I thought I'd love this novel about a young Muslim woman who is secretly a poet. Her best friend enters her work into a contest without permission, and the repercussions are violent and horrific. But the characters were stock figures--the mother who doesn't want to rock the boat and is scared for her daughter in the current racist and Islamophobic climate in the US, the gossipy auntie who is annoying as hell, the clueless White girl who just wants to help her friend, the beloved uncle in jail--and the poetry was just meh. The plot required some willing suspension of disbelief, which took me out of the book, and there was a lot of material that felt like filler. It's a shame, because the premise is a good one.

Thank you Wednesday Books and Netgalley for this eARC, these opinions are my own. Not the typically book that I like to read but I really enjoyed this one. Hope Ablaze explores injustices that Muslims and the MC face on a regular basis. It showcases a big problem in America that is prejudice and injustices being allowed to happen or ignored because this country is ruled by the people in power and wealthy! I love that Nida felt empowered to stand up against injustice and use her voice for good! A must read!

Hope Ablaze" is a powerful and timely debut novel that beautifully weaves together themes of identity, resilience, and the power of self-expression. Nida's journey as a Muslim teenager in post-9/11 America is a compelling and relatable one, and her struggle to find her voice in a world that often misunderstands her faith and hijab is both poignant and relevant.

Sarah Mughal Rana skillfully portrays the challenges faced by Nida as she unexpectedly becomes a voice for her community and grapples with the weight of expectations from her family and society. The story's blend of magic and poetry adds a unique and enchanting dimension to the narrative, making it stand out. While the plot is both heartwarming and humorous at times, it doesn't shy away from addressing important issues such as racism and Islamophobia, tackling them with bravery and nuance. Readers will be inspired by Nida's journey of self-discovery and her determination to stand up for what she believes in. Overall, "Hope Ablaze" is a compelling and uplifting novel that celebrates the beauty of the Islamic faith and Pakistani culture while addressing critical social issues.

thanks to NetGalley for the eARC

⭐️=3.75 | 😘=1 | 🤬=3 | ⚔️=4.25 | 14+

summary: Muslim girl gets publicly frisked and harassed by the police; it goes viral for the wrong reasons, and she loses her ability to write poetry (like, with vague speculative elements) and more stuff happens??

thoughts: this is good, but the speculative elements occasionally threw me off? like I don’t think they were established/foreshadowed enough in the world building and just showed up out of the blue about a third of the way through, which was weird for me.

anyway. the poetry was surprisingly fine for the most point, but there were some inconsistencies––like, why were there still poetry inserts during the part where she couldn’t write?? idk. overall I still liked it, but there were just some confusing bits.

I admire what the author tried to do with this book - an unapologetic, unflinching addressing of the horrific and systemic Islamophobia faced by Muslims in America - and this book truly had so much potential... but unfortunately, felt like a struggling first draft.

The magical realism was abrupt, odd, and poorly written (and also I didn't realize it was supposed to be magical realism until after I was thoroughly confused). There's too much repetition, several inconsistencies, and I honestly did not like the "poetry letters" that were supposed to be powerful but just came off as... weak. Character development was also rather shoddy, and Nida didn't come off as convincingly changed by the end of it.

I genuinely wish I could have given this a stronger review, but unfortunately, it seems like the editors behind this book slacked off and didn't push the author into developing this book as solidly as it deserved.

I think this is an important and thought-provoking read, especially for folks who are not Muslim.

I was initially drawn to this book by the comparison to The Poet X, which I loved. I can see why the two books could be discussed together, but this one isn’t written entirely in verse.

I didn’t understand the secondary languages used in this book, but I think that actually added to the story, instead of taking away from it. It puts a non-Muslim reader in the position of being othered, which is an interesting role reversal.

Overall, I think this is a great book with a good message. I love that it’s targeted towards a YA audience!

