"With empathy and compassion, Danuta Hinc’s fine novel erases the line between “us” and “them,” shedding light on the variety of human circumstances and delivering the uncomfortable truth that extremism is often in the eye of the beholder. When We Were Twins is a lean, beautifully written, important book."
—Clifford Thompson, author of What It Is: Race, Family, and One Thinking Black Man’s Blues and Big Man and the Little Men: A Graphic Novel
"The brilliant novel, When We Were Twins by Danuta Hinc, portrays Taher as a sensitive young boy who grows into a compassionate and sensitive young man, who demonstrates his loyalty to his Muslim brothers by participating in the war against the Soviets in Afghanistan, and lastly, in [a hijacking]…The author doesn’t excuse his extreme behavior and choices. Rather, she helps us understand the forces and choices that led him to commit such a horrific deed. No one wins in war. We all lose.
What’s most extraordinary about this tale is Danuta Hinc’s courage to tell it from the hijacker’s point of view. Through beautifully written landscapes, poetic imagery, and dreams, the author has written a compelling novel [that] underlines some universal truths: we are all friends and we are all foes. It all depends on what we believe and the choices we make."
—Diana Stevan, author of Paper Roses on Stony Mountain
"From the riveting first scene of a man with a box cutter, a flight attendant on a commercial flight to the U.S., and Islamic prayer, we know how the story will likely end. But do any of us know how it began? This gut-wrenching fictional story begins with a little boy in Ismailia and ends on a plane in despair. What drives some to darkness? What allows some to twist the double helix of life/death so that it becomes utterly unfamiliar? Unfathomable? Beastly details unfold via lyrical, strangely beautiful prose to tell a story we often don’t want to face."
—Pamela Gerhardt, author of Lucky That Way
"When We Were Twins is a beautiful, devastating, and heart-wrenching treatise on faith: in family, in friends, in politics and God. Danuta Hinc’s superb writing and powerful imagery at once can explode like a Molotov cocktail or cradle you like a child in need of care."
—J.R. Angelella, author of the novel ZOMBIE
"Hinc’s enticing narrative draws us into a world we might prefer to ignore, even despise. We identify with and appreciate the humanity of the protagonist—until we discover what he has become. Through When We Were Twins, we discover a whole new perspective on some of the people and cultures we find hardest to understand and embrace. The story is fascinating, blending fantasy with stark reality, and memory with reflection. The message is compelling, and we are made better for the experience."
—Charles F. “Chic” Dambach, president emeritus, National Peace Corps Association
"Childhood moments draw us into the character of Tahir, a cherished boy who turns from aspiring doctor to terrorist. With brilliant prose, author Danuta Hinc unspools his path backwards, holding the readers in suspense. We witness what brought him and his allies to radicalization and the most unthinkable moments—all while compelling us to hope for a different future for such a sympathetic character. Great care was taken with research to illuminate points of view we rarely see so close-up."
—Laura Lipson, documentary filmmaker, Standing on My Sisters’ Shoulders
In When We Were Twins, we are witness to the horrors of war, and if we can be saved, it will only be by walking through the savage beauty of work like Hinc’s. Her unsparing prose will lick your soul dry.
—Catherine Parnell, author of The Kingdom of His Will
“Hinc has written a lucid, utterly gripping speculation expanding our understanding of who hijackers [are] and what motivates them. She provides an important new perspective to event[s] that transformed our lives.”
—Rabbi Martin Siegel, author of Amen: The Diary of Rabbi Martin Siegel
"When We Were Twins is both a troubling and beautifully written story. It is a brilliant and complex tale of the human experience at the intersection of identity and ideology. Effortlessly compassionate, the novel restores our sense of humanity even in the face of senseless and irrational violence. Hinc’s writing is instantly enthralling with its vivid imagery and powerfully convincing characters. She captures her readers in a world that is both distant and familiar..."
—Dennis L. Winston, Editor-in-chief of Words Beats & Life: The Global Journal of Hip-Hop Culture
2023-06-08
A young Egyptian man becomes increasingly radicalized in his devotion to Islam and struggles to resist the call to violence in Hinc’s novel.
Taher is born in Ismailia, Egypt, in the midst of great violence during the Six-Day War in 1967 with Israel; he comes into the world on the heels of a fraternal twin sister, Aisha. He is a well-behaved, studious boy, impressing his family by memorizing the Quran by the time he is 6 years old. His bond with his sister, even as they drift apart as years pass, is mystically profound, depicted in the sentimentally overwrought language that typifies the author’s tortured prose: “Images are like twins. How are the twins the same? How are the twins different? Where is the summit, where does it all come together? The lightness of the mind overcomes the body, the lightness of the body overcomes the struggle—absolute freedom, absolute lightness beyond time, absolute understanding and connection.” Taher is first exposed to a mixture of Islamic radicalism and political dissent by his cousin Ahmed who, along with hundreds of others, is sent to prison after the assassination of Egypt’s president Anwar Sadat. Taher eventually travels to Afghanistan and joins the mujahedeen to fight against the Soviet invasion—though by moving to Germany to attend college, he seems to express a desire to live a normal life as well, a peacefully bourgeois existence similar to his sister’s. However, he begins to lean into extremist ideas about political resistance, an organic development intelligently charted by the author.
Taher is a memorable protagonist—deeply thoughtful and morally sensitive, he disdains killing despite his political commitments: “But killing someone is killing yourself, don’t you see?…It always comes back and stays with you. Death comes back. There is no escape. By killing, you poison the blood of your children. There is no life after killing. Not for you. Not for your children. Not for their children. Ever. Killing someone without killing yourself is impossible.” Hinc’s portrayal of him as a saintly, blameless child who grows into an adult capable of hijacking an airplane is delicately rendered—it is never quite clear what ultimately motivates his transformation (is it a genuine religious calling or the pain he experiences as a result of the deaths of his parents?). However, the prose is leaden, overheated, and littered with clichés. The tone is prophetic—the omniscient narrator imparts philosophical insights that read as condescendingly didactic. The reader may sense that the novel is intended as a parable of some kind, though it is never quite clear what lesson is meant to be gleaned. As a psychological snapshot of radicalization, this is a subtle work, one that astutely highlights the many ways in which Egyptians could feel betrayed, not only by Western powers more interested in their resources than their freedom, but also by their own leaders. However, as a work of dramatic literature, Hinc’s novel falls flat—her sermonizing hinders the reader’s full immersion in the story.
Despite its historical rigor, this thoughtful novel struggles under the weight of its ponderous prose.
