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When We Were Sisters
An orphan grapples with gender, siblinghood, family, and coming-of-age as a Muslim in America in this lyrical debut novel from the acclaimed author of If They Come For Us
In this heartrending, lyrical debut work of fiction, Fatimah Asghar traces the intense bond of three orphaned siblings who, after their parents die, are left to raise one another. The youngest, Kausar, grapples with the incomprehensible loss of her parents as she also charts out her own understanding of gender; Aisha, the middle sister, spars with her crybaby younger sibling as she desperately tries to hold on to her sense of family in an impossible situation; and Noreen, the eldest, does her best in the role of sister-mother while also trying to create a life for herself, on her own terms.
As Kausar grows up, she must contend with the collision of her private and public worlds, and choose whether to remain in the life of love, sorrow, and codependency she's known or carve out a new path for herself. 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 each other.
In this heartrending, lyrical debut work of fiction, Fatimah Asghar traces the intense bond of three orphaned siblings who, after their parents die, are left to raise one another. The youngest, Kausar, grapples with the incomprehensible loss of her parents as she also charts out her own understanding of gender; Aisha, the middle sister, spars with her crybaby younger sibling as she desperately tries to hold on to her sense of family in an impossible situation; and Noreen, the eldest, does her best in the role of sister-mother while also trying to create a life for herself, on her own terms.
As Kausar grows up, she must contend with the collision of her private and public worlds, and choose whether to remain in the life of love, sorrow, and codependency she's known or carve out a new path for herself. 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 each other.
352 pages, Hardcover
First published October 18, 2022
549 people are currently reading
27154 people want to read
About the author
Fatimah Asghar
14 books604 followersPoet, 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. Her work has been featured on news outlets such as PBS, NPR, Time, Teen Vogue, Huffington Post, and others.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 920 reviews
December 5, 2022
This is an exquisitely lyrical novel. I loved the fragmentary nature of the prose, the poems as interstitials, the bond between these three sisters—Noreen, Aisha, and Kausur, as a character unto itself. The story made my heart ache--three girls, orphaned and left in the care of a neglectful uncle who does the bare minimum for the girls. Kausur is the narrator and as the youngest, we see how for so long, her sisters are her whole world, the sun and the moon. We also see how she folds in on herself more and more as she tries to make sense of the world and her place in it. I was incredibly moved by this book and impressed by the author's stylistic choices. Very original storytelling here.
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October 29, 2022The 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.
January 9, 2024
A book about three Muslim American sisters whose parents both passed away, I liked the honesty in which Fatima Asghar writes about emotional topics: grief, growing up with multiple marginalized identities, and the joys and pains of sisterhood. It’s interesting that Asghar is a poet because the writing itself felt almost too lyrical for me, like the emotions and events weren’t grounded enough in reality (on a prose level, not doubting that these types of things really happen to real.) Even though the novel felt a bit too fragmented and didn’t come together enough for me, it portrays a difficult and real coming of age story that may resonate with others.
May 18, 2023
This book absolutely gutted me. The majority of it was impossibly sad.
Growing up, I had a fairly sheltered life, which may be why I can’t envision—even in my wildest imaginings—such appalling abuse and the most outrageous neglect. Three beautiful little girls, their mother long dead, their father now murdered. Three young orphans no one wants.
In the end, an uncle takes over their care, but only because he knows he can get hold of their father’s money and the monthly government cheques. But care for them he does NOT. He buys a tiny apartment, puts them in one room, and rents out the others. Then he continually forgets them. He forgets they have no food; no money. They have only each other. They understand now there’s no one but each other. But they’re children. We watch as they grow up, and wonder how this can possibly end well?
The author may have written the book as therapy. In the Acknowledgements she writes:
5 “Impossibly Sad” stars ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Growing up, I had a fairly sheltered life, which may be why I can’t envision—even in my wildest imaginings—such appalling abuse and the most outrageous neglect. Three beautiful little girls, their mother long dead, their father now murdered. Three young orphans no one wants.
In the end, an uncle takes over their care, but only because he knows he can get hold of their father’s money and the monthly government cheques. But care for them he does NOT. He buys a tiny apartment, puts them in one room, and rents out the others. Then he continually forgets them. He forgets they have no food; no money. They have only each other. They understand now there’s no one but each other. But they’re children. We watch as they grow up, and wonder how this can possibly end well?