Thank you to #netgalley for this ARC of #hopeablaze

This was one of the most heartfelt emotional debuts I’ve read in a very long time. As a pakistani Muslim, we rarely get own voice stories that are authentic to a religious/practicing brown Muslims pov/experience. And FINALLY WE GOT IT WE WIN 😭❤️ !!

I was not sure how to feel about potentially reading verse/poetry because I’m not a poetry type person but the way it was interwoven into the story was IMMACULATE! It really felt natural and was very beautiful!

One of my favourite parts about this was the very complex mother-daughter relationship. We don’t get that often and I’m so glad it was a highlight here and very much drove a lot of character development!

The Islamic, pakistani/immigrant sentiment (especially on the partition), hijabi commentary was also huge highlights of the book for me. There was so much diversity in this novel and reading the authors acknowledgements at the end - you can tell how much social Justice and human rights means to her.

This was such a beautiful story and a must read for everyone especially Muslims! This is the own voice story I’ve been dying to read!

It took me a bit to get into this story, but when I did I couldn’t put it down. Nida is a Muslim teenage girl in America who is a member of a poetry group in her Muslim neighborhood. But much of the poetry she writes is for her eyes only, a way to express her feelings and deal with adversity. She does not share it with the group. One day while getting ready to pray in a public park she is stopped, frisked, and humiliated by a political security force solely because of her Muslim dress. She writes about the experience of violation in her private journal but when that journal is swiped and the poem entered into a contest in her name the press portrays her as a terrorist. And her life as well of that of her friends and families is threatened. Nida’s attempts to explain herself and redeem her honor and that of her family backfire and nothing she does has the desired effect, at times making it even worse until she finally finds her voice. Hope Ablaze is a study in Islamophobia but in addition shows how the press often twists things and take one’s words out of context to fit whatever agenda they might be advocating. This should give everyone pause, regardless of race or political persuasions. The press has a lot of power and the way they report the news has a definitive effect on society. Look what happened in Nazi Germany. Thanks to Wednesday Books for giving me an e-ARC in exchange for an honest review.

This book was an excellent read. The author's presentation of Nida's experiences opened my eyes to the difficulties faced by Muslim Americans. The situations were plausible, which makes them more frightening. While I am not Muslim I could feel Nida's rage(and she had every right to feel that). This book should read in every high school.

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Hope Ablaze
Sarah Mughal Rana
4.53
15 ratings13 reviews

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She lost her words but found her voice.

All My Rage meets The Poet X in this electric debut that explores a Muslim teen finding her voice in a post-9/11 America.

Nida has always been known as Mamou Abdul-Hafeedh’s niece - the poet that will fill her uncle’s shoes after he was wrongfully incarcerated during the war on terror. But for Nida, her poetry letters are her heart and sharing so much of herself with a world that stereotypes her faith and her hijab is not an option.

When Nida is illegally frisked at a Democratic Senatorial candidate’s political rally, she writes a scathing poem about the politician, never expecting the letter to go viral weeks before Election Day. Nida discovers her poem has won first place in a national contest, a contest she never entered, and her quiet life is toppled. But worst of all, Nida loses her ability to write poetry. In the aftermath of her win, Nida struggles to balance the expectations of her mother, her uncle, and her vibrant Muslim community with the person she truly wants to be.

Thank you to the publisher for the eARC!


I loved this book so much and am so glad for it's existence.
Hope Ablaze is a pure gem from start to finish. I felt every injustice Muslims and the MC was being dealt with. I felt pure rage that so many injustices against innocent people are ignored because of powerful and rich people. I loved reading about my Pakistani culture and history. I loved the community of Al-Rasheed that was so supportive and beautiful! I also loved Nida's development as a poet and how she used her voice to stand up for everything that is wrong with this world. A powerful read I would definitely recommend!

Rating: 4.5 stars

I love this book with my whole heart. Do yourself a favor and get a copy.

