I just recently finished reading Never in a Hurry by Naomi Shibab Nye, a Palestinian-American poet who wrote a collection of essays revolving around her travels as a child and as a mother around the States (mostly in Texas) and in her father’s homeland of Palestine.
It’s a fascinating mix of glimpses from a world that most people have never seen or experienced before, scenes from yesteryear in the States, and lyrical prose that makes me think a bit of Kafka. Her writing is extremely descriptive, so vivid that you can easily picture yourself as a fly in the wall as these memories are taking place.
My favorite chapters/memories are the one of her with her grandmother, to see two worlds, rural Palestine and the US, collide but yet realize that they’re the same world, family. And you get the sense of how much, regardless of the language barrier, that her grandmother wants to make sure she knows where her people come from, where her family comes from, where she comes from, that she is accepted and loved because she’s family.