My thoughts echo those of other readers. This is a brutal read that doesn’t pull any punches. But this is nevertheless the reality of a country and people torn apart by extortion, tyranny, persecution and lawlessness. Ignorance, fear, and superstition run rife. Some courageous souls make futile attempts to break free from the shackles of misogyny and patriarchy and instil a modicum of human rights.

Its literary style may appeal more to new adult readers.

My thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for granting this e-book in exchange for an honest review.

First of all I must stress that this is an important and relevant book that deserves a wide readership. I have a few reservations about it, but nevertheless recommend it as an insight into the life of women and girls in Afghanistan under the Taliban. Based on true stories, we follow three girls in a remote mountain village. Although relatively primitive, conditions there are improving and education is available to both boys and girls. Then comes the arrival of the Taliban and once again girls are shut out from education and any hope for a different future. It’s a vivid portrait of the cruelty, oppression, injustice and brutality women and girls have to face, as well as the oppression all sectors of society face if they in any way deviate from the party line. Multiple viewpoints are represented but the reader never fully gets inside the heads of any of the characters. The style is direct, simplistic and unsophisticated, with short sentences, and I found that prevented me from fully engaging with the girls or their parents. Here are the realities of 21st century Afghanistan, however, and the book brought that home to me with a vengeance.

Tali Girls is the kind of book I love reading that makes me realize how lucky I am to be born in the West. Kowsar and Geesu ate not as lucky; the peaceful and lush valley of Tali has turned into a nightmare since the Taliban have taken over the country and are controlling the government. They have closed the local school and children are no longer allowed to enjoy and education. Heaven forbid they learn how to think! Kowsar suffers from fainting spells in times of great stress and that saves her life as the Head of the Department of Religious Education, Khodadad, is looking at making her is third of fourth wife (she is 9, he is in his late 50s). Kowsar's health situation turns him off so he chooses Simin instead.
Kowsar are dealing of a life where they get to marry the man they live, and they live happily and freely. Unfortunately, this book takes us for a walk in a place that is so dangerous, no westerners takes a chance visiting for pure leisure. My heart broke over and over throughout the book. It was a heart read but I loved sitting with these families who, despite the atrocities, many remained so kind, good-hearted and hospitable, it gave me hope. The only part I did not enjoy was the way the story ended. Too brutal, too blunt.

Thank you Net Galley and the publisher for this e-ARC in exchange of my honest review.

Siamak Herawi's novel follows the stories of four girls living in a remote valley in Afghanistan before the Taliban occupation. Kowsar is a young girl who loves reading. She is sensitive but strong-willed. Whenever she feels intense emotions, she collapses in a fit. Her teacher would like her to pursue further education but, when he introduces her to the minister of religious education, Khodadad, the minister takes a perverse interest in the girl and their secluded town. He visits, segregates the boys from the girls, forbids music, demands that they memorize only suras from the Koran, and then, after surveying the young girls, takes the nine-year-old Simin as his third wife. He is violent and ruthless, wielding his religious authority as a pretense for sexual gratification. The girls in this story face brutal hardship—rape, torture, public beating and stoning. As the Taliban seize neighboring towns and reinstitute their own capricious interpretation of Sharia law, the girls are deprived of their brief, fragile dream of an independent future. Kowsar must give up on her education and her aspirations; her neighbor, Geesu, who has fallen in love with Kowsar's brother-in-law, must choose between a forced marriage and ostracism and death. Khodadad transforms their foothill paradise into a patriarchal dystopia. Their family paddocks and gardens are requisitioned and turned into a swathe of opium farms. Their family life of humble subsistence is corrupted into an exploitative hellscape under Taliban rule.

On the whole, the novel romanticizes the provinces of Afghanistan, presenting the humble village as an uncorrupted idyll. It's a story that is perhaps especially palatable to Western readers but, to be critical, it also elides the fact that Afghanistan had a burgeoning economy. In the last decades with the suppression of the Taliban, the metropolises were expanding, with new schools, hospitals and universities. Afghanistan was, and is, a modernized nation. Herawi's novel, however, focuses on the pristine hinterlands, the sparsely populated mountains and caves, the traditional villages living off livestock and simple goods. It places its emphasis on pastoral innocence—in one chapter, two men (Kowsar's husband, Farrhad, and his host, Seydou) wander through the mountains in search of Geesu and they come across a poor shepherd. He offers them hospitality, generously sharing his dinner with them, but without telling them that his wife and children will not have food anymore. Farrhad feels painfully guilty when he realizes but Seydou is happy to be reminded that, at least in some parts of Afghanistan, there remains a spirit of noble sacrifice and communal sharing. It's a sentimental celebration of noble poverty and virtuous simplicity. But I was more interested in the book-dealer who leaves, the writer who flees to Kabul, the urban class which experienced break-neck whiplash from Western pop-culture to Taliban tyranny. There are other stories to be told about Afghanistan.

Overall, a compelling read but I take issue with its subtitle, "A story of Afghanistan", and how English readers might misconstrue/overgeneralize because of it.

Such an important book that deserves a wide audience - even if it wasn't as literarily powerful for me as I wanted. There's something a bit unsophisticated about the structure and writing, and the length works against the impact of the piece, I felt.

For all my personal reservations, I still think this glimpse into the lives of Afghani women is crucial and important for us as both part of a global response to the rolling back of women's rights everywhere and for the specific insight into that tragic country. 3.5 stars rounded up to 4.