Published by Harper on August 2, 2011
The Good Muslim is the second novel of a trilogy -- something I probably should have known before I began reading this one. Although the novel stands on its own, it makes frequent references to characters and events that would have been more familiar to me had I read A Golden Age first.
The novel takes place in Bangladesh in the 1980s, with frequent flashbacks to the early 1970s. To some extent, two stories from the two different times are told in parallel: Maya's recent return to her home in Dhaka after years of providing medical services to village women -- including abortions for those who were sexually assaulted -- in other parts of the country; and her brother Sohail's earlier arrival home after fighting in the country's war for independence. Maya is nonetheless the novel's focal point. She left Dhaka after Sohail's return, when Sohail made a public display of burning his books. She comes back at about the time her mother becomes ill.
After the war ends, Sohail begins to study the Quran that his mother gave him. For reasons the reader does not learn until the last chapters, Sohail takes the holy book to heart. When Maya, weary of listening to Sohail proclaim the book's greatness, tells her mother that Sohail is going to turn her house into a mosque, Rehana replies: "Don't be so frightened of it. It's only religion." A question The Good Muslim asks, I think, is whether we should be frightened of religion, or only of the dangerous zealots who pervert its teachings. Maya is clearly skeptical of religion itself; she resists its power to change people at their core.
Sohail begins to deliver sermons from his rooftop. Initially Sohail preaches about "the many faces of God," suggesting his openness to all religions (even to the gods of the ancient Greeks), but as time passes his words become less inclusive: "There was only one. One message. One Book. The world narrowed. Curtains between men and women. Lines drawn in the sand." As he continues to preach and gains a following, Sohail loses touch with his mother and neglects his son's welfare before sending his son, Zaid, to a madrasa on the other side of the country. Sohail has become too righteous and self-involved to deal with the mundane demands of parenthood. It eventually falls to Maya to look out for Zaid, particularly after Zaid runs away from (and is sent back to) the madrasa.
Some aspects of the novel are more effective than others. I found it difficult to muster interest in Maya's budding romance with Sohail's friend Joy (a recent returnee to Bangladesh who drove a cab and provided home care in New York) or in her relationship with Sohail's bright, talented (but larcenous) son. Given his importance to the story, Zaid should be a more fully developed character; we see snippets of his life but he lacks fullness. The same could be said of Joy who, while imprisoned during the war, loses a finger to prison guards after an experience that has an almost mystical quality. Perhaps Tahmima Anam was trying to create a moment of light in a dark time but Joy's experience just doesn't ring true. There's also a mystical (perhaps miraculous is a better word) element to the story involving Maya's mother that I found difficult to accept. In what I think is the novel's weakest moment, Sohail's religious fervor and Maya's faith in medicine intersect over their mother's illness, leaving Maya to question her well-formed beliefs.
In addition to the mother's illness, other aspects of the story struck me as artificial. The reason that Sohail becomes a "good Muslim," revealed near the novel's end, and the events that ensnare Maya and Zaid in the closing pages, are unconvincing. The last chapter and the epilog come close to melodrama. I was left with the feeling that I'd read a carefully constructed story, a story designed to pull emotions from me that I just didn't feel.
Despite these weaknesses, The Good Muslim has much to recommend it. There are some electrifying moments in this novel, often centered on the hardships that Bangladeshi women endure. Anam's prose is mesmerizing. Parts of the novel are captivating and its cautionary tale of religious zeal has value. I think sometimes Anam tries too hard to make a point and obscures it in the process, but the novel is worth reading for its shining moments.
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