The author may have written the book as therapy. In the Acknowledgements she writes:
I started this book in isolation, when the sadness was so unbearable I couldn’t remember who I was. I started writing it in secret, letting what came come. I didn’t know where it was taking me. I didn’t know what it was. I let it come.Without a doubt, the author writes very beautifully. But her sadness permeates every page and there are just too many triggers. In a strange way, I am glad I read it, but I don’t know if I can recommend it with any confidence. Yes, I gave it 5 stars… because it made me feel so much and so deeply, and it opened my eyes to so much. Too much, though, was unspeakably ugly.
5 “Impossibly Sad” stars ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
September 18, 2023
A devastating novel of sisterhood and the lifelong effects of loss and grief. Nuanced and delicate, When We Were Sisters explores the ways in which we are forced to grow up overnight, the ways that we must care for ourselves and for others, the little ways in which we gives ourselves away, so much so that it is difficult to form a full picture of all that could have been, might still be. Raw, insightful, and unflinching in its lyrical honesty, this novel is such a vital portrait of heartbreak and emptiness; sometimes it is the loss of something we have not fully grasped that is the most impactful; the ache of love and regret is imprinted from even our earliest memories. A powerfully crafted debut that celebrates the ever changing but indestructible ties of sisterhood.
October 19, 2022
National Book for Fiction Longlist 2022. The parents of sisters Noreen, Aisha, and Kausar were immigrants from Pakistan. The mother died years ago, and the father was murdered when Noreen, the oldest, was just 9-years-old. The orphans are taken in by their mother’s brother. It quickly becomes apparent that their uncle has taken custody for the cash the government pays him to care for the sisters. He rules them with authoritarian neglect that breaks one’s heart. All the sisters have is each other. Asghar tells the story through the POV of Kausar, the youngest sister.
Asghar is also a poet and her sentences often reflect the short, lyrical phrases of poetry as she explores the conflict the sisters have between American culture and their relatives’ Pakistani backgrounds.
Asghar is also a poet and her sentences often reflect the short, lyrical phrases of poetry as she explores the conflict the sisters have between American culture and their relatives’ Pakistani backgrounds.
December 20, 2024
"How terrible—to be an ordinary orphan."
When We Were Sisters follows three Muslim sisters in American whose father dies, leaving them orphaned.
Most of the story is told from the first-person perspective of Kauser, the youngest of the sisters. We watch as she and her sisters are raised by their neglectful uncle, navigate their grief without any familial support, grow up with a marginalized identity, and, later, explore their sexuality.
One of the most interesting threads throughout this book is the orphan narrative because Fatimah Asghar and her sister were orphaned after their parents died young. Asghar has said in an interview that she grew up reading novels about orphans who were secretly wizards or the chosen one, etc. But that’s not real life.
In When We Were Sisters, Asghar strives to give a more honest portrayal of life as an orphan, revealing how in some ways it forces children to grow up really fast, and in other ways it can emotionally stunt them.
I enjoyed this book, but I think my overall experience was lacking because I elected to listen to the audiobook. I didn't realize how structurally/visually innovative this book is, so I missed out on a lot. The audiobook is good, but I recommend reading a physical copy if you can get your hands on one.
When We Were Sisters follows three Muslim sisters in American whose father dies, leaving them orphaned.
Most of the story is told from the first-person perspective of Kauser, the youngest of the sisters. We watch as she and her sisters are raised by their neglectful uncle, navigate their grief without any familial support, grow up with a marginalized identity, and, later, explore their sexuality.
One of the most interesting threads throughout this book is the orphan narrative because Fatimah Asghar and her sister were orphaned after their parents died young. Asghar has said in an interview that she grew up reading novels about orphans who were secretly wizards or the chosen one, etc. But that’s not real life.
In When We Were Sisters, Asghar strives to give a more honest portrayal of life as an orphan, revealing how in some ways it forces children to grow up really fast, and in other ways it can emotionally stunt them.
I enjoyed this book, but I think my overall experience was lacking because I elected to listen to the audiobook. I didn't realize how structurally/visually innovative this book is, so I missed out on a lot. The audiobook is good, but I recommend reading a physical copy if you can get your hands on one.
March 17, 2024
This is the story of three sisters that suffer the loss of both parents and are taken in by an uncle living in America. The girls live in Pakistan at the time of their father's death. The uncle, never named, lures the narrator, Kausur, to accept his offer to take them in with the promise of a zoo. What the girls find when they arrive in America is an aparment building filled with bird cages and rabbits and noise and scat.
