Holland

Semmier’s various temporary homes include a farm, a monastery, a run­down apartment shared by a bunch of students, and a house full of undocumented people and asylum seekers. He eats simple Dutch fare (potatoes, boiled­-to-­death vegetables and one piece of meat per person), listens to many political discussions and attends a farewell ceremony for a rabbit.

Semmier discovers that walking a dog is the best way to get talking to Dutch people – in fact just walking with a ball and a leash is enough. Semmier gets to know people, makes friends and falls in love with the somber Lidewij. His unrequited love for her runs like a thread throughout the book. Semmier’s hobby – collecting discarded photo albums from acquaintances – is another leitmotif. As he studies the pictures of them and their ancestors, he invents their life stories and empathizes with the people in the pictures. It’s his way of fostering a con­nection with people who could disappear from his life at any moment.

Beneath seemingly casual observa­tions about a typical Western society, readers will discover a novel about iden­tity and the need for kinship. Al Galidi shows, painfully, how solidarity with other people can make you both strong and weak. When Semmier has a socially maladjusted friend move into his room in the student flatshare, the others give him a choice: either his friend goes or they both do. Without a moment of doubt, Semmier packs his bags and they both leave.

At the end of the book it turns out that Semmier’s search for a home, friendship and love hasn’t entirely succeeded. Sem­mier’s grief and acceptance of his fate will leave no reader untouched. With Holland, Al Galidi gives readers a sneak peek into his own photo album and sheds light on the predicament of displaced people.