[identity profile] seekingferret.livejournal.com
47 Zionist Colonialism in Palestine by Fayez A. Sayegh

A 1965 pamphlet by one of the founders of the PLO. I do not intend to get into a flamewar over the book on this forum. However, if you're curious what I thought and would like to get into a good faith discussion, I might be willing to take it to email.
[identity profile] wordsofastory.livejournal.com
42. Diana Abu-Jaber, Origin

Abu-Jaber is totally my new favorite author. She has an amazing, vivid way of describing things, particularly places, which I adore. In this book, the setting is Syracuse, New York in the middle of winter, and everything about that is so exactly described: the particular blues and white of winter light, early twilights, lead-colored skies, too much wind, the look of snow falling in the early morning, black ice on the streets, the feelings of isolation, claustrophobia, and loneliness that winter often inspires, cold air in your lungs.

The plot is about Lena, who works as a fingerprint examiner in a police office. There's a case involving a dead baby that the medical examiner ruled to be SIDS, but which the mother swears was a murder, saying that she heard footsteps in her empty house just before finding that her baby had died. Meanwhile, Lena has been doing research into her own past: she was adopted at three, and has only strange, vague memories of the time before that- rain forests, monkeys, a plane crash- and no one seems to know if these memories are real, metaphorical, or just a three-year-old's daydreams.

Everything eventually turns out to be connected, of course, but the revelations still surprised me. This novel is completely different in voice from everything else Abu-Jaber has written; it's almost a thriller, with a tense, brooding tone that fits perfectly with the mysteries and the cold winter. Highly recommended.
[identity profile] wordsofastory.livejournal.com
35. Diana Abu-Jaber, Crescent

Oh, this book. I wish I could quote the entire thing at you; the language is gorgeous and perfect and there are so many bits of it floating in my head. This is the most wonderful thing I've read in ages. Okay, just a few quotes:

Describing Sir Richard Burton: He did, however, like so many Victorians, have an aptitude for ownership, an attachment to things material and personal, like colonies and slaves- he especially enjoyed owning slaves while living in someone else's house.

Two people discussing a fairy tale: I didn't know that business about the Queen of Sheba. That she was so beautiful. That it could make you go crazy.
It was one of her more salient characteristics.


Describing food: The potatoes are soft as velvet, the gravy satiny. It is as if she can taste the life inside all those ingredients: the stem that the cranberries grew on, the earth inside the bread, even the warm blood that was once inside the turkey.

The food porn in this book is amazing. I was left with a deep craving for hummus with olive oil, mjaddarah, lamb with garlic... all the amazing Middle Eastern food Abu-Jaber describes.

I suppose I should actually describe what this book is about. Sirine is a mixed-race woman, her father Iraqi and her mother European-American, who was born and has never left Los Angeles. She works as the chef at a Lebanese restaurant in the Iranian section of LA, and lives with her uncle, who is a professor at a nearby college. When she meets Han, a writer in exile from Iraq, they start a relationship and she has to deal with questions of exile, home, secrets, and so on. Interspersed with and weaving through the main plot is a long-running story told by Sirine's uncle, supposedly about his cousin, but which reads more like a fairy tale or a Sufi parable (though the uncle insists that it has no moral), full of mermaids, djinns, the Mother of the Nile, and lost tribes of Bedouin. The book is set in 1999, which means the political situation is a bit different from today; I kept being confused until I figured out when it was set.

But a description of the plot doesn't do much to capture the book, since, really, relatively little happens in it. It's full of beautifully described ordinary moments, lush cooking scenes, vivid evocations of both LA and Iraq (having only been to LA once, I can't say how accurate those scenes are, though they're amazing to read. The Iraq scenes, though, captured exactly my memories of Syria and made me long to go for a visit). It can be hilariously funny at points (I loved the mythical Hal'Awud), though it's a fairly serious book overall. The language is so poetic that reading it made me feel dreamy and content.

