Home Fire: A Novel

The book is divided into sections of different character’s narration, but instead of echoing each other and filling narrative gaps, it did the opposite. I enjoyed reading the first part of the story but couldn’t quite follow the Aneeka stories, the twin brother plot as well as the love story. The author based the story on Antigone but seemed to me too stretched out for that purpose. Also I don’t know how to take the ending. Overall I am quite disappointed. The book seemed to me more like an over serious YA novel.

Home Fire is that rare beast: a novel with really important points to make while also being a cracking read.

Through the eyes of five characters, we get a dissection of what it means to be British-Asian in the current world. Initially, we meet Isma, resuming a career in academia in the US after bringing up her orphaned younger siblings in London. Picking up her former life does not start well as she is detained by security at Heathrow Airport and misses her flight. Then we meet Eamonn, the son of the British Home Secretary [insert name]. His father, as a Muslim politician, is keen to distance himself from extremism by introducing ever-more draconian laws to contain the “threat”. Eamonn is a spoilt rich kid who finds contact with other British Pakistanis way more confronting than mixing with the white, public school elite.

Then, the high point for me, we travel with Parvaiz, Isma’s younger brother, to Raqqa to join the Caliphate. This is a portrait of hope, naivity and a desperation to belong to a family, shattered to smithereens when reality bites. But thanks to modern anti-terror laws, there is no way back from such a decision. In very few words, Shamsie created a living, breathing world and a highly conflicted character who goes on a major journey of self-discovery.

Then back to Britain with Parvaiz’s twin sister Aneeka, and the final two chapters in the company of the Home Secretary himself, Karamat Lone. Lone is a monster, a self-serving egotist who has no understanding of - and even less care about – the impact of his policies on those affected by them. Even when they touch his own family, he is willing to sacrifice their rights for his own political career. And what is the point of that career – the power – if he only uses it to try to perpetuate it?

Home Fire is, apparently, a modern day Antigone. But I think that does the novel a disservice. This is not a recasting of an ancient Greek play; it is not derivative. It is a searing critique of the conflicts of identity; of personal interest and family loyalty within a community that is being vilified on a daily basis. How far can it be right to punish an easily identifiable group for the transgressions of some of its members; how far should those who do transgress be dealt with through the existing judicial system or how far can it be right to expel them from the system altogether.

This novel spans half the globe, offers five very different stories, and poses difficult questions. There is not a wrong word in this tight narrative, spanning ultra-realism through to the absolutely surreal. By the end, the story is in a slow motion, dream-like sequence. And the ending is absolutely not expected.

Home Fire is a really fantastic novel but, if it has one Achilles Heel, it could be its fixation in the present moment. The novel relies on the current public mood, the current legal (and illegal) situation, the current conflict in Syria. Move on five years – perhaps less – and what seems to immediate now may seem very fleeting and out of date. I hope the future is not as bleak as Home Fire would have us believe.

Plaudits galore for this novel, which one has to assume are because the plot, or story line is so contemporary. But the author has mangled the time lines and by styling each chapter as from an individual character it means that the story line is lost. There is no depth. For the first part I could not follow at all what was going on in the USA or indeed the relevance to the story which goes on being muddled and I agree wholeheartedly with one commentator that the end is wholly inadequate by being so abrupt. I get the impression the author has accumulated the issues, written them down and then decided how she can best embellish them to fill it out as a novel when frankly the content is more suited to a short piece in a Sunday newspaper.

The overuse of thesaurus+synonyms is killing the flow here.I will press on because it's too late for a refund. But seriously, words like opprobrium, remonstration, vertiginously, and too many more to keep track of makes this story feel like a spelling bee. Ver-Ti-Go-Nous-ly, causing vertigo. Ding, ding, ding. Next.

Yes, I could wait to the end (if I get there), but when the best thing I can say about a book is the cover is outstanding to see in winter--well, I'm obviously in the wrong book.

Reading it for a bookclub. And I won't finish it, given the books sitting about that are hugely more interesting. One does have to wonder why this is given such good reviews.

Having thought over the book, set in my current hometown in Western MA (thus I thought maybe it would be of interest) AND where my daughter (and family) live...well, all I read are word salads that just do not hook a reader to turn the page. As a former ex-pat I had hopes, given the world of living where you are not from is one I know well. But alas, this did not happen.

Another donation for our library sale.

