Defiance – Loubna Mrie (1)

It’s as if part of me has given up on this place, resigned to the fact that the only thing I can do now is get through these exams. My focus is singular now—just to finish, get it over with, and ensure I can leave as soon as possible. A few days before I return to Damascus, I call up an old friend of mine, Ghaith, one of the people I met at the coffee shop where I used to study, and we decide to spend the day at the beach in Wadi Qandil.

Its light brown sand, gently lining the water’s edge, surrounded by white cliffs and the evergreen slopes of the coastal mountains, makes it one of the most beautiful beaches in Syria. It’s less than an hour’s drive from both Latakia and the Turkish border. Ghaith and I lie on the sand, and when the sun is too strong, we sit at a table under a straw umbrella. We sip Barada, a local beer, and gorge ourselves on slices of salted fried potatoes smothered in ketchup.

Droplets of sweat trickle down my arms. To cool off, I rush across the blistering sand into the cold turquoise water. I float on my back with my eyes closed, feeling a mild beer buzz as I bob in the waves. Slowly, I lift my arms, legs, and torso, just to see how high above the water I can get them, before exhaling and sinking into the Mediterranean, rooting my feet in the sand. Being pulled out to sea while floating on my back is one of my most persistent nightmares.

For all the days I’ve spent at the beach, I’ve never swum out past where I can stand. I would never trust myself in deeper waters. Despite this fear, I love the sea. I can spend hours in the water, holding my nose and diving beneath the surface, eyes wide open, feeling the warm burn of salt on them. The Mediterranean, especially in the morning, is so clear that you can see the wavy lines of sand, dotted with big shells, from the water’s surface. “Seashells bring bad luck; we don’t need any more of that,” my mother used to shout from her white chair whenever she saw me collecting shells to take home, forcing me to throw them back in the water.

I return to shore feeling high, dizzy, and refreshed, my skin rubbery from the salt. I lie on the edge of the beach and feel the slow, gentle waves sweep sand over my feet. Then I walk back to Ghaith and the Baradas on the table. The air smells acidic from the ketchup baking in the sun. We order more food. Later in the day, a friend of Ghaith’s joins us.

His name is George.

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Please note that no part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner for the purpose of training artificial intelligence technologies or systems. VIKING and VIKING ship colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC. Cover design: David Litman Cover images: Loubna Mrie designed by meighan cavanaugh, adapted for ebook library of congress cataloging-in-publication data Names: Mrie, Loubna, 1991– author.

Title: Defiance : a memoir of awakening, rebellion, and survival in Syria / Loubna Mrie. Other titles: Memoir of awakening, rebellion, and survival in Syria Description: New York, NY : Viking, [2026] Identifiers: LCCN 2025018826 (print) | LCCN 2025018827 (ebook) | ISBN 9781984880000 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781984880017 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Mrie, Loubna, 1991– | Syria—History—Civil War, 2011– —Personal narratives | Nosairians—Syria—Biography | Women journalists—Syria—Biography | Journalists—Syria— Biography | Exiles—Syria—Biography | Exiles—New York (State)—New York—Biography | Syria —Biography | LCGFT: Autobiographies Classification: LCC DS98.72.M75 A3 2026 (print) | LCC DS98.72.M75 (ebook) LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2025018826 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2025018827 Hardcover ISBN 9781984880000 Ebook ISBN 9781984880017 Some names and identifying characteristics have been changed to protect the privacy of the individuals involved.

The authorized representative in the EU for product safety and compliance is Penguin Random House Ireland, Morrison Chambers, 32 Nassau Street, Dublin D02 YH68, Ireland, https://eu- contact.penguin.ie. ep_prh_7.3a_155107029_c0_r0 OceanofPDF.com CONTENTS Dedication PART I PART II PART III PART IV Acknowledgments About the Author OceanofPDF.com To my mother Everything I am began with you. OceanofPDF.com PA RT I OceanofPDF.com I o n e slip off my shoes and leave them on the cement as my grandmother Wadia, my mother’s mother, leans into a rough wooden door with all her weight until it opens.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

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