Kausur offers a window into the lives of themself and their sisters. The uncle is absent for the most part. He uses intimidation and fear to keep the girls quiet about their situation. It is tough to read.
Asghar is a poet and while I've never read her poetry, I imagine it must be powerful. The book is written in paragraphs that make each word count. I think this is an honest depiction of what it feels like to be tethered to someone that provides yet repels; that promises the world, but delivers something quite different.
Thanks to EI for bringing this one up to the top of my TBR pile!
Kausur offers a window into the lives of themself and their sisters. The uncle is absent for the most part. He uses intimidation and fear to keep the girls quiet about their situation. It is tough to read.
Asghar is a poet and while I've never read her poetry, I imagine it must be powerful. The book is written in paragraphs that make each word count. I think this is an honest depiction of what it feels like to be tethered to someone that provides yet repels; that promises the world, but delivers something quite different.
Thanks to EI for bringing this one up to the top of my TBR pile!
March 23, 2023
when their father is shot and killed, noreen, aisha, and kausar are taken in to be fostered by their uncle. he has strange rules and swindles people at the masjid out of money that he says will go to taking care of the orphans. in truth, he forgets to feed them. kausar, exploring their nonbinary identity, has to pretend to be a girl at school and is the subject of cruel bullies. this is the story of three sisters and how they survived.
beautifully written, i was most struck by the poetry in this novel. it is clear that asghar has studied poetry and she writes it beautifully, yet with kausar’s voice. it’s a rollercoaster of laughter and tears. these girls are everything to each other and rely on one another. as an only child, i can not fathom that type of closeness and love.
beautifully written, i was most struck by the poetry in this novel. it is clear that asghar has studied poetry and she writes it beautifully, yet with kausar’s voice. it’s a rollercoaster of laughter and tears. these girls are everything to each other and rely on one another. as an only child, i can not fathom that type of closeness and love.
October 18, 2022
Three orphaned sisters are left to raise each other. The story follows their intense bond and how they are inseparable as they are all they have. Noreen, Aisha, and Kausar deal with their problems in their own way, struggling together but also on their own. It follows them as children and into adulthood - showing how everything has affected them. They went through so much abuse, neglect, loss, and sexual assault. It is told from Kausar’s perspective and we see how she navigates her feelings on gender, family, religion, and trying to find a place for herself in the world.
This novel’s lyrical prose was beautiful and I liked that it didn’t stick to one format as well. The story itself is heartbreaking and left me feeling empty at the end. I loved it but wish the ending had a little bit more to it. I do feel that Kausar’s story was unfinished and may stay up tonight thinking about her.
Thank you to Netgalley for an advanced copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. This comes out tomorrow and I'm so excited that I finished it just in time!
This novel’s lyrical prose was beautiful and I liked that it didn’t stick to one format as well. The story itself is heartbreaking and left me feeling empty at the end. I loved it but wish the ending had a little bit more to it. I do feel that Kausar’s story was unfinished and may stay up tonight thinking about her.
Thank you to Netgalley for an advanced copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. This comes out tomorrow and I'm so excited that I finished it just in time!
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June 20, 2023This is supposed to be a remarkable story about sisterhood, trauma, and grief.
I had this book in the waiting list for a long time.
The audiobook became available from the library 2 weeks ago, but I was waiting for a copy of the ebook and a paperback.
As I was anxious, for the first time I listened to the audiobook without having a hard copy in my hands.
I played the first 30% and I immediately thought that this book was not for me, or perhaps the audiobook was the problem, so I downloaded a sample that contained about the first 8%. Later the ebook was available through the “skip the line” option from my library.
And the truth is that reading the words was a better experience for me.
But unfortunately the writing style is not for me, so I feel that it would be unfair of me to rate this book.
I read all pages and I just couldn’t connect with anything.
e-book (Kobo): 166 pages (default), 45k words
audiobook narrated by Farah Kidwai, Kamran Khan and Deepti Gupta
I had this book in the waiting list for a long time.
The audiobook became available from the library 2 weeks ago, but I was waiting for a copy of the ebook and a paperback.
As I was anxious, for the first time I listened to the audiobook without having a hard copy in my hands.
I played the first 30% and I immediately thought that this book was not for me, or perhaps the audiobook was the problem, so I downloaded a sample that contained about the first 8%. Later the ebook was available through the “skip the line” option from my library.
