gschwabauer 's review for:

One Half from the East by Nadia Hashimi

3.0

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I was SO ready to give this book at least four stars. The writing is simple but totally effective. I was immersed in Obeyda's story, feeling what she felt. The friendship between Rahim and Obeyd was beautiful and heartbreaking; every simple detail rendered to perfection. The narrator's casual internalized misogyny is gently challenged. And as someone who grew up as a girl in a very different culture, doing my own crossing-of-gender-lines despite social disapproval, it was easy for me to care deeply about every single bit of this story. I couldn't help but wonder how I would have felt if I'd truly been allowed to "become" a boy like Obeyd, and what a nightmare I would have emerged into if I were then forced to change back.

I say that not to compare our experiences (mine were a hundred times gentler) but precisely BECAUSE our experiences can't be compared. I grew up in a culture where women could vote, choose marriage partners, and publish novels. I went to school with boys, played sports with boys, rode my bike with boys, and yet the trauma of such changes, against my will, would have been horrific. So why did the ending of this book feel so . . . simple?

Spoiler

Obeyd is willing to make life-threatening treks to remain a boy, describes boyhood as "like when it's been freezing cold all winter and then--one day--it's suddenly spring and warm enough that you don't need a coat." This child absolutely comes alive being a boy. But when Obeyd's parents insist that he become a girl again, overnight, he's angry with them for one evening? The next day, as Obeyda, she realizes they just want the best for her, and they share heartwarming family moments about how the parents don't think girls are inferior and are proud of their daughters no matter what. And that's great, but at no point in the story does Obeyd want to remain a boy because his parents hate girls; it's because he thrives in a society where he's treated as a human being and has freedoms girls can't even imagine. I didn't feel settled or happy at the end even though the writing seemed to suggest things had been resolved--Obeyda is going to be trapped in this hell of womanhood in a culture that despises her, regardless of her father's kindness! How could it have taken her "a few days" to get used to "being a girl again"?

And what about Rahim? Obeyd's best friend is taken home, forcibly reverted to girlhood, and married off to an abusive warlord at age 13. Obeyd sneaks in to see Rahim once, grieves his friend deeply, and then I guess . . . just thinks wistfully of this person in a "wow, that was a beautiful friendship I won't ever have again" way rather than a "oh my god, my best friend is being assaulted and held against their will in a compound after years of vowing to live life as a boy forever," like how was I supposed to feel any positive emotions the entire rest of the book?

Why was Obeyd/Obeyda happy near the end? Why were they coming to terms with the situation? Why was this presented as hopeful rather than a trauma/shock response? The first 70% of the book was incredible. And the ending wasn't bad or unrealistic, exactly, it just . . . lacked the emotional nuance that such a complicated situation deserved.