The Good Muslim (2011)

This is only a short entry on my thoughts on Tahmima Anam's novel, which is the second of a trilogy. The Good Muslim was published by John Murray in 2011 and follows the novel A Golden Age, which was published in 2007. The third part of the trilogy, Bones of Grace, was published in 2016. As a disclaimer I would like to clarify that I haven't read the first in the series. The kindle edition that I read is a little under 300 pages, though 305 pages including acknowledgements and a preview into the third book. The novel is set in Bangladesh soon after the war of independence and some time later, as the novel switches between years, slowly developing the narrative and context through visits to the 1970s and 1984.  It is divided into a prologue, three books, whose titles make reference to Quranic verses and an epilogue ; the first book is entitled "All that is in the Heavens and on Earth", the second, "Every soul shall taste death" and the third, "God wrongs no one, Not even by the weight of an atom".

I read Tahmima Anam's novel, The Good Muslim, as part of my self-study unit to explore whether writers from the Indian subcontinent have largely adopted the worldview of their colonisers, that of modernity and secularism. This is also the reason why I didn't read the prequel, as I had to focus on my core reading list before reading around (prequel and sequel). The novel itself is an easy and quick read and yet the cultural and historical significance is very much apparent; it plays an important role in reminding, or even teaching, people about the War and conflicts in Bangladesh, events that I presume are little known outside those directly concerned.

Anam's central protagonist is a young female doctor named Maya. Most of the chapters are given from her perspective through a third person narrator. There was one chapter in her brother, Sohail's perspective, a first person narrative chapter from the eyes of her young nephew Zaid and a part of a chapter recounting Joy's war experiences. This is significant because Maya's voice is the dominant one, and it is a voice of criticism and, more specifically, disdain towards religion, which in this case is Islam.

Her values are more closely aligned to those of secularism, as science and modernity are valued higher than religious principles. She is concerned over her brother's interest and "conversion", having discovered Islam as a source of solace after the war. I felt that Maya's negativity towards religion was not particularly nuanced, as many of the practices adopted by her recently "converted" brother bothered her, despite them being fairly common or understood in a practicing Muslim community. It seems as if those whose religion is imperceptible are the ones that Maya prefers. Maya herself appears to not consider herself a believer and only reluctantly acknowledges her taught prayers. What I found particularly unsettling was that Maya made certain remarks such as "at least he hasn't grown a beard" or referring to the Quran as "the Book", implying it was the source of the problem and her brother's increased interest was a cause for concern. The reason this is problematic is because it perpetuates negative stereotypes that Muslim/ Asian men face when they choose to grow a beard, for example, or take their faith more seriously by learning more about the Quran. The UK, among many other countries, has been known to actively discriminate against people on these bases and it would be unfair to allow that connection to be validated when, for the vast majority, it is not a sign of fundamentalism. For Maya, the problem is religion itself, not solely the injustices practised in the name of religion or misinterpreted for selfish ends.

On the other hand, I found that Sohail's behaviour was not ideal, nor necessarily a perfect reflection of a pious Muslim due to two core issues, his apparent neglect towards his son and failing to be present during his mother's illness when she was seeking him. Those are not values or types of behaviour that are encouraged in Islam, rather to contrary they are looked down upon. And yet I still found myself more sympathetic to Sohail than Maya, because she seemed to be full of absolute revolt and he appeared to be much more docile and searching a way of peace, mercy and clarity after the shock of the war. Maya's only seemingly redeeming factor was when she attempted to save her nephew from injustice. The Tablighi Jamaat, the group that Sohail joined, definitely has some peculiarities but I believe it is not as catastrophic or threatening as made out to be.

An important theme in the novel was also that of children's education and upbringing. It's an increasingly important discussion since oftentimes when children are granted an education, it is a (compulsory) secular one, and one that usually inhibits creativity, an issue that is increasingly being faced in the Western world. Maya is wary of the madrasa education chosen by her brother, which again creates an opposition of two differing worlds.

Overall, I felt that while Anam was able to create some moving, sentimental scenes, the overall tones are strongly, if not too, anti-religion, and not necessarily anti-injustice that may take place under the guise of religion or in any other given context. For Maya, at least, Bangladesh is a country full of a rich culture but ought to otherwise be secular. However, I appreciate the role of Rehana, the mother, who points out that Maya is not simply the innocent, enlightened party in regards to their family dynamics, as she played a significant role in provoking her brother into a more drastic lifestyle change.

Truth in Tradition

I'll be diverting away from my book review posts today to write about something that's been on my mind for a few weeks. It is quite personal and I wondered whether there was any point in putting it on the big, scary place called the Internet at all. However I thought that it's something that doesn't only affect me, though I may be one of the few people aware of it and bothered by it. 

The sentimental side of this post is that I came to the realisation that I was and have been properly naive throughout my studies and especially higher education (sixth form and university). The reason being is that I've always understood that when writers or artists were trying to decipher the meaning of life or answer questions on the nature of the world, the miracles of nature or even death, truth, justice and goodness, I've always felt that they have been seeking God and, more specifically, Islam in that it would answer and resolve their conflicts and dilemmas on the nature of the soul or what makes humans distinct from animals and whether other beings besides the ones we see exist and more. Of course I have a bias but for many other believers I can presume they too would feel that people are searching for God and whatever religion they follow (be it Christianity, Hinduism or Judaism). These religions share a core that answers some of the most complex (or even regular) mysteries that modern thinkers struggle with. And so I've listened to lectures on so many art theories and art movements where they attempt to explain life and I always find myself thinking "ooh, they're so close- there's some truth in this but they've missed the mark" or "it's incomplete".

And yet with my latest essay submission (at Masters level) I was granted quite the reality check. My tutor flat out told me that since we're post-enlightenment (pfft), we no longer "need" God and the Transcendent. And so now I'm faced with this strong, secular worldview that only wants to discuss God and religion in order to criticise and undermine them. Consequently, I've come to the realisation that while all these artists (like all humans) need and seek God, their theories are intentionally constructed in a fashion to exclude Him. They're rejecting God and are trying to fathom the world without Him. By doing so they're not only fostering their own egos but also spreading false, delusional ideas to thousands if not millions of people and causing discord in people's minds. I know secular folk like to think they're all open-minded and all but they're imposing this on everyone and not allowing a parallel narrative to exist, like I thought democracies loved and glorified. Without trying to sound like I'm blaming one person for this, as it is a process that has taken centuries to bring to this state, Descartes is a name that keeps coming up and so what he said, did and represented has and continues to create confusion and doubt in the minds of so many people across the world.

My present concern is that Muslims are being slowly influenced by these ideas as they are everywhere, covert and overt, and are identifying a little too much with the mainstream, modern mentality. Nouman Ali Khan even mentioned in one of his lectures that a problem he faces increasingly is that some Muslims are trying to use scientific rationalism (or scientific empiricism) as an approach to understanding the religion and it is not only insufficient but can lead to coming to some extremely distorted and incorrect conclusions (just like the contemporary "thinkers"). I'm at a point now where I'm not only wary of popular fiction and modern/ contemporary/ mainstream literature but now even of the so-called classics that I used to enjoy and find fascinating because I found them more beautifully crafted and written. That's not to say that nothing written post 14th or 16th century isn't worth reading, but I think I'll have to be increasingly critical and/or selective.

I guess I wanted to voice my concern about an anti-tradition and anti-religion narrative that we're well aware of in terms of its most vulgar and apparent levels in some media outlets and political affairs, but that it also exists in the institutions that are praised for their intellectual contribution (though they reject the intellect for pure reason). Let's hope that there's love, peace and tolerance in our hearts and communities that can overcome this hurdle.

The Algebra of Infinite Justice (2002)

The book The Algebra of Infinite Justice is a collection of eight essays written by Arundhati Roy between the years of 1998 and 2002. My edition was published by Penguin Books in 2002 with a Foreword by John Berger and is approximately 300 pages long. It makes a change to have a little more non-fiction on my university reading list and I'm definitely glad this was mandatory reading. I decided to blog about it mainly because it is such a powerful book. So without much further ado and to keep this post brief I'll share some of my thoughts and feelings about the book but will not delve into too much detail, as I think it would be much better for anyone interested to read these with Roy as their first "exposure" because she articulates her points best and I find it useless paraphrasing them. 

Just to be clear as to what you'll be getting when you get hold of this book I'll list the names of the eight essays. In order of "appearance" they are: 'The End of Imagination', 'The Greater Common Good', 'Power Politics', 'The Ladies Have Feelings, So...', 'The Algebra of Infinite Justice', 'War is Peace', 'Democracy' and 'War Talk'.

As you can probably tell, I'm a fan of the book and would suggest everyone read it. The reason behind this is simply because the issues Roy discusses are so important and relevant to our modern society because it brings into question the nature of the world we're living in. Despite these essays being rather "old" the problems raised in the essays haven't necessarily been resolved, if anything they have been aggravated and I think it would be a crime not to be aware of what major crimes are being committed in the name of globalisation and "progress".

