About Siwar Al Assad
Siwar Al Assad is a multilingual Syrian-born author who has carved a distinctive literary path, writing in both French and English. Educated in Switzerland, Great Britain, and at the prestigious Panthéon-Sorbonne University in Paris, Siwar’s novels explore themes of love, identity, justice, and cultural preservation. His published works include the romantic thriller A Coeur Perdu, its English counterpart Guard Thy Heart, the historical epic Le temps d’une saison, and the homage Palmyre pour toujours. Beyond fiction, he contributed the preface to Pourquoi ils font le Djihad. Now based in London, he also leads the Arab News Network and the Aramea Foundation. His writing reflects his deeply held belief in dialogue, heritage, and the transformative power of storytelling.
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Every few weeks, I receive letters and messages from readers scattered across the world. Many of them are Syrians who, like me, left th...
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I still remember walking into a bookshop in Beirut in 2012, books piled high, many bound in dust, some with pages torn by conflict, oth...
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I’ve met people who carry wounds they can’t name. They speak of anxiety without cause, sorrow without memory, rage without explanation....
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There’s a question I’ve heard over and over again, at readings, through messages online, even whispered across tables after book events...
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If you’ve ever tried to explain Syria’s complex present without touching on its colonial past, you’ll find it doesn’t quite add up. I’v...
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Over the years, I’ve received many letters, some from young readers in the diaspora, others from older Syrians who left decades ago. Th...
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Sometimes, I receive messages from readers asking me why my stories no longer feel like they used to, why the shadows are darker, the s...
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If there’s one question I return to often, both in life and in literature, it’s this: What happens to a culture when the world stops se...
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Over the years, I’ve received countless messages, some sent quietly by email, others left as public comments on social media. Readers f...
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When a city crumbles, you don’t just lose buildings, you lose the echoes. The morning calls to prayer. The chatter in the cafés. The my...
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