A Place for Us: A Review

Fatima Farheen Mirza’s stunningly well-written debut novel — a heartrending study of immigrant identity, of guilt and, most importantly, of the family — is a veritable tour de force

Rishik Suri
4 min readApr 11, 2019
(SJP, Hogarth)

A Place for Us is doubly special — it is the writing debut of author Fatima Farheen Mirza and the publishing debut of Emmy-winning actress Sarah Jessica Parker. Opening at a traditional nikah in an unnamed Californian town, the novel chronicles the life of an Indian-American Muslim family as they embrace the American Dream while staying mindful of their roots. Mirza writes with a maturity far ahead of her years — the characters are richly layered while the narration is vivid, if poignant.

The first part bears witness to wedding preparations for the eldest daughter, Hadia. A doctor, she is an assertive go-getter — or a “hustler”, if I may use the millennial term I throw about “irl” — while remaining the dutiful daughter that her “community” expects her to be. She is obedient and unwavering in her beliefs, while at the same time representing the voice of reason questioning the “preferential treatment” her errant brother receives by virtue of being a boy. She’s devoted to her “father’s God”, yet marries out of her community — emblematic, perhaps, of the new western Muslim. Her moral dilemmas set the mood for the story — as the story progresses, her halo fades revealing the true depth and complexity of her character. And herein lies Ms Mirza’s greatest talent: the ability to create compelling, beautifully-layered characters with conflicting values — not something you expect from a first-time, twenty-something author. It is easy to draw parallels between the author and Hadia, the former comes from a similar background as the latter and studied medicine just like her. Hadia’s narration, as a result, feels deeply intimate and her struggles resonate with all of us who grew up with “South Asian values.”

Photo by Ifrah Akhter on Unsplash

Hadia’s rebellious brother, Amar, the only son and youngest child, is the closest the book gets to having a protagonist. He is “difficult” as a child and wholly unsuited to the carrot-and-stick (mostly stick) approach to parenting that his father patronises. At the outset of the story, he has returned home for his sister’s wedding after three years of no contact with the family (having run away from home in his late teens). Mirza really shines in her description of the interactions of the wedding, testing the authenticity of the characters’ connection. Through his struggles, the author rather skilfully explores the human condition. Through his teenage romance with a girl from the community, she brings to life his yearnings with a certain flair — if I were to nitpick, however, I’d say that this story arc feels somewhat rushed, a stark contrast compared to the rest of the slow-burning novel. It is apparent that he feels deeply about his love interest but the questions “how” and “why” remain woefully unexplored. Their falling out and his subsequent feeling of emotional devastation feel very real, if a tad exaggerated. Amar as a picture of teenage angst does credit to Ms Mirza, who expertly explores the human condition through him.

The book is interspersed with parables from the Koran which enrich the flow of the story in more ways than one. The same Islamic values which force the father, Rafiq, to be overly strict with Amar — protecting him from “haram” — also inspire him to reconcile with him, empahsising the inherent human goodness in all of us. The last part of this beautiful family drama is from the perspective of an aged and ill Rafiq. The deft with which she exlpores both his repentence and the ache within him can only be described as masterful. The ending is left to the readers, which rather than being frustrating has the opposite effect. The effect is haunting and mysteriously powerful. The effect is haunting and mysteriously powerful.

All in all, A Place for Us is perhaps the best writing debut of 2018. Sarah Jessica Parker, her publisher, “guarentees” that “you will be different when you close the book.”

Fortunately for us, she is not wrong.

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