The story follows Nida - a teen hijabi girl with a passion for (and legacy to uphold of) poetry. When she stops to pray in a park, she's detained and de-hijabied by the security officers for the democratic candidate in the upcoming political election. To deal with her emotions over the traumatic ordeal, she writes a scathing poem about the candidate...which gets leaked and goes VIRAL. Now she's in the spotlight, struggling to write, dealing with ever-deepening layers of islamophobia, and surrounded by people all with their own opinions about what she *should* be doing.

How will Nida get through it? Will she find her voice again? You'll be rooting for her every step of the way, whatever the outcome.

Gorgeously written, extremely thoughtful, and scattered with warmth and humor, this debut is going to be one of the best of 2024, no doubt.

A poignant and raw story that will definitely touch the hearts of many readers - from the wonderful poetry inserts, to familial relationship (oftentimes messy and hard) and friendships that were a big theme in this book (unlike most other YA novels that focus a lot on romance - these types of books are oftentimes a breath of fresh air and very much needed as well), and exploration of intersectionality, politics (and how it mostly serves interests of only certain groups), and faith.
I do recommend checking out reviews from own voices reviewers when it comes to Islam representation, but all in all a read that made you think and definitely worth checking out as soon as it releases.

Poetry, religion, culture, social change… I never expected to see so many interesting concepts explored in a book but Hope Ablaze is unlike anything else that exists out there. Despite my rating it a three stars, Hope Ablaze is a book that I am glad has found its place through the publishing industry.

THE GOOD
1. Poetry is a central focus in this book and it is a unique touch. I’ll be honest, I’m not really a poetry person and I think a lot of it went over my head, but I can still appreciate its existence in this story. It made what we are dealing with a lot more tangible. Poetry was the core of this book and instead of Nida just telling us how much it means to her and how powerful her poetry is, she shows it through constant poems. It’s part of everything the characters connect over and the passion for spoken word and writing is so clear.

2. The diversity of the characters are not limited to just the author’s identity group. Muslims are so diverse and I’m happy to have seen Muslims of many different ethnic backgrounds on the pages of these books. I am happy that YA readers today can grow up with a book that mentions all our unique ethnicities, as well as how we bond over religion.

3. The light on casual Islamophobia — something that really stuck with me was Nida explaining jihad in the context of Islam and how religious language constantly has its meanings warped for the narrative of painting violence. This is a reality Muslims still live, where small things are made synonymous to some kind of evil motive.

4. The representation of being Muslim is real and its exactly what I’ve been looking for. There is a certain scene in which a character talks about how they want to start giving up music and how it’s been helping clear their mind… that scene alone is just the perfect embodiment of what type of representation I’ve been seeking from Muslim stories. Our characters are not perfect Muslims. No one is looking for perfect Muslims in a story, but Muslims that resonate with them. Muslims that are aware they are sinning and don’t make excuses, but simply acknowledge it as is and accept that they will try to do better, in their own time and ways. I also appreciate that the negative parts of being Muslim, like Islamophobia or “restrictions” of Islam, are not the only parts of the Muslim experience explored in the story. This goes back to point two, but the Muslim community of Al-Rasheed really made my heart warm.

THE CONS
1. The way certain language was used did not make sense entirely (and I am a reader who is Muslim). For example, the use of wallah and wallahi confused me. I am an Arabic speaker in the Middle East, so maybe this really is how Muslim Americans speak in the West, but I noticed wallah and wallahi sometimes being used as verbs or even in sentences they did not need to be. E.g. “I could wallahi that I hadn’t left my notebook” — I don’t think I’ve ever said nor heard anyone use wallah like this. Also, wallah is not used as casually as every other conversation; the word has weight and I was a little unsure as to why it was being used for certain dialogue. Going to give the benefit of the doubt and still say, maybe this is how non-Arabic speaking Muslims speak but it did unfortunately bother me every time I saw the misuse on the page.

