This is a sparse, lyrical novel about three sisters who are orphaned at a very young age and are taken in by their mother’s brother. He takes advantage of their financial situation and the sisters grow up sporadically neglected. This is told through the POV of the youngest sibling and I think I would have liked to get a broader range of perspectives.

I love it when poets write novels. Their attention to pace and lyricism within the sentence, their meticulous word choices, and their use of imagery imbibes their prose with an ethereal quality. I often find myself having to stop every couple of pages to let a particularly striking turn of phrase sink in, to give myself the space to bask in whatever emotion the author so expertly striked in me. These are some of the most evocative reading experiences I’ve had, and Fatimah Asghar’s amazing skill as a poet had me melting in their prose.

When We Were Sisters envelops you in the mind of young Kausar after she and her sisters are orphaned at a young age. Asghar stretches the boundaries of what a novel can be, and often breaks them. The book’s layout makes it so that in most pages the text does not reach the bottom of the page. The story is told in snippets, miniscule memories of a child’s perception of a loss too big for her body. The book is strewn throughout with sections of poetry, lyricising the character’s experiences.

These divergences from standard formatting aren’t there just for the sake of aesthetics; in a way, they aggrandize the sisters’ tragedies to a mythical level. In brief sections interspersed throughout the book, the deceased parents recount the story of how they built a family in brief poems. Although the content of their narration is clearly their own, the delivery and poetry speaks to a child’s perspective of their parents as giants, as protagonists of a beautifully tragic love story that the children have been orphaned out of. The parents rise above the material world, with a lyricism that is grand and reminiscent of legend.

Loss is made physical in the text, through gaps signifying words that cannot be said and people that aren’t there. The sisters’ dad becomes “[ ]”; their uncle, a series of blackouts. Although it goes uncensored, even the narrator’s name, Kausar, is not revealed to the reader until we’re well into the book. We become surrounded by Aishas and Noreens and Aunties and Meemos because that is what Kausar’s world has been reduced to. In the absence of her parents, Kausar’s entire world is now just the scraps of family she is desperately trying to keep together.

In losing her parents, Kausar becomes untethered from everything except her sisters. Being all each other has in the world, the sisters become mothers, become Gods. The book explores these gaps, the holes that people leave behind when they depart, and the ways in which one twists oneself to fill these holes for others. A Sister becomes a Mother becomes a God becomes a Stranger becomes a Sister again. The sisters’ codependence becomes what alienates them from each other as they enter adulthood.

Seeing these themes explored through a child’s perspective is agonizing, but seeing the child grow up into an adult is even more so. In a way, Kausar’s childhood doesn’t end: she is still stuck in the feelings of anger, abandonment, and loss that she was burdened with as a child. We see this burden the most through the way she connects—or doesn’t—with the people around her.

Although Asghar’s brief and snippet-y choice of formatting lends itself so well to the young mind of Kausar as a child, this same style makes it difficult to narrate her adult life. While the message is clear—that in her mind she is still a child, still stuck in this hole dug into her life at a young age—what the reader is left with is a rushed, brief ending. Kausar’s adulthood is full of holes, seemingly an outline to the end of a book more than the actual end of a book. The ending reunion does not strike the reader the same way her childhood plights did: to her, it has been seven years since she last saw the sisters she worshiped, while to the reader, it has been less than fifty pages since we last saw her sisters.

When We Were Sisters expertly handles themes of loss, grief, family, and what it means to grow up in a country where your culture, beliefs, and looks are othered and diminished. Fatimah Asghar dives into numerous inquiries about our relationships to one another: What is a family? What do we owe one another? Where do I end, and where do you begin?

The format of this book is so unique, the words spare and very lyrical, riding the line between poetry and prose. Three young orphaned sisters must find their way in this world with no one to look out for them. Their childhood is tumultuous and unstable and they find respite wherever they can. The short sections make this book a quick read, but it does become disjointed and hard to follow at times. There is not quite enough substance for us to get to know and feel connected to the characters. We get glimpses of their everyday life as they grow up, but it's hard to tell if there is a common thread that makes sense of these random vignettes.

The writing is emotional and honest, and the bond between the sisters is palpable. But I did not feel a real connection to it.

When We Were Sisters, by Fatimah Asghar, is a lyrical reflection on self-hood, family, and abandonment. Through the eyes of Kausar, the youngest of three orphaned sisters, Asghar tells a fictional story drawn from their own life experience.

The story is heartbreaking. The writing is beautiful - a book that begs to be highlighted. In fact, I don’t know how to review this book without including quotes. The book needs to speak for itself.

On gender identity: “He doesn’t say it, but I know with each crack of my fist into his chest that he’s sorry. With each crack of my fist into his chest, he teaches me how to be a man.”

On the immigrant experience: “Our city is full of Used-to-Bes, of people who came from somewhere else, whose degrees don’t matter here, who check out groceries and pump gas and return to their single room in a rented apartment, to a framed photo of them in their cap and gown holding a degree above their bed.”

