48 pages • 1 hour read
Zoulfa KatouhA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
In As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow, mental health is foundational to the plot and character arcs. Because the novel takes place during a war, PTSD and mental struggles are commonplace. Tragedies affect them deeply, causing symptoms like Yusuf’s muteness and Salama’s hallucinations. With the introduction of Khawf and his visions, Salama’s mental stability is called into question. But being read in medicine, she readily admits Khawf is likely a product of her head injury and PTSD: “He was a hallucination who had come to stay. One who, every night for the past seven months, has cruelly plucked on my fears, breathing life into them” (15-16). This framing makes him a character with his own personality and arc, in which he will change and grow like Salama herself. If she didn’t see Khawf as a tangible character, no matter if he was real or not, she wouldn’t have learned to overcome her own fears—including leaving Syria or facing enemy soldiers. The power of her internal world created an embodiment of fear to protect her and keep her alive. In the end, Khawf’s origins, his reality, are left to interpretation, as he claims he is with everyone, everywhere.
In addition to Khawf, Salama interacts with a hallucination of her sister-in-law and best friend Layla. Whereas Khawf’s existence is questionable, Layla is a hallucination, this reveal forcing Salama to face the truth: “For five months my mind has been spinning a fiction to keep my agony sealed away. [...] I needed [Layla] in my life. I needed that comfort and safety after I lost my whole world” (295). Salama’s mind manifested a realistic version of her friend, this Layla interacting with her as the real one would have—with much needed optimism. When Kenan fails to see or hear Layla, Salama finally accepts Layla’s death. He recognizes Salama’s mental state and need for therapy, her situation reflecting other citizens affected by the war, including Yusuf. Overall, the novel handles mental health with care, portraying Salama in particular as someone doing what she can to survive—someone who relied on both fear and optimism to forge a future with a new family.
Survival, born of either fear or patriotism, plays perfectly into the novel’s conflict—the Syrian Revolution. Salama is surrounded by death and unconsciously uses Khawf to stay alive. She tries to save patients from death every day and mourns her parents and brother Hamza, who always insisted on her staying survive. She ultimately secures passage to Germany because she learns to value her and Layla’s lives more than her medical oath, though it makes her feel guilty. On her journey, Salama comes to practice self-care, as she must do so before she can help others fully. She must take care of herself and those she loves, like Layla and Kenan, to ensure they live safe lives. Without this focus on survival, she wouldn’t have pushed herself to leave Syria. Salama also wouldn’t have been as determined to save as many lives as possible before leaving, or as deeply affected when people die, without an intimate understanding of life and death.
Entwined with survival is fear, fueled by both physical and mental threats. Some characters are scared to leave their homes in case of snipers; some are scared of losing the war, determined to keep fighting and protesting against their oppressors; and others are scared of losing their lives or families, seeking refuge through smugglers like Am. All the characters want to survive, but have many fears associated with this goal, since they could die from bombings, snipers, sarin chemical attacks, or a lack of resources like water. In fact, young Lama endures two life-threatening moments—a bombing and dehydration. Salama’s fears manifest as hallucinations that affect her daily life. Khawf afflicts her with memories and nightmares, real and imagined scenarios of her and her loved ones being harmed.
In Syrian culture, patriotism is especially important because collectivism is considered important. Collectivism, in which people prioritize the many over the few, teaches them to stay unified. Kenan in particular is representative of this form of patriotism:
I’m talking about my country. About the freedom I’m so rightly owed. I’m talking about burying Mama and Baba and telling Lama they’ll never come back home. […] How do I leave that? When for the first time in my whole life I’m breathing free Syrian air? (86-87).
Kenan is so loyal to Syria and its fight for democracy that he denies fears such as dying in a protest and his siblings not making it to Germany. Patriotism fuels him and other rebels, their use of the symbolic song “How Sweet is Freedom” being another show of unity. In other words, they fear being stripped of agency more than physical threats.
Despite their circumstances, Salama and Kenan form an unexpected connection, falling in love through shared enjoyment of creativity, movies, religious views, persistence through tragedies, etc. Their romance grows throughout the novel, with Kenan taking Salama to see a sunset and Salama calming him when Lama is dehydrated. They’re both empathetic and protective, especially when it comes to those they love, making them a complementary team. For example, Salama’s care for patients inspires Kenan, and he accompanies her to the hospital to document this side of the war. Likewise, his bright personality uplifts Salama and helps her find happiness amid guilt. The illusory Layla also assures her that survivor’s guilt is something she can overcome, echoing the real Layla’s love. After Layla disappears, Kenan remains Salama’s support system, their trust pushing her to reveal the severity of her internal struggles. They also value the others’ life more than their own, as Kenan shows:
‘Bury me before I bury you,’ he whispers in prayer. ‘Please.’ I clasp his face between my hands, brushing away the teardrops. ‘I—’ ‘I love you,’ he says before I can. I smile. It only takes a few words from him to untangle the vines gripping my heart. Kenan is magical that way. I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine (333).
Kenan’s influence changes Salama for the better, giving her the faith and power she needed to endure the loss of her entire family and best friend. With Kenan, she can move on from tragedy. Whenever she is exhausted or upset by hospital work, he supports her. Likewise, Salama pushes Kenan to prioritize his and his siblings’ lives over his likely death.
The novel’s heavy moments are juxtaposed with those lauding love and faith. For example, a dying Ahmad says he’s going to tell God everything, and Salama promises he will be with his family. After Ahmad dies, she genuinely believes he’s in heaven. Her faith in God, in Allah, and her religion (Islam) gives her hope that even in tragedy, she and others can find happiness, even if it’s in the promised afterlife. Furthermore, Salama, Layla, Kenan, and other characters use sayings like Insha’Allah (“God willing”) and Alhamdulillah (“praise be to God”). In the face of violence and loss, love and faith give characters hope.
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