'Home Fire' is an exquisite modern tragedy about families caught between religion, politics
That Home Fire is among the recently announced means it arrives stateside with quite the notable stamp of approval. The novel is considerably more affecting than that other longlist novel currently in the media spotlight, which should ensure a well-deserved shortlist nod come September for听Kamila Shamsie.
Easy verdict? Read this.
From the epigraph 鈥� 鈥淭he ones we love ... are enemies of the state鈥� 鈥� to the final word 鈥� 鈥減eace鈥� 鈥� Shamsie encapsulates her exquisite modern tragedy: The quote originates in Nobel Laureate Seamus Heaney鈥檚 translation of Sophocles鈥� 鈥淎ntigone鈥� from which Shamsie luminously updates her auspicious plot. Her last, perfect word serves as a contemporary, against-all-odds, global prayer.
Karachi-raised, US-educated, London-domiciled Shamsie (鈥淏urnt Shadows,鈥� 鈥淏roken Verses鈥�) draws on her hybrid background in presenting two British-Pakistani families caught between loyalty, religion, politics, and the international war on terror. To fully appreciate 鈥淗ome Fire,鈥� familiarity with its ancient Greek inspiration is not essential; indeed, attempts to align the 5th-century-BCE details with Shamsie鈥檚 21st-century rendition might prove distracting. Again, a reminder to just read.
The Pasha family鈥檚 history is undoubtedly grievous. After the father鈥檚 mysterious death linked to terrorist activities, the grandmother and mother also passed away. Only Isma, now 28, and twin siblings, 19-year-old Aneeka and Parvais, survive. Ready to reclaim her life after raising the twins, Isma leaves London to pursue her PhD in Massachusetts. Her field is sociology, because she 鈥溾�檞anted to understand why the world is so unfair.鈥欌��
In a chance coffee-shop encounter, she meets fellow Brit Eamonn Lone, whose father Karamat 鈥� the son of Pakistani immigrants married to a blue-blooded Irish-American heiress 鈥� is now the UK鈥檚 home secretary in charge of internal affairs. Isma and Eamonn鈥檚 acquaintance grows quickly toward 鈥溾�檅ay-takalufi,鈥欌�� an Urdu word that describes the mutual ease of being 鈥溾�橻c]omfortable enough to forget good table manners,鈥欌�� but their relationship is abbreviated when Eamonn returns to London, albeit not without a package of M&Ms he promises to post to Isma鈥檚 Aunty (by affection-rather-than-blood) Naseem.
What Eamonn could have dropped into the mail, he decides to hand-deliver, enabling him to meet Isma鈥檚 sister Aneeka. Despite eliciting an initial 鈥渓ook of disgust he deserved鈥� after a shameless pick-up line, Eamonn and Aneeka almost immediately become 鈥�'each other鈥檚 secret.鈥欌�� Aneeka鈥檚 insistence for isolated privacy is not without cause: Aneeka wears the hijab; Eamonn鈥檚 father advises young British Muslim students, 鈥淒on鈥檛 set yourself apart in the way you dress ... [b]ecause if you do, you will be treated differently 鈥� not because of racism ... but because you insist on your difference from everyone else in this multiethnic, multireligious, multitudinous United Kingdom of ours.鈥�
Missing from both Isma and Aneeka鈥檚 lives in the midst of leaving and loving is their brother, Aneeka鈥檚 twin Parvais. The 鈥渨eaker, sicklier twin鈥� since birth, suckled by their mother who had only enough milk for one, the teenage Parvais is overshadowed by his sisters鈥� strengths. His fragile male ego 鈥� and his father鈥檚 legacy 鈥� make him a perfect target for radicalization: He鈥檚 fled London for Syria where he鈥檚 been trained to become 鈥渢he terrorist son of a terrorist father.鈥� Dehumanized by the horrors he鈥檚 recorded 鈥� 鈥渂eheadings, crucifixions, whipping鈥� 鈥� Parvais is desperate to come home. But the law, unequivocally vocalized by Eamonn鈥檚 father, is not forgiving. Dead or alive, Parvais鈥檚 return to London faces epic obstacles. In working toward reunion, bonds between family, lovers, citizens, and governments will be tested, strained, and irreparably broken.
What leads up to the concluding (shocking) tragedy is revealed in five parts, seemingly from five perspectives, that of Isma, Eamonn, Parvais, Aneeka, and Karamat. Most notable is Aneeka鈥檚 penultimate section, which is told more through external viewpoints, including television and newspaper reports, and even trending Twitter hashtags, underlining how ancient classics remain as timely as ever (will we humans ever learn?). Shamsie, who has matured as global citizen and international writer in the age of social media, goes beyond mere plot adaptation to explore the nature of storytelling itself: who gets to tell the story, how will the story get retold, which story might last to become history.
Through millennia, 鈥淎ntigone鈥� has proven to be a narrative to claim and reshape again and again. Curious readers might remember (or discover anew) Joydeep Roy-Bhattacharya鈥檚 鈥淭he Watch鈥� (2012) 鈥� an 鈥淎ntigone鈥� set in Afghanistan 鈥� which also chooses a terror-filled conflict zone to explore combustible human relationships. Although just one in a substantial library of 鈥淎ntigones" through centuries, cultures, and countries, Shamsie鈥檚 latest is a compelling, stupendous stand-out to be witnessed, honored, and deeply commended.
Terry Hong writes , a book blog for the .
