There were some things I really liked about this book, but others left me feeling that it was fragmented. Three sisters, Noreen, Aisha and Kauser, lose their father when he is murdered. Already having lost their mother, the sisters are now orphaned. When their Uncle takes them in, he does the minimum to keep them fed and housed. The story is told from Kauser’s viewpoint,as she grows up and begins to understand her relationship with her sisters, as well as trying to make sense of her life. At times moving and heartbreaking, at other times a bit confusing. Thanks to NetGalley for the ARC.

Content warnings: parent death, child abuse, sexual assault, racism, Islamophobia

An orphan grapples with gender, family, and identity in this coming-of-age novel. Kausar is orphaned at a young age, and she and her two older sisters are now “taken care of” by their uncle. But they soon realize they only have each other and must look after themselves.

The way this book was told was so unique. It seemed fragmented at times, which was so fitting for Kausar’s journey. The writing was so beautiful and I felt like I was reading poetry the whole time (without all the symbolism that can sometimes be confusing). I’ll definitely be on the lookout for more by this author and I recommend this book to anyone who’s okay with the content.

I cannot believe this was a debut! This was a tough book to read but wow I am thankful I read it. I'm so glad this book is being recognized as it should.

Special thanks to the author, publisher, & netgalley for my advanced readers copy.

What a beautiful yet eccentric way to express emotions through fictional characters. This novel was a lyrical combination of storytelling and poetry. The writing style was very different than what I’m used to. Lots of fragmented sentences and short paragraphs. But because there were sections that contained poetry I got through this rather quickly.

The novel follows the life of 3 sisters now orphaned after losing their last living parent. Hurt that it seemed nobody wanted to take them in until their mothers brother shows up to save the day. Assuming this would be a good option for them. They soon realize living with their uncle may not be what they expected after all.

Placed into an apartment basically to fend for themselves. While their uncle chose when and how he’d take care of them. Which was rarely ever yet he lived comfortably at their expense. The uncle really irked my nerves because he was mean, controlling, abusive, selfish, and uncaring. Basically taking the girls in was for his own financial gain.

Of all the sisters I felt Kausar got the worst experience being the youngest. No parental guidance caused them all to rely on each other. But that also started to form a wall between them as they struggled through the problems they were facing. Days with no food,
clean clothing, or basic necessities. It’s hard to stick together when you’re struggling to survive.

The author covered some heavy topics from self-discovery, family, gender, depression, identity, physical and emotional abuse, childhood trauma, and sexual assault.

Apart from it seeming to be rushed the ending seemed a bit off with the timeline jump. After reading about such a traumatic experience. The author tried ending on a lighter note but I don’t really see the upside to everything that occurred. I kind of want to know what the author’s intentions were with this. Can’t really say if this one is worth recommending. Not that it’s a bad story but I wasn’t left 100% satisfied.

DNF - I couldn't muster the enthusiasm to read this book which is probably due to a million different reasons but, maybe it just wasn't the right time & I wasn't in the right state of mind to try. In any case, I'm stopping here.

Poetic, unflinching, and a book that really goes there.
I loved the way that sisterhood was described and lived out in this book. As a sister myself, it was too realistic. There is love, but there is also exasperation, protectiveness, and fighting - for each other and with each other.

Fatimah Asghar has painted the story of a life that is tragic, but has the potential to be beautiful and full in the end.

I genuinely enjoyed.

An author to keep an eye out for...⁣
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Poet, screenwriter, educator, and performer Fatimah Asghar is a Pakistani, Kashmiri, Muslim American writer. She is the author of the poetry collection If They Should Come for Us and the chapbook After. She is also the writer and co-creator of the Emmy-nominated Brown Girls, a web series that highlights friendships between women of color. ⁣
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When We Were Sisters tenderly examines the bonds and fractures of sisterhood, names the perils of being three Muslim American girls alone against the world, and ultimately illustrates how those who’ve lost everything might still make homes in one another.⁣
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A lyrical, real, sisterly coming of age story. I don't think I'll ever tire of books that show people navigating this crazy world. ⁣
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Do you enjoy coming-of-age stories?⁣
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when We were sisters explores sisters' lives under their neglectful care of their uncle. I appreciated the themes of their American identity versus their relatives being Pakistani. It was a hard read at times, but beautiful writing.

TL;DR REVIEW:

When We Were Sisters is a gorgeously written novel about three Pakistani-American sisters who grow up neglected. I sunk into it and was sad to finish; just beautiful.

For you if: You like novels told in vignettes.

FULL REVIEW:

I picked up When We Were Sisters because it was longlisted for the 2022 National Book Award, but I should have known it would be a stunner — we love novels written by poets, do we not? Plus, pretty much anything published by One World is excellent.

Although it’s so beautifully written, this book deals with tough subject matter. It’s told from the POV of the youngest of three Pakistani-American sisters, orphans recently taken in by an uncle who only does it for the government money and to make himself look good. Neglected and left to fend for themselves, all the sisters have is one another. We follow them from childhood through adulthood and see how their bond changes and endures.

I liked the story a lot, even though the ending felt a little abrupt to me. But where this book really stands out is the gorgeous, heartbreaking prose. It’s told in vignettes, which I loved. In true poet-writing-prose fashion, it used the text layout in beautiful, interesting ways. I actually listened to part on audio and read the rest in print, and while I was pleasantly surprised at how well it translated to audio, I still recommend reading or reading along because of the unique, purposeful formatting.

At the end of the day, I was sad when this was over (quickly, as it’s short) and was loathe to pull myself out of Fatimah Asghar’s prose.



CONTENT AND TRIGGER WARNINGS:
Death of a parent; Child abuse/neglect; Emotional abuse; Sexual assault; Racism/Islamophobia

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.