On familial identity: “Is an apple always an apple? Is an apple an apple when someone’s taken a bit out of it? Is a sister still a sister when a mother dies?”

Longlisted for the National Book Award, When We Were Sisters is a unique book of prose and poetry. Readers of Literary Fiction, who marvel at a perfect phrase, will be enchanted by this book. I do not think it would be a good fit for those who prefer strong plot lines and traditional prose.

Thank you to One World, a division of Random House Publishing Group, and NetGalley for providing this ARC.

Thanks to the folks at Random House for the eARC copy ahead of this book’s release!

When We Were Sisters takes all the musings of an orphaned Muslim Pakistani child who also happens to the youngest of three sisters, and paints them in gorgeous, painstaking detail. The book feels more like poetic prose than a novel, using lyrical poetry to sift through time and different points of view in Kausar’s life and makes poignant observations about life as an orphan.

It’s a book of hope, of making family and home out of the deepest wells of empathy and longing, of the messiness of making sense of life’s deeply unfair twists. When We Were Sisters gives much more dignity back to the “sad orphan” trope. It’s never interested in being a one-more sob story; instead it offers the possibilities present even when the seemingly worst has already happened to a child while still processing pain, sadness, and the confusion of growing up as a Muslim post- 9/11.

Excited to share with my muslim, desi friends, especially those LGBT folks who can see themselves in baby Kausar trying to figure out all of the confusing feelings popping up with their gender and love life.

This book singlehandedly got me out of my reading slump. I won’t lie. It’s a hard read, but so worth it. It’s also short, if that helps you pick it up.

Three sisters of Pakistani descent tragically lose their parents. An uncle takes them in. How nice, you may think. It’s not. They’re subjected to neglect. The uncle only took them in for government money.

Not that I want you to feel bad for him, because he sucks, but he is recently divorced from a white woman that lives in the suburbs with their two sons.

There is more to be horrified by, but suffice to say, this is one of the best things I’ve read in a while.

When We Were Sisters is the story of three orphaned girls who raise each other. The story is told from the view of Kausar, the youngest sister. My heart broke for the girls. It took me a bit of time to finish this book because it was a heavy read. Their uncle was simply the worst, and it made me sad that the girls did not have any other family willing to step up for them.

Requesting arcs on NetGalley from unknown authors is always a game of chance. After reading a synopsis I roll the dice, get excited when my number comes up, and hope the read will be a win. This one came through with a tender hearted, emotional payout.

I could tell the author was a poet from the start, weaving beautiful prose and visually structured poetry across the pages. This is one you want to read in physical form in order to absorb the subtleties in shifts between chapters and voices.

Asghar tells the story of 3 Muslim orphaned sisters who get taken in by an uncle, but are basically left to raise themselves when he provides them shelter but leaves them to live elsewhere, only sporadically checking in. Despite the hunger that eminates from their bodies and loneliness that fills the cramped one bedroom apartment, the sisters live together while drifting apart.

This coming of age story that was chosen for the 2022 National Book Awards Longlist for Fiction was often heartbreaking and painful to read as the girls struggled and chose different paths to find freedom, acceptance and love. Narrated by the youngest sibling Kausar, we witness her struggles with gender identity and belonging in a space none of them fit in. As a queer, Muslim writer, this beautiful fictional debut came from her/their own pain, and they shared that “some books cut so close to the heart that you are reborn after.” I can only imagine that when the last word was penned that Asghar re-emerged into this world ready to cut the umbilical cord and step into their most authentic life.

The poetry of When We Were Sisters will ease you into the story and hold your heart as it breaks. And mends. And breaks again.

The way Kausar, the main narrator, describes anxiety & dissociation is unlike anything I’ve read before, a testament to the way Asghar brings an embodied experience to each of their characters. “Each cell in my body multiplies, a hot wave that starts in from my cheeks and spreads down to my feet.” Kausar is multiple bodies, attaching and detaching to physical form, assessing safety & home & when there are spaces to give/receive love.

Grief, layers and layers of it. Loneliness, survival.
But also making family and the deep connection of sisterhood/siblinghood.

This book just wasn’t for me. I felt like the pacing was a little too slow and I never found myself eager to pick the book back up. It wasn’t the writing that I didn’t care for but the development of the story.

Alright, I don't want to say it, but I did not enjoy this book. It was nothing like I was expecting based on the description, which is fine. But I didn't feel a connection to these sisters or their story, and while I could tell that some parts were meant to be emotional, I just wasn't moved.

I was going to say that though the language was beautiful, the writing style felt fragmented or like incoherent ramblings at times. But then I discovered that Asghar is a poet. That changed my perspective because I understand the writing style a little better and now it's just a case of it not being my personal preference.

