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March 2011 Rima, a writer from Suwada, hears from a work colleague that protests have erupted in Damascus.

Surprised she opens YouTube to see if it is true, "I couldn't believe it was real," she explains, "It was the first time in our lives that we saw or heard about anything of that sort. In less than one hour, videos of the incident were uploaded on YouTube. I watched them and was so happy that I cried. It meant that the revolution in Syria had begun."

Rima's response was not uncommon, "My first demonstration was better than my wedding day," recalls Shadi, an accountant from rural Hama, "and when my wife heard me say that, she refused to talk to me for a month". 

Both accounts form part of a by Wendy Pearlman "We Crossed A Bridge and it Trembled: Voices from Syria," which chronicles the experiences of Syrians in their own words as they take us through Syrian politics over the last 40 years but with special focus on the last seven years.

Syrians joined the Arab Spring protests in 2011 for many of the same as Tunisians, Egyptians, Yemenis, Bahrainis and Libyans swept up in revolutionary tides. But Syrians had been brought up on the idea that revolutions were not supposed to happen in Syria.

Syrians knew that the ruthless secret police patrolled every street corner - "not even a fly can enter Syria without the al Mukhbarat (Secret Police) knowing", it was said.

The 1982 Hama massacre carried out by the Syrian regime against civilians, in which between an estimated 17,000 - 40,000 people were killed, lived on in memories of Syrians and formed part of a socially constructed narrative about the perils of opposing the regime. 

The revolution that wasn't supposed to happen in Syria was happening

The revolution that wasn't supposed to happen in Syria was happening in Syria. Loyalists to the Assad regime tried to crush it through violent force, "Assad or we burn the country down," was the slogan armed militias loyal to the president began writing on walls of buildings and houses.

However, making threats of escalating violence was not enough, a panic-stricken regime tried to invent a new narrative to support their counter-revolutionary crackdown.

President Assad's first speech following the violent crackdown on demonstrations in Daraa, where the Syrian revolution began, blamed outsiders and foreign agitators for the unrest, and accused them of trying to undermine the unity of the Syrian nation.

In short it was all a foreign plot, a conspiracy. At the time of his speech many political commentators saw Assad’s speech as reactionary; the narrative being cultivated could be best described as the "de-Syrianisation" of the Syrian uprising.

Syrians were only supposed to be shaped by history, not the shapers of history, and - it was claimed - there was no possible way that Syrians could be the ones taking to the streets.

The "de-Syrianised" Syria has become the internationally accepted narrative, and this Assadist discourse can be heard everywhere from the meeting halls of anti-war groups to the corridors of power in Washington.

It is President Assad's most successful export and it is in this context that Pearlman's book comes to us to help combat this odious discourse.

, an associate professor of comparative politics at Northwestern University, has collected first hand testimonies of Syrians from different generations, religions, ethnicities and backgrounds, to tell their stories.

Conducting interviews in Arabic, Syrians recounted their tales of life under authoritarianism, revolution, crackdown, militarisation, survival, war and exile. Pearlman offers no analysis of her own, instead organising the testimonies around these themes, allowing Syrians to speak to us directly.

The 'de-Syrianisation' of Syria is Assad's most successful export

When Syria is stripped of the headlines about IS, geopolitical rivalries and numbers of refugees, heart-warming and heart-wrenching tales about the colour of everyday life begin to emerge.

One particularly eye-opening account tells of how mosques became the epicentre of protests against the regime, as it was the only place where Syrians could legally to gather in large numbers. Protestors would attend Friday prayers - even if they were from different religions - and then march after prayer was over.

Ziyad, a doctor from Homs, recalls seeing a young man entering the mosque one Friday. As he started to pray his crucifix necklace fell out, and when worshippers asked him if he came by mistake, he replied he had not, "I came here to go out in the demonstration with all of you." Although mosques were the rallying point for protests, the story demonstrates the cross-religious nature of the uprising and the solidarity between different groups.

Sectarianisation was strongly resisted by the anti-regime demonstrators, they would chant, "all Syrian people are one," and, "We want a civil state."

In addition to giving Syrians a voice, it should be a companion to anything watched or read on Syria

This stands in contrast to the actions of the Syrian regime, Abu Thair, an engineer from Daraa, recalls, "On Tuesday night, a sit-in began at al-Omari mosque. Around three o'clock in the morning, regime forces stormed the mosque from all directions. They killed dozens and injured a lot more. They burnt holy books and wrote things on the walls like 'Do not kneel for God. Kneel for Assad'."

The book is not a comprehensive analysis of the Syrian revolution and civil war; readers can look to Robin Yassin-Kassab and Leila al-Shami's book, "Burning Country: Syrians in Revolution and War" for that.

However, Pearlman's work does give Syrians the chance to tell people about what they witnessed. There are few other places where so many personal accounts can be found, and this book is a something of a treasure trove, bustling with insight.

In addition to giving Syrians a voice, it should be a companion to anything watched or read on Syria. It puts the very real, humanising voices of Syrians back into the spotlight, which is precisely where they belong.

Usman Butt is multimedia television researcher, filmmaker and writer based in London. Usman read International Relations and Arabic Language at the University of Westminster and completed a Master of Arts in Palestine Studies at the University of Exeter.

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Opinions expressed in this article remain those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of °®Âþµº, its editorial board or staff.