And the truth is that reading the words was a better experience for me.
But unfortunately the writing style is not for me, so I feel that it would be unfair of me to rate this book.
I read all pages and I just couldn’t connect with anything.
e-book (Kobo): 166 pages (default), 45k words
audiobook narrated by Farah Kidwai, Kamran Khan and Deepti Gupta
November 9, 2023
This is so sharp. A look at Muslim orphan sisters and their community after a big loss.
October 8, 2022
"In this world we were born into nothing but everything is ours: the sidewalk, the yellow markers in the road. The rain falls through the leaves and kisses us just so. What no one will ever understand is that the world belongs to orphans, everything becomes our mother."
This novel is breathtaking. The prose is gorgeous and the story heart-wrenching but beautiful. I couldn't put this book down. One of my favorite debuts of 2022.
This novel is breathtaking. The prose is gorgeous and the story heart-wrenching but beautiful. I couldn't put this book down. One of my favorite debuts of 2022.
September 29, 2023
As I'm reading through others' reviews of this book, "lyrical" seems to be the common description, and I have to agree. Fatimah Asghar is a poet, and the book is comprised of vivid and melodic vignettes, punctuated with poetic flashbacks. But this is by no means a light story. Asghar's lyrical prose is often fierce and raw with emotion as they explore the complex themes of family, the immigrant experience, and queerness.
The story is about the bonds of sisterhood of three young Muslim girls as they navigate through a cruel and neglected childhood. It's compelling, but it's also heartbreaking and layered with isolation, loss, and grief. While the book is a work of fiction, the reader can feel Asghar working through their own pain and process of healing. In an interview with Asghar that I stumbled upon, they remarked that what's really important to them "about the process of writing is that it allows you to shed the stories that keep you stuck and it allows you to give it a home."
Overall, I thought this was a beautiful and complex debut novel with a unique voice. Asghar is a poet first, so the book includes a number of deep poetic moments that are not typical of a novel. And Asghar's very personal style of writing drew me deeply into all the uncomfortable feelings of grief and loneliness. This was not easy reading, but it felt intensely worthwhile.
The story is about the bonds of sisterhood of three young Muslim girls as they navigate through a cruel and neglected childhood. It's compelling, but it's also heartbreaking and layered with isolation, loss, and grief. While the book is a work of fiction, the reader can feel Asghar working through their own pain and process of healing. In an interview with Asghar that I stumbled upon, they remarked that what's really important to them "about the process of writing is that it allows you to shed the stories that keep you stuck and it allows you to give it a home."
Overall, I thought this was a beautiful and complex debut novel with a unique voice. Asghar is a poet first, so the book includes a number of deep poetic moments that are not typical of a novel. And Asghar's very personal style of writing drew me deeply into all the uncomfortable feelings of grief and loneliness. This was not easy reading, but it felt intensely worthwhile.
February 3, 2023
Oh how I loved this book. I saved reading the last section for a few days because I didn’t want it to end. Asgar’s writing is so lyrical and beautiful. I am not an orphan or a Muslim and I have no sisters; yet so many of the descriptions of girlhood and relationships and loneliness hit me right in the chest.
I loved the experimental pieces — the use of brackets, the apartment map, fading text, the uncle’s name redacted.
My heart broke and I raged at the neglectful, abusive uncle, at three girls forced into caretaking and adulthood far too young. And yet even he isn’t painted as fully evil, fully bad; Asgar adds such nuance and complexity into his relationship with his nieces. The loss of Meemoo and aunty and the perspectives from the girls’ parents were both gut punches. And the pain of change — Noreen going to college, people coming and going, things never quite being as they were.
I also so appreciated the school chapters — feeling Kausar’s loneliness and struggles to belong. How early they knew that they were neither/both a girl and a boy. The agony of having a crush and things moving fast and being undefined and ending in heartbreak.
But for all the emotional distress, the book also made me laugh! Asgar perfectly captures the essence of an inexplicably funny moment.
This book for me immediately goes in a league with Little Women and Pride and Prejudice of painting the sisterly bond so wholly and dimensionally that it feels real and accessible for those of us without sisters.
The ending felt abrupt and yet appropriate— I so wanted to know more about Kausar’s life in the interim years, about their estrangement from their family. But at the same time, it feels so apt to have only a peek into that era of their life, like the way relationships have errors of intimacy and separation. The reunion of the sisters, in such a suitable setting of Uncle’s funeral, gave me closure with a simple block of text: “Sister. Sister. Sister. Sister. Sister.” Before, fading into nothing; now, reappearing and becoming more solid with every recitation.
