In the ancient Armenian city of Van, boys become men and neighbors turn into enemies overnight. Never Hide from the Devil begins on the eve of the defense of Van in April and May 1915, led in part by the legendary Aram Manoukian, a revered leader who guides the teenagers who are the story’s main protagonists, including the narrator Suren Simonian, his siblings, and his friends Mihran and Razmik, as well as his sister and extended family. The first few chapters also crucially establish the friendship between Suren and Hamza, young Armenian and Turkish “blood brothers,” teenage boys whose friendship will somehow survive the beginning of the Young Turk plan to exterminate the Armenians of the Ottoman Empire.
One of the novel’s great qualities is that it is divided into twelve parts and 66 short chapters that play out chronologically over the course of only one month. Each chapter recounts a conversation or encounter that adds to the overall dénouement. This gives the action a play-by-play quality that throws the reader into the midst of the conflict and almost makes them feel as if they were part of Suren’s family — they immediately identify with the narrator from the very beginning.
The chapters themselves serve not only as clever chronological devices but as tonal schemes as well. Take the novel’s opening chapter, “Fight on Holy Ground”: the reader who knows a bit of history, or has researched the novel before reading it, expects a description of an immediate battle between Armenians and Turks, but instead is given a playground fight between Razmik and Mihran, which Mihran ultimately wins:
The voices grow louder as the two keep circling without a swing. One of the boys with wide-set eyes, from Hisoushian School, yells “Fight!” in Armenian. Soon, the word catches fire. Each boy punches the air as he chants. Even Hamza, who only knows a few phrases in our language, joins in. “Mihran! That’s his name,” Nshan shouts, pointing his fingerin the air like a politician….
“You won, Raz. You joined his nose and his mouth. Everyone knows it. Just relax,” Hamza says in Turkish.
“Don’t touch me, Turk. This has nothing to do with you.”
In this early description, McQueen manages to set much of the action and the aura of violence that already engulfs the city. For some reason, as I read this text, I could not help but be thrown back to Golding’s Lord of the Flies, though the settings and themes differ greatly. Through this fight, we get a hint of the greater battle that will soon ensue between Armenian and Turk — the great line that divides even best friends and turns Armenians and Turks into each other’s reflections and “Others,” as evidenced slightly later in the text:
