This is a harrowing collection of updates from Al-Shaer, a poet and cultural icon trapped within Gaza as the genocide continues. His family has been torn apart, and he shares what he can about what it is like to have no choice but to "persist". There are graphic depictions of the weapons of war and the displacement and the violence in this collection.
It's hard to share about A Year on the Abyss of Genocide that is not obvious from the get-go. It is vitally important to read and hear and internalize the realities of how extraordinarily terrible and heartbreaking it is to see this genocide destroy the lives of millions of Palestinians, and how things are deteriorating. It is vitally important to hear that Palestinians are doing what they can, anyway, to survive and find hope.
At the same time that this is true, it is also true that to collate these updates from a GoFundMe means there are some structural issue, though it is not a fault of Al-Shaer's incredible and sorrowful poetry and prose. This is not my first go at reading this kind of memoir writing told "in the moment" with minimal editing- some of these issues are the nature of this writing. Streams of consciousness/little editing means this work will not be as emotionally/narratively tight as something very carefully produced for publication. I think this does beg the question of what the editor's note, foreword, and afterword are doing here. Why are we reflecting through the lens of anthropological and sociological theory on the words of someone in the depths of genocide, in this way? I finished the foreword and, according to NetGalley's reader, I was already 20% of the way through the book.
Ultimately, you must read this if you believe truly that Palestine will be free in our lifetimes. Ultimately, you do so knowing that there is an inherent concession being made in terms of clarity and honesty when you read a published collection of GoFundMe updates, rather than going to Al-Shaer's donation platform to read them, and the subsequent updates, yourself. This cannot be perfect because it cannot be complete, and the choice to add an epilogue of letters after the broken ceasefire is definitely strange and breaks the tone in an unsatisfying way- but again, given the reality of the internet, you can solve this by looking up Al-Shaer's words yourself.
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for providing me with this ARC. From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.

I first want to thank Mahmoud Al-Shaer for his voice, for his labour and for sharing with the world the absolute atrocities he, his family and his people are facing.

What is and has been happening in Palestine is absolutely horrendous, and Mahmoud's letters, compiled to create this book, are only a glimpse of what people are witnessing firsthand in Gaza, Rafah, the West Bank and all over Palestine. One day, we will read books like this and wonder why nobody put a stop to it, and, as people who are witnessing it happen through our phone screens and laptops, we have a responsibility to speak up about it now, as it is happening.

Keep uplifting Palestinian voices, and, as Mahmoud requests so many times throughout this book, speak out and spread the word about what’s happening in Palestine again and again.

May Palestinians soon see freedom.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for not only the ARC, but for publishing this important work--silence is complicity and collections like these have the power to change hearts and minds (though it should be obvious to everyone that we have been witnessing a genocide for months on end). My only gripe with this was how it was organized at the end with the postscript/afterword sections; I also noticed that some of the January 2025 entries read as "January 2024." I hope Mahmoud is reunited with his son and mother one day soon.

From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.

An absolute masterpiece, truly a tremendous read. There are worlds and words for this incredible beating heart of a book. I would recommend it everywhere and feel incredibly privileged to read it.

I'll say this first: my primary critique of this book has nothing to do with Al-Shaer's work, but with a choice made be the editors/publishers.

I might called this epistolary nonfiction, since this book collects online updates from a man who remains, along with part of his family, in Gaza. These letters record what's happening with his family, provide details about the genocide, and chronicle his experiences. I want to be clear that I'm not rating the content of this work, which has a ghoulish feel to it. Many readers, I expect, will come from the parts of the world aiding and abetting this ongoing atrocity. I will note that, due to the nature of these updates, some information is repeated multiple times, since there was always the possibility that someone new would stumble across any given piece for the first time without context. Because of this, and due to the emotional intensity of the experiences Al-Shaer is describing, I don't recommend sitting down and reading this all in one go. I do recommend reading it, because I recommend reading everything by the people documenting this horror, and then figuring out what you personally have any chance of doing about it.

The two things that impacted my rating:

1. There's a break in the collection of letters that falls around the start of the since-broken negotiation ceasefire. The fact that the editors chose to do this drove me a little insane, because there's an implication that things have improved and are getting better. There's an "epilogue" with several more letters, so I have no idea why the editors chose to break things here. I found that misleading, and placing the other letters in an epilogue was such an odd choice. I was not a fan.

2. In between the main body of text and the epilogue is a little literary analysis of the work that, among other things. And while I'm all for reading the other works mentioned, reviewing the "symbolism" of a man's literal pleas for help didn't sit right with me. I've been in so many well-meaning spaces where people talk about Palestinian 'struggle' and 'tenacity' as a form of symbolism, and it's a reductive stance.

So, anyway. I recommend this collection of letters, because listening and bearing witness is important, and because there are so many stories ABOUT Palestinians circulating that have nothing to do with the people who are suffering, right now, as a direct consequence of the US's action and the ICJ's inaction, whose lives have been politicized, tokenized, and then stripped bare, or ended altogether..

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the ARC of this collection. My review is being left voluntarily. Free Palestine.

Thank you for the ARC and for making such a powerful book immediately available to NetGalley readers. I feel as thought I am aware of the situation in Palestine, but this fiary proved me incorrect. There is so much we do not know. I do not want to say too much because I want everyone to read this book. I read the single most devasating thing I have ever read in this book and it should be required that everyone read the same passage.

Free Palestine.

