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(1.5/5). I would’ve loved to like this book but sadly the writing felt like poor YA, and I felt there to be endless, superfluous descriptions that not only failed to serve the plot but at times made no sense. The “pick me girl�� vibe of the narrator was frustrating. The character development felt rushed and dissatisfying at the end. The revelations seemed surface level.

To zoom out, I’m disappointed that publishers keep bookshelves stocked with narratives that draw such a distinct and regressive lines between the west and the east, her “traditional�� “violent�� afghan family (her words not mine), and the “modern�� world of Berlin. A more thoughtful narrator would weave the threads of the intimate partner violence she experienced with Marlowe, her white partner, and the violence she was exposed to at home demonstrating that violence is sadly a human, not cultural or even individual phenomena. Instead the author chose to let these two narratives of violence hang in the air with no critical interrogation, thoroughly missing the opportunity to challenge these dichotomies of east/west which beget only more violence.

While I am sympathetic that some people experience cultural difference in such stark ways, and I believe this is true of the narrator, I am disappointed that these seem to be the only narratives which are published in the mainstream. As a Turkish-American, I am saddened to see such one dimensional narratives of the Muslim world again and again. It reminded me of the disappointment and frustration I felt after reading Hijab Butch Blues. I know it is unfair to place the higher expectations on non-western writers than western ones, it just would’ve felt really nice to like this book.