It’s been four years since author Zoulfa Katouh released her bestselling debut, As Long As The Lemon Trees Grow. “I was worried whether my second book would live up to the pedestal Lemon Trees currently sits on,” she tells us. 

The Syrian-Canadian writer captivated readers around the world with her story of love and survival set against the backdrop of the Syrian civil war, earning critical acclaim and a devoted readership. With such success came a new challenge for her YA novel. But now she returns with The Ocean Would Paint Me Blue, a sophomore novel that is every bit as heartfelt, timely and emotionally resonant.

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The story follows Jihad, a teenage girl trying to navigate the devastating grief of losing her mother. Once an aspiring artist, Jihad has lost her connection to painting and the colours that once defined her world. As she starts at a new school, she is forced to confront another painful reality: the Islamophobia now woven into her daily life.

Richly layered and deeply moving, the novel explores loss, identity, faith and resilience with Katouh’s signature warmth and honesty. We sat down with Zoulfa to discuss her highly anticipated second novel, the pressures of following a beloved debut, and the stories that continue to inspire her.

For readers who haven’t yet picked up The Ocean Would Paint Me Blue, how would you describe the story, and what first sparked the idea for it?

It’s a story about finding healing from grief through art. It’s also a love letter to the Arabic language. I thought of it randomly one day when I was thinking about how some words in Arabic have been vilified and mutated from their meanings; chief among them the word Jihad. So, I wanted to write a character [with that name who] embodies its real meaning.

What drew you to tell this story for your second novel?

I feel like everything happens the way it should. I didn’t originally plan for this to be my second novel, but as soon as I started writing it, it felt right. It felt like it should be this one.

Following the enormous success and impact of As Long As the Lemon Trees Grow, did you feel any expectations (whether from readers, publishers, or yourself) while writing this book?

I did feel the expectations from readers. People tell you not to read the negative reviews of your book, but they don’t tell you the dark-side impact of the positive reviews. I am eternally blessed and grateful for how much people have loved Lemon Trees, and I wouldn’t change that for the world. But I was worried whether my second book would live up to the pedestal Lemon Trees currently sits on.

I was second-guessing every other sentence I wrote, worried about how Jihad’s voice sounded so different to Salama’s. I had to sit with myself to think about it and have had many conversations with friends regarding this. And I realised that this is actually a good thing. I wasn’t suffering from same-character syndrome. Jihad exists as her own person, and she demands your full attention. In the end, I wanted to write a story that I would be proud of, and in doing so, I hope my sentiments would reach the readers.

In what ways do you think you’ve evolved as a storyteller since your last book?

It’s in the small things. I can recognise certain writing patterns that come only after writing for so long. I used to feel like I was being “watched” when I was writing. As if someone was looking over my shoulder, and I would be way too inside my head. Now it’s (at times) easier to write with vulnerability.

You’ve said that “Lemon Trees had hope. Ocean has healing.” What does healing look like in this novel, and how did you approach exploring it on the page?

I wanted to intertwine healing with so many aspects of the story. Because we get healing from many different parts of our lives. So for Jihad, she finds healing in her art, her friendship with Jamie, her faith, her mother, her relationship with her sister, and the recipes her mother has left her. In doing so, you see how Jihad slowly starts coming back to life.

The novel examines Islamophobia at a time when anti-Muslim rhetoric and discrimination continue to make headlines around the world. Why did it feel important for you to centre those experiences in this story?

It’s something that every Muslim living in the West experiences. This is very much our reality, and every single one of our stories can end in the most atrocious way of murder. We experience genocide within our countries and outside of them. We’ve become numbers reported on the news. We’ve been reduced to harmful stereotypes. And until we can exist as we are, these stories will always be important. It’s the way we can fight back.

Beyond the themes of healing and identity, what conversations do you hope The Ocean Would Paint Me Blue sparks among readers?

I want them to think about themselves and how they can contribute to the world. Is there something they like to do? Draw? Make music? Animation? Running? Gymnastics? Piano? Whatever it is, I want them to cultivate it. I want them to recognise that this world was made for them and that while it can sometimes be a difficult place to live in, sunsets, sunrises, croissants, chocolate, the sea, and music are also in this world. And that life can be soft and kind if we’re soft and kind.

If there was one feeling you’d want readers to take away from your book, what would it be?

I hope they find healing in this book. The same feeling one gets after finishing a Studio Ghibli movie.