Swing­ing from post-explo­sion Beirut to a Parc-Exten­sion bal­cony in sum­mer, the verse and prose poems in The Good Arabs ground the read­er in place, lan­guage, and the body. Peel­ing and rins­ing radish­es. Danc­ing as a pre-teen to Nan­cy Ajram. Being drenched in stares on the city bus. The col­lec­tion is an inter­lock­ing and rich offer­ing of the speaker’s com­mu­ni­ties, geo­graph­i­cal sur­round­ings both expan­sive and pre­cise, and fam­i­ly both bio­log­i­cal and cho­sen. The Good Arabs gifts the read­er with insight into cycles and rep­e­ti­tion in our­selves and our bro­ken nations. This genre-defy­ing col­lec­tion maps Arab and trans iden­ti­ty through the immen­si­ty of expe­ri­ence felt in one body, the sor­row of cit­i­zens let down by their coun­tries, and the garbage cri­sis in Lebanon. Ulti­mate­ly, it shows how we might love amid dis­may, adore the pun­gent and the ugly, and exist in our mul­ti­plic­i­ty across spaces.