What I love about these essays is Roy's unflinching approach and her fact-filled passion. Not only is she well informed, she is witty and critical in her stance. She does not hold back from exposing enormous injustices taking place in her homeland. Roy critiques the decision to adopt nuclear arms, the business of building dams and notions of terrorism and democracy. She even goes on to explore what it means to be a writer and/ or an activist. Echoes of colonial burdens are ever present in her work, as India is plagued by its desire to compete with or please the "first world". She denounces the scale of the havoc as well as the fact that only the poor have to bear the brunt of it all. She provides us with eye-watering and heart-melting facts and statistics, and I personally found it heart wrenching to realise to what extent we, and governments, are disconnected from nature, the earth and a traditional way of life. Our inability to authentically value nature beyond a resource to be monetised is in great part one of the major causes of environmental destruction in our current climate. We need to open our eyes and look at the world beyond the lens of money and profit.

These essays are so valuable to humanity because they are a brave call in the face of superpowers. They are voicing the concerns of the voiceless or even trying to protect those who are uninformed and ignorant to how they're being taken advantage of and disregarded. The works are largely about India but they concern every human being because India is part of the world we live in and the issues in India are replicated in many ways across the world. If I were to say anything to India or any other developing country it would be to stop humiliating yourself before the West and destroying yourself from the inside. Value your people, including the poorest amongst them, and value a simpler, more traditional way of life and you will find harmony and success.

Born A Crime: Stories From A South African Childhood (2016)

Born A Crime: Stories From A South African Childhood is an autobiography written by the comedian Trevor Noah. It was published by John Murray in 2016 and I downloaded it for a mere 99p on my Kindle. I'm usually not one to be interested in the autobiographies or biographies of "celebrities" but having laughed at a few of Noah's sketches in the past (particularly when he started out) and the bargain Amazon tempted me with, I thought I'd give it a chance. And I'm glad I did. The book is 304 pages long and is divided into three parts and a total of 18 chapters, many of which are preluded by passages that provide context to the following events.

When I messaged my sister telling her a little about the book and how I was finding it, she commented on how it's funny how people can write autobiographies before the age of 40 now. She has a point, and yet I don't think Noah was misplaced in taking out the time to write this piece because it's about more than Trevor Noah the personality. I will explain what I mean. Of course Trevor Noah describes his experiences growing up in South Africa but he does this with plenty of insight into South Africa's history, tribal reputations, linguistic histories, as well as his family environment and his mother's dedication in raising him. This means that we learn about the history of a nation and the richness in just a part of its society and are then given a human side of how living through these complex social structures affects people and smaller communities. As well as a historical and social narrative, Noah's other major influence was his mother and this relationship is one of the main reasons I value this book.

Noah recognises that the world in South Africa is quite particular in its culmination of influences and its apartheid regime in relation to many Western countries' experience of the world. Thus, he makes a sincere effort to provide appropriate analogies along the way, which also function as reminders that the West isn't "clean" of certain sins but rather have their own forms of injustice that may well have been highlighted in the apartheid as being "more severe". He isn't afraid to bring up and discuss real, pertinent issues concerning white (light) privilege, male privilege and patriarchy, domestic violence and injustice towards women as well as reasons for crime and criminality and the breeding of hate and racism in a society. These are not problems that are South African problems alone nor are they "the Black man's problems" but rather issues that concern everybody individually as well as collectively.

Having lived in both Britain (born and raised) and Germany (at present), I would like to provide a minor correction to Noah's comparison to the teaching of the apartheid to South African children post-apartheid to the education Germans provide about the Nazis and Britons about the Empire. He rightly remarks that German students are made aware of the events of the Holocaust and share a public shame at this part of their history, but I felt the description of the British teaching of colonialism is slightly misplaced. I don't recall ever being formally taught about colonialism in school and even any reference to the slave trade was cursory and primarily focused on America. Britain hardly feels regret or shame about the Empire and consistently hides or avoids mentioning the huge injustices it committed and the attitude is rather that of "ah yes, the Empire was a big thing we had, and now don't- but now we have the Commonwealth".

In terms of writing style, the book is captivating and fluid. It's a pleasure to read and includes a fair share of humour with its tales of rather amusing and ridiculous events. However the emotions aren't always high and frivolous but varied and sometimes rather upsetting and serious. Noah manages to balance the emotions for it never to be too dark or pitiful nor simply comic. His narrative is personal and intelligent.

