Beyond the Backlash: Why a Children’s Book Sparked a Firestorm in Watertown (And What It Reveals) 

A children’s picture book, “A Map for Falasteen” by Palestinian-American author Maysa Odeh, ignited intense debate at Watertown Free Public Library. The story, depicting a Palestinian girl seeking her family’s homeland through their memories of pre-1948 Palestine and experiences of displacement, was included on a suggested summer reading list. This sparked significant backlash, with over 2,000 emails and heated library meetings demanding its removal.

Critics, including local Jewish residents and pro-Israel groups, accused the book of being antisemitic, erasing Israel, and inappropriately portraying Israel as an oppressor to young children. Supporters, however, defended it as an authentic Palestinian voice and vital representation, viewing removal efforts as “soft censorship” amid a national surge in book challenges. Against the charged backdrop of the Gaza conflict, the library leadership steadfastly upheld its decision, affirming its core mission to provide diverse perspectives and intellectual freedom without endorsing specific viewpoints.

This local clash reflects profound national tensions over whose stories belong in public spaces, the role of libraries in safeguarding uncomfortable narratives, and the deep pain surrounding competing historical claims and identities.

Beyond the Backlash: Why a Children’s Book Sparked a Firestorm in Watertown (And What It Reveals) 

The summer reading list for second graders at Watertown Free Public Library seemed an unlikely battleground. Yet, the inclusion of one picture book – Maysa Odeh’s “A Map for Falasteen” – ignited a controversy that flooded librarians with over 2,000 emails, packed a board meeting with more than 100 residents, and laid bare deep community divisions. At its heart lies a fundamental question: whose stories belong on our library shelves, especially for our children? 

The Spark: A Child’s Question, A Family’s Memory 

“A Map for Falasteen” follows a young Palestinian girl confused by a school map that doesn’t show her family’s homeland as they know it. Her grandfather draws a map with Arabic place names from his memory. Her grandmother recounts being forced to leave her home. Her mother promises a future return. Odeh, a Palestinian-American author, states the book stems from her own childhood search for Palestine on maps and the difficulty of asking refugee parents about their past. “Falasteen asks the questions salient in every Palestinian child’s mind,” Odeh wrote. “These are questions that deserve answers.” 

The Backlash: Accusations of Erasure and Bias 

For many critics, primarily from the local Jewish community and pro-Israel advocates, the book crossed a line. Residents like Debra Neiman argued the grandfather’s map “intentionally denies the legitimacy and existence of the state of Israel,” effectively erasing it and marginalizing those connected to it. Rachael Sack questioned the appropriateness of a children’s book referencing “guns and tanks” and specifically portraying Israel as the oppressor. The Committee for Accuracy in Middle East Reporting and Analysis (CAMERA) placed it on an “Anti-Israel Books” list, claiming it rendered Jews “invisible” and denied their humanity beneath “cultural warmth.” 

The Defense: Authenticity, Representation, and Intellectual Freedom 

Supporters vehemently rejected the characterization of the book as hateful or exclusionary. “The claim that this book aims to replace Jewish Israelis or the state of Israel with Palestinians is a woeful misinterpretation,” countered resident Abigail Yanow, highlighting the oppression faced by Palestinians. They saw the push for removal as censorship, part of a national trend targeting diverse voices. Author Dana Alison Levy labeled it “soft censorship,” part of a “multi-tentacled effort to suppress readership.”

Librarians and free speech advocates emphasized the book’s positive reception – inclusion on “best of” lists and favorable trade reviews – and the library’s core mission: providing access to diverse perspectives, not endorsing them. “The library’s role is not to endorse specific viewpoints,” stated Kelly Linehan of the Massachusetts Library Association, “but to provide access to the full spectrum of ideas.” 

The Larger Canvas: Politics, Pain, and the Library’s Role 

This local dispute unfolds against a backdrop of intense polarization: 

• National Book Challenges: PEN America’s report of 10,000 books banned in schools underscores the heightened climate of censorship. 

• The Gaza Conflict: The devastating war, with its massive civilian casualties cited from Gaza Health Ministry figures, has profoundly shifted global discourse and heightened sensitivities around narratives. 

• Local Tensions: Similar protests have targeted Palestinian-themed cultural events in nearby Newton and Brookline, reflecting the conflict’s resonance in the Boston area. 

Odeh views the backlash as rooted in anti-Palestinian sentiment: “Just the existence of a Palestinian voice in a public sphere for some people is unacceptable.” Meanwhile, critics like Sack felt Jewish concerns were dismissed as merely a “book banning campaign.” 

The Library’s Stand: A Principle Upheld 

Amidst the storm, the Watertown library’s leadership held firm. Board chair Leanne Hammonds affirmed their commitment to intellectual freedom, explaining the list was curated using standard professional criteria (awards, “best of” lists, reviews) and emphasizing that participation was voluntary. This decision, while disappointing to critics, offered a beacon of hope for Odeh: “People came out to support the library’s decision to simply allow a space for a Palestinian story to exist… It makes me hopeful for the future.” 

The Human Insight: Why Watertown Matters 

The Watertown controversy isn’t just about one book. It’s a microcosm of struggles playing out across America: 

• Children’s Literature as Contested Ground: What complex histories and identities are deemed “appropriate” for young minds? Can stories of displacement and loss be shared without being inherently accusatory? 

• The Weight of Representation: For marginalized communities, seeing their stories validated in public spaces like libraries is profoundly significant. Conversely, communities with historical trauma may perceive narratives challenging their identity or homeland as deeply threatening. 

• Libraries as Democratic Sanctuaries: In an age of fragmentation, libraries remain rare civic spaces committed to providing access to all ideas, especially uncomfortable ones. Their defense of this principle is crucial for a functioning democracy. 

• Listening Through Discomfort: The clash highlights the difficulty of truly hearing narratives that challenge one’s own understanding of history or justice. Can a community hold space for both the Palestinian experience of dispossession and the Jewish connection to Israel without demanding one narrative negate the other? 

Watertown’s librarians, by upholding their professional duty amid intense pressure, made a quiet but powerful statement: that a child’s search for her homeland on a map, told through the lens of her family’s memory, is a story worthy of being heard.

The ensuing debate reveals not just divisions, but the profound importance of the library as a place where diverse stories can coexist, sparking difficult but necessary conversations about who we are and the histories we carry. The real challenge remains: can the community move beyond the backlash towards a deeper understanding?