This post is getting long, so let me just say that I highly, highly recommend this book. I'll be seeking out other things by the author.
[identity profile] rootedinsong.livejournal.com
29. Ten Things I Hate About Me, by Randa Abdel-Fattah

I liked this a lot more than Does My Head Look Big In This? Real, honest examination of passing, dual consciousness, and holding on to one's cultural identity.

One thing that got on my nerves about it was the protagonist's older sister, who is one of these "smart kids" and uses (or is portrayed as using) strings of big words that actually don't make much sense. That's a particular pet peeve of mine...

30. Persepolis (complete edition), by Marjane Satrapi

I really liked this. Comparing this to a lot of other books that portray authoritarian regimes, real or fictional, really illustrates for me one of the main things that [livejournal.com profile] 50books_poc is about: the viewpoint matters.

So many books depict the horrors of a regime and the devastation it wreaks on the citizens, emphasizing how resistance is crushed and the people's spirits are broken. This shows oppression, but not the breaking of spirits; it shows the little everyday resistances, the extent to which the regime does not control the people, the fact that the people are emphatically still human and life is still life.

And the book is not about that. It's about the author's own story.

31. No god but God: The Origins, Evolution, and Future of Islam, by Reza Aslan

I read this on [livejournal.com profile] sheafrotherdon's recommendation. I agree with her assessment: it's really beautifully written, really clear, and really engaging. (And I find most books of history to be excruciatingly boring.)

The author starts with a depiction of the society in which the Prophet Muhammad lived and goes on to explain the social and religious reforms that he championed, the reception of his message, and the evolution of Islamic thought, practice, and politics from then until the present day. I kept thinking, "Oh, that makes so much sense now!" or "Now I understand what people mean when they say..." (It shed a lot of light on books on Islam that I've previously reviewed here.)

At the end, he argues for a reformation within Islam - new ways of understanding the religion, formulations of an indigenous Islamic conception of democracy. (It actually reminded me a lot of what I said in my review of The Whale Rider - he doesn't think of it in terms of a conflict between Western conceptions of human rights and the traditions of Islam, but in terms of Islam evolving, reforming itself from within.)

Recommended.
[identity profile] rootedinsong.livejournal.com
13. River's Daughter, by Tasha Campbell ([livejournal.com profile] kittikattie)

I thought this was a lovely, simple story, with a sense of rootedness that many stories lack (rootedness in the land, in nature, in a culture where characters truly belong). I loved how the river was the protagonist's connection to her people and her true identity.

The ending threw me off balance a bit - I didn't expect the protagonist to kill one of her oppressors to ensure that the townspeople remained afraid of the river so that they would leave her people alone. I expected the book to end with her finding freedom, being content just to have escaped. But I could understand how violence could be required to keep the oppressors away.

14. Does My Head Look Big In This?, by Randa Abdel-Fattah

I kind of had to make myself keep reading this book. The protagonist got on my nerves - I dislike books about girly girls who are focused on boys, pop culture, shopping, their appearance, etc.

I warmed to her more in the second half of the book, when the focus was more on serious issues, and I didn't mind finishing it. But I still wouldn't read it again.
[identity profile] wordsofastory.livejournal.com
19. Tariq Ali, Shadows of the Pomegranate Tree

I really wanted to like this book. I was so excited for it. And then, sadly, it just didn't live up to my expectations. It's so disappointing when that happens!

Shadows of the Pomegranate Tree is set in 1500, just a few years after the Reconquest of the city-kingdom of Granada, the last of the Muslim kingdoms in the Iberian peninsula to fall to the Spanish Christians. Although the peace agreement signed at the time promised that Muslims could continue to practice their faith and speak Arabic, the tide has been turning against them; the novel opens with a scene of Arabic books being burnt. For Muslims in Granada, there are basically three choices: leave their home and move to Africa or the Middle East; convert to Christianity; or attempt to fight the Christians and take back their land (a pretty much hopeless cause, given the relative military strengths of the Muslims and Christians). The main focus of the story is one family of wealthy Muslims who are dealing with these changes and watching how it affects their friends and family. They debate these choices, some people choosing one and some another, and the novel shows the consequences of their decisions. Despite all this, there's a lot of upbeat and cheerful scenes in the novel, such as the courtship of a daughter of the family, or the youngest son's attempts to beat people at chess.

