achievement (really depends on how you look at it), and you can imagine that even to this day, as you're reading the book or this review, it's still a question many are grappling with.
One of the best things about this book is that, as well as the great stories it conveys from Syrians, it also gives insight into how these stories align with what scientists & their theories have to say about all of this.
It's honestly just a great book. I could gift this to every Syrian I know so they feel heard & seen like I did, and to every non-Syrian so they see the human side of what happened. I'm now even more excited to read Wendy Pearlman's other books.
One of the best things about this book is that, as well as the great stories it conveys from Syrians, it also gives insight into how these stories align with what scientists & their theories have to say about all of this.
It's honestly just a great book. I could gift this to every Syrian I know so they feel heard & seen like I did, and to every non-Syrian so they see the human side of what happened. I'm now even more excited to read Wendy Pearlman's other books.
September 24, 2024
I loved Pearlman’s first book of interviews with Syrians (We Crossed a Bridge and It Trembled), and I think this one might be even better. This book has a similarly kaleidoscopic approach, with dozens of people’s stories, some appearing only once and others continuing their stories over several sections (very well edited for cliffhangers in a few spots!). I like that the interviewees “speak” at a bit more length, and Pearlman gives them room to go deeper on the big ideas of home and belonging. In this way it’s not just a document of the Syrian case specifically, but probably a book that will resonate with and shed new light on any number of diaspora communities.
Which is not to disregard the very specific amazing people in this book. I read most of it on the subway to and from work and several times found myself in tears over these people’s words and insights and bravery in their attempts to make new connections out in the world beyond Syria.
Overall a generous, deft and inspiring document of people in circumstances that are extreme yet could befall anyone.
Which is not to disregard the very specific amazing people in this book. I read most of it on the subway to and from work and several times found myself in tears over these people’s words and insights and bravery in their attempts to make new connections out in the world beyond Syria.
Overall a generous, deft and inspiring document of people in circumstances that are extreme yet could befall anyone.
July 31, 2024
There cannot be a word more easily sentimentalized than Home. It’s an address, a childhood memory, an aspiration, a house, a yard whose flowers you’ve tended, a retreat, a family, a country, a state of mind, the place, as Frost says: where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.
Then the barrel bombs come, the soldiers, the killers, the neighbors who betray you, the corrupt policeman—doesn’t matter: home vanishes and you take flight, you board a rubber dinghy, you walk for weeks through desert and forest, you pay bribes, get arrested, reach sanctuary, start over, learn a language, look for work, maybe make a friend, and dream of one of the thousand thousand iterations of Home.
This is what we need to understand about refugees. They are not hordes battering down your country’s barriers; they are not nameless, faceless refuse. They are Maha and Insaf and Mandy and Medea, and Ghani. They have been hauled out of school and arrested. They have seen their families murdered. They have undertaken acts of courage and desperation that end in remarkable wisdom and, in every instance, a wish for Home.
Wendy Pearlman’s “The Home I Worked to Make: Voices from the New Syrian Diaspora” gives us the first person narratives of all these individuals. The object, of course, is to humanize the refugees, rescue them from the prejudicial stereotypes and tropes that politicians rely on when they promulgate cruel policies.
The books is divided into seven thematic sections, and the speakers appear and re-appear as we move from one theme to the next: Leaving, Leaving Again, Searching, Losing, Building, Belonging, Living. You begin to feel the ongoing struggle, not just the escape and/or the desire to return, but the step-by-step challenges, all rooted in an ever-evolving notion of what Home can be, should be, must be, is not, cannot be, is once new, is attained.
It’s a valuable book because it allows us to meet such extraordinary people in their intimate reflections about their lives and how those lives intersect with the most pressing social, political, and international issues of our day. But Pearlman’s work goes beyond itself and what I take to be its intention: to humanize the refugees. The step further: if we read carefully and with an urgent heart, these stories humanize us as well. That’s a kind of homecoming, too.
Then the barrel bombs come, the soldiers, the killers, the neighbors who betray you, the corrupt policeman—doesn’t matter: home vanishes and you take flight, you board a rubber dinghy, you walk for weeks through desert and forest, you pay bribes, get arrested, reach sanctuary, start over, learn a language, look for work, maybe make a friend, and dream of one of the thousand thousand iterations of Home.
This is what we need to understand about refugees. They are not hordes battering down your country’s barriers; they are not nameless, faceless refuse. They are Maha and Insaf and Mandy and Medea, and Ghani. They have been hauled out of school and arrested. They have seen their families murdered. They have undertaken acts of courage and desperation that end in remarkable wisdom and, in every instance, a wish for Home.
Wendy Pearlman’s “The Home I Worked to Make: Voices from the New Syrian Diaspora” gives us the first person narratives of all these individuals. The object, of course, is to humanize the refugees, rescue them from the prejudicial stereotypes and tropes that politicians rely on when they promulgate cruel policies.
The books is divided into seven thematic sections, and the speakers appear and re-appear as we move from one theme to the next: Leaving, Leaving Again, Searching, Losing, Building, Belonging, Living. You begin to feel the ongoing struggle, not just the escape and/or the desire to return, but the step-by-step challenges, all rooted in an ever-evolving notion of what Home can be, should be, must be, is not, cannot be, is once new, is attained.
It’s a valuable book because it allows us to meet such extraordinary people in their intimate reflections about their lives and how those lives intersect with the most pressing social, political, and international issues of our day. But Pearlman’s work goes beyond itself and what I take to be its intention: to humanize the refugees. The step further: if we read carefully and with an urgent heart, these stories humanize us as well. That’s a kind of homecoming, too.
October 8, 2024
A thorough compilation of stories of Syrian refugees scattered across the globe. As you read through first hand accounts of what it meant to be at home when the oppression started, as well as new potential homes with oppression and prejudice from the people. A good majority of excerpts are from young people, freeing governmental persecution, all while in school, deciding careers, to a life of forced to decide what the safest place for their new life will be. The stories of refugees are meant to be not only shared, but continue to be remembered, mourned, and instilled in your everyday way of life and looking at the world. Long live the people !
Memorable quotes:
“Displaced persons’ lives and self-reflections have much to teach everyone about home. The violent dislodging of persons from their established moorings, and their labor to establish themselves anew, can reveal fundamental truths about belonging and attachment that are obscured in more settled circumstances. Viewing refugees in this light— as bearers of special wisdom on the question of home— presents a new perspective on forced migration. It exposes the hollowness of discourses that portray refugees as powerless victims or accuse them of exploiting tax-funded services in host states. No less, it lays bare the problem of tokenizing the successes of migrant doctors, entrepreneurs, or star pupils who defy the odds to earn accolades. Instead, it insists that simply developing a feeling of home is itself a feat that defies the odds,” (11-12).
“Refugees do not have the luxury of being unreflective about home,” (16).
“My sister once sent me a video of when the local council tried to distribute tiny pieces of chocolate to children. It became very chaotic, with kids stepping on each other to get a piece. I still remember the shout of one child in particular: ‘Please! I’m hungry!” (51)
“But at some point, you no longer care about being killed. You become very sarcastic. They start bombing, and you say, ‘The music has begun.’” (54)
“To continue, sometimes you can’t keep being yourself. There are aspects of my personality that I need to forget or kill to create a new Lina who can live here,” (157).
“Home is like a bottle of perfume. You’re inside it, unaware. When the war began, the bottle shattered. Suddenly you’re walking on broken glass,” (260)
Memorable quotes:
“Displaced persons’ lives and self-reflections have much to teach everyone about home. The violent dislodging of persons from their established moorings, and their labor to establish themselves anew, can reveal fundamental truths about belonging and attachment that are obscured in more settled circumstances. Viewing refugees in this light— as bearers of special wisdom on the question of home— presents a new perspective on forced migration. It exposes the hollowness of discourses that portray refugees as powerless victims or accuse them of exploiting tax-funded services in host states. No less, it lays bare the problem of tokenizing the successes of migrant doctors, entrepreneurs, or star pupils who defy the odds to earn accolades. Instead, it insists that simply developing a feeling of home is itself a feat that defies the odds,” (11-12).
“Refugees do not have the luxury of being unreflective about home,” (16).
“My sister once sent me a video of when the local council tried to distribute tiny pieces of chocolate to children. It became very chaotic, with kids stepping on each other to get a piece. I still remember the shout of one child in particular: ‘Please! I’m hungry!” (51)
“But at some point, you no longer care about being killed. You become very sarcastic. They start bombing, and you say, ‘The music has begun.’” (54)
“To continue, sometimes you can’t keep being yourself. There are aspects of my personality that I need to forget or kill to create a new Lina who can live here,” (157).
“Home is like a bottle of perfume. You’re inside it, unaware. When the war began, the bottle shattered. Suddenly you’re walking on broken glass,” (260)
May 30, 2025
“They say home is where the heart is. I don't believe that…Home is the details that you don't think about until you lose them.” But “what is home and what is exile when the place of one’s birth represents not only ‘the nourishment of tradition’…but also degradation and violence? Such is the dilemma for millions of displaced Syrians today.”
“This book explores the varied meanings of home through testimonies from thirty-eight displaced Syrians now on five continents,” shifting the discourse from “refugee crisis” to diaspora construction. “Each personal narrative is its own meditation” on identifying something as home through the prism of experience–leaving and returning to home, losing and finding–or not finding–home, searching for home and scaffolding a new home, belonging and abiding.
Home is not a who, what, when, where or how; home is a hybrid of all of these questions in their complexity and multidimensionality. Home is a prism of leaving, searching, losing, building, and belonging that refracts through life experience. It’s a quilted patchwork of land and country and house and identity stitched together with the common thread of belonging, “a mother’s lap where we temporarily rest before we spring into action again.”
“Home is when you close your door and feel warm…And when people arrive at something that they feel is home…When I finally got a plate, knife, spoon, and fork – when I was able to fry an egg – the house transformed from a source of fear to a source of safety. It became the home I worked to make.”
“Building home is a story that reaches inward, into people's evolving sense of self and purpose. Belonging is a story that turns outward, anchoring home in the relationships that people develop with the physical and social worlds around them.” A refugee’s story never ends with a full stop. A full stop means the end of a journey. A refugee pauses her story with three dots; because while this book must come to a conclusion, the stories therein are to be continued...
“This book explores the varied meanings of home through testimonies from thirty-eight displaced Syrians now on five continents,” shifting the discourse from “refugee crisis” to diaspora construction. “Each personal narrative is its own meditation” on identifying something as home through the prism of experience–leaving and returning to home, losing and finding–or not finding–home, searching for home and scaffolding a new home, belonging and abiding.
Home is not a who, what, when, where or how; home is a hybrid of all of these questions in their complexity and multidimensionality. Home is a prism of leaving, searching, losing, building, and belonging that refracts through life experience. It’s a quilted patchwork of land and country and house and identity stitched together with the common thread of belonging, “a mother’s lap where we temporarily rest before we spring into action again.”
“Home is when you close your door and feel warm…And when people arrive at something that they feel is home…When I finally got a plate, knife, spoon, and fork – when I was able to fry an egg – the house transformed from a source of fear to a source of safety. It became the home I worked to make.”
“Building home is a story that reaches inward, into people's evolving sense of self and purpose. Belonging is a story that turns outward, anchoring home in the relationships that people develop with the physical and social worlds around them.” A refugee’s story never ends with a full stop. A full stop means the end of a journey. A refugee pauses her story with three dots; because while this book must come to a conclusion, the stories therein are to be continued...
July 12, 2025
This strikes a great balance between personal narrative and a mosaic of voices to tell a larger stories. The individual stories chosen give a decently side range of experiences of Syrian refugees, internal and external to Syria. People ended up all over and there has been some obvious effort made to include a wide range of voices in many geographic locations. Even so, a few geographies dominated so that there were periods that felt somewhat repetitive.
The only criticism is that the framing of the narratives is somewhat lacking. Pearlman started each section, but her words were mere summaries and did not add to the discussion in any way. There is a delicate balance here, and erring on the side of letting the Syrian voices speak is the safest choice.
