The Devotion of Suspect X

Review: 3 stars

Since moving out to Oakville, I have been looking for a great book club to join. After digging around, I wasn’t able to find any group that really matched what I was looking for - acclaimed reads, literary discussion and serious book lovers. A book club based in Toronto ended up hitting the mark - and I read ‘The Devotion of Suspect X’ with every intention of making the late evening trek out to join the discussion last night…only to be foiled by kidcare duty for my two rambunctious little ones.

‘The Devotion of Suspect X’ is one in a series of sophisticated and well-written whodunnits by Keigo Higashino, featuring a brilliant professor Yukawa and his shrewd detective friend Kusanagi. After a single mother, Yasuko, murders her abusive ex-husband in the opening chapters of this mystery, the reader embarks with her on a tense and cerebral journey to avoid capture by the police. She is aided by an oddball fairy godmother in the shape of her heavyset, middle-aged, taciturn neighbour Ishigami. He harbours ritual adoration for Yasuko, and channels his affection into helping to conceal the murder and create a trail of deflection for Kusanagi to erroneously follow. The novelty and brilliance of the story surfaces in the chessboard that Ishigami has set up for the detectives and his old college compatriot - Yukawa. Ishigami consistently outsmarts them through details and tactics, ending with a mind-bending caper that has all but Yukawa fooled.

Additional tension is injected as Yasuko begins to feel affection for an old acquaintance - Kudo. Once Ishigama learns of this budding sentiment, his purist devotion is put to the test. Yasuko, who once feared the shackles of prison, begins instead to fear that she must cage her heart in order to maintain her physical freedom.

I found ‘The Devotion of Suspect X’ to be an easy, enjoyable read with a clever premise, and enough suspense to keep me engaged throughout. I did feel it to be lacking additional depth (e.g., exploration of more universal themes, innovative narration), and aside from Ishigami, the remainder of the characters were relatively flat. Not a regrettable read at all, but also unlikely to be one that I remember in years to come.

The Forty Rules of Love

Review: 4 stars

On a business trip to Rome in February, I had a bit of extra time and popped into The Otherwise Bookstore on Via del Governo Vecchio. What a charming bookshop! The entryway was flanked by clothbound classics, with deeper cuts of translated Italian texts tucked in the back, and a very robust selection of contemporary fiction and poetry in the middle sanctum. I was looking for something I could read while dining solo at Armando al Pantheon - I had managed to snag a last minute reservation.

I had never heard of the BBC’s ‘100 Novels That Shaped Our World’ list, but was intrigued by the great reviews of the novel online, and I was also looking to discover new authors. I was lucky in my selection - the complexity of the storylines, vacillating between present and past, fact and fiction, made for immensely pleasurable reading. The novel revolves around a manuscript that Ella, the protagonist, is reading about thirteenth century mystical sufism and the forty rules of life and love. Through her literary journey, she embarks on a deeply spiritual pilgrimage and encounters new sides of herself through candid and passionate exchanges with the manuscript’s author - Aziz. The foreshadowing of a pivotal death in the early notes of the novel also casts mystery over the interweaving narratives. Who is the murderer? Who is the victim? Whose anguished cry of mourning sounds the first alarm?

The charm and virtue imbued by Shafak’s portrayal of Sufism was captivating. The way that Shams of Tabriz, one of the central characters, preaches judgement-free love in all its forms and the pursuit of enlightenment through kindness, was grounding. It made me reflect on ways in which I can increase acceptance and empathy for those around me. Each of the forty rules - some more relevant than others to the reader - provoke reflection. For example: “Live this life as light and empty as the number zero. We are no different from a pot. It is not the decorations outside but the emptiness inside that holds us straight.” Or another - “Love is the water of life. And a lover is a soul of fire! The universe turns differently when fire loves water.”

I also found myself empathizing with Ella’s character, the 40-something housewife that stumbles upon the story of Shams and Rumi as she embarks on a second career at a literary agency. Sometimes you can feel like your life is so full - of children, assets, life milestones - and yet, something still feels like it is missing - spirituality, purpose, whatever it may be. I also yearned for a friendship as deep and fruitful as that between Shams and Rumi - a melding of two open hearts, seeped in authenticity and curiosity. I read this novel voraciously and have marked many pages and quotes to return to again for inspiration. I hope that you’ll take a chance and suspend reality to immerse yourself in ‘The Forty Rules of Love’.

Home Fire | incendiary, daring, unexpected

Review: 4 stars

I walked into BMVQ over the summer, and was immediately taken by the stunning cover of ‘Home Fire’. I’m a fairly risk averse reader - I try not to judge a book by its cover, and I rely heavily on awards, reviews and ‘best of’ lists before affirming my choices. Luckily, Home Fire was a Top 100 pick of 2017 by the New York Times, so I happily bought it.

‘Home Fire’ is the story of three siblings - Isma, Aneeka and Parvaiz, who are ostracized from their Pakistani community in Britain because of their father’s legacy as a jihadi fighter. The novel is told in four voices - one for each sibling, with the final reserved for Karamat Lone - the father of Aneeka’s love interest, Eamonn, and Britain’s Home Secretary.

Isma fatefully meets Eamonn while studying abroad in America, igniting a collision course that leads to fatal consequences. Three parallel plot lines weave in and out, steadily ratcheting up the novel’s tension. The first - Isma’s blossoming friendship and affection for Eamonn, which is countered by Aneeka and Eamonn’s passionate love affair. The second - Aneeka and her family’s burning disdain for Karamat, born from his rejection of his Muslim community and refusal to help resolve their father’s death. The third - Parvaiz’s seduction by ISIS and his subsequent journey to Syria to honour his father.

Shamsie’s writing is poetic and heartbreaking. The novel reads as a thriller at times - so compelling are the plot and the protagonists’ struggles. She employs mixed media to evoke the realism of how public opinion is presented (tweets, hashtags, news headlines), how youth communicate across oceans (texts, skype messages), and also how ISIS guides their pilgrims to the frontline (poems, Quran verses).

The ending is one of the most moving and shocking conclusions to a novel that I’ve come across. It requires re-reading to fully absorb the enormity of each person’s actions, and to fully bear witness to all-consuming love. Shamsie wields the perspective of a removed onlooker in the final scene to create an immutable newsreel of horror and beauty, and to allow the reader to pass judgement and propose motives.

I recommend this book to those looking for a moving, ambitious exploration of the intersection of political and private agendas, and the wide spectrum of Muslim expression.