This is one of those books that I will forever use as a marker in my life. The main character asked questions of herself that I am asking myself now.
There are many literary references that I didn't fully understand, but, as a former resident in Jerusalem, the political and social setting was crystal clear. These people are caged by conventions. They also break free of them in their own way. They click into place like puzzle pieces and hint at multiple untold stories.
I thought the ending was a bit cloying, but the journey there was grand. This book is a far more sophisticated version of The Storied Life of AJ Fikry and a culture connect to The Story of Zahra.

Beautifully written and from a perspective I am not accustomed to hearing from. While at times the stream of consciousness style became frustrating, there was so much that was insightful and lovely that it was really worth the read.

From being occupied by France, Israel and Syria at various points in history, Lebanon is almost as strong a character in this novel as Aaliya, who comes fully alive in the foreground of Beirut. Alameddine is clearly a master of language (several, apparently), and I found his prose natural and enjoyable to read.

This is heavy on the book references, and since I've not read most of those referenced, the result was ponderous. I was thoroughly engaged by the discussions of Beiruti experience over the decades, and the moments when Aaliya connected with her neighbors or her best friend, but the long stretches of solitary musings were more difficult to get through. A bit uneven, though I was mostly won over by the end.

3.5/5

I thought art would make me a better human being, but I also thought it would make me better than you.

I normally don't have an issue with suspension of disbelief. Visions of long disappeared WWII Japanese soldiers? Alright then. Dictators who control the course of meteors and live long enough to see one particular hundred years reiteration pass them by more than once? Sure. Ghost babies, telepaths, and tiger fleshed-mirrors? Come at me. However, there's metaphysical intimations at the supernatural, and then there's an alienated soul unerringly finding their way through a canon of various arts that, for all intents and purposes, excludes them entirely. I'd understand it if there had been a long and arduous "Western' education and/or the Internet, but the combination of a book-selling occupation and an eccentric records store owner in the midst of a civil war in the Middle East does not a Eurocentric indoctrination make.

So. There's a lot of name drops, interspersed with a life that, while informative, does little to explain why someone would forgo social relationships for sinking into an abstract world that hates their gender and/or their skin color so much. I don't recall Camus coming up, so perhaps the nameless Arab of The Stranger was too much (consulting a GR list, I see that I was wrong, but it was another Camus title that was name dropped, so my question still holds), but to pass by Anna Karenina or Tomorrow in the Battle Think on Me with nary a quiver? Like I said, autodidactism with minimal if any echo chambers is not being trained on certain books until you'll do it for the money or the fame or both, so if this Aaliya's so sassy, why isn't she laughing or raging her ass off at some of the shenanigans some of this women characters pull off at the bid of their male authors? Culture clash? Lost in translation? Aren't those supposed to harm the love of "true" literature rather than help it? I get the Pessoa and Lear and Proust resonance (although the antisemitic filth that is comparing both the God of the Old Testament and the God of Israel to Nazis is making me wonder why this person thinks they have any right to name dropping Jewish authors, especially when they don't bother to attack any other settler states), but I really want to see 2666 or Giovanni's Room or The Waves happen to someone with high school level Westernization at their disposal. Before you get your panties in the twist, look closely: I'm not calling this character stupid. I'm merely deconstructing the concept of universal literature, cause unless Aaliaya's high school was on steroids, you don't just stumble across [b:Nightwood|53101|Nightwood|Djuna Barnes|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1298480120s/53101.jpg|828739] and [b:Memoirs of Hadrian|12172|Memoirs of Hadrian|Marguerite Yourcenar|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1416448158s/12172.jpg|1064574] for funsies and love them forever more. You do it cause you're led to it like so many others before you, and the fact that you find it more accommodating than other so called scions of the written word is accessory. There was maybe two or three pages devoted to Arabic works, one of which was the Quran. I find that sad.

I've passed the point of my reading timeline when I'd read this to indulge in the feeling of self-congratulation. Outside of that book here that I've also read and that author there that I've yet to get to and that absolute favorite over yonder which I also share, I found some bits of war, smidges of domestic drama, and sprinkles of the mystery of female kinship, all of which would've been great for wholesome human feeling if [b:The Color Purple|11486|The Color Purple|Alice Walker|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1386925078s/11486.jpg|3300573] hadn't been textually equated to human weakness. Certain references were fleshed out enough to enhance the text, and it never got to the point of hipster vengeance that was [b:The Namesake|33917|The Namesake|Jhumpa Lahiri|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1480106986s/33917.jpg|16171], but still. It's great that you like these popularly ivory towered-books, it really is. However, if all you can do for most of them is paint a vague picture of some conjugal halo floating above them, I begin to question whether you understand what you're talking about, or whether you've even read the works in the first place. I'll assume Alameddine has, but I'm not reading Alameddine's autobiography, now am I. Still,
I appreciate the metafictional meditation on my own literary pursuits, and a few choice quotes,
of course.

Who reads translations anymore? Mr. Brodsky misdirected his Russian anger. Instead of attacking Garnett, he should have bashed people who don't read Russian authors, or German, or Arabic, or Chinese, but choose Westernized imitations instead.
Before she began her missionary work, only the rare English speaker who knew Russian could read those writers. She introduced so many of us, those who can read English but not the original language, to Heaven's passions. So Joseph and Vladimir can rant, and they do, ever so elegantly and eloquently, but Constance's zeal has been a blessing.

I don't even have words...

Every page of this book is worth a discussion. Truly "a love letter to literature and its power to define who we are." My friend discussed this book at her book club, I regret missing it.

initially when I read this book I didn't really connect. there seemed to be a lack of story. but I went on and eventually finished this it has become one of my favourite books. I love the simplicity of this book and the portrayal of aaliyah. I felt a strong connection to her in the sense we all have our own little world's we like to get lost in and all seem a little crazy to everyone else. amazing book

Very original yet "normal." If you're not a classical literary nerd (I mean it in the beat way possible and with envy), you might get bored or not understand about half of the book. Still, the writing and the narrator are worth making it through the whole book.