By Jared Cohen
Defying international executive orders and interviewing terrorists nose to nose, a tender American excursions adversarial lands to profit approximately heart japanese formative years? and uncovers a culture that defies each stereotype.
In 2004, Jared Cohen launched into the 1st of a chain of extraordinary trips to the center East with a view to comprehend the unfold of radical Islamist violence between Muslim formative years. the result's Children of Jihad, a portrait of paradox that probes a lot deeper than any journalist or pundit ever could.
Chosen as considered one of Kirkus Review?s most sensible Books of 2007, Cohen?s account starts off in Lebanon, the place he interviews Hezbollah participants at, of all locations, a McDonald?s. In Iran, he defies executive threats and sneaks into underground events, the place bootleg liquor, Western tune, and the net are all effortless to entry. His dicy itinerary additionally takes him to a Palestinian refugee camp in southern Lebanon, borderlands in Syria, the insurgency hotbed of Mosul, and different front-line locales. At every one flip, he observes a tradition at an uncanny crossroads. Gripping and bold, Children of Jihad indicates us the long run throughout the eyes of these who're shaping it.
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Additional resources for Children of Jihad: A Young American's Travels Among the Youth of the Middle East
DEATH TO AMERICA” 6. THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM 7. THE ALL-NIGHT “PARTY OF GOD” 8. STRUGGLING FOR DIGNITY 9. BABIES IN THE BA’ATH PARTY 10. THE ROAD TO MESOPOTAMIA 11. IRAQIS WHO LIKE US 12. WAKING UP IN THE INSURGENCY EPILOGUE: THE YOUTH PARTY ACKNOWLEDGMENTS CHILDREN OF JIHAD PROLOGUE LEBANON, 2005 For a third Wednesday in a row, I had lunch at a Western fast-food chain in Beirut, Lebanon. This time it was McDonald’s. I was alone and American, but it wasn’t the comfortingly bland Western décor or the universally recognizable taste of a Big Mac that drew me to one of Beirut’s most popular fast-food restaurants.
Few of these had a positive outcome. Images of violent confrontation horrified me. The last thing I wanted was to come back to my apartment to a frightening surprise. Before they even had a chance to put the trays of food on the table, I blurted out, “There is something I need to tell all of you before we go to Dahiye,” which was the location of the Hezbollah stronghold. ” answered Fouad, who had paid for my lunch three weeks in a row. He was the leader of the group and usually dressed in dark blue jeans and a green collared shirt.
I told him that I appreciated the offer, but that I didn’t need a tour company while I was in Iran. I explained that I was a student at Oxford and here to do research, but Mr. Sorush didn’t even wait for me to finish and abruptly stormed out of his own office and left me there explaining myself to nobody but the photo he had of Ayatollah Khomeini on the wall. I waited for a while and the door finally creaked back open and Mr. Sorush came back in with my unnamed escort. He scolded me as if I had done something grossly illegal and promised he could make my stay in Iran very uncomfortable.