I loved the experimental pieces — the use of brackets, the apartment map, fading text, the uncle’s name redacted.
My heart broke and I raged at the neglectful, abusive uncle, at three girls forced into caretaking and adulthood far too young. And yet even he isn’t painted as fully evil, fully bad; Asgar adds such nuance and complexity into his relationship with his nieces. The loss of Meemoo and aunty and the perspectives from the girls’ parents were both gut punches. And the pain of change — Noreen going to college, people coming and going, things never quite being as they were.
I also so appreciated the school chapters — feeling Kausar’s loneliness and struggles to belong. How early they knew that they were neither/both a girl and a boy. The agony of having a crush and things moving fast and being undefined and ending in heartbreak.
But for all the emotional distress, the book also made me laugh! Asgar perfectly captures the essence of an inexplicably funny moment.
This book for me immediately goes in a league with Little Women and Pride and Prejudice of painting the sisterly bond so wholly and dimensionally that it feels real and accessible for those of us without sisters.
The ending felt abrupt and yet appropriate— I so wanted to know more about Kausar’s life in the interim years, about their estrangement from their family. But at the same time, it feels so apt to have only a peek into that era of their life, like the way relationships have errors of intimacy and separation. The reunion of the sisters, in such a suitable setting of Uncle’s funeral, gave me closure with a simple block of text: “Sister. Sister. Sister. Sister. Sister.” Before, fading into nothing; now, reappearing and becoming more solid with every recitation.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
November 15, 2022
Well, it's my favorite sub-sub genre, poets writing prose, so it's unlikely I wasn't going to love this. I've followed Fatimah Asghar for a long time, and it's been awesome to see all the media they create for and by brown girls. I've been super excited for their first novel, about three Muslim sisters charting their paths after being orphaned, and it didn't disappoint. Asghar lists Justin Torres's book, We the Animals, as an inspiration for this one, and it's easy to see parallels, of siblings left with nothing but their bonds with each other. Chronological, lyrical, and told in vignettes, it's an extremely quick, readable, emotional book about survival, gender, and finding your own way after being untethered from stability and home.
September 3, 2022
3.5/5
This is such a heartbreaking and beautiful story. The writing is gorgeous and it flows just like poetry. Fatimah Asghar is a great writer.
This story is about 3 sisters after the death of their parents. They go to live with their unnamed uncle. It follows them as they start to grow up and want to make their own way into the world. A beautiful story about love and family. It does talk about heavy topics, so please check trigger warnings.
*thank you netgalley for the arc!
This is such a heartbreaking and beautiful story. The writing is gorgeous and it flows just like poetry. Fatimah Asghar is a great writer.
This story is about 3 sisters after the death of their parents. They go to live with their unnamed uncle. It follows them as they start to grow up and want to make their own way into the world. A beautiful story about love and family. It does talk about heavy topics, so please check trigger warnings.
*thank you netgalley for the arc!
March 19, 2025
4.5 stars
This is beautifully written, the prose and structure were my favorite part vs the overall story - but it’s also a tough story so there’s that.
-
(I want to know.)(What you mean.)(When you say.)
(I want you to know.)(What I mean.)(When I say.)
It’s fine. I’m fine. We’re all fine.
This is beautifully written, the prose and structure were my favorite part vs the overall story - but it’s also a tough story so there’s that.
-
(I want to know.)(What you mean.)(When you say.)
(I want you to know.)(What I mean.)(When I say.)
It’s fine. I’m fine. We’re all fine.
December 23, 2022
This book is nearly poetry. It is lyrical and beautiful and a little experimental… but it is fragmented and just didn’t come together for me. I can see why a lot of readers love this book. It just is not my thing.
January 17, 2024
I have probably mentioned it many times but I am a fan of immigrant narratives, especially if it’s people trying to reconciliate their culture with the new one they are immersed in. In that sense When we were Sisters is in my comfort zone but in some ways it’s not.
Noreen, Aisha and, the book’s narrator Kausar are the main protagonists. When both parents die they are taken under the care of their uncle who places them in a dingy apartment and treats them like an afterthought. Throughout the novel the girls start to learn about their heritage, through some tenants that their uncle accepts in the flat.
Identity goes deeper when Kausar starts to question their gender and begins to realise that ine can go beyond the binary.