2. Despite being the audience this catered to, I still think certain words/cultural phrases needed contextual explanations. This is a tricky one, because I’m not one who believes a POC should have to cater the representation in their book to a specific audience. But, I really think it could’ve added more to the story in this case. I enjoyed how completely “Pakistani” and “Muslim” Nida was in her mannerisms and dialogue, as well as all the other characters. But I think for a reader who is not Muslim nor Desi to leave this story feeling like they learnt a lot about this culture/religion, it would’ve benefited from a glossary or even Nida’s narration explaining words like bakharni or izzat. It limits the pool of readers who can successfully read the book the way it was intended to be read when they cannot understand certain things.

E.g. I remember prior to reading Crazy Rich Asians, I didn’t know a single thing about Singapore — and reading the explanations of cultural aspects in that book gave me the push to learn more. Today, despite not being a Singaporean, I feel that I can connect more with Singaporeans because I have this one book I read one time that taught me so much about it. I think that’s the experience I would like a reader who is not Muslim or Desi to have after reading Hope Ablaze - a greater understanding of what it means to speak like a Muslim, as well as the cultural quirks of Pakistanis.

3. The writing/choice of scenes is not my favorite at times. The book is short but I didn’t feel I could binge through it in one go because not every scene kept my attention. At times, I felt like I was only reading Nida’s conversations about the same thing but with different characters. There were some that were impactful, like ones with her Mamou, but otherwise I found myself skimming some scenes and waiting for something to happen.

All in all, I still think this is a great Muslim book and will resonate with many readers. Unfortunately, in my case, I didn’t find the whole story to my taste but I will definitely keep up with the author and root for her in her path!

I really felt for Nida in this novel, it made me think about how hard it was in a post-9-11 america world. Sarah Mughal Rana has a great writing style and it worked with the story overall. It had a great cast of characters and has a great plot overall.

genuinely in my opinion, this is such a strange book that just. fundamentally does not understand the modern american political landscape. rana refuses to give any identifying details as to where or when this story takes place beyond "post 9/11 united states", a decision which she never justifies. if the point is that the events of the book could happen anywhere, at any time after 2001, i think i just inherently disagree with that conceit. islamophobia simply manifests differently in pennsylvania, in indianapolis, in los angeles, in new jersey, in boston, in alabama, in texas, in detroit, in arizona, etc etc etc. and it's different in 2002 vs 2022.

its adherence to these vagueries does the opposite of what it probably intended, undermining what i think is the book's central premise. it led me to scrutinize the story's setting and context far more heavily than its limited scope and understanding of america could hold up under.

it's also got some weird aave and slang problems that made me cringe so hard i started squirming in place. so there's that.

Thank you to NetGalley for a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!

So, this was undoubtedly one of my most anticipated reads of next year and it absolutely crushed and exceeded my expectations. This book does require, to a degree, that you suspend your understanding of the current sociopolitical terrain of America precisely because it is a reimagining of sorts of post-9/11 America. However, while this doesn’t follow the exact same historical linear events as in real life, it does reflect the current reality in America for certain communities.

This novel overall provides a much-needed discussion on the rampant manifestations of Islamophobia in the West by focusing in on the Pakistani diaspora. I genuinely had a visceral body reaction to what Nida, her family and her community had to go through. I think Rana really nailed evoking these feelings of frustration and ire in her readers by illustrating a range of Islamaphobic encounters, both subtle and large-scale, and the way they can often be tangled with ethnicity and race. In particular, these emotional moments were emphasized by the poetry in this book which simultaneously at times acted as alternative modes of storytelling of narrative events.