Home Fire, Kamila Shamsie, author; Tania Rodrigues, narrator
When I turned the last page of the book I was struck dumb. I didn’t expect the ending, and I highly recommend that no one attempt to read the ending before they begin. Don’t peek, I implore you! The story plays out logically and clearly, and at the end, it will make the reader question his/her views on immigration, terrorism, Muslims, and also the government, with its regulations and its representatives with regard to all those issues. Most likely, the reader will bounce back and forth, for and against each idea as the story unfolds.
When it begins, the reader meets Isma Pasha, the caregiver of her twin siblings, Aneeka and Parvaiz; she is living in England. She is thoughtful and reserved, observes the ritual of prayer, though not five times a day, and wears a hijab, but is not extreme in her views. She is careful about how she expresses herself because of her father’s past. He was a known jihadist. When her twin siblings were orphaned, at age 12, she, almost 19, put her life on hold and stepped in to care for them. Now that they are 19, she would like to continue living her own life. When she is given the opportunity, by a former teacher, Dr. Hira Shah, to study at Amherst University, in Massachusetts, she grabs it. There she meets Eamonn, the son of the Home Secretary in England, Karamat Lone. She becomes enamored with Eamonn, but it is unrequited love because Eamonn considers himself like her brother. However, he does become interested in her sister after seeing her photo. Aneeka is beautiful.
When Isma made her decision to leave Wembley for America, it portended great changes for the twins, but they seemed to take the news well, with Parvaiz showing a bit more concern about it. He did not want to move out of his home to live with his Aunty Naseem. Feeling more abandoned than his sister, who can already taste the greater freedom she will have, his personality begins to change. He becomes more secretive and reticent. He meets and becomes completely entranced by Farook who becomes a father figure of sorts as he twists Parvaiz’s mind into thinking that he too should leave Wembley, but not for the purpose of study like his sister. When Farook tells him that men should be in charge of women, Parvaiz likes the idea. He believes his life is suddenly coming apart due to the actions of his sisters. He is an innocent who is unsuccessful academically, under employed and very naïve; when Farook lionizes Adil Pasha, Parvaiz’s father, for his jihadism, he is easily seduced. Farook convinces him to leave England for Syria and to join him in his fight for the Caliphate.
Aneeka wears a hijab and prays, is a free spirit and much more outgoing and modern than her quieter, modest sister. She seems quick to judge and is impulsive, expecting to get her way because of her beauty. When she learns that her sister has betrayed her brother, reporting him to the authorities, they become estranged. She becomes very involved with the same Eamonn her sister knew. Does she have an ulterior motive, or is it a true made in heaven romance? The twin’s relationship is very close, something I can completely understand. As a twin, I can relate to the special bond that exists, the special loyalty that embraces the siblings. Twins have a unique connection and the absence of one often makes the remaining one feel incomplete. I can identify with Aneeka’s unconditional devotion to Parvaiz.
At 19, Isma felt forced to make very different choices than her siblings did at the same age of 19, and as her mother did as a young woman when she married Adil Pasha who became a warrior for the Caliphate. Throughout the narrative, there is a thread about the travails of being “other” in a country. They are Asians of Pakistani origin; their skin color, religious practice and relationship to terrorism and terrorists affects their behavior everyday. They feel like outsiders. They have to be more careful than most, careful not to create suspicion by doing anything another would not even give a second thought. Their “Britishness” is questioned, as is their loyalty. Any relationship by anyone with a terrorist is scrutinized, recorded and monitored. Although the twins never knew their father, since he left their mother before they were born, the stigma of his terrorism follows them also, and leaves its mark on them, their relatives and their future prospects. It vaguely reminded me of what happens in Israel when generations are punished for the behavior of one miscreant. Families become collateral damage. Is that necessary or just?
The book highlights the cycle of mistrust and violence that exists in this age of terrorism, in this age of Islamic extremism. America is perhaps, among other things, hated for its tactics in fighting the radicals, for its black op sites, for Guantanamo; Britain is perhaps despised for its welcoming of them and then its attempt to control them. Pakistan seems to encourage them by doing nothing to mitigate the extremism and may actually seem to be allowing it to fester. In the book, the feeling imparted is that the jihadists feel rejected and abused by their host countries. None of them seems to feel any remorse or take responsibility for their own brutality. They are defiant, feel they are justified in their fight and feel outrage about the way they are treated when they are caught. Those that might repent have no way back, no way to escape the heinous battle they have joined.
The cruel examples of radical Muslim behavior, like their treatment of women, even leaving them to die because they are uncovered and must wait for women to come to their rescue, or the practice of crucifixion, beheading, torture, and rape, are varied and many. It is hard to know, sometimes, on which side to come down regarding one’s sympathy in each specific instance, but the viciousness of the followers of this strict Koranic interpretation cannot but help sway the reader’s judgment in one direction or another.
When the book begins, we witness the humiliation of Isma, because of her family history of terrorism, even though she is quite innocent. When it ends, we witness the result of the hard line responses to the problem of a hard line interpretation of a religious belief, and once again, we witness the suffering of those who are quite innocent because of a fear which is at times rational and at other times irrational, and that promotes tragic results. Two parents make choices which will follow them for generations. There was the Muslim family and the Christian family, the poor side of society and the wealthy side of society, the clash of cultures and beliefs that caused the apprehension, or perhaps panic, that may or may not have been justified at times; but the misunderstandings, by so many, l were pervasive all the time.
I enjoyed the audio but found that sometimes the narrator failed to delineate characters engaged in conversation. They sounded alike and it was difficult to determine who was speaking. Although this is a retelling of the Greek tragedy, the story of Antigone, by Sophocles, one does not have to know the classic to fully appreciate the novel.
There are many common threads and questions arising in the story that make for great discussion.
1-Aneeka easily seduces Eamonn, the son of the Home Secretary. One has to wonder about her reasons. Are they selfish, matters of the heart, or perhaps even vengeance because of Isma’s part in the trouble Parvaiz now faces.
2-Meanwhile, when Parvaiz is seduced by Farook, what is it that makes him such easy prey?
3-Adil Pasha, the jihad, fought to establish the Caliphate. He was a devout Muslim. Did his folly infect his family into the future? What about the Home Secretary’s actions? “Were the sins of the father visited upon the sons?”
4-The Home Secretary renounced his Moslem religion to fit in. He believed “outsiders” should make themselves less different in order to be successful. Why did he believe it was necessary to do this?
5--Should Isma have been so thoroughly demoralized, scrutinized and humiliated at the airport because of family history when she tried to travel to America? She had not committed any crime, and her behavior was always exemplary. Where should the line be drawn between suspect and innocent victim?
6-Did personal animus play a part in every decision each character made? Was their intellect sidelined by the influence of their past and their conflicting emotions?
7-Did continued stubborn adherence to rules without the ability to bend them when necessary bring about tragedy?
8-Each character made what they thought was a good choice, but it turned out otherwise. If we compare the choices of Isma, Aneeka, Parvaiz, Eamonn, Adil, and Karamat, are any of them appropriate and what makes them so?
9-If someone makes a terrible choice, as in jihadism, should there be no avenue for forgiveness when the error of that choice is recognized? Is there no hope for redemption, for forgiveness? Can that person ever be trusted again?
10-Was there one point in the narrative that foreshadowed the events or was the catalyst leading to all others?