However, I could never tell that time was passing or how much was passing until the last chunk of the book when the narrator, Kausar, would clearly state her age or stage in life. And I just felt like there was no real conclusion; the little vignettes never make a full picture. It was just: here are some things that occurred. And then suddenly *MINI SPOILER* Kausar is an adult and the sisters reunite. But nothing comes of it; they neither address nor repair the broken bonds between them. *Mini spoiler OVER*

I did like the little glimpses into what I am assuming were the parents' thoughts. But again, they just seemed thrown in. It's like Asghar gave us the hints of a story and we are supposed to surmise the rest. And maybe that was the point. In the story Kausar divulges very little to her friends, and her sisters don't really seem to share much with anyone either. But I feel like we didn't get all the things mentioned in the description and what we did get was not clearly executed. So, I would not recommend this book if you're looking for a more traditional and tidy novel.

This is Asghar’s first novel. It is about sisters who must traverse many difficulties together with the support of one another. Overall, I found the book pleasant to read but I was never fully captivated. I’m familiar with her poetry and felt like this was definitely present in the novel- the beauty of the prose (and the poetry interspersed) felt very intentional and artistic. Towards the end of the book, I felt more drawn to the prose. There are a few funny sentences that I wish were weaved throughout. Overall, this is a beautiful book but, as somebody who reads more for entertainment than for appreciating art, I felt underwhelmed at times.

The style is deliberately fragmentary but I’m afraid for me the fragments never coalesced. On the whole this was a frustrating read for me where I felt as if the author had a much clearer intention than what ultimately made it to the page.

This review was posted on my Instagram account:

I have read very few poetry collections, but one of the ones that I have read is If They Come For Us by Fatimah Asghar. Having read their poetry, I am not surprised at the writing of this novel, as it feels like the work of a poet. Asghar plays with form in both their poetry collection and this novel. I think this was very deserving of the NBA longlist and I currently have it ranked second of what I have read, so I would have loved to see it as a finalist (though it is not one).

This is the story mostly of 3 sisters - Noreen, Aisha, and Kausar - who are orphaned when they lose first their mother to a terminal illness and then their father to murder. We experience their lives from childhood into adulthood through the eyes of the youngest, Kausar. While their uncle technically has custody of them, he does not really raise them and mostly leaves them to themselves so they have to take on a lot of responsibility for themselves at a very young age. Kausar’s older sisters also serve as mother-figures to them. There is also some discussion of the South Asian immigrant experience, since the family came from Pakistan to the United States.

One choice that I am curious about is the choice to redact the uncle’s first name. If anyone who has read this has any possible thoughts or insight on this, please let me know in the comments!

I thought this was a really good book! The writing choices were so well-done and innovative and the writing style made this one easy to keep turning pages quickly. Many chapters were very short, some half a page or less, and some sections were written in the style of poetry. This was already on my radar before the NBA, but I got to it quicker because of the longlisting, for which I am grateful. If you’ve read this, let me know your thoughts! Any future work by Asghar will definitely be on my radar!

when we were sisters is a heart-wrenching, hauntingly beautiful story of three sisters who are orphaned at a young age and left to raise each other as they grow up. The sisters have to wrestle with loss, family, rage, poverty, gender, and coming of age as Muslim women in the early 90's/00's. it is primarily told from the point of view of the youngest sister and Asghar's writing is so lyrical and moving I was enthralled by every page. At its core, this is a story about the power of sisterhood- both in the way it can lift you up and the way it can cut you straight to the core- and as the oldest of three sisters, it touched me deep in my core. The prose and plot were so gripping that I could not put this book down and while it left me feeling conflicted and a bit empty, I have thought about it every day since. While it is definitely not a lighthearted or uplifting book, it had a level of tenderness and vulnerability that was very moving. It has become one of my favorites from this vear and I want evervone to read it so I can talk about it with someone. It's a stunning debut novel & I cannot wait to see what comes next from this author.

I wanted to enjoy this one because of the premise, but I couldn't connect with the writing and the characters at all.

A moving, formally inventive, clearly autobiographical and liberating account of terrible grief and abuse as narrated by one of three orphaned Muslim sisters in the USA. Dodging predictability and the conventionally syrupy sisterly stuff, it follows its own, sometimes sporadic narration to a point of late release. Impressive and memorable.

This is a super easy one to review - not.impressed. Books like this leave me with a bit of a complex; it's got a majority of high ratings on Goodreads, but it just wasn't for me. That makes me feel a bit defective, to be honest. But there was just nothing for me to really enjoy. The writing was disjointed and weak. Nothing beautiful or lyrical about it. I couldn't connect or sympathize with any of the characters, despite their tragic upbringing. The varied writing styles chapter to chapter were simply too much work for me to slog through without any benefit at the end. I wanted to like this book, but was deeply disappointed.

Brutal--at, at times, hard to follow--but beautiful. Fatimah Asghar's poetry background comes out with their lyrical prose and their handling of different formats of storytelling. Trigger warnings abound; the book covers abuse, neglect, sexual assault, loss, and more with little hope.

Poetry can be hard for me to follow so I struggled to enjoy the writing, but I loved the story - it’s so important. The sibling dynamics were captured perfectly.