Rana cleverly leveraged Nida’s relationships with her friends and teachers to illustrate the overlooked, more subtle pervasive forms of Islamophobia. Specifically, questions of agency and saviourism are oftentimes attached to broader debates on the hijab and a lot of individuals fail to consider the alternative infantilizing ways this can work to harm Muslims on a smaller, individual scale. These kinds of microaggressions rarely go viral the way large-scale encounters do but are still quite insidious, so I really appreciate Rana drawing attention to this.
Meanwhile, the narrative, at its core, revolves around more large-scale demonstrations of Islamophobia. Importantly, it was at these moments that rampant racist and Islamophobic rhetoric was directly challenged. I think a lot of fruitful discussions can be drawn from these moments. I want to underscore that Rana did an excellent job illuminating one particular perspective on Islamophobia, and this was never really pushed as an objective truth for all communities.

I also want to mention how familial relationships were handled and explored. Oftentimes in the diaspora, families communicate through gestures— to offer thanks, regrets, apologies, or forgiveness. However, sometimes it’s not enough to make these gestures, as evidenced by Nida’s relationship with her mother. I think Nida’s pain really spoke to this kind of phenomenon that a lot of diasporic women (and their relationships with the women in their families) can relate to, making for an authentically and honest read.
In a similar vein, there was one plot thread that explored generational pain and trauma which I think was cleverly woven into the larger narrative at hand by tracing Nida’s historical roots. These historical lineages were well-researched and concurrently pulled from the author’s personal background, making for what is evidently a vulnerable read for both Rana and readers who can relate.

A touching journey of self-discovery underscores and shapes this narrative, offering a semblance of hope in how we can collectively take action and move forward against racism and Islamophobia across the Pakistani diaspora in the West. The novel doesn’t try and push an unrealistic ending by suddenly resolving Islamophobia, which the author acknowledges the complexity of particularly because of the intersectionality of it all. Instead, Rana poses several questions to her audiences concerning how, as marginalized communities, can we effectively mobilize in the face of systemic policies which hinder and impede such organizational processes. More pointedly, it looks toward the two-party system and rightfully criticizes its shortcomings in the context of racialized Muslim communities, offering a supplementary critique of its weaknesses.

Overall, this debut speaks to both the potential and success of Rana’s storytelling skills and ability to critique such a complex issue. I’m eagerly waiting in anticipation for forthcoming work from Rana and I’m so excited to see where she’ll take us as readers next time!

I read this with no expectations but it turned out to be just beautiful, touching, moving, and ultimately hopeful. I loved:
*the realism of the turmoil that Nida goes through on writing her poetry truthfully, very relatable as a writer
*the unapologetic nature of the whole book. The characters showcase their Islam and various cultures in a way that I've never seen before in fiction. The goat slaughtering to get rid of the evil eye, the mentions of memorizing quran and attending jummah, I loved all of it.
*the close-knit community may have actually been my favorite part. In so many books, nosy masjid-going members of the Muslim community are often a footnote, a punchline, or a problem and in this book they're treated with such respect and care.
*the truthful but often messy family relationships.
*poetry in YA is often hit or miss, the poetry here was pretty good though
*the lack of romance! Nida does have a friend and fellow poet in Jawad but it never goes further than that.
*and I hate politics but I did like the reflection on the fact that neither the Democratic or Republican political parties are truly for Muslims

I was just charmed by this book and can't wait for it to be released to a wider audience, or to see what the author writes next.

Hope Ablaze was such a great book. This was definitely a story that needed to be told and I'm just glad I got to read it before it comes out into the world.

Thank you netgalley for the arc, you’ve always been a real one.

Honestly, I don’t even know where to begin with this one. I think I’d first like to clearly define the viewpoint I’m speaking from, because due to the nature of the contents of this book, it’s clear that many of its detractors will be racist or Islamophobic. I am neither of those things. I’m a Persian woman living in America, the daughter of an Iranian immigrant, and culturally Muslim. I have a long, recorded history, of writing about the SWANAs (and adjacent Muslim regions) depictions in the media, the racism they’re subjected to in America, etc etc. Everything from my critiques of the cultural depictions in the Aladdin movie I wrote on tumblr when I was 16 to the recent reviews on my blog of ‘Fourth Wing’ and ‘Black Adam’. This is a topic I’m well educated on and have experience speaking about. Not to mention, as a SWANA person living in America, I’ve seen my fair share of Islamophobia.

