This book was written by an Israeli author in her native language of Hebrew.

Samir and his family are Arabs and live on the West Bank. Samir has been raised to hate Israelis and his family blames the Israelis for his brother’s death. Samir shatters his knee in a bike accident, and the only place equipped to treat him is a Jewish hospital. Samir finds the hospital staff kind and while in the hospital he shares a room with 4 Israeli children. One of the children, Yonatan, becomes Samir’s friend and together they share time and a journey.

I had high hopes for this book, but it never really grabbed me.

This book takes place before that relative peace during the Clinton administration, representing a world very similar to the one of the conflict today. It also won the honorable mention for the UNESCO prize for Children’s Literature in the Service of Tolerance. The main character, a Palestinian named Samir, broke his knee falling off of a bike and has to stay in an Israeli hospital to await a specialist from America. The story is told in the first person and is also filled with remembrances of events from the past. At the beginning, Samir feels uncomfortable in the hospital, as the only Israelis he knows are the soldiers. This becomes evident when he meets his first male nurse and is surprised that he doesn’t look like a soldier, perhaps because he is smiling and nice. He remembers once asking his grandfather when watching news about battles in Yugoslavia which side was right, to which his grandfather replies, “you can be sure of one thing—everybody thinks he’s right." Though referring to a different battle, it can definitely be applied to the one in which he is surrounded. His father works as a barber, only his business doesn’t do well during the constant curfews; everyone has begun to cut their own hair, since none can work during curfews they don’t have the money for what is seen as a luxury. His acceptance with the other children in his room is jarred by one of the boys, Tzahi, who taunts him over his being Arabic, grinning at Samir’s fear when he learns that Tzahi’s brother is a soldier. It is Yonatan who is always trying to befriend him, talking to him about the stars when the lights have turned out. He is reminded of the trouble he normally lives in when his mother can’t come to visit him because the territories have been sealed off. He looks at his stay at the hospital as paradise—he has three meals a day, there are no raids, and when he hears a siren going by, it’s not a direct threat to him as it would be at home. In his moments of peace he wonders if this is how it always is for Jewish children and feels a sense of community with the other children. Here they are just kids, it doesn’t matter if they are Jewish or Arabic. However, it’s sad to hear a child say that you, “never know anymore where the bullet will find you… and you don’t know if it’s the soldiers, or the avengers, or soldiers pretending to be Arabs." We find out later that this is how his brother Fadi died, being shot by the soldiers when he couldn’t get away.
The story, though, is most about Samir’s coming to the realization that despite the war, and despite all of the tragic reminders of how difficult life is back home, they are all really the same. Yonatan tells him this scientifically at one point, “all of us here on earth are made of the same materials. We all contain water, carbon, calcium, iron, protein, and some other stuff." This is a story of hope for the next generation, as well as pointing to the necessity of Palestinians and Israelis coming into contact in everyday situations to encourage friendship as well as an understanding of the other’s point of view. This would be most appropriate for children from about third grade to middle school age.

I picked up this short adult novel a few days ago because I wanted to reread it and see if I like it more than I did three years ago-I do and I don't at the same time.

I like the story- it's a story about two different cultures coming together, about fear and distrust and friendships. It's a lovely short story full of interesting characters with good backstories and a lot of things happening. The ending was good but not really great, the story was good but could be better and I feel like some character's stories got wrapped up way too fast.

But it's overall still a good short young adult story about growing up and accepting differnet cultures and embracing them. It's a nice short story full of warm moments and great characters so I truly recommand it.

I didn't like it. I don't like the author's biased opinions on the Palestinian-Israel conflict. What is going on in Palestine is another Holocaust; how can someone be so inhumane?

Samir and Yonatan left something in translation.

Israeli-born author, Daniella Carmi, produces a middle-grade story about a Palestinian boy, Samir, facing who he sees as the enemy--the Jews--while in an Israeli hospital on the West Bank. From that blurb, it sounds like a live wire of conflict and interest, but it falls flat on delivery.

The narrative mainly takes place in a hospital ward occupied by Samir and four Jewish children. This grows tedious with the daily activities of each kid. I wish the setting had been fleshed out more, especially the time. Was this during the Intifada? The Yugoslavian civil war is mentioned and Samir’s brother is fighting in Kuwait, but unless you know those “sign posts,” as I doubt many American middle schoolers do, you’d be lost.

I think much of these issues come down to the cultural divide, more than a translation issue. While the author didn’t come out for a particular side, she also didn’t drive home the message of peace. Saying “everyone is made of the same stuff” is sort of a cop-out when Samir is still blaming the Jews for his brother’s death. The resolution is too simple.

With all that said, I was pleased that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict was shown from the latter perspective. I just wish that the narrative had gone further to show both sides outside the hospital walls.

A Palestinian boy comes to terms with his brother's death in this slow-paced but moving novel. In homage to the bravery of his brother Fadi, who was killed by an Israeli soldier, Samir shatters his knee in a bicycle accident. He must have an operation at the "Jews' hospital." Samir's fever plus the sealing off of territories keeps the boy hospitalized for several weeks in a ward with four Israeli children, including Yonatan. The boys' friendship grows throughout the book. The ending is problematic, but the story of hope is sound.

This tale--of a child growing up in a Palestinian village in Israel who must endure a stay in the "Jewish hospital" for surgery to his knee--was definitely written with an agenda. But it's an agenda that is admirable.

At times fanciful to the point of magical realism, and at other times harrowing, the book is targeted for children 11 and up to send a message of peace. I have been very, very disappointed by the books I have read on the Israel-Palestinian conflict (especially for that age range) in the past. This is definitely an improvement.

Samir and Yonatan differs from most books about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict in notable ways:

1) While written by an Israeli, it is told from the viewpoint of a Palestinian boy. His viewpoint is very limited by both his age and location. Yet, the book acknowledges his lack of experience and this is what expands over the course of the novel.

2) There's no attempt to say which side is right or wrong. Samir lives in terror of "Israeli Occupiers"--Jewish soldiers--but also fears "avengers"--Palestinians who are willing to punish other Palestinians who are rumored to have cooperated with the Israelis. The only Jewish people Samir has encountered are the soldiers who have invaded his privacy, and whom he blames for the death of his brother and numerous other family tragedies. When he meets other Jews, he is first afraid, then in shock to discover they are friendly. The book only describes the experience of children like Samir, as well as to convey the eventual message that children everywhere can live together in peace and affection if removed from their political entanglements.

3) The setting of the novel removes the children from their natural environment, allowing them to become distinct from their national attachments. The children aren't invested in news broadcasts, messages from teachers, or the anger vented by parents. They are only invested in each others' healing.

The pacing was too slow and meandering for my taste, but the translation from the original Hebrew maintains Samir's voice beautifully. I'm not so enthusiastic about the book as to recommend it strongly, but I don't recommend you stay away from it with a 9 foot pole either. In a book about this topic, that's saying a lot.