When we were Sisters is not just a coming of age, immigrant narrative; at it’s core this is a book about grief and how can affect one’s destiny. Noreen wants to escape, Aisha is hyper critical and Kauser just feels lost and stuck in this maelstrom of emotions.
I thought the novel was excellent. The fact that each chapter is a vignette made the book feel like a giant puzzle as each chapter kept enriching the story. Not to mention the poetic writing style. I’ve always held that a good writer immerses the reader into their world and Fatimah Asghar does that perfectly.
Noreen, Aisha and, the book’s narrator Kausar are the main protagonists. When both parents die they are taken under the care of their uncle who places them in a dingy apartment and treats them like an afterthought. Throughout the novel the girls start to learn about their heritage, through some tenants that their uncle accepts in the flat.
Identity goes deeper when Kausar starts to question their gender and begins to realise that ine can go beyond the binary.
When we were Sisters is not just a coming of age, immigrant narrative; at it’s core this is a book about grief and how can affect one’s destiny. Noreen wants to escape, Aisha is hyper critical and Kauser just feels lost and stuck in this maelstrom of emotions.
I thought the novel was excellent. The fact that each chapter is a vignette made the book feel like a giant puzzle as each chapter kept enriching the story. Not to mention the poetic writing style. I’ve always held that a good writer immerses the reader into their world and Fatimah Asghar does that perfectly.
October 23, 2022
This should’ve made the National Book Awards shortlist. Beautifully told story. The prose is delicious. It made me feel so many things.
January 4, 2023
I really wanted to love it… but the prose is too poetic and shrouds meaning
July 12, 2024
Un romanzo lirico e frammentato, doloroso.
Tre bambine di origine pakistana rimaste orfane negli Stati Uniti, dove sono nate, tre sorelle, forti del legame che c'è tra loro e di nient'altro.
La loro storia viene raccontata dalla più piccola, Kausar, appena cinque anni alla morte del padre, due sorelle di qualche anno di più, un filo stretto che le avvolge e le cuce insieme.
Una storia di mancanze, di resistenza, di crescita: le bambine smettono di essere tali e diventano orfane e sorelle, unici aggettivi adatti a descriverle. Vengono affidate alle cure dello zio materno, che garantirà la loro sopravvivenza in cambio degli assegni mensili e di un posto in paradiso.
Con capitoli brevi, a volte brevissimi, una prosa che diventa talvolta cantilenante e poetica, vocaboli evocativi, tratti grafici distintivi, l'autrice mette in scena un romanzo di formazione, di ricerca della propria identità e individualità: ci sono ferite, grandi assenze, privazioni, piccole gioie e poi di nuovo perdite, ma c'è anche il calore e la sicurezza dell'essere insieme, la resistenza e l'adattabilità di queste bambine e ragazze, che cercano di sopravvivere perché non possono fare altro e di trovare il proprio posto nel mondo.
Tre bambine di origine pakistana rimaste orfane negli Stati Uniti, dove sono nate, tre sorelle, forti del legame che c'è tra loro e di nient'altro.
La loro storia viene raccontata dalla più piccola, Kausar, appena cinque anni alla morte del padre, due sorelle di qualche anno di più, un filo stretto che le avvolge e le cuce insieme.
Una storia di mancanze, di resistenza, di crescita: le bambine smettono di essere tali e diventano orfane e sorelle, unici aggettivi adatti a descriverle. Vengono affidate alle cure dello zio materno, che garantirà la loro sopravvivenza in cambio degli assegni mensili e di un posto in paradiso.
Con capitoli brevi, a volte brevissimi, una prosa che diventa talvolta cantilenante e poetica, vocaboli evocativi, tratti grafici distintivi, l'autrice mette in scena un romanzo di formazione, di ricerca della propria identità e individualità: ci sono ferite, grandi assenze, privazioni, piccole gioie e poi di nuovo perdite, ma c'è anche il calore e la sicurezza dell'essere insieme, la resistenza e l'adattabilità di queste bambine e ragazze, che cercano di sopravvivere perché non possono fare altro e di trovare il proprio posto nel mondo.
January 7, 2023
My brother is almost eight years younger than me.
Growing up, we marked our trailposts in life together, no matter how different they were. He was in kindergarten when I became a teenager. When I left home, he was just beginning to find his independence as a precocious nine-year-old. He entered high school as I was completing my undergrad degree, and he started university when I was already starting the second job of my post-college career.