I don’t know if the author would consider me as part of her community, but I’m one of the few people in this world who organically gives a shit without having to be told to, so I think that should count for something.

Listen, I could rip this book to shreds. I could point out every issue, every awkward scene or turn of phrase, every inconsistency, every bad argument. This is what I’m good at. But, it’s clear that this is what we’ve come to understand as the young author’s autobiographical debut novel, something extremely important and personal to her, and you can tell while reading it. It’s heavy, it’s impassioned, and it’s attempting to tell an important story. Her stance against Islamophobia and racism, and her love for her community are all admirable subject matter with clear fervor behind the writing. But there were issues about how the story was told.

This book is meant to take place in modern day. It dates itself with its slang and its technology. The Islamophobia depicted…. It doesn’t match up with the Islamophobia of modern day America. Maybe, if you’re in the deep south. Maybe, if this was immediately post 9/11. But today? In a swing state that roughly feels like the Midwest? In an urban area with a large enough Muslim population to be granted its own neighborhood? When the politician was described as an Afghan war vet, I immediately imagined him as Pete Buttigeg (the most well known democratic political candidate who was a war vet from the Midwest). When the main character has her interview with “Fifteen Minutes”, I’m imagining the woman sitting across from her as Lesley Stahl. With this context, this point of reference for the current American media and political landscape, the on-page depictions of racism come across as cartoonish. Grand exaggerations of the rhetoric Muslims typically face.

Now, I’m not here to police the author or say that these types of hate crimes never happen. But, I will say it’s a disservice to only show the most extreme form of bigotry possible. It’s easy for white people and racists to absolve their blame when you only depict the most extreme form of racism as racism. Microagressions can be just as hurtful, and are much, much more common. I suspect the exaggerated rhetoric was to set the main character up for more comprehensive, in depth comebacks. The bigger the monster is, the harder they fall. The bigger the battle, the more spectacular the show. But in failing to accurately capture the current reality of Islamophobic discourse, it’s a disservice to its victims. Sure, people say these sort of grandiose, hurtful things, but a democratic politician is not going to use the same words as an anonymous Twitter user hiding behind a pepe the frog profile picture. If they did, there would be no such thing as the culture war, but maybe I’m getting ahead of myself.

Not only were some of the depictions of racism cartoonish, some of the conversations around politics came across as very afterschool special. The conversations the main character had with her community about participating in a two-party system sounded like they were ripped straight from a college poli-sci socratic seminar and totally unlike how people actually discuss the issue. In the book, even, it was made to seem as if the voters themselves identify with the two party system. This is not true. 49% of Americans identify as Independent. There is a clear disdain for the two party system, from both liberals and conservatives alike. (BTW liberal is the opposite of conservative, not progressive. Progressives are democrats on the far left, or even consider themselves farer left.)

Bernie Sanders shifted the public’s perception of progressivism considerably. The book speaks to the traps of the two-party system, but seems to fail to mention the ways it can be mitigated. Accountability is one thing after someone is elected, but more importantly, it’s the way people engage with the primaries. The role of third party candidates is to introduce new platforms and issues to the political conversation, and the primaries are the people’s way of showing their support for these causes, which forces the two party candidates to then grapple with them. This book had the opportunity to reflect on that system, but didn’t. Is it a good system? Is it an effective system? No. But it’s the current reality in America.

Instead, there was a particularly weird bit about how, since the main character spoke up against a democratic candidate, the right wing attempts to poach her as their mouthpiece. This would never happen. They would never platform anyone whom they would consider to have the politics of a Muslim radical.

As for the radicalism. In this book, the main character’s uncle is in prison after unjustly being convicted as a terrorist. He’s known as a part of the “Al-Rasheed Five”, the other four members having been sent to Guantanamo Bay.