Incredibly clichéd and the characters' actions make no logical sense. I almost never quit reading books once I've started but I only made it a little more than halfway through this one. If you're interested in issues of Muslim identity in the post-9/11 West there are plenty of other books to choose.

Isma Pasha has moved to the United States from her home in England to teach. She has raised her twin siblings Aneeka and Parvais in Wembly, outside of London, among the Muslim community there. Both are 19 yrs old. They are all children of a jihadi fighter and, therefore, are carefully watched by the authorities. Parvais has left the country to join ISIS. Isma, in the meantime, befriends Eamonn, son of the British Home Secretary and shows him a photo of her sister. Eamonn is immediately taken and agrees to send her some candy. He winds up delivering it himself and after meeting Aneeka they become enamored with each other. When Parveis communicates his desire to return, this sets off an increasingly complex set of circumstances that winds its way to inevitable tragedy while examining family loyalties, religious affiliations and the true meaning of love.
HOME FIRE is a compelling narrative. There is a desperation and realism in the relationship between Aneeka and Eamonn. The characters are complex with no stereotypes present. What keeps the pages turning is the uncertainty of what keeps Aneeka and Eamonn together and how they will deal with Parvais’ wish to come home given that Eamonn is the son of a major political figure in Great Britain. It is a clever plot and in the end, Kamila Shamsie pulls off an unforgettable twist.

About 40% into this book I was so excited about getting to the end...so I could trash it on the store. A Man Booker long listed book, Home Fire won't make it to the short list I guarantee. This book is on the Man Booker list for it's trendy subject alone. The plot is awkward and clunky, the writing without a hint of poetic sensibility. Looking for insights? None. Although not alone in this sense, Home Fire demeans the MB prize. MB is a literary prize, but there is nothing literary about HF. Looking for a worthy MB candidate? Try History of Wolves.

Kamila Shamsie is a hugely talented writer who has written an ambitious, broad-ranging novel that resonates across several themes. Apart from strong writing and plausible character psychology and development, for "Western readers," Shamsie penetrates and explicates a South Asian expatriate culture in which I have great intererst but no direct access. As a long-time observer of foreign societies, economies, polities, and cultures, I found the author's elevation of Muslim South Asian national and religious culture from subtext to the status of "character," like London in many Dickens novels, completely satisfying. Culture interacts with, affects, directs, rubs off on every aspect of this story, directly or unobtrusively shaping or lurking beneath every scene.

Within this frame, Shamsie has, for the most part, created characters that are compelling and plausible. Each of the main cast gets his/her own long, point-of-view chapter, beginning with the scholarly, rational Isma, who has finally realized her dream of studying in the United States, having made her way to Amherst for graduate work at the University of Massachusetts. Her significanty younger twin siblings, living in the Brent/Wembley South-Asian community of Outer London that Isma has escaped but where Isma had largely raised them following the early death of her mother and the disappearance of her radicalized father into the international jihad, are Parvaiz, the delicate, impressionable brother whose greatest passion is sound recording but who, as