The storyline is very simple, and sometimes predictable, HOWEVER the beauty of the book relies in its characters as well as in the immersive setting, rather than the story itself. An easy but captivating reading about an arranged marriage, a view in the Ghanaian rich elitism, and different spins on feminism with various character making bold yet VERY different choices.
This is a debut novel by Peace Adzo Medie and I will definitely read her next works, as I loved her writing style, attaching characters and her ability to bring you anywhere she’d like, making you seeing and smelling and tasting all of the places - AND foods, I mean OMG the foooood - she writes about. Only hoping the book she’ll write next will be a little longer. Or maybe we will be gifted a sequel to this one ? Even better, why not a prequel told by the point of view of “the woman” ? - just putting this there 💁‍♀️👀

Soooo… I didn’t like it.
That’s it, I’ve said it, I didn’t like it.
I’ve only managed to reach the end of it, because the writing was good, as well as the pace. However, there is a big element to it that made me say “I don’t like it” : it’s toxic. The main relationship portrayed in the novel is toxic from the beginning till the very end of the book, as well as the other relationships, included friendships.
While reading this book, I couldn’t say what was its aim. Telling a passionate love story? Condemn such toxic conducts ? I honestly could not say, and this is what spoiled the reading for me, while I enjoyed the writing itself (very fluid dialogues, nice descriptions of characters etc.)

 I was expecting so much from this book, as I love dystopian stories. Unluckily, I have to say it was a huge disappointment.
While the synopsis got me highly excited, I then found the writing flat, Lea (the main character) is quite irritating all the way through the story, while Anja (the other protagonist), who seemed way more interesting, had significantly less space in the book.
In addition to that, if the power structures and dynamics in dystopian novels usually make me feel anxious about the future of the characters, it was not the case for Suicide Club, as the author made it quite clear that the group of “rebels” were too powerful and rich to be actually in danger and were practically left alone. 
Overall, if I had to choose only one word to describe this reading for me it would be underwhelming. 

If you’re looking for a short but fierce reading, with an interesting and unique structure, queer characters and perspective, unapologetic writing … look no more, “Slum Virgin” got it all!
The chronology of the events could appear a little confusing at the beginning, but it becomes clearer and clearer as you dig into it. If you’ve read and liked “Insurrecto” by Gina Apostol, it’s a very similar (but more linear) structure. If in “Insurrecto” you have a interpreter correct and adjust the script of a filmmaker, here you have one of the two protagonist adding notes to the manuscript of the other, creating highly similar dynamics between the characters.
This alternance of point of view allow the reader to see the events from two vastly different perspectives, mainly highlighting class differences between the two characters.
Short but unforgettable, right to the point, it’s one of those stories that won’t leave you for a very long time.

 

Ce livre m’a laissée confuse et intriguée au même temps.

D’un côté, j’ai eu du mal à vraiment comprendre qu’est-ce que j’étais en train de lire : le roman se passe en l’espace d’une seule journée, « un lundi comme un autre » comme le répète plusieurs fois le protagoniste et narrateur Milos Kan, mais qui n’est pas du tout un lundi ordinaire. De l’autre côté, j’ai été captivée par le style de cet auteur si cru, violent ainsi que fragile, lucide et fou …

Milos Kan est un albinos guinéen, mais ce n’est pas là le focus du roman, bien que son statut d’albinos soit de temps à autre abordé par le personnage, mais pas en tant que problématique sociale, mais plutôt en tant qu’une des multiples fragilités du personnage et de sa quête d’identité personnelle. D’un côté, Milos qui se noie dans l’alcool et dans les femmes qu’il séduit facilement, de l’autre Milos qui insulte et tape sa femme. Bien qu’il soit difficile pour moi de me retrouver dans certains de ses comportements, il est très simple de comprendre son désir viscéral de remplir le vide qu’il sent en lui, de trouver « le vrai amour » et de se trouver une identité qui aille au-delà de son être albinos ou de son identité professionnelle.

J’ai été complètement fascinée par la plume de William Sassine, par sa violence mixte à tendresse, et par sa complète sincérité dans la manière de nous dévoiler les pensées les plus intimes de Milos, et donc de l’auteur lui-même. En effet, le personnage de Milos est sans doute en partie autobiographique : un parallèle entre William Sassine, né d’un père libanais maronite et d’une mère guinéenne musulmane, et l’albinos Milos de ce romain paraît assez évidente, et on peut imaginer que les sentiments de Milos soient un reflets des sentiments de l’auteur lui même. 

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This book left me confused and intrigued at the same time.

On the one hand, I found it hard to really understand what I was reading: the novel takes place in the space of a single day, "a Monday like any other," as the protagonist and narrator Milos Kan repeats several times, but it is no ordinary Monday at all. On the other hand, I was captivated by the style of this author so raw, violent as well as fragile, lucid and crazy ...