Point blank, this shouldn’t have been in the book. The uncle in prison, sure, include it, but the aesthetics are dangerously close to the Central Park Five. That story, that case, those aesthetics, were not hers to poach. As for Guantanamo… mamma mia. Like I said, this circumstance was perhaps more believable immediately post 9/11. Per the center for constitutional rights, 30 men remain detained and they have all been detained for more than fifteen years. There is no one in Guantanamo Bay now who fits the profile from the characters of her book. Even if there had been, Guantanamo Bay is such an awful, horrid, terrible place that it really feels uncomfortable to have it name dropped in the book with nothing meaningful to say about it. It should not have been used the way it was. Tell the real stories of those trapped within, or don’t bring it up at all.

God this review is so long.

Other concerns.

There’s a point where the main character is defending if the hijab is oppressive or not. In doing so, she compares submission to Allah to a woman’s submission to society. This is a bad argument. Because, yes, if your argument that the hijab is not oppressive is “well women in the west choose to oppress themselves under the patriarchy”… it’s not the gag you think it is. High heels are oppressive, makeup is oppressive, but they are also choices women make to express themselves and their style and their values. It would have been more apt if she chose to argue that clothing is a means of self expression, and her hijab is expressing her devotion to God, but I doubt she would have, because she does not see wearing the hijab as a choice (something she outlines in her letters). That’s, of course, her personal interpretation and justification on why she wears the hijab, and I would never mean to say that it reflects oppression, but it is not logical. That’s fine. Religion does not have to be logical. In fact, it rarely is. So it puzzles me how the book attempts to make a logical argument that is so misguided, instead of defaulting to the fact that the decision to wear the hijab is something without parallel in the secular west.

Throughout reading this book, I asked my hijabi friend for some of her thoughts. I’m not gonna regurgitate all of them here, but she agreed with me that some of the sections regarding discourse about the hijab and peoples choices to or not to wear it were uncomfortable. I can’t really speak to that, because I’ve never chosen to wear a hijab, and I would encourage the author to reflect on how her perspective colors her rhetoric on the topic and adjust accordingly.

When the main character gets sued by the political candidate, I want to make it very clear that legally, he had little chance of winning if they were on equal legal footing. It feels a little irresponsible to mention how a political candidate could sue a teenager without bringing up New York Times Co. v. Sullivan (1964) or actual malice. I just think it’s important that people are informed of their rights, and the book missed the perfect opportunity to do so.

Also, this book had one of the most depressing viewpoints on friendship I’ve ever seen. Not even because her white friend was racist, but it almost seemed like the main character resented making friends. She described it as exhausting. Friendship did not appear as something she cherished, but something she did to fit in. It was sad.

All in all, the points about orientalism and the west’s involvement in Muslim regions were correct and the message was powerful, but the sinew connecting them was weak. Even the prose of the novel was imbued with a very particular rhythm that was not conducive to modern day slang. (I know I wasn’t going to nitpick but what the hell is a “sneaker fit”. Fit stands for outfit. That doesn’t make sense. I searched twitter to see if that combination of words had ever been used before, and honestly it just seems like the author is misusing slang, slang that’s probably AAVE to begin with.) I had more gripes, but I’m constrained by how much I gaf and also the word limit and also how much time I’ve already poured into this.

If the book stuck to what it did best, family matters, mentions of actual Islamophobia, and the place of poetry when it comes to activism and the historical context of Islam, then it would’ve been solid. Unfortunately, it’s on rocky foundations.

Now, I was originally going to give this book one star due to the resounding and endless hypocrisy of the author, which boils my blood, but I don’t like shooting down new authors, especially when it comes to subject matter so close to their heart. But she is a hypocrite, and I do think she should be humbled to some degree.

The inciting incident in Hope Ablaze is when a Muslim hijabi is illegally frisked by the police and a democratic candidate is complicit. It’s about finding your voice, and learning to speak up for what’s right rather than comply with the status quo. Inspiring, right?