That's all fine: the plot is interesting, the characters are well-drawn. The problem I had with the book was the writing itself. It came off to me very much like a first draft. There were a lot of little not-quite-right phrasings, people abruptly appearing or disappearing from scenes, awkward dialogue, and historical details that seemed off (like the scene where the family is described as eating tomatoes and red chilis. Both of these plants are native to the Americas, and though Christopher Columbus did bring back some peppers from his second trip to the Americas, and so I suppose it's just possible, if unlikely, that they spread quickly enough to be a common food a mere seven years later, Europeans don't seem to encounter tomatoes until almost fifty years after this scene is set. I know this is a little nitpicky detail, but there were lots of things like this that bugged me). Overall, it just seemed like it needed the author to look over it another time.

I finished the book, and enjoyed parts of it, but I can't say that I liked it well enough to recommend it, though people who are less bothered by writing style than I am may have no problem. If anyone knows of any other books about Al-Andalus, I'd love to know! I do already have Ornament of the World on my reading list.
[identity profile] whereweather.livejournal.com
 #6.  Red Suitcase, Naomi Shihab Nye
1994, American Poets Continuum

Oh, this is... odd.  I really thought I had posted a longish review of this book last month, but it seems to have been devoured by the monsters that devour things in the ether.  Which is too bad.

It will be replaced, then, by a short-ish review now.  Naomi Shihab Nye is an American poet who lives in Texas; she was born to an American mother and a Palestinian father whose family had recently been dispossessed of their land.  This slim volume (I know -- received language, but it totally is) had been sitting on my shelf for a while.  Naomi Shihab Nye had been mentioned in a list of poets admired by some people I admire, so I brought it up to my room when the book caught my eye, and now (well, in April) I took the opportunity to read it.

I was... mildly disappointed.  I wanted to like her poems, and indeed I do like them, I enjoyed reading them while I was reading them (and this is not the case for every poet I read -- far from it).  But this work doesn't stick in my mind; I couldn't remember it later, when I tried.  I re-read a lot of the book, and still liked it, and still couldn't remember it later.  So it may be that I need, or like, or demand a more forceful poetry.  Possibly Nye is too subtle for me, or too mature.

But it is also true that much of her poetry made me feel comforted, somehow.  It made me feel a little like cool rain.  There is a lot of cool rain in April, and there are a lot of things out there that can make a person feel comforted but still don't deserve to be called art.  But this is not just chicken soup for the whatever.  Gentle rain is very valuable.

[identity profile] wordsofastory.livejournal.com
9. Tanita S. Davis, A La Carte

Lainey is a typical high school girl (if a bit shy) who dreams of being the first African-American vegetarian chef to have a TV show. Sim, a white boy who was her childhood best friend, has grown up to be the cool, rebellious kid. This book is about their relationship, and the ways it affects Lainey's relationship with her family and other friends, in between lovely descriptive passages of food porn. The book even includes recipes! Which look easy and tasty, and though I haven't tried out any yet, I very much plan to.

This book was very well-written, particularly in its depictions of characters and their connections. Everyone seemed wholly realized, with more depth than is typical in novels. The resolution of the book was not what I expected, but was realistic and complicated and honest and really fantastic. Very recommended.


10. Randa Abdel-Fattah, Ten Things I Hate About Me

At home, Jamilah is the youngest daughter of a Lebanese Muslim family living in Australia, with a hijab-wearing activist older sister, a high school drop-out older brother, and a heavily-accented, taxi-driving father. At school, blonde-haired (it's dyed) and blue-eyed (contacts) Jamie is very much not one of the "ethnics". The book is about the stress and emotions of maintaining this double-life, and how to find a resolution between the two.