Though the moments in life were different, we went through them together—sometimes far apart from each other, but still together in spirit. He was my confidant, my advice-giver, my sparring partner, and my dear friend.
Nowadays, as adults, the markers of life blur a little bit more. The moments are less seminal, more part of the unending travels of adulthood. Still, he remains one of my closest friends, in addition to being a wonderful brother to me and an incredible uncle to my daughter. Just as we did as children, we share with each other, we trust each other, we occasionally disagree with each other, and we look out for one another. I am lucky to know him; I am lucky to have him in my family, in my life.
Unlike the protagonists of Fatimah Asghar’s When We Were Sisters, my brother and I led wonderful childhoods where we loved and cherished and cared for deeply. What we did share with the protagonists, however, was a deep sibling bond that transcended age and place and circumstance.
Ms. Asghar’s novel is an exploration of that sibling bond, of a connection that invigorates, rejuvenates, infuriates, protects, and loves. It is a story about growing up with someone who will build a inner world with you no matter what the world outside looks like. It is about finding safety in those we love, and about doing what we can to make those we love feel safe as well.
I thought of my brother often as I read Ms. Asghar’s lyrical prose: the way she crafts sentences is strong and gentle at the same time, attributes I see in my younger sibling as he wavers from stubbornness about his chosen career path, and softness in the way he cares for our aging grandmother every day.
The life of my brother and I could not be any more different than those of the main characters in When We Were Sisters, but the sisters share something my brother and I share as well: a recognition that no matter what the circumstance, we can lean on each other to persevere, to grow, and to thrive. This is a gift I do not, and will never, take for granted.
Growing up, we marked our trailposts in life together, no matter how different they were. He was in kindergarten when I became a teenager. When I left home, he was just beginning to find his independence as a precocious nine-year-old. He entered high school as I was completing my undergrad degree, and he started university when I was already starting the second job of my post-college career.
Though the moments in life were different, we went through them together—sometimes far apart from each other, but still together in spirit. He was my confidant, my advice-giver, my sparring partner, and my dear friend.
Nowadays, as adults, the markers of life blur a little bit more. The moments are less seminal, more part of the unending travels of adulthood. Still, he remains one of my closest friends, in addition to being a wonderful brother to me and an incredible uncle to my daughter. Just as we did as children, we share with each other, we trust each other, we occasionally disagree with each other, and we look out for one another. I am lucky to know him; I am lucky to have him in my family, in my life.
Unlike the protagonists of Fatimah Asghar’s When We Were Sisters, my brother and I led wonderful childhoods where we loved and cherished and cared for deeply. What we did share with the protagonists, however, was a deep sibling bond that transcended age and place and circumstance.
Ms. Asghar’s novel is an exploration of that sibling bond, of a connection that invigorates, rejuvenates, infuriates, protects, and loves. It is a story about growing up with someone who will build a inner world with you no matter what the world outside looks like. It is about finding safety in those we love, and about doing what we can to make those we love feel safe as well.
I thought of my brother often as I read Ms. Asghar’s lyrical prose: the way she crafts sentences is strong and gentle at the same time, attributes I see in my younger sibling as he wavers from stubbornness about his chosen career path, and softness in the way he cares for our aging grandmother every day.
The life of my brother and I could not be any more different than those of the main characters in When We Were Sisters, but the sisters share something my brother and I share as well: a recognition that no matter what the circumstance, we can lean on each other to persevere, to grow, and to thrive. This is a gift I do not, and will never, take for granted.
December 1, 2022
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary review copy from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. This did not affect my rating.
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.
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.
July 18, 2022
When We Were Sisters is a lyrical novel about the nature of grief as it reverberates through the life of Kausar and her sisters. It's a story of the abuse they survive when their unnamed uncle becomes their guardian after the deaths of their parents. In these beautiful and wildly experimental pages, Fatimah Asghar weaves a story that is part collage and part lyric and all gorgeous.
Though at times I wanted a little more heft -- at times the shifts in form and perspective seem to elide a deeper investigation of the story and characters -- overall this is a gorgeous debut novel and I cannot wait to read whatever Asghar writes next.
Thank you to One World and NetGalley for a free review copy in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.
Though at times I wanted a little more heft -- at times the shifts in form and perspective seem to elide a deeper investigation of the story and characters -- overall this is a gorgeous debut novel and I cannot wait to read whatever Asghar writes next.
