vakardien's review against another edition
5.0
man noteikti vajag vēl padomāt par to, kas ar mani noticis šīs grāmatas lasīšanas laikā, taču viens ir skaidrs - tā ir bijusi pēdējā laika sāpīgākā un skaistākā grāmata. ļoti, ļoti, ļoti vajadzīga.
matalh's review against another edition
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
5.0
bawled my eyes out reading this
_blix_'s review against another edition
challenging
emotional
sad
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
rachelsbooks23's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
sad
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.0
srfrq's review against another edition
5.0
cw: domestic violence, death, cancer, trauma, mental illness
this was a gripping story about immigration and grief, as well as a heartbreaking look at mortality, motherhood, and hope. we accompany nahid, a cancer-stricken iranian woman, as she muses on her past, present, and future. we looked at her connections with the women in her life, including her mother, sisters, daughter, and very briefly her granddaughter, which was a heartbreaking and poignant journey. her relationship with masood was impacted by the relationships she observed around her as she grew up, and her examination of intergenerational trauma was likewise nuanced and layered. her transformation from a radical activist during the Iranian revolution to a more family-oriented and subservient woman astounded me, but it also made me think about how life's circumstances contextualize your beliefs and values. a strong and lyrical read, i know this will linger with me for a long time.
here are some quotes:
"she has more of a chance to live, to be alive. not just because i'm dying. but because i never had it. the ability to just live. what i was born with, born into, was the ability to survive. i grew up to survive." (9)
"my mother. how she suffered during the revolution. you think that a woman who'd given birth to seven daughters might get some peace of mind. no sons to send to war. no sons to mourn. but it was the wrong decade, or we were the wrong kind of women. we fought in the streets, and she sat up nights. waiting, pacing, weeping." (12)
"they allow it. they don't say much. they sit with their chins in their hands. look at each other sometimes, and shake their heads. shake them slowly, strangely. like you do when the sorrow is bigger than it looks. when a sorrow stands for all sorrows...that strange way. when a sorrow stands for all sorrows...what is loneliness? is it sitting alone wishing for company, or is it sitting alone waiting to die? maybe i was never alone." (16)
"i hear the pain i've created, the pain i sent into the air. i hear the grief. she's not the screaming and crying type, my daughter, i know that. so i hear how the grief plants itself in her body, making it hard for her to breathe." (21)
"is it possible you use up life faster if you live intensely? people have always told me i laugh too loud. imagine if every laugh, every laugh that was too loud, took days off my life. what if you're only given a limited number of breaths, and they run out more quickly when you laugh too loud, talk too loud, dance yourself breathless. when you shout slogans and run from soldiers and guards. breath, breath, pant, it all runs out. i wonder." (24)
"i made that heart. her heart once beat inside me, and now it beats against me, and soon it will beat without me. soon, my heart will fall silent, and hers will beat on, carrying my rhythm with it. somewhere in her heartbeat, i'll remain. i want the idea to be a comfort, but it's not. i want my own heartbeat. i want it for myself, and i want to carry it myself, and i don't want to exist as only a shadow in somebody else's body, in somebody else's memory." (26)
"but i think our lives were wonderful. my sisters, imagine the freedom they had. and me, with all these women, with the promise of femininity and self-sufficiency. all at the same time." (31)
"she didn't think you should advertise good news. the evil eye was what she feared the most. that some begrudging person would look at us with envy, and their evil eye would destroy our world." (32)
"he spoke of justice as if it were a party, as if it were our job to arrange. send out the invitations." (38)
"soon, i wouldn't see myself as a face anymore, but as a bundle of thoughts and ideas. and they protected me more than makeup ever had." (45)
"the revolution fell upon us like a rain of stars...in many ways, we had more than the truly rich. we had a future to build with our own hands." (47)
"people often see me as a victim. they expect me to be weak, submissive. as a refugee woman. i don't understand their thinking. don't they realize i'm here because i'm strong? that it takes strength not to give up, to refuse to accept misery and oppression? sometimes i wonder if they think they're strong, that strength comes from never facing hardship. if they think a placed life builds resilience." (70)
"maybe pain moves in a circle. maybe i caused her pain to avenge my own." (88)
"i wasn't treated as something with intrinsic value, not as something to cherish." (96)
"i wonder now what's worth more. freedom and democracy. or people who love you. people who will take care of your children when you die." (104)
"she inherits everything we hoped for, and all the things we took for granted. freedom, possibilities. life. she is the one who gets to live. and here she is, feeling sorry for herself." (106)
"they said: you have cancer. you will die. and i chose to fight death instead of squeezing the last out of life...more afraid to die than not living all the way. if that's not delusional, i don't know what delusion is." (116)
"her eyes are full of doubt. doubt and the other that never disappears, the splinter, the gleam, the naïve childishness. her hope. her hope in me." (135)
"the hope of making anything other than pain from the pain died." (150)
"there are things you can't understand in advance. how utterly difficult it is to be a part of someone else's grief when you yourself ache so much...the feeling of being enveloped in someone else, in an unfamiliar body, when you've lost the bodies that used to envelop you." (162)
this was a gripping story about immigration and grief, as well as a heartbreaking look at mortality, motherhood, and hope. we accompany nahid, a cancer-stricken iranian woman, as she muses on her past, present, and future. we looked at her connections with the women in her life, including her mother, sisters, daughter, and very briefly her granddaughter, which was a heartbreaking and poignant journey. her relationship with masood was impacted by the relationships she observed around her as she grew up, and her examination of intergenerational trauma was likewise nuanced and layered. her transformation from a radical activist during the Iranian revolution to a more family-oriented and subservient woman astounded me, but it also made me think about how life's circumstances contextualize your beliefs and values. a strong and lyrical read, i know this will linger with me for a long time.
