Heartbreaking. ( )

Romance

I first read this after reading "Tell Me How A Crush Should Feel." I was mesmerized by every sentence of the book and my heart ached. This was even as I delighted in being swept into a setting and circumstances vicariously that I knew nothing about. On second read, I cautiously approached the book. I'd just reread "Tell Me How A Crush Should Feel" and had been unimpressed and sad about it. I was a little worried, as well as expecting, it to happen again. First, I noticed how beautiful and tasteful the cover was: a shot of two hands reaching for one another with some fingers entwined, set against a black background. It was superimposed with red text and red stencil patterns of flowers. I wonder if they're supposed to be dahlias. The supposed-dahlia effect continues in the book, bordering top and bottom of new chapter pages in black and white, as opposed to the cover's red on black cover scheme. This simple artistic touch was a wonderful decision that had a great effect. It did its best to entrance me again to the text. The first time, this worked. Now, it did not. I wanted it to, though.

Other reviews are far more thorough, concise, or descriptive, or often all three, in pointing out why this book was lackluster. I have a vivid imagination and strong emotions, so I put a -lot- of stuff in this book that on second read, simply wasn't there. I pardoned a lot of things then, too. Now, I rolled my eyes more than once and grumbled. Both lead characters are stubborn, self-absorbed, and unlikeable. Sahar is brokenhearted and her emotions are clouding her judgment. I have been there. This led to her being willfully ignorant of what's so clearly in front of her--it's over. Nasrin's ostensibly moving on due to an arranged marriage, but never misses an opportunity to jerk Sahar around. Halfway through the book, I realized I was expecting adult boundaries and actions out of a heartbroken, resourceful teenager. I sighed at myself and kept reading, relieved when Sahar did not go through with certain decisions. It seemed at times that she thought less of those who did make the decisions, or maybe she was judgmental in certain ways and I was annoyed. In a lot of ways, these girls had very little say in how their lives would turn out. This book is ultimately about one's trouble accepting it, while the other moves on quickly.

Nasrin's brother Dariush is a skeezebag. I don't consider the following to be a spoiler because it's a blink and you miss it moment: half a sentence mentions one of the servants' daughters goes to university. I was delighted and intrigued. A paragraph or so is dedicated to Nasrin's and Dariush's mother's fury that the servant's daughter proposes marriage to Dariush and wants to support him financially since he is too lazy to do it himself. The mom kicks the servant and the daughter out. Further on in the book, Dariush smiles at Sahar so she can tell he had sex with the servant's daughter. So that's a leering smile, he didn't bother to try and--he just--he--no regard for her financial hardship, he just wanted her body. Rrgh. Skeezebag.

i was touched by an act of selflessness Sahar performs near the end that I admit I didn't see coming: one character leaves, and she urges them to take another character with, who otherwise couldn't get out. The last twenty pages hint to new possibilities for Sahar at her university, and my heart leapt. Sahar ostensibly quashes them the moment Nasrin whines about a new event anyone could have seen coming. I gritted my teeth as I read the final pages. Eager for the possibility of Sahar to have a character arc, I grumbled when she demonstrated she hadn't learned anything at all and once again, gave Nasrin everything she wanted because Nasrin cried at not getting her way. The book ended with Nasrin curled on her side on her bed, dramatically weeping to Sahar because she was overwhelmed to find out that adult actions have adult consequences. What a letdown. ( )

teen fiction (LGBTQA-lesbian makes friends with transgender group, set in modern Iran). #ownvoices #weneeddiversebooks ( )

What was this? I don't understand how the reader is supposed to be compelled by this story. Nasrin, constantly referred to as a "spoiled brat," is exactly that. I think this would have been a decent story if Nasrin was in some way redeemable. I'm glad Farizan shed light on some of the ways homosexuality is dealt with in contemporary Iran--the subplots were really good--but dang, Nasrin. I'm so glad Sahar didn't end up with her and ultimately realized how toxic she was. I hope Sahar has a very happy, fulfilling life. I'm not sure what to make of this, and I really loved hearing to Sara Farizan on See Something Say Something, so I'm looking forward to reading more of her work and hoping this might have been debut novel weirdness.

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Read Harder: YA author that identifies as LGBTQ ( )