Thank you to One World and NetGalley for a free review copy in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.
August 9, 2022
i really, really wanted to love this book but mostly it just made me sad and not rush back to reading it when i put it down, because it was so unrelenting sad.
Three sisters are orphaned and move in with their striving and inattentive uncle, while struggling with forced maturity, religion and love alone in a 1 bedroom apartment.
I struggled with the style- the cross out and omitted names and poetry chapters where i wasnt sure who was speaking made it hard for me to connect. Maybe that was intentional because of how isolated the narrator felt throughout the story, but as reader deserpately wanting to connect, it kept me at arms length.
Thanks net galley for letting me read and review this book. #netgalley
Three sisters are orphaned and move in with their striving and inattentive uncle, while struggling with forced maturity, religion and love alone in a 1 bedroom apartment.
I struggled with the style- the cross out and omitted names and poetry chapters where i wasnt sure who was speaking made it hard for me to connect. Maybe that was intentional because of how isolated the narrator felt throughout the story, but as reader deserpately wanting to connect, it kept me at arms length.
Thanks net galley for letting me read and review this book. #netgalley
November 16, 2024
Or maybe 4.5 stars
I love a novel written by a poet.
I love a novel written by a poet.
June 4, 2023
A gorgeously written, emotionally devastating novel exploring the bond of three sisters coming of age in the wake of their parents’ deaths. I’m such a sucker for prose written by poets. Each sentence is so lush and lyrical. I found the main character’s journey with their gender particularly touching and resonant.
October 9, 2022
Thanks to Random House and NetGalley for this ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Ashghar uses spare language to tell a wrenching story of three orphaned sisters who live under the neglect and mistreatment of their maternal uncle after their last parent, their father, is killed. We see the young sisters have to parent themselves and struggle to grow up. Pops of poetic writing convey affecting confusion, fear, longing and rage.
The girls move from Philly to some town in New Jersey to live with their supposed caregiver. Told from the view of the youngest sister, the Pakistani Muslims navigate life as "second-class citizens" under the eyes of their greedy and controlling uncle, a character whose name has that redacted, black band whenever it occurs.
The "Acknowledgements" was one of the most powerful ones I've read. She seems to imply some personal trauma that spurred the writing of this book and of course, I wonder how similar her trauma is to the book's, especially since she has two sisters as the MC does.
Asghar is poet through and through and this poet's voice very much informs and drives the construct and the content of this book. It's beautiful and it magnifies the emotional impact of the story.
Several quotes:
"She laughs and it paints the room."
"At the corner of my eyelids, a dock of pearls begins to form. At the corner of my eyelids, a dock of pearls spills over."
"Let each strand of silence move through the air, its own curl wanting to be oiled."
"It dissolves me, her song. In my mind, a harbor. A boat tied to the dock."
"I fall in love with a boy who wants nothing to do with me. Bobby Perez, with the clouds shaved perfectly into his head. His whole head is the sky and I write his name into my notebook."
"There's so much space in her eyes, black holes that I can't touch."
Ashghar uses spare language to tell a wrenching story of three orphaned sisters who live under the neglect and mistreatment of their maternal uncle after their last parent, their father, is killed. We see the young sisters have to parent themselves and struggle to grow up. Pops of poetic writing convey affecting confusion, fear, longing and rage.
The girls move from Philly to some town in New Jersey to live with their supposed caregiver. Told from the view of the youngest sister, the Pakistani Muslims navigate life as "second-class citizens" under the eyes of their greedy and controlling uncle, a character whose name has that redacted, black band whenever it occurs.
The "Acknowledgements" was one of the most powerful ones I've read. She seems to imply some personal trauma that spurred the writing of this book and of course, I wonder how similar her trauma is to the book's, especially since she has two sisters as the MC does.
Asghar is poet through and through and this poet's voice very much informs and drives the construct and the content of this book. It's beautiful and it magnifies the emotional impact of the story.
Several quotes:
"She laughs and it paints the room."
"At the corner of my eyelids, a dock of pearls begins to form. At the corner of my eyelids, a dock of pearls spills over."
"Let each strand of silence move through the air, its own curl wanting to be oiled."
"It dissolves me, her song. In my mind, a harbor. A boat tied to the dock."
"I fall in love with a boy who wants nothing to do with me. Bobby Perez, with the clouds shaved perfectly into his head. His whole head is the sky and I write his name into my notebook."
"There's so much space in her eyes, black holes that I can't touch."
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