4.5 ( )

The writing was beautiful. The story had a lot of emotional depth to it. Most of the characters were somewhat interesting. But overall the story was meh. The story is told in two parts, each focusing on a different character. The main story is centered around Nour, a prepubescent girl trying to cope with the death of her father while adjusting to life in war-torn Syria with the rest of her family. The second half of this harrowing tale is set hundreds of years prior and focuses on the adventures of Rawiya, a teenage girl who traverses the globe with her teacher the intrepid, extraordinary map-maker al-Irisdi. Each story alternates every couple of pages, and that, unfortunately, is the worst part of this book because the emotional baggage of worrying about Nour's family is lost each time Rawiya's story is reintroduced. It just doesn't fit. In addition to that, the focus is on the wrong person, Nour. The use of synesthesia would have been much more interesting if it was employed more tactfully and sparingly throughout the story. If the story was written in a third person perspective and only focused on Nour's family and not her, maybe I would have finished reading the book.

Because the subject matter of this book deserves attention, I wanted to love it. Unfortunately, I found the execution lacking so I was less than enthralled.

There are two timelines. One begins in 2011. After the death of her father, 12-year-old Nour moves with her mother, a cartographer, and two sisters, Huda and Zahra, from Manhattan to Homs, Syria. When their home is bombed, the family is forced to flee. They become refugees travelling from country to country. To comfort herself, Nour remembers a fantastical tale her father used to tell her; this story, set in the twelfth century, is the second timeline. Sixteen-year-old Rawiya disguises herself as a boy and runs away to become an apprentice for a legendary mapmaker, Al-Idrisi. Travelling with him as he charts trade routes, she encounters mythical beasts and fights in epic battles.

There are many parallels between the two storylines. Fatherless girls disguised as boys travel the same geographical region in the company of a mapmaker. Both encounter many dangers on their journeys, dangers which are sometimes life-threatening. Both girls become heroines of sorts. Sometimes there seems to be too much of an effort to match events in the two stories (the roc’s attack on a ship and the shelling of a ferry) so the plot feels contrived. The intersection of the two narratives at the end also seems forced.

I found Nour to be a somewhat unconvincing narrator. For a pre-teen, she sometimes behaves like a child and at other times speaks and thinks like someone much older, someone much wiser than her years. She knows little Arabic but then seems to understand it? The book is heavy on symbolism - maps, salt, stars, stones - yet Nour understands the meanings? Nour thinks, “I want to make something good out of what was bad, something precious out of something small. Like the raw blue stone Abu Sayeed showed me, ugly and humble in the earth.” Of course the same can be said of Rawiya who shows amazing Rambo-like skill in battles (“She fired six stones, one after another, gashing her attackers’ shins and bruising their bellies until they dropped to the ground), but I am more willing to suspend disbelief when reading a fantastical tale.

Nour’s mother is also problematic. Why would she endanger her daughters by bringing them back to a country on the verge of civil war? When waiting to take a ferry, this educated woman doesn’t think of buying tickets for the passage? When Huda suffers an injury, Mama doesn’t behave with as much concern as I’d expect until things become dire. Then she sends off two daughters on their own without explaining where they should go? During their travels she somehow finds time to work on a map and then gives it to Nour without explanation? By being less than straight-forward, she endangers Nour and Zahra.

The style is lyrical with a lot of descriptions made vivid because of Nour’s synesthesia. I’d love to know how many times a colour is mentioned. The problem is the narrative becomes weighed down with too much description.

The same is true of the explanation of warring factions in Rawiya’s story: “In those days, the lands were pockmarked by the bloody snarls of disputes between the Seljuqs the Fatimids, and the Crusaders” and “the Fatimid Empire feared not only the Kingdom of Jerusalem and Nur ad-Din’s new stronghold in ash-Sham, but also Berber forces massing in the west near Barneek and the Gulf of Sidra – the mighty Almohads.” So much information can be overwhelming. What would have helped is a map.

The plot is also suffocated by characters lapsing into profound words of wisdom. Al-Idrisi says, “’Stories are powerful . . . but gather too many of the words of others in your heart, and they will drown out your own’” and Khaldun repeats, “’But once you’ve heard too many voices, you start to forget which one is your own.’” Huda repeats almost the same to her sister: “’it’s important to know who you are. You can get lost. . . . You have to listen to your own voice.’” Nour thinks, “Things change too much. We’ve always got to fix the maps, repaint the borders of ourselves.” Abu Sayeed translates an old man’s words, “’stories ease the pain of living, not dying. People always think dying is going to hurt. But it does not. It’s living that hurts us.’” Rawiya observes that “It was a noble thing . . . to seek beauty in a calloused world.” The sheer number of these pearls of wisdom does not ring true.

I’ve read other books which I think better convey the plight of Syrian refugees. Two of the most noteworthy are Silence is a Sense by Layla AlAmmar and What Strange Paradise by Omar El Akkad. Perhaps the constant switching between two narratives kept me from totally engaging with the characters. And one thing that struck me is that the flight of Nour’s family at the beginning seems almost too easy: they simply walk into a hospital in Damascus and get medical attention? They never encounter roadblocks when driving across Syria? Strangers virtually adopt them?

As I stated at the beginning, I wanted to love this book but I found it a plodding read at times. I had a difficult time staying with it; putting it down was easy. I stuck with it only because it was a book club choice. Hopefully others will enjoy it more because the experiences of Syrian refugees and those from other countries need to be known.

Note: Please check out my reader's blog (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/) and follow me on Twitter (https://twitter.com/DCYakabuski). ( )

I really pine for what this story could have been. Based on reviews, it seems like a lot of people are perfectly satisfied with it. Maybe it’s a love-it or hate-it kinda thing?

For me, the present-day protagonist was completely unbelievable. Far too philosophical for her age and the synesthesia should have been fascinating, but it was obnoxious instead. Some scenes didn’t make sense at all. Like I actually wanted to throw the book when Nour was running through the city. The eye rolls only increased from that point on and I constantly wondered what editor thought the writing passed muster. A careful editor with constructive criticism could have made this story truly tremendous.

I was much more engrossed in the ancient story and impressed by its research. The connection to Al-Idrisi is the reason I was interested in this book from the start. I cannot overstate how much I wanted to love this one and how disappointed I am by it. It’s been a year and a half since I read it and still I think about what a missed opportunity it is. Parallels to The Kite Runner are not justified here...but could have been!

I want to be excited for the author’s new book, but I’m weary. I don’t know if I can handle the purple prose again.
( )

After the death of her father, for reasons Nour doesn't understand, her mother moves them from New York back to Syria. The timing couldn't be more tragic: shortly after their arrival civil unrest commences, which leads swiftly to the Syrian Civil War, forcing Nour and her family to flee the conflict when their home is reduced to rubble. Throughout the hardships of their flight to safety, Nour compares her journey to that of 12th-century travelers Rawiya and al-Idrisi, who circumnavigated the Mediterranean in pursuit of creating the most detailed world map of its time.

This book is beautifully written and difficult to put down. Readers will immediately sense the trajectory of the dual timelines as Joukhadar deftly interweaves the fantastical past with the all-too-real present. I enjoyed detecting the similarities, though be forewarned that the contemporary plot is absolutely gut-wrenching. Highly recommended. ( )