Now, I have to say that I love Mrs. Noah, Trevor Noah's mother. She, for me, is the real star and hero of the book. Coming back to my sister's remarks about someone under 40 writing an autobiography, I felt that it was an excuse rather to write about his mother. For me Trevor Noah, the child, was probably too boisterous but generally a decent lad however what I really savoured was Mrs. Noah and her rich personality. She is such a strong, brave woman and repeatedly shows her dedication to motherhood and her principles and values. Her strength of character and physical capacity to chase a little boy like Trevor left me in awe and hope. I'm not going to say I condone all methods practiced but there is much to learn in this book about raising a child and developing a meaningful relationship with your child. Mrs Noah is about instilling values and dedicated so much to simply opening the eyes of her child. She reminds us of motherhood and its sacrifices, its pains and joys, and how to foster a positive, healthy outlook to life even in the face of adversity. Her faith is her core and her faith is what elevates her. I can't say I wouldn't be happy to meet her myself!

To conclude I wanted to mention something concerning the sincerity of the book. I may be naive and blind to ulterior motives but while I recognise that Noah suffered a difficult childhood in so many ways, I didn't feel that this book was written in a bid to seek sympathy or to victimise the comedian. Nor was it, for me, a rags to riches story of hope and dreams. To a large degree I have to say that I'm glad of Noah's material success as far as it allowed me to learn firstly about his mother, secondly about the history and experiences of a segment of South African society and thirdly that he is in a position to discuss and denounce ongoing injustice in the world today. I'm rather tempted to write an essay for my seminar on the book, but we'll see what happens. Finally, I find that Noah's personal experiences are so varied, having engaged with such a variety of people from so many different backgrounds and social classes and this is naturally a great asset to him in his work.

Disgrace (1999)

Going back in time a little with this latest read. Disgrace by J.M. Coetzee was first published in 1999, though I read the 2000 Vintage edition on my good old Kindle. It's a novel set in South Africa and it won the Booker Prize. The novel is approximately 216 pages long, depending on your edition I presume. I read this as part of my seminar module on eco-criticism and so I will be referring to some themes linked to this approach as well as my overall thoughts.

Disgrace is written in a third-person narrative voice and expresses the thoughts, feelings and experiences of protagonist David Lurie, a twice-divorced, 50-something university lecturer who gets himself into a spot of trouble that leads to him to leave his job and redirect his time and efforts.

A major theme in the novel is crime and in particular rape. Coetzee appears to criticise not only the policing system but also the general attitude towards crime. Efforts are usually lax and in many ways there is a bias to protect men. Victims are represented, although from an onlooker's perspective- that of Lurie himself, and we recognise marked symptoms of sexual harassment and trauma, such as despondency, distractedness, lack of motivation and animation. Alongside this we not only see rapists as aggressive monster-characters but also as people with friends and family, who do not all necessarily condemn such behaviour. We are given an insight into a rapist's potential reasoning and worldview, his sense of entitlement. Also, crimes, including rape, are not punished severely in the novel, which is probably the most disturbing element. There are sometimes repercussions for the rapist but it seems that the sense of entitlement or "rightness" isn't rectified and this allows the culture of the objectification of women to flourish.

There are also disturbing undertones of paedophilia, as descriptions of attractive women often include child-like qualities. There is a sort of obsession with the young girl, innocent and not yet fully mature. Arguably this representation is just another reference to common images splattered across the media of what beautiful women ought to be, a culture of fetishisation of the extremely young female, disregarding the value and beauty of older women as objects that have passed their best.

My eco-critical analysis means that I can make the connection between the subjugation of women and that of nature. This is more specifically an eco-feminist approach that illustrates how women and nature are both subject to the fleeting desires of men and their demands. The value of nature and of women is determined by their usefulness to men and what they can offer to men. This novel provokes questions as to intrinsic value of the two (women and nature) independent of men. Themes from deep ecology also make an appearance in the notion of population control, demonstrated through the metaphor of dogs and the need to consistently reduce their population size.

What I found most striking in the novel, considering the events that took place, was the tone. The narrative voice was rather calm and matter-of-fact. There was perhaps one episode where there appeared to be an emotional expression of violence and rage but otherwise the tone was clear and collected for the duration of the novel. This conveys the feeling that Lurie lives in his own bubble, which cannot be penetrated by others. Despite the events around him, he lives in a world that is male-centred and his white privilege and academic background means that he is self-confident and hardly feels any sort of remorse or regret. In many ways he is quite cold and frank, yet we see he does have a heart and a great interest in passion and the idea of fulfilling desires.

David Lurie's character is counter-balanced by that of his daughter, who appears to be the complete opposite to him. While he is a man of the city, she is drawn in by the country, while he is heterosexual, she is homosexual. Their views on life and many issues, including animal rights, differ greatly. She is subject to male-subjugation and her father benefits from it. She is the strong-willed woman living alone in a society that values male strength and takes advantage of female compassion. Lucy is an interesting character that I would have liked have known better but Lurie's limited insight into the workings of his daughter's mind meant that we too can only decipher so much. Her character is rich and seemingly experienced in ways her father's never could be.

Overall, Disgrace was a rather quick read (I read it within 24 hours) and easy to follow. The issues are still relevant to us today and it didn't feel like a novel that was "old". I felt the ending was quite open and I would have liked a better  (or different) conclusion but otherwise it was an interesting read with an insight into South Africa that I may never have had otherwise. I gave it a 3-star rating on goodreads.

The Other Half of Happiness (2017)

It's snowing outside right now, despite the fact that we're supposed to be in Spring by now, being mid-April and all. So it's the perfect time to get down my thoughts on the sequel to Sofia Khan Is Not Obliged. I guess this novel makes it to the top of the list in terms of the most contemporary/ newest book I've read. So just to get the facts and figures out of the way, the novel is a generous 448 pages long and was published in 2017 by Zaffre, Again, I downloaded the Kindle edition, which was significantly cheaper than the hardcopy and some other e-book editions apparently. A thank you to whoever sorted that out!

While I loved the first book and was slightly scared that the sequel wouldn't be able to live up to the high standard, I have to say it wasn't a disappointment but rather an impressive feat. I wouldn't say this is better than Malik's first book, but rather she took advantage of the circumstances and changed the tone. That's not to say that this novel wasn't funny and relatable but it was generally a lot more serious and the tone reflected this. I felt there was a constant worry, threat or concern pervading the novel's plot line, and the "cause for concern" changes enough for the novel to remain dynamic and engaging. Sofia also has a lot on her plate and so she is under pressure, which allows her character to develop further and she can ask herself some serious questions.

What I love about both of Malik's novels are that they are so rich and full of brave and important issues. Some of the ones that come to mind for this novel include the challenges relating to interracial marriages and conversion, apostasy, homosexuality, adoption, separation, racism, culture conflicts, fundamentalism, white privilege, betrayal, heartbreak, resilience, forgiveness, sexism, misogyny, dealing with emotional baggage, sacrifice, challenges relating to major illness and parenting. These themes are linked to various characters and sometimes multiple characters at a time. The characters remain varied and authentic so I feel Malik does make the most of the community she has created by raising as many issues as she can that ought to be addressed in reality.

I don't want to spoil the novel for anyone who may want to read it because many of the events are probably better experienced by "first-hand" reading. But I must admit that I cried a lot in this novel, a lot more than in the first. I may have felt more personally involved in the novel since I am in a Muslim interracial marriage myself so it was quite interesting to see how Malik went about exploring this relationship. She captures the light-hearted humour as well as digs up some serious issues such as women facing a lack of respect by men in the Asian community generally and also a secret desire for people to see an interracial love marriage fail, or even a love marriage for that matter. They are slightly troubling attitudes in the Asian community but they definitely do exist.

I have to say that I wasn't happy with the ending but after some calm reflection, having cried so much during and after the novel, I realised that I wasn't happy with the ending because I would have acted differently. So this made me re-evaluate my character more and so it took me into a phase of introspection and reflection. I had to respect that Sofia was justified in making her decisions based on a different set of values and priorities to me, as everyone is different and we face and deal with challenges differently, and those differences ought to be respected.

To conclude my thoughts on the matter, I have to say it was an impressive and brave sequel with a lot of drama and emotion. It still makes me emotional thinking about certain scenes and turns of phrase in the novel. An important thing that this novel made me think about was the question of what can a person accept or forgive or live with, as well as the negatives to those thoughts. To each his own limits and strength of character. I hope to study these novels in a bit more detail in a post-colonial context because they are really quite fitting. Thank you and again, well done to Ayisha Malik!

