Older(ish) Book Review: Home Fire by Kamila Shamsie

My wee review: Home Fire by Kamila Shamsie is a post-9/11 novel about three siblings in the UK living with the legacy of a terrorist father and navigating the complex domestic and geopolitics of the "war on terror." I definitely learned from these characters, but I wanted to hear more from the women, and less hyperbolic stunts toward the end.

A few weeks ago, I attended my first ever University of Toronto college book sale, specifically the Trinity College Used Book Sale (which occurs shortly after another well-loved sale, the Victoria College Used Book Sale). If you live in Toronto and love books, these are fabulous events. Picture ivy-covered collegiate buildings in autumn, as the leaves are turning, and then walking into old great halls filled to the brim with used books, somewhat organized, and ridiculously cheap. Heaven!

The beautiful Trinity College, beckoning readers in to get lost in a sea of books! (credit)

Within my stack of 7 books (total cost under $30!!!), I picked up Home Fire, by Kamila Shamsie, at first because of the beautiful colourful cover, and then because the premise and accolades sounded promising.

Published in 2017, this book tells the story of Isma and her two twin siblings who have been orphaned for several years, living in London. Isma is ready to set free and start a PhD program in the US, but her family's ties to terrorism (through their father), embroils her family into domestic "homeland security" politics and geopolitics as well.

What I loved:

The start of the book really held a lot of promise for me. It was told from the perspective of the older sibling, Isma, as she finally pursues her dream of PhD studies in the US. I found her to be a very likeable and insightful character, and I wish we heard more from her throughout the novel.

The book also paints a stark and sometimes harrowing picture of the realities of living as a Muslim woman in a Western country, particularly if (for whatever reason) you and your family are considered to be 'of interest' by authorities. The interrogations at the airports, the fear of googling certain terms, the

pretty cover, pretty candle (credit)

cautiousness you must exhibit when interacting with people in power....as a White person, I knew some of these realities on an intellectual level, but having it described in such vivid detail hit on a different level.

What I loved less:

As I mentioned, I wanted to hear more from Isma, and also her younger sister, Aneeka, who we only learn about through the perspectives and narration of male characters (her love interest and her brother). What started off as a promising novel about women's perspectives on navigating religions, family, and geopolitics, ended up being mostly about the men in their lives. The women, in many ways, drive the story and the plot, yet we mostly hear from them through the men's voices.

As well, the author draws inspiration from the Greek tragedy of Antigone, which I wasn't very familiar with; perhaps if I was, some of the plot points wouldn't have bothered me as much. But in the context of a novel meant to be about the realities of family, religion, and terrorism/the war on terror, some of the tragic events toward the end felt like theatrical stunts, and hard to believe.

Final thought:

This book is a very good memento from a particular time in global politics when Western countries were navigating how to fight terror both abroad and domestically, and the ensuing racism, discrimination, and violation of human rights that Muslim populations faced. As a novel, though, I wanted more from the female characters, in their own voices, and a more believable, less Greek tragedy-esque plot.