The Arsonists’ City is a twisting, unsparing family drama spanning several generations as well as continents. It also features one of the most compelling opening sequences I’ve read from literary fiction in quite a while. Within the Nasr family we follow the three adult children, Ava, Mimi and Naj, as they attempt to wrangle their bickering parents during a family trip to Lebanon. Each are dealing with struggles within their own separate lives while also navigating their place in such a, let’s say, ~colorful~ family.
Then about a third of the way into the book, the narrative suddenly shifts and we are focused on a young Mazna, their mother, in the times before, during and after meeting their father. This is probably the most heart-wrenching portion of the book, with a hefty amount of pages devoted to Manza’s story specifically. No spoilers, but damn. She really couldn’t catch a break, could she? It was admittedly not easy to read through ordeal after ordeal that Manza had to go through, how even when she had a choice she was essentially deciding between ‘bad’ and ‘slightly less bad’. And it was while reading her section that I had a revelation: I do not like most of these characters.
There is not one male character (save for a distinct exception) that I felt an ounce of sympathy for. Idris, Mimi, and literally every dude Manza comes across—I hate them! They suck so hard. I wish them the worst. The kids in general were just way less interesting than I was expecting their plot lines to be. Naj is clearly the best of them, but the bar isn’t particularly high. Even Idris’ extended family I could take or leave. The order I would rank my empathy for each character would be:
1. Zakaria
2. Zakaria’s family
3. Mazna
—end of list—
Obviously you don’t have to like characters you’re reading about, but you should care about what happens to them. And all I kept thinking while reading about this family is how privileged they were relative to literally every other person around them. Idris’ family growing up were rich and shielded from the worst of the conflict in the region. The kids have the textbook definition of First World Problems. And in my opinion, Idris himself made out like a freaking bandit.
The ending wasn’t what I was hoping for either. With all of the deft ways Hala Alyan demonstrated her characters’ privilege and ignorance, I was hoping they’d come to atone more for their past complicity. By all means, this is beautifully written, if only somewhat too long, and the setting was stunningly rendered. Though if I read more by the author, I think I would prefer following a different kind of character.
Then about a third of the way into the book, the narrative suddenly shifts and we are focused on a young Mazna, their mother, in the times before, during and after meeting their father. This is probably the most heart-wrenching portion of the book, with a hefty amount of pages devoted to Manza’s story specifically. No spoilers, but damn. She really couldn’t catch a break, could she? It was admittedly not easy to read through ordeal after ordeal that Manza had to go through, how even when she had a choice she was essentially deciding between ‘bad’ and ‘slightly less bad’. And it was while reading her section that I had a revelation: I do not like most of these characters.
There is not one male character (save for a distinct exception) that I felt an ounce of sympathy for. Idris, Mimi, and literally every dude Manza comes across—I hate them! They suck so hard. I wish them the worst. The kids in general were just way less interesting than I was expecting their plot lines to be. Naj is clearly the best of them, but the bar isn’t particularly high. Even Idris’ extended family I could take or leave. The order I would rank my empathy for each character would be:
1. Zakaria
2. Zakaria’s family
3. Mazna
—end of list—
Obviously you don’t have to like characters you’re reading about, but you should care about what happens to them. And all I kept thinking while reading about this family is how privileged they were relative to literally every other person around them. Idris’ family growing up were rich and shielded from the worst of the conflict in the region. The kids have the textbook definition of First World Problems. And in my opinion, Idris himself made out like a freaking bandit.
The ending wasn’t what I was hoping for either. With all of the deft ways Hala Alyan demonstrated her characters’ privilege and ignorance, I was hoping they’d come to atone more for their past complicity. By all means, this is beautifully written, if only somewhat too long, and the setting was stunningly rendered. Though if I read more by the author, I think I would prefer following a different kind of character.