I really, really, really liked this book. It was much more complicated than Does My Head Look Big In This? (if less funny), and it raised much more difficult questions. I loved the real problems Jamilah had to deal with, and the directions this book went. So good.
[identity profile] floriatosca.livejournal.com
1. The Arab Table by May S. Bsisu
I'm a big fan of cookbooks, because the chattier ones tend to give a lot of cultural context along with the recipes. This book definitely counts as one of the chattier ones. There's an introductory anecdote to go with each recipe, as well as sections on subjects like the culinary traditions of different parts of the Arab world and holiday customs (including a guide to Ramadan etiquette for non-Muslims). The recipes seemed pretty accessible to me, although not all of the ingredients are stuff you can find at your nearest supermarket or even your nearest internationally-leaning health food store (Bsisu does give mail-order sources in the back of the book), and the book includes some vegetarian recipes, which I appreciated.

2. Brown Girl In the Ring by Nalo Hopkinson
This was an interesting read, and very different from my previous experiences with urban fantasy (which leaned much more towards elves than orishas.) I really liked the world building in this. Post-apocalyptic Toronto felt like a real, plausible community and not just a place for the plot to happen. The story's supernatural aspects are grounded in Caribbean spirituality, which was an interesting change from the more European or Christian influenced cosmologies of a lot of the fantasy novels I've read. This book also got me interested in "Ti-Jean and His Brothers," which Hopkinson references in her author's notes.
[identity profile] wordsofastory.livejournal.com
I was away from the internet for most of the beginning of this year, and so I've written some short reviews for the books I read during that time. At the link are my reviews of:

1. Natsuo Kirino, Grotesque
2. Alexandre Dumas, Twenty Years After
3. Shereen Ratnagar, Trading Encounters: From the Euphrates to the Indus in the Bronze Age
4. Dalai Lama, How to Practice
5. Lalita Tademy, Cane River
6. Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, The Palace of Illusions
7. Wendy Lee, Happy Family
8. Randa Abdel-Fattah, Does My Head Look Big In This?

All reviews here!

I enjoyed all of them, but the short summary is: if you only read one, I recommend Does My Head Look Big In This?
sanguinity: woodcut by M.C. Escher, "Snakes" (Default)
[personal profile] sanguinity
(So. Freakin'. Far. Behind. On. My. Reviews.)

34. Alicia Erian, Towelhead.

I loved this all to pieces, and inhaled it in as close to a single sitting as my life allows. (I think it actually took something like four sittings, over the space of twelve hours or so.)

Jasira is thirteen, and surrounded by adults who think they're looking out for her, but are actually all betraying her. All of the adults suspect that all of the other adults are failing Jasira in assorted particular ways (and each of them is right in their suspicions about the others), but in their quest to be The One Thing Which Jasira Isn't Getting (while making absolutely sure to get what they themselves want from Jasira), they all perpetrate their own injuries and insults upon her.

(You know what these adults reminded me of? The adults in the Ramona books. Who were supposedly on Ramona's side, yet who betrayed her as casually and routinely as breathing.)

I could not read the Ramona books as a child, because Ramona was five and completely vulnerable to the adults. But Jasira is thirteen, and while she's still vulnerable, she has also learned the fine arts of deceit, of secrets, of playing adults off against each other, of playing them off against themselves. In the midst of all this adult betrayal and attempts to control and use her, Jasira starts carving out a space for herself: a space where she has agency, where she calls the shots, where she's the only one who knows everything that's going on.

I spent the entire book simultaneously rooting for Jasira ("You go! You show them that you're a person and they don't run the show!"), and cringing in terror for her. And also yelling at the adults to get with the program and take on the responsibilities of adulthood. (I can tell that I've somehow become a grown-up somewhere along the line, because I find myself thinking things like, "I know you have issues, everyone has issues, but there's a kid mixed up in all this which means that you don't get to make this about you.")

Some stuff I really liked about this book: mild spoilers )

Then there are things about the climax that, when I step back from the book, bother me a lot: far more serious spoilers )

So, in the end, I'm somewhat conflicted about the book. Even while loving it enough to have inhaled it in more-or-less one sitting, and to have refused to pick up another book for a full twenty-four hours because I was still too busy thinking about this one.

Do with that what you will.

(By the way, for those who chose not to read the spoiler-cuts, but who still want trigger warnings up-front: there's sexual predation upon a thirteen-year-old in this book. Just so you know.)

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