Review of The Unwanted by Boris Fishman
There’s something about a story that delves into the heart of human resilience amidst chaos that speaks volumes. When I stumbled upon Boris Fishman’s The Unwanted, I was immediately drawn to its premise of love, betrayal, and the quest for safety in a war-torn landscape. As someone who’s always been interested in the intricate layers of personal history within broader socio-political contexts, I knew I had to dive into this narrative.
At the center of The Unwanted is Dina, a young girl who flees her unnamed country after her family faces the dire consequences of a civil war. The opening quote, “Here, you can’t protect yourself without hurting somebody else,” resonates throughout—not only as a stark reality for Dina’s family but as a pervasive theme that echoes in the broader tapestry of human experience. The story begins with Dina’s father, George, whose decision-making spirals into a tense chain of events that irrevocably alters their destinies. As a former literature professor, he lives in fear for his family’s safety, grappling with the moral complexities of his choices.
Fishman adeptly intertwines themes of protection and betrayal as the family navigates their turbulent journey, sometimes harmoniously and often discordantly. What I found particularly compelling was the author’s rendering of Dina’s evolution. Initially portrayed as a headstrong child, her defiance acts both as a shield and a bludgeon against her family’s trauma. Throughout the novel, this duality sparks an inquisitiveness in her—the quest for truth in a fragmented past.
The pacing of The Unwanted fluctuates, mirroring the tumultuous nature of its plot: there are moments of frenetic urgency, punctuated by a languid exploration of character emotions. Fishman’s prose is relentless yet reflective, leaving readers to ponder the significant weight of choices made under duress. There were occasional narrative threads I found hard to believe—particularly the abundance of helpful taxi drivers—yet, these instances added an interesting thematic layer of connection and community amidst struggle.
One quote that really struck me was when the characters confront the idea that “protection is like electricity here.” It’s a haunting reminder of how survival is often a negotiation of sacrifice. This complexity in relationships—between George and Dina, or even with the larger community—illuminates the gray areas of human behavior in desperate times.
While The Unwanted has its flaws, it ultimately invites a profound reflection on the cost of protection and the shadows of our past we can never fully escape. It deftly paints a world where kindness coexists with cruelty, showing that, often, the stakes of our actions are higher than we can fathom.
I believe fans of literary fiction, particularly those interested in narratives that explore family dynamics against a backdrop of political turmoil, will find The Unwanted an emotionally charged read. This novel challenged me to confront the complexities of my own judgments and the realities faced by those seeking refuge from violence.
In a personal way, Fishman’s storytelling transported me to a world where the fragility of human connection plays out against the abyss of uncertainty. For that, I’m grateful—I emerge with a deeper understanding of both empathy and resilience, fundamental threads in our collective tapestry.