Review by Booklist Review
Cultivating ResilienceHazar Elbayya's affecting debut provides hope for peace, community, and freedom in a war-stricken time. Unfortunately, the subject of war continues to be relevant, and broaching the subject with small children can be tricky. While many titles tackling this topic for young readers focus on hope and resilience, Elbayya takes her debut as an opportunity to highlight the power of community, not shying away from the harsh impact of war while showing the resilience and power of depending on those around you. Readers witness a young child's first interaction with war and learn how dependence on her community fuels hope and resilience in a time of uncertainty. Salam (the Arabic word for peace) is a young girl with a head covering, a peak of curly hair, and a friendly bird that flits by her side. She's enamored by the work of her grandfather Sido, who dedicates his time to a well-aged crop of olive trees. He's consistently planting and tending while ensuring Salam understands the significance of the resilient greenery--transparent, but still thoughtful, foreshadowing on Elbayya's part. Sido notes that the olive tree provides for and connects the community. Amid an earthy backdrop and pops of color for each community member, Salam ventures down the trail of connection, noting at each point what the olive tree provides, from oil for the baker's bread to Teta Dalal's olives for afternoon tea and gossip. Moved, Salam plants seeds of her own and impatiently races the next day to see the progress of growth, only to be disappointed with a simple mound of dirt. Sido reassures Salam that "it just needs some time to grow big and strong." Through patience and care, Salam is soon bestowed the sight of her tree sprouting, a thrilled blush to her cheeks at each panel of growth.However, the tone shifts abruptly, a shadow falling over Salam and her olive tree as the forceful march of soldiers rendered in only gray, black, and white brings destruction to the land. The young olive tree is trampled, and Salam is heartbroken. Sido envelopes Salam in love and care, with a promise to bring back her joy with the help of their community. Following the distinctive keffiyeh Sido wears, readers are led back through the previous trail of community members as he reaches out for support. He guides his community through their town at night, sketched homes with distinctively Middle Eastern architectural motifs lining a curving path around them. Breaching onto the next page is a path lined with community members in the daylight with saplings, shovels, and a plan. Salam, still aching from the loss of her olive tree, follows the path to where the tree used to reside, but she's surprised to find that, though her tree may be gone, her community remains and has planted more olive trees in kind. The story concludes with an undoubtedly intentional nod toward younger Palestinians: "Just like the olive trees, we are part of this land. And just like the olive trees, when they try to break us, we grow back stronger." For a child, this story is an excellent way to emphasize the power of community in the face of conflict: if we care for others, they will often care for us in return when we need it most. For adults, the intentional representation of Palestinians and their culture through the practice of growing olive trees will be a sober reminder that there are often those in war-torn situations who only wish for peace for their families and the ability to continue their traditions. Readers familiar with the devastation of war, as mentioned in the author's note, may find comfort and encouragement for their spirits to endure the difficult time. All around, those who engage kindly with the story will be better off, likely coming away with a better grasp of how community breeds resilience in hard times.
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Elbayya's hopeful debut offers a portrait of community and resistance as young Salam learns "what makes these olive trees special." Salem's grandfather, Sido, who wears a keffiyeh, explains that the trees are "strong and resilient... and their branches are a symbol of peace." They also represent connection, their fruits linking the olive picker to the baker, and the olive seller to the ladies who eat olives over tea. After Salam plants an olive seed, the child "can't wait to help connect everyone," and tends to it as the seedling grows to a young tree. When "soldiers forcefully march into our land," though, the tree is trampled amid their bootprints. But Sido promises that "you will grow many more olive trees in your lifetime" and vows to spread word about the event, an act that inspires connection in restoring what was lost. Digital illustrations--line drawings enhanced by a restricted palette of browns, blues, greens, and oranges--underscore a community pulling together in the face of loss. Characters are portrayed with various skin tones. An author's note discusses how "olive trees represent the strong spirit of Palestinians and our profound desire for peace." Ages 4--8. (Sept.)
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Review by School Library Journal Review
Gr 1--3--With firm restraint, Gaza-born Elbayya tells a tale of resilience. Having learned from her sido, or grandfather, the many roles olives play in the lives of her neighbors, young Salam plants a seed, dotes on the little seedling that appears--and is devastated when soldiers march over the field, trampling everything into the dirt. That night, the townfolk gather quietly, and the next morning Salam returns to discover with delight that the whole area has been replanted with young trees. "Just like the olive trees, we are part of this land," her grandfather says. "And just like the olive trees, when they try to break us, we grow back stronger." In a style as simple as the language of the narrative, the fine-lined illustrations, mostly done in appropriate pale browns and dark greens, depict a wide-eyed, expressively posed child and a community of adults who stand together while being individualized in skin color, dress, and facial features. In an afterword, the author writes about deep roots and urges readers to plant trees for peace--and for future generations to enjoy. VERDICT A plea for peace that younger readers will clearly hear, pointing no accusatory fingers, but shining with steady resolve to endure.--John Edward Peters
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Horn Book Review
Sido (grandfather) tells Salam, a young Palestinian girl, that olive trees are strong and resilient with "roots that run deep in this land." He explains that olive trees connect everyone, from the farmer who presses the oil, to the bakery where the oil fires up the ovens, to olive sellers, to those who feast on them. An excited Salam plants an olive seed with dreams of strengthening these connections. She tends to her seed every day until it sprouts and grows into a young tree. Her happiness is cut short, however, when "soldiers forcefully march into our land," crushing her tree and destroying everything in their path. Sido comforts Salam by saying she will grow more trees in time. Overnight, Sido mobilizes the community so that when Salam awakes, she finds her friends and family gathered amid a newly planted olive grove. Elbayya's spare text and simple line drawings in a muted palette of greens and browns are powerful and effective. Salam (which means peace) serves as a stand-in for the resilience and unbroken spirit of the Palestinian people. The hopeful story underlines lessons of resistance and the coming together of community in the face of destruction. (c) Copyright 2024. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
A Palestinian child learns why olive trees are so special. Salam's Sido (Arabic forGrandfather) explains that olive trees are "strong and resilient, and their roots run deep in this land." The trees connect the entire community, from Samir, the farmer who picks the olives, to Teta Dalal, who serves them to her visitors each afternoon. Salam plants an olive tree, too, and waits weeks for it to grow. Salam and Sido are thrilled to see a small sprout emerging. But one day soldiers arrive, destroying everything--including the tiny olive tree. Sido comforts Salam, and at his urging, their friends and neighbors plant more trees: "Just like the olive trees, we are part of this land," he says. "And just like the olive trees, when they try to break us, we grow back stronger." Elbayya's simple, direct language pairs well with her sepia-toned, loose-lined cartoons, capturing Salam's childish exuberance, the relationship between grandfather and grandchild, and the resilience of the community. Though tinged with a whimsical flair--the sun smiles as Salam plants the tree, a helpful little bird appears throughout--the scenes turn grim as the soldiers arrive. While the author's note expands on the significance of olive trees to the Palestinian people, neither the backmatter nor the story itself explains who the soldiers are or why they've come; with historical context from educators or caregivers, however, this tale could be a starting point for further discussion. A moving tale about the power of community and love.(Picture book. 4-8) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