Milos Kan is a Guinean albino, but this is not the focus of the novel, although his albino status is occasionally addressed by the character, but not as a social issue, but rather as one of the multiple frailties of the character and his quest for personal identity. On the one hand, Milos who drowns in alcohol and in women he easily seduces, on the other hand Milos who insults and hits his wife. Although it is difficult for me to find myself in some of his behaviors, it is very simple to understand his visceral desire to fill the emptiness he feels inside, to find "true love" and to find an identity that goes beyond his albino being or his professional identity.

I was completely fascinated by William Sassine's pen, by his mixed violence with tenderness, and by his complete sincerity in the way he reveals to us the most intimate thoughts of Milos, and therefore of the author himself. Indeed, the character of Milos is undoubtedly partly autobiographical: a parallel between William Sassine, born of a Lebanese Maronite father and a Guinean Muslim mother, and the albino Milos of this Roman seems quite obvious, and one can imagine that Milos' feelings are a reflection of the feelings of the author himself.

 

 

Hijabistan is the second book published by Pakistani author Sabyn Javeri.

In this anthology made of 16 short stories, the Hijab is used as a metaphor to explore the relations of muslim women towards men, society, their sexuality and their own selves. 

All of the stories together shatter any western construct and prejudice about the hijab and more generally about the muslim woman. Each character has her or his own relation with the hijab, and with all of this piece of clothing can represent (oppression, freed, piousness, conformation to social rules, refuge…), and each unique story succeeds in breaking the duality that often surrounds the debate about the hijab and the freedom or lack of it that it can represent. This book beautifully shatters this black or white vision we have in non-muslim societies into a million pieces puzzles, showing us the many different lives muslim women choose for themselves, and how little in the end the hijab itself is responsible for any of it. Some of the women in Sabyn Javeri’s stories feel oppressed by it, others find refuge in it and others find pride in wearing it. At the end, what makes a woman free or oppressed, is not the hijab itself, of course, but for those who still believe it is that simple this book will hopefully make them realise it is not and that (hold your breath here), muslim women are before anything else PEOPLE, and as such they have their own feelings, opinions, desires and fears … And even if it might seem unthinkable to some: all of those feelings are not dictated by a piece of clothing (sarcasm intended).

Each story is beautifully written, and they explore women of different backgrounds and social classes. Some of the stories also explore the Pakistani diaspora in England which was quite interesting to read. 

I absolutely loved Hijabistan and Sabyn Javeri writing, and I will for sure also read her first book, and then I will impatiently wait until she will write some more... 

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Hijabistan est le deuxième livre publié par l'autrice pakistanaise Sabyn Javeri.

Dans cette anthologie composée de 16 nouvelles, le Hijab est utilisé comme une métaphore pour explorer les relations des femmes musulmanes envers les hommes, la société, leur sexualité et leur propre personne. 

Les histoires du livre brisent toute construction occidentale et tout préjugé sur le hijab et plus généralement sur la femme musulmane. Chaque personnage a sa propre relation avec le hijab, et avec tout ce que ce vêtement peut représenter (oppression, libération, piété, conformation aux règles sociales, refuge...), et chaque histoire réussit à briser la dualité qui entoure souvent le débat sur le hijab et la liberté ou l'absence de liberté que ça peut représenter. Ce livre brise de façon magnifique cette vision en noir ou blanc que nous avons dans les sociétés non musulmanes en un puzzle d'un million de pièces, nous montrant les nombreuses vies différentes que les femmes musulmanes choisissent pour elles-mêmes, et combien le hijab lui-même est finalement peu responsable de tout cela. Certaines femmes des histoires de Sabyn Javeri se sentent opprimées par le hijab, d'autres s'y réfugient et d'autres encore sont fières de le porter. À la fin, ce qui rend une femme libre ou opprimée, ce n'est pas le hijab lui-même, bien sûr, mais pour ceux qui croient encore qu'il est si simple, ce livre leur fera comprendre, espérons-le, qu'il ne l'est pas et que (retenez votre souffle ici), les femmes musulmanes sont avant tout des PERSONNES, et qu'en tant que telles, elles ont leurs propres sentiments, opinions, désirs et craintes ... Et même si cela peut sembler impensable pour certains : tous ces sentiments ne sont pas dictés par un vêtement (sarcasme oblige).

Chaque histoire est magnifiquement écrite et explore des femmes de milieux et de classes sociales différents. Certains des récits explorent également la diaspora pakistanaise en Angleterre, ce qui était assez intéressant à lire. 

J'ai absolument adoré l'écriture de Hijabistan et Sabyn Javeri, et il est certain que je vais aussi lire son premier livre, puis j'attendrai avec impatience qu'elle en écrive d'autres...