here are some quotes:
"she has more of a chance to live, to be alive. not just because i'm dying. but because i never had it. the ability to just live. what i was born with, born into, was the ability to survive. i grew up to survive." (9)
"my mother. how she suffered during the revolution. you think that a woman who'd given birth to seven daughters might get some peace of mind. no sons to send to war. no sons to mourn. but it was the wrong decade, or we were the wrong kind of women. we fought in the streets, and she sat up nights. waiting, pacing, weeping." (12)
"they allow it. they don't say much. they sit with their chins in their hands. look at each other sometimes, and shake their heads. shake them slowly, strangely. like you do when the sorrow is bigger than it looks. when a sorrow stands for all sorrows...that strange way. when a sorrow stands for all sorrows...what is loneliness? is it sitting alone wishing for company, or is it sitting alone waiting to die? maybe i was never alone." (16)
"i hear the pain i've created, the pain i sent into the air. i hear the grief. she's not the screaming and crying type, my daughter, i know that. so i hear how the grief plants itself in her body, making it hard for her to breathe." (21)
"is it possible you use up life faster if you live intensely? people have always told me i laugh too loud. imagine if every laugh, every laugh that was too loud, took days off my life. what if you're only given a limited number of breaths, and they run out more quickly when you laugh too loud, talk too loud, dance yourself breathless. when you shout slogans and run from soldiers and guards. breath, breath, pant, it all runs out. i wonder." (24)
"i made that heart. her heart once beat inside me, and now it beats against me, and soon it will beat without me. soon, my heart will fall silent, and hers will beat on, carrying my rhythm with it. somewhere in her heartbeat, i'll remain. i want the idea to be a comfort, but it's not. i want my own heartbeat. i want it for myself, and i want to carry it myself, and i don't want to exist as only a shadow in somebody else's body, in somebody else's memory." (26)
"but i think our lives were wonderful. my sisters, imagine the freedom they had. and me, with all these women, with the promise of femininity and self-sufficiency. all at the same time." (31)
"she didn't think you should advertise good news. the evil eye was what she feared the most. that some begrudging person would look at us with envy, and their evil eye would destroy our world." (32)
"he spoke of justice as if it were a party, as if it were our job to arrange. send out the invitations." (38)
"soon, i wouldn't see myself as a face anymore, but as a bundle of thoughts and ideas. and they protected me more than makeup ever had." (45)
"the revolution fell upon us like a rain of stars...in many ways, we had more than the truly rich. we had a future to build with our own hands." (47)
"people often see me as a victim. they expect me to be weak, submissive. as a refugee woman. i don't understand their thinking. don't they realize i'm here because i'm strong? that it takes strength not to give up, to refuse to accept misery and oppression? sometimes i wonder if they think they're strong, that strength comes from never facing hardship. if they think a placed life builds resilience." (70)
"maybe pain moves in a circle. maybe i caused her pain to avenge my own." (88)
"i wasn't treated as something with intrinsic value, not as something to cherish." (96)
"i wonder now what's worth more. freedom and democracy. or people who love you. people who will take care of your children when you die." (104)
"she inherits everything we hoped for, and all the things we took for granted. freedom, possibilities. life. she is the one who gets to live. and here she is, feeling sorry for herself." (106)
"they said: you have cancer. you will die. and i chose to fight death instead of squeezing the last out of life...more afraid to die than not living all the way. if that's not delusional, i don't know what delusion is." (116)
"her eyes are full of doubt. doubt and the other that never disappears, the splinter, the gleam, the naïve childishness. her hope. her hope in me." (135)
"the hope of making anything other than pain from the pain died." (150)
"there are things you can't understand in advance. how utterly difficult it is to be a part of someone else's grief when you yourself ache so much...the feeling of being enveloped in someone else, in an unfamiliar body, when you've lost the bodies that used to envelop you." (162)
rachbreads's review against another edition
4.0
Well, there were moments that I wasn’t even sure if I liked this book because Nahid made me so mad. When she realizes she will die from cancer, in her grief, she lashes out at the people around her, especially her daughter. But then you learn her story, and why she’s in so much pain, and why it is so hard for her to see life go on without her. And I got to the end and cried my eyes out. This is a stunning short book about motherhood, family, death, life, and being a refugee. I highly encourage everyone to give it a chance!
“People often see me as a victim. They expect me to be weak, submissive. As a refugee woman, I don’t understand their thinking. Don’t they realize I’m here because I’m strong? That it takes strength not to give up, to refuse to accept misery and oppression? Sometimes I wonder if they think they’re strong, that strength comes from never facing hardship. If they think a placid life builds resilience.”
“People often see me as a victim. They expect me to be weak, submissive. As a refugee woman, I don’t understand their thinking. Don’t they realize I’m here because I’m strong? That it takes strength not to give up, to refuse to accept misery and oppression? Sometimes I wonder if they think they’re strong, that strength comes from never facing hardship. If they think a placid life builds resilience.”