Ebrahim

About the Book and the Author

I was born in Tehran and raised in Israel. In the 1980s I found myself in Lebanon. The reality was complex, and the line between fear, duty, and compassion was very thin. Even after life carried me far from the place where everything began, the memories stayed with me: the faces, the places, the moments that never leave.

Only many years after the war ended for me did I understand how little I knew about the people who lived there, on the other side. The people I encountered in Lebanon, sometimes for a moment and sometimes through a rifle scope, remained with me without names and without stories. This book was born from the desire to understand them, and to understand something about myself.

Ebrahim is a novel that connects the child I was in Tehran with the soldier I became in Lebanon. It is a personal attempt to illuminate war not only through the eyes of an Israeli soldier, but also through the life of an Iranian‑Lebanese boy caught in a reality he never chose. It is a story about memory, identity, and a rare human encounter that continues to echo even for readers living far from the place where the story was born.

Moshe (Musa) Bruchim

This is an unusual book, full of illusions. A story of the past and of deep longing. Every character has many sides, something hidden, and not everything can yet be told. It is a book of mirrors, enchanted from beginning to end. What once pulsed in secret is now revealed. Every page is a photograph of time, a wondrous blend of old and new. Like a carousel, the characters spin, changing faces, roles, and places.

It is a book of wonders, each page a performance, hiding another figure behind a mask. Truth or fiction, we may never know. Imagination shifts, trading past with present. In the end, only memory remains with us. Where do you come from, and where do you go in this book. You walk through time, always moving. South to north is a journey. East to Lebanon is a memory. West to the land of wind is hope.

Dr. Mansour Radwan, author of "The Unity of God in the Druze Faith"

Ebrahim, to me, is much more than a book. It is an unextinguished journey into the human soul, into the places where identity, faith, love, and belonging collide in a way that shakes the reader deeply. It is a story that does not end when the book closes, but continues to resonate long after the reading is done.

One of the most impressive achievements of this work is its ability to move between personal drama and the storm of history without ever losing its human center of gravity. In a world saturated with ideologies, wars, interests, and power struggles, you remind the reader that behind every political headline stands a human being of flesh and blood, with fears, dreams, loves, and fractures.

Your prose is rich, poetic, and precise. More than once I found myself running over sentences that stay with the reader like a poem. Sentences filled with emotional and philosophical depth that turn the entire text into a meaningful literary experience.

The character of Ebrahim is one of the most striking I have encountered in recent literature. He is not a perfect hero nor a classic anti‑hero. He is a man torn between worlds, beliefs, identities, and forces greater than himself. This complexity makes him vivid, believable, and unforgettable. The reader does not merely follow him; he walks beside him, feels his pain, and struggles with him for the right to remain human in a world determined to strip that humanity away.