Thyme Travellers: An Anthology of Palestinian Speculative Fiction, edited by Sonia Sulaiman

Reviewed by Melanie Marttila

Full disclosure: I met Sonia Sulaiman through an online Writing the Other workshop, and we were part of a writers Discord group for a while. When I saw that she edited this anthology, I requested it for review on that slim association alone. But I’d read some of her fiction and poetry, valued her feedback, and admired her taste. I was eager to see what she could accomplish as an editor.

I must also confess that I don’t have any direct Palestinian connection. Only a deep empathy for the Palestinian people, an equal condemnation for the genocide being perpetrated against them, and a frustration with the apparent inability of world governments to do anything meaningful to get life-sustaining aid to the starving in Gaza.

Getting back to the purpose of this review, Thyme Travellers is fabulous. Sonia collected stories from across the Palestinian diaspora, from speculative fiction veterans and emerging writers, from Australia to Egypt, Lebanon to Canada, and I think the timing of this anthology is perfect. It brings much-needed attention to the value of Palestinian art and culture in a dark time.

Before I discuss any of the stories, I want to say a few words about the anthology’s title. Thyme is associated with Palestine, both culturally and politically. It's a key ingredient in za'atar, a spice mixture central to Palestinian cuisine (mentioned in several of the stories in this collection), as well as other foods and medicines. It’s a symbol of Palestinian identity and connection to the land.

Israeli regulations restricting the harvesting of wild thyme are one of the ways Israeli forces control Palestinian land. Thyme is also an important source of income for many Palestinian women. For refugees, thyme is symbolic of the hope of returning home. It’s not incidental that an anthology titled Thyme Travellers showcases of some of the best diasporic voices writing speculative fiction today.

Now, to the stories.

“The Third or Fourth Casualty” by Ziyad Saadi speaks to the chilling normalization of death and the incidence of childhood death while engaging in a “fun” leisure activity. A group of boys goes swimming. One of them drowns. The others do not remark on the death or retrieve the body. The event repeats and more of the boys die in a cycle akin to a dark version of a Samuel Beckett play. This is what it is to live in a war zone, where mere existence is resistance. Yes, any of us might die at any time, but Palestinian children are targeted. How does one return to a “normal” life with that burden of trauma?

In “The Generation Chip” by Nadia Afifi, memories of past queerness are passed down through technology. “We have always been here” is a motto that resonates through this story and persists despite the inability of past generations of queer Palestinians to publicly live their truth.

Karl El-Koura sets “Cyrano de AI” in a future Canada, where a young man becomes dependent on his augmentation, Cyrano, which compensates for his social difficulties from an early age. Cyrano helps him mask, resolving arguments, maintaining relationships, and helping him excel at work. While never explicitly stated, the protagonist resonated with me as a fellow neurodivergent. The story also depicts a father-son relationship that reminds me of the Disney animated series Iwájú. In both stories, the father works long hours developing the technology they believe their child needs, while their child only wants to spend more time with their father. In “Cyrano de AI,” the father’s absence cannot be compensated for by technology and the protagonist must consider whether life might be better without it.

Sara Solara, in “In the Future, We Can Go Back Home,” establishes magic dust as a metaphor for nostalgia and belonging. Through a vision granted by the dust, the story’s protagonist watches the past unfolding in the ruins of her ancestral home. The vision tells her that her queerness will be accepted by her people who will also accept her return to the land of her grandmother. It is a dual homecoming and a dual hope.

“Remembrance in Cerulean” by Elise Stephens shows how the conflict between humans and an alien species is resolved by memory and forgiveness. Paul’s father killed himself while his son was waiting in the checkout line at the grocery store. He’s been unsettled since and unable to visit the site of his father’s suicide until one morning, a Ceru, a species of aquatic alien, gives him a bolt containing his father’s last memories. As Paul works through his anger and grief, the story of the inter-species tragedy unfolds, and he and the Ceru come to an understanding.

“Gaza Luna” by Samah Serour Fadil tells the story of Handala, who is sent to live with his Aunt in Florida under an assumed identity after his home in Palestine is destroyed in an air strike. He becomes a brilliant young scientist and is about to become an astronaut when his Palestinian identity is revealed, and he is stripped of all his accolades and achievements, returning to Palestine, where any show of patriotism means death. Handala’s childhood friend reveals the existence of the Ottoman Space program, which predated any other, but is now defunct. Not only that, but he gives Handala his grandfather’s rocket blueprints. Handala’s friends have been working on it for months and the construction is almost complete. It’s called the Gaza Luna. Defying the authorities, Handala lands on the moon and plants the Palestinian flag there, letting many more flags float away into space.

A note here about the significance of Handala. You may have heard of the most recent freedom flotilla named the Handala that was boarded by the Israeli navy, who took the passengers into custody. But Handala predates that. According to Hadeel Al-Salchi, reporting for NPR, Handala is a “character created by Palestinian newspaper cartoonist Naji al-Ali in 1969 — two years after the 1967 Arab-Israeli war — the boy known as Handala is a symbol of the Palestinian struggle and resistance to occupation to this day.” Handala’s name comes from the resilient, bitter plant that grows in the Middle East called handal. It has deep roots and will always grow back even if it's weeded out.

The story that stayed with me the longest was the first one in the anthology, “Down Under” by Jumaana Abdu. Nouran tries to dig her way to Palestine from Australia. After two abortive attempts, a young boy takes her to his sister’s bedroom where, under the bed, is a tunnel. Digging feverishly, Nouran eventually catches up to Haya, the boy’s sister, and the two of them work together until soldiers stop them, taking Haya away and leaving Nouran to finish the journey alone. It’s a harrowing tale that asks tough questions. If you are part of the diaspora, are you Palestinian enough? Do you have the right to go home? And what is your true home, anyway? Can you have more than one? It’s the journey and not the destination that is important in this story.

Thyme Travellers reconfigures reality, forming a linked text of Palestinian-futurism. These authors write the truth of Palestinian and diasporic experience presented and shared in a way that resonates deeply. In this anthology, each story is a portal into the realms of history, folklore, and the future.

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About the Author

Sonia Sulaiman writes short speculative fiction inspired by Palestinian folklore. Her work has appeared in Arab Lit Quarterly, Beladi, FANTASY, FIYAH Magazine, Xenocultivars: Stories of Queer Growth, Seize the Press, Lackington’s Magazine and Ask the Night for a Dream. Her stories have been nominated for Pushcart, Lammy and Best New Weird awards. In her spare time, she curates the Read Palestinian Spec Fic Reading list. She is also the editor of a collection of short stories, Muneera and the Moon: Stories Inspired by Palestinian Folklore. Visit www.soniasulaiman.com for more details.

About the Reviewer

Melanie Marttila (she/her) is an #ActuallyAutistic SFF author-in-progress, writing poetry and tales of hope in the face of adversity. Her poetry has appeared in The /tƐmz/ Review, Polar Starlight, Sulphur, and her debut poetry collection, The Art of Floating, was published in 2024 by Latitude 46. Her short fiction has appeared in Through the Portal, Pulp Literature, and On Spec. She is a settler writing in Sudbury, or ‘N’Swakamok, on Robinson-Huron Treaty territory, home of the Atikameksheng Anishnawbek and the Wahnapitae First Nation, in the house where three generations of her family have lived, on the street that bears her surname, with her spouse and their dog.

Book Details

Thyme Travellers: An Anthology of Palestinian Speculative Fiction, edited by Sonia Sulaiman. Forthcoming September 5, 2025, from Roseway Publishing (170 pages, ISBN 9781773637044).