Sofia Khan is Not Obliged (2015)

The 480-paged novel Sofia Khan Is Not Obliged was written by Ayisha Malik, a British Muslim woman and was published in 2015 by twenty7. I came across it as a suggestion by someone, perhaps @pardonmywritings, on Instagram. I downloaded and read the Kindle edition. The chapters are divided into months which are accompanied by headings. Each chapter then is subdivided by specific entry dates (and times) of the given month, as the novel is in the format of an informal personal journal/ diary. The events span from September 2011 to August 2012. 

Prior to reading the book I was rather sceptical and had low expectations because I doubted the quality of contemporary writing and perhaps even dreaded the representation of Muslims. I guess I've also read so many classics that I tend to grant them a higher status. In any case, I was not disappointed with this novel at all, rather it blew me away. It was such a pleasure to read and I have to say an amazing piece of work on so many levels, which I will outline briefly below. I read the book within a few days and it had me laughing out loud as well as crying real tears. 

I'd like to begin with Malik's characterisation of Sofia as well as in general. Sofia was immediately a character that felt normal and while I personally don't quite approve of bad language, I cannot deny that people swear, and Muslim women also swear. Sofia is a practicing Muslim (i.e. she tries to implement her faith in her daily life including praying her five daily prayers as well as wearing a headscarf). Yet she is flawed, she makes mistakes and she isn't the "ideal" or "perfect" Muslim woman either. Rather she is perfectly imperfect. She is still likeable and doesn't claim or pretend to be some saint though she tries her best to do what's best, as most Muslim women do in normal everyday life. Every Muslim woman (and man for that matter) has their own set of struggles and weaknesses but that doesn't mean that they're not Muslim nor less worthy of our respect. Sofia also smokes and I value this attribute because it is fairly taboo and frowned upon. Some Muslim women also smoke, albeit a bad habit it isn't reserved for men. Some of those Muslim women happen to wear a hijab. I identified with Malik's suggestion for us to try to be a little more forgiving and look at the human behind expectations. Malik beautifully captures Sofia's increasing frustration and grumpiness as the pressure around her augments. I found the characters in the book to be so real and raw. They are quirky in their own ways but they're real. For example the Pakistani parents, especially Sofia's, are rather typical in their way of being but they are still cute and funny. They're definitely not perfect, nor political correct, but Malik illustrates a vast array of different types of Muslims and personalities overall. There is a sense that everyone is just trying to do their best in their own way, just like in real life I guess. 

A little word on writing style before I discuss some of the themes raised in the novel. Malik's style is witty and humorous. It is also touching and the narrative voice is authentic. I found it interesting that she decided not to italicise the Punjabi words, practically adding them to the English language. Her style is also concise, and yet she is able to rapidly capture the awkwardness of a whole range of everyday (and not-so-everyday) situations. Her use of slang alongside the expectations of good standard English and correct grammar are not only realistic but reflect the fluid nature of language and what its use says about us. 

In terms of the themes in the novel, I have to say I found that Malik provided a rich variety of valuable material. Not only was she brave but she was brutally honest in raising so many of the issues that exist in the Muslim Asian community but aren't necessarily acknowledged or dealt with appropriately. This romantic comedy managed to raise these issues carefully, delicately and tastefully and despite the gravity of some of the matters, allowed one to laugh or at least take a moment to think about them. Just to name a few of the issues raised, we have racism, sexism, colourism, islamaphobia, culture conflicts, difficulties with in-laws, exoticism, polygamy, homosexuality, misunderstandings concerning religiosity and infertility amongst some of the main ones that struck me. However what I loved about this book was that it was perfectly honest about these issues and didn't hide them. I think it was my first time reading about a homosexual Muslim in fiction in a sympathetic fashion, and I felt Malik did well in this respect as I found the story touching and important to be acknowledged amongst the Muslim community. 

Overall, I have to say that I was thoroughly pleased with the novel and glad it exists. I want to thank Malik for taking the time out to write it and doing such a good job. I'm also quite eager to begin reading the sequel, The Other Half of Happiness. I wanted to write these thoughts up before reading the sequel, in case I become disillusioned or disappointed as to where the story is taken. I'm secretly sacred of being disappointed again but also have pretty high expectations now too. This first book in itself is definitely one that, in its own way, has given a pretty authentic illustration of desi Muslim matrimonial issues in Britain without feeling the need to create a protagonist that chooses to compromise core Islamic values or practices to be more "relatable". I finally felt it was a novel that wasn't whitewashed but rather of genuine struggles Muslims faced in white (western) societies. Definitely a book I'd recommend, especially to fellow young Muslim women.