I am left speechless. We are witnessing a genocide live on our feed, and then we’re all going back to our lives and we forget that some people cannot. Al-Shaer uses words to describe something all of us can’t even imagine. To see his hope through his words while knowing that the genocide is still going on is heartbreaking.
Everyone should read his words.
Free Palestine

A Year on the Abyss of Genocide pulls readers into the very real lived experience, ever ongoing, of Mahmoud and his family as they live through genocide. The pacing and language vary from flowing and artistic to robotic staccato, allowing for those reading the book to feel the emotional turmoil alongside him, rather than utilizing flowery language to distract from the real fact that Mahmoud is living through the attempted extermination of Gaza and it's people. Challenging traditional journal publications, this includes Mahmoud's requests for funds as he and his family attempt to navigate their separation, lack of food, constant moving at the request of Israeli forces, and so much more. It forces readers to sit with their discomfort.

It has taken me several weeks since finishing the book to write a review as it left me with so much to think about, especially as the violence against Palestinians continues to escalate and the manufactured famine takes more and more lives, both through starvation and through the sniping of those attempting to retrieve food from aid sites. I find myself wondering how Mahmoud is, how his mother and son are fairing in Turkey, if his brother in Egypt has managed to united with their mom. The book binds readers to Mahmoud and the Al-Shaer family, bringing readers not only into the violence we have been witnessing on our phones, but also the tedious everyday psychological warfare Palestinians are facing.

<i><b>“I have no name. I am reduced to survival.”</i></b>

Oh boy this is not an easy book to review...not because it lacks clarity, but because it demands to be felt, not just read. Mahmoud Al-Shaer’s A Year on the Abyss of Genocide is one of the most urgent, soul-wrenching books I’ve ever encountered. It's a poetic daybook, a letter from exile, a living record of one man’s survival under genocide in Gaza.

Told through dated entries that span displacement, hunger, fear, and love, Mahmoud documents not only what was done to his people, but how they endure. There’s poetry and grief in every line. Some entries are one sentence long. Others stretch into haunting meditations. The repetition of phrases like “I have no name” and “We have lost everything” become mantras that echo in your chest long after you close the book.

There are moments here that shattered me:
• A photo with his daughter Nai in the ruins of Rafah, a brief moment of joy before another exile.
• The loss of cultural spaces like Gallery 28 and Beit Al-Ghussain, targeted not by accident, but to erase memory itself.
• The simple but unbearable refrain: “No food. No water. No medicine. No hope.”

This book isn’t written from safety. It’s written from the front lines of siege. It’s raw, yes; but also beautifully structured, edited with care, and framed by voices that contextualize and honor Al-Shaer’s words. The foreword by Nasrin Himada, the afterword by Fadi Ennab, and the editor’s note from Leanne Betasamosake Simpson create a chorus of Palestinian and Indigenous solidarity that deepens the impact of what follows.

What stands out most for me?

His ability to speak to both his own people and to us — the readers who are watching from afar. He is not just mourning. He is asking us to remember, to speak, and to act.

<i><b>Please continue to liberate me by using my words and sharing them. Just talk about me.”</b></i>

This line will never leave me. I was sobbing.

For readers who were moved by:
• The Drone Eats With Me by Atef Abu Saif
• Refaat Alareer (RIP), Fady Joudah, or Ghassan Kanafani

—and for those who believe in the power of testimony to challenge injustice and want to bear witness and not look away, PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU; This is one of the most important books I’ve read in a long time! Not only because of its literary value, but because it is a voice from a place the world keeps trying to silence.

Mahmoud Al-Shaer survived. He wrote it down. And now it’s on us to carry it forward.

What should you do next?

📚 Read more Palestinian writers
📣 Share this book widely
🌐 Support humanitarian orgs like Medical Aid for Palestinians, We Are Not Numbers, and Palestine Children’s Relief Fund
📞 Contact your government reps to demand ceasefire and accountability

⸻

This book will break your heart but it will also awaken your conscience. And that, I believe, is the highest purpose of literature.

♾️ ⭐️
Literary Press Group of Canada, thank you SO MUCH for giving me an advance copy of this book. I will cherish it forever.

Mahmoud Al-Shaer’s A Year on the Abyss of Genocide is a haunting and intimate chronicle of a year spent in Gaza, offering readers a rare glimpse into the personal toll of displacement, loss, and survival amidst ongoing conflict. Through poetic prose and diary-style entries, Al-Shaer navigates the emotional and psychological landscapes of a people enduring what he describes as genocide.
Al-Shaer’s writing is deeply introspective, capturing the nuances of grief, longing, and resilience. His reflections on his own experiences—such as the destruction of his gallery and cultural spaces, and the separation from his family—are poignant and relatable. The inclusion of appeals to the world outside Gaza at the end of each entry underscores the urgency and humanity of his message.
While the book excels in conveying personal emotion and the immediacy of Al-Shaer’s experiences, some readers may find the introspective nature of the prose challenging. The focus on individual suffering, though powerful, occasionally shifts attention away from broader political and historical contexts, which might leave readers seeking a more comprehensive understanding of the situation.

I teared up several times while reading this gauging, beautiful piece of work.
Mahmoud uses simple phrasing and descriptions to dig deep into your heart and gut to get his point across, which he does.
The genocide in Gaza is a horrid, disgusting show of power from world leaders and work like this reminds us, time and time again, that it's not just something we watch on our phones-It's real people dying and suffering. It needs to end. This collection tells us softly but pleadingly that it HAS to end. There is no other way.
Please, please read this.