“My father is both dead and alive. I do not have a grammar for him. He is in the past, present and future. Even if I had held his hand, and felt it slacken, as he exhaled his last breath, I would still, I believe, every time I refer to him, pause to search for the right tense. I suspect many men who have buried their fathers feel the same. I am no different. I live, as we all live, in the aftermath.”

A lyrical memoir that buried itself deep in my heart. The way Matar explored not only his family’s loss but also the various exiles and searches of home he experienced was so gripping. He also delved into Libyan history I was only partially aware of, including the genocide Mussolini perpetuated against Libyans. Though it took me a long time to read, it still felt like a sprint. Every chapter was purposeful, and I will be sitting with the impact for a long time.