Back Story: Novelist Rachel Kushner Visits a Refugee Camp in Jerusalem
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Rachel Kushner’s novel “The Flamethrowers” was a finalist for the National Book Award and a New York Times best seller. Her article “‘We Are Orphans Here’: Life and Death in East Jerusalem’s Palestinian Refugee Camp” appears in this Sunday’s New York Times Magazine. In this piece, the author answers questions about her article and her visit to the Shuafat Refugee Camp.
Q. You had no previous experience in the region, and little knowledge but gravitated instinctually to Shuafat camp? Really? Can you say more about that?
A. The region and its complex problems were not a subject that took up a lot of space in my thoughts, to be honest. I had been invited, totally unexpectedly, by Ayelet Waldman, Mario Vargas Llosa and Michael Chabon, to take a trip there, in mind to contribute to a book of essays that Chabon and Waldman are editing on the occupation of the West Bank. I was writing a novel, and I was and am involved with issues much closer to home. The subject of Palestine and Israel pretty much fell into my lap. Because it seemed like an opportunity to learn, I took it.
Each writer was asked to choose an area of focus. I immediately wondered, is there a refugee camp inside Israel? Yes, in fact, there was exactly one camp — Shuafat. I learned that it is not serviced by the Palestinian Authority, nor by Israel, and that seemed very interesting to me. I decided I would either focus on life inside the camp, or follow someone who lives in the camp, but works in West Jerusalem, and see what their day is like, passing through checkpoints on either end.
Arrangements were made for me to stay in a home with a family in the camp, and that seemed like a special, immersive, opportunity, even if it was only a weekend.
In sum, it was almost by chance that I chose what I chose. If I first informed myself in depth about the region, I could have spent literally years choosing a subject. I did it quickly, on instinct.
Q. Is writing fiction a very different experience for you than writing journalistic stories? Which is more enjoyable?
A. My life is structured around writing fiction, which mobilizes parts of the imagination and unconscious that are otherwise quieted in daily life, and produces a feeling of intimacy with people and ideas despite the privacy, solitude, required. Also it is a journey of patience and unforeseen paths. So, fiction!
For me this was much less about the writing and more about the experience of going to a place and meeting the people who lived there, trying to see and to listen as carefully as I could. That my host was murdered was a shock. It is not like the end of a novel that the writer reaches is unforeseen. An entire community will suffer in his absence. His death shaped how I feel about the experience. I’m not the seasoned journalist in a flak jacket — I was not looking for war and violence — but that is what I got. I can say without equivocation that it was not pleasurable, and instead dispiriting.
This isn’t to say I would not someday write another journalistic piece, but I have only this one experience as a basis for comparison.
Q. You wrote that you were certain you would return to Shuafat and that you would bring Remy, your 8-year old son, “because you had fallen in love with these people.” What had you fallen in love with? And what do you think: In light of the dramatic, gut-wrenching revelation at the end of the piece (no spoilers here), will you in fact return to Shuafat with Remy?
A. I had fallen in love with these people because they were warm, and gracious, and funny, wonderful hosts who made me feel at home. If I were to return to the region, I would certainly go without question to Shuafat camp. But I have no immediate plans to go back there. Maybe I would bring Remy, but I can’t say. I don’t know. Something about the question opens me up to criticism if I say yes and also if I say no. I guess that makes it a good question, but also one that is hard to answer.
Q. A more mundane question: How did this article wind up in The Times Magazine?
A. Before I took my trip, it crossed my mind that perhaps I should propose the article I was planning to write about the Shuafat camp to Claire Gutierrez, an editor who had contacted me about writing for the magazine. But on the day I returned, I changed my mind. I didn’t want to wade into the waters of a fraught subject in such a highly visible way, and decided I would just leave my essay for the book. After Baha was killed, it seemed like the piece should be about him, and that it would be important for more people to know about the work he did, the contribution he made. He was a man of peace. He was a beautiful person: He wanted to do constructive, positive things. I wanted people to know about him, since he lost his life while pursuing refined and selfless goals to better the lives of those around him.