September 16, 2022, Mahsa Amini was killed by the Iranian mortality police for not wearing a hijab. It sparked protests in Iran, of which the regime brutally fought back. People died. People were imprisoned. The government limited internet usage so that the truth about what was in the country could not break free. The only power the protesters had were their voice, and the regime knew that their greatest power was in their ability to silence them. The protesters went online and begged people to share the news, what was actually happening in the country, because without the eyes on the atrocities happening, the regime could continue to slaughter its people without accountability.

I am strictly opposed to American intervention in the Middle East. I know that often, politicians will use such atrocities such as Mahsa Amini’s death and the subsequent unrest as an excuse to introduce a military presence into the country, and I did not think that was the solution. But. When a nation of people is crying out for help, for exposure, to have their voices heard, the least you could do is listen and magnify it.

During the protests, Sarah Mughal Rana hopped on Twitter to say this: “I’m finally tweeting this b/c I’m just sad. I’m surprisingly seeing many writers who are rarely political tweet about Iran & hijab, but these are the same people who never tweet about India’s hijab ban, Islamophobia in Quebec, France, Switzerland. Their Islamophobia is clear.”

I have no doubt that there were islamophobes weaponizing the situation for their own gain, or even that there was unintentional islamophobia, people feeling that they need to save the women of Iran under the oppression of the hijab. But, the gag here is that, the reason people were more likely to tweet about Iran than the bans in India or Europe, is because the people in Iran were actively dying. They were being killed. On the streets. And their only ask of the west was to amplify their voices so they wouldn’t be killed on the streets. The lack of empathy here was staggering.

Sarah Mughal Rana also encouraged people not to fall for misinformation, as it could be used against Iranian activists. Did she, then, make an effort to find the correct information and spread it? Was she an ally to these Iranian activists? No. Those were her only tweets that I could find on the topic. An attempt to silence people who were just doing what the victims of an oppressive regime asked them to do. She cited that she did not “specialized in Iran” (despite bragging about reading a huge tome on Iranian history, calling her stories Persianate/Persian, and regularly bringing up how Iranian history overlaps with that of Pakistan’s), but that also did not stop her from writing a book explicitly about American politics as a Canadian.

I’m not mad about this because I’m an Islamophobe. I’m mad about this because I’m a Persian. I hate the term Persianate. It was invented 80 years ago by some white dude and hasn’t caught on because it’s too broad to reflect any real unifying culture. Sure, Pakistan does have a history with Persian Culture, but Persian culture isn’t something you place on a sliding scale, and are able to identify with as if there’s enough overlap between your culture and that of Iran’s. If Pakistan is Persian, so is India, and so is Bangladesh, and the cultural similarities begun to get lost in a wash of regional differences.

I hate how even those who consider themselves our allies won’t take a stand when they need to out of a fear of perpetuating islamophobia in the west. Quite literally, people died. I’m normal enough to put two and two together, to balance the west’s causality in the rise of these corrupt regimes while also using my voice to defend the victims of these regimes. And I suggest everyone do the same. Because it’s really, really infuriating to see an author who’s in love with our land, our poetry, our language, but refuses to hear our words.

In attempting to search if the author had a history of silencing people, I found a blog post by writer Fatima Al Matar, a Kuwaiti woman who was blocked by Rana for attempting to disagree with her about Islam. I don’t agree with all of her conclusions, but it’s clear that she’s speaking from a place of religious trauma, and Rana silencing her prompted her to write the blog post in a struggle to have her voice heard. Rana also has a history of minimizing the violence of Muslims conquests by insisting they were not colonizers. Well, technically they weren’t colonizers, but they certainly were not very peaceful. There’s probably more. It seems that she’s unwilling to engage with any context in which Muslims are the oppressors, which comes from a place of pain and an overabundance of caution from being oppressed for being a Muslim, but it does not give her the right to silence and minimize the experiences of others.