In this 224-page-long memoir, Huma Qureshi writes about the challenges of growing up as a brown, British, Muslim woman, losing her father in her early twenties and the challenges of marrying a rather unsuitable white man who converted to Islam. The memoir is also about Huma creating her identity as an individual woman.

I thought this was going to be feel-good, cosy book to dive into, but instead it was an impossibly boring book. I felt as if I was cornered by a nosy relative at a family gathering who went on and on and on about her life.

The actual story is nice, but I think this would have much more interesting if it were an article instead of a book because there really wasn’t much to fill 200-odd pages. I did appreciate bits about the writer creating her identity and becoming her own woman, but all in all it was quite lacklustre.
The structure also felt a little haphazard. And it just felt like it she was going out of her way to justify cultural norms.. when it was totally unnecessary? Maybe because I’m a brown, Indian girl, I didn’t need all that context, but it still felt like it was a lot.

Then there’s this awkward bit about using water instead of toilet paper… like umm why? (This comes from someone who has no inhibitions talking about poop btw, it just felt awkward and pointless.)

I received a review copy from NetGalley in exchange for my honest review.