An amazing and intimate look into Said's youth. I was mesmerized by the stunningly dysfunctional upbringing he endured and that some of his most cherished joys were things in which today's children rarely (if ever) have interest. The book made me reflect upon my own childhood and how seemingly-irrelevant experiences undoubtedly shaped who I am today. The book was also an intriguing look at a child's worldview of the Middle East during WWII, the destruction of Palestine, and the rise of Nasser. Said articulates how, after his parents insulated him from politics throughout childhood, he came to terms with what had happened to his homeland of Palestine and how the places in which he grew up (Cairo, Lebanon) were evolving. Said has a stunning memory and recollection ability. He vividly recalls the specific wording of conversations he had in his early teens, the names of just about everyone that had come into his life, and illustrative details about his every experience. Unfortunately Said's story is heartbreaking, as he spent his entire life "out of place" and unable to fit in with anyone around him, whether in Egypt, Palestine, Lebanon, or the United States. This book is a must for those interested in the human experience of colonialism, displacement, and Middle Eastern politics.

As an Arab living in the West, reading through this book was like a practical guide to de-construct and attempt to reconcile the many conflicting elements of my identity.

It's one thing to write a warts-and-all memoir, but this one seems at times to be all warts - at least as far as it goes, to Said's early years as a young man, when he was still a graduate student at Harvard. During those 25 or so years, Said represents himself as being a mostly hapless loner, with a record of troublemaking and lack of self-discipline, compounded by a confused identity as a Christian Palestinian growing up in Cairo and spending long summers with his family in Lebanon. For readers looking for the origins of the man who became known as an exponent of Orientalism, he's here, but they certainly have to connect all the dots for themselves. There are only hints of the scholar and critic Said would become.

Heavily under the influence of his parents during all these years, Said devotes considerable time to a portrayal of both of them, his father a successful, demanding, and emotionally remote businessman, his mother a constant solace to him but almost willfully manipulative. Their worried and oppressive presence continually erodes his confidence in his abilities, while making him even more deeply dependent on them. Sent to America for his education at the age of 15, his isolation is intensified and his "otherness" keeps him at a distance from peers who might have provided companionship and support. Meanwhile, the protected world he has known gradually disappears as political realities (the establishment of Israel, the rise of Nasser, the 1967 war, the civil war in Lebanon) make of him finally a man without a homeland.

Focusing as it does on the years of his youth and young manhood, the story makes an interesting contrast with Israeli writer Amos Oz's memoir, "A Tale of Love and Darkness." Each is a very personal, self-critical story written late in life (Said was dying of cancer) retrieving an inchoate self from the past and reconstructing the origins from which both men emerged in later life to pursue an almost unpredictable career.

The reviewer Al-Kruse is one sad pathetic human being. Instead of promoting tolerence you use your time to write rubbish. I am an Arab but unlike you I do differentiate between good and bad Israelis. I will never say that all israelis hate Arabs. I am also educated enough to seperate the state of Israel from Judaism.

Edward Said was a remarkable man who devoted his time to rebuilding the common heritage between Arabs/Muslims and Jews. We have so much in common it is a great shame that the troubles of the 20th century have created barriers between two peoples who gave the world Memonides and Ibn Sinna.

The reviewer Al-Kruse is one sad pathetic human being. Instead of promoting tolerence you use your time to write rubbish. I am an Arab but unlike you I do differentiate between good and bad Israelis. I will never say that all israelis hate Arabs. I am also educated enough to seperate the state of Israel from Judaism.

Edward Said was a remarkable man who devoted his time to rebuilding the common heritage between Arabs/Muslims and Jews. We have so much in common it is a great shame that the troubles of the 20th century have created barriers between two peoples who gave the world Memonides and Ibn Sinna.

Not only this Edward Said autobiography is breath-taking in its style, it narrates the story of every Palestinian who displaced after the creation of the State of Israel in 1948.
Unlike the other Said works, this one is personal in which Said recounts his memories since childhood: His early days as a boy in Jerusalem, his school in Egypt, his college and adult life in the US and his family gatherings since he was a little kid.
Said's wit imposes itself as he discovers the origins of his name, how his grandmother used to call him Edwad (without the R) and how his father used to shop everyday at the nearby grocer during their summer stay in the village of Dhour Shweir in Lebanon even when the Said house did not need any missing items.
This book can be easily mistaken for a novel but Said makes sure to capture his disorientation, after he and his family loose the sense of home, and puts it in context.
The bottom line message of Said, after his long stay away from his Palestinian homeland and in the US, was that he couldn't find his identity their after. With Arabs, he felt American while among Americans he felt Arab. After his death, Said - a Palestinian-American feeling always out of place - had willed that he be buried in Dhour Shweir in Lebanon, perhaps to illustrate how Palestinians, whether alive or dead, will always be displaced.