I'm not sure what it is with Leon Uris. Maybe it's just me, but I feel like every time I get through one of his stories, the ending just disappoints. That's how I felt about Armageddon and Topaz, and it's the same here.
SPOILERS will follow: This book, dealing with the origins of the modern Arab-Israeli conflict, specifically in regards to the perspective of a Palestinian family in the 1920s-1940s, is not usually my cup of tea. But I had the book, and figured I'd give it a shot. Like my other Uris experiences, the initial concept is actually quite engaging, but I had bigger problems with this one.
For one thing, the narrative style is erratic, shifting from third person, detailing the life of Haj Ibrahim, a Palestinian muktar, to first person (from the perspective of Ibrahim's son, Ishmael), to a more broad third-person narrator, describing global/political events at large. That's tricky enough, but on top of that there are some odd time jumps, backwards and forwards, in the first third of the book, which fortunately cease after a point.
I also have to take issue with the theme of the book. It's largely a heavy-handed condemnation of Muslim culture, at least as far as the lower and middle classes of the Middle East are concerned in this time period. There really doesn't seem to be any attempt to portray the protagonists in a positive light, focusing instead on religious dogmatism, brutal sexism, and fatalism. Not to mention the fact that almost every character is portrayed as treacherous, hostile, and vicious. It's very hard to empathize with characters like that.
Which is why the ending becomes such a problem for me. (Again, SPOILERS!) At the climax of the novel, Ibrahim, who has been a morally conflicted character throughout the book, attempting to find some means of peace and hope for the Palestinian refugees displaced by armed conflict, effectively gives up. His daughter Nada offends him by defying social and religious convention, which Ibrahim responds to by brutally murdering her and dumping her body in the gutter. Ishmael, the hero of the story, berates his father into dying of what appears to be an apoplectic heart attack, before descending into delusional madness and, presumably, death. The end. It's an absolutely depressing and defeating finish to a five-hundred page novel, that completely negates the characters' journeys. The only message I really got from Uris here is a mallet-to-the-head sermon of the failings of Arabic/Muslim culture. You're made to feel that at least one of these characters will have a future, but ultimately denied. And that doesn't even factor in some of the dangling plot threads - what becomes of Gideon, of Farouk, of Tabah - of the region itself - or the ongoing problems and conflict that lingered into the '80s (when the book was written.)
Ultimately, I found the book a laborious read with an enormously unsatisfying conclusion. I was disappointed, because I kept wanting to like it (I never want to dislike a book I'm reading, since it's an investment of both time and interest), but try as I might, I could not. Reading a lengthy work only to reach a conclusion of "And then they all died and life was horrible, the end" is not a good return on my investment, personally. Based on the three Leon Uris stories I've now experienced, I don't really see myself seeking out more.