But Pearlman (and/or her research assistants) DID frame the narrative. The focus on home was not limited to a geographic construct, but geography dominated the discussion anyway. Time merely functioned as something that passed / distance from being in Syria. But one major factor of time felt unexplored, likely related to lines of questioning?, but also possibly reflected in the choice of voices represented. That is how aging plays into these stories. The fact that individuals changed life stages as part of that time passing was barely explored. This contributes to the universality of experience in many of the narratives. Some speak of "being a kid" or having children of their own. Many speak of their grandparents. It also frames the discussion in silent ways. The vast majority of the interviewees seem to be of a certain age - in their 20s at most when they fled Syria. This is even when the discussion is about a family group with different ages represented. This isn't bad, but seems accidental rather than a mindful selection and discussion. (It sometimes felt like witnessing someone working with a less than stellar therapist
The only criticism is that the framing of the narratives is somewhat lacking. Pearlman started each section, but her words were mere summaries and did not add to the discussion in any way. There is a delicate balance here, and erring on the side of letting the Syrian voices speak is the safest choice.
But Pearlman (and/or her research assistants) DID frame the narrative. The focus on home was not limited to a geographic construct, but geography dominated the discussion anyway. Time merely functioned as something that passed / distance from being in Syria. But one major factor of time felt unexplored, likely related to lines of questioning?, but also possibly reflected in the choice of voices represented. That is how aging plays into these stories. The fact that individuals changed life stages as part of that time passing was barely explored. This contributes to the universality of experience in many of the narratives. Some speak of "being a kid" or having children of their own. Many speak of their grandparents. It also frames the discussion in silent ways. The vast majority of the interviewees seem to be of a certain age - in their 20s at most when they fled Syria. This is even when the discussion is about a family group with different ages represented. This isn't bad, but seems accidental rather than a mindful selection and discussion. (It sometimes felt like witnessing someone working with a less than stellar therapist
August 25, 2024
A collection of stories collected through interviews with Syrian's from throughout the world over the years from the Arab Spring to the present day. With a focus on the idea of home as a location, feeling, or collection of people, leaving home, finding a new home, and making home where you are. Books like this demonstrate that groups like "Syrian Refugees" are not a uniform group but rather are a diverse group of people with different points of view, religion, expectations, and desires. Introductory materials discussing the aspects of home that the following anecdotes relate to and put each persons interview in perspective or in time with the other parts of the book I found this an eye opening look into the lives of those forced to leave Syria.
November 8, 2024
Wendy's work to document the stories of Syrians in the diaspora is so important. With curiosity, care, and empathy, her translation of these necessary stories allows the voices of seemingly ordinary Syrians to shine. But the journeys that these Syrians have taken to create opportunities for themselves, and how they each individually continue to live into new ideas of home, is extraordinary. Perseverance, adaptability, grit, determination---these words fall short. In a time of myopic and frankly, lazy criticism of migration and refugee communities around the world, Pearlman's beautifully edited collection is one to dig deep into.
July 15, 2024
Reading about the life experiences of dozens of Syrians who were forced to become refugees, due to the brutally oppressive Assad regime, is simultaneously disheartening and inspirational! Each and every one of the voices in this book is uniquely powerful. While most of us--fortunately--haven't experienced being a refugee, all of us have experiences with and opinions about what "home" means. Based on years of deep research and interviews among literally hundreds of Syrians who now live all all over the world, this book is a must read!
September 4, 2024
A deeply humane oral history of Syrian refugee diaspora as seen through the lens of home. What does it mean to lose your home? Your entire community? Your country? What does it mean to try and make a new home? As you might imagine, the responses are multifaceted and the process of homemaking is ongoing, dynamic. Pearlman's participants, vulnerable though they are, speak candidly, profoundly, with equal measures of loss and resilience and I loved everything about this book.
October 31, 2024
No clue how I ended up with an advanced copy of this book (probably because my GoodReads is so epic?!), but I really enjoyed it. I learned a ton and liked how all the stories were different but tied together. It made me think of my definition of “home”. 4.5 stars.
February 9, 2025
Powerful. I feel so much with the ideas of what a homeland is, what we make as homes, etc. This book explores the stories.narratives of Syrian refugees displaced as a result of Assad's regime, but they are bridges across all people who have had to leave their homes, and create new ones elsewhere.
December 24, 2024
Beautiful. Crazy to have started this during such an eventful time in Syria’s history.
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August 22, 2025Excellent nonfiction read. Learned a lot and appreciated the overarching, thought provoking question that this book asks - what is home?
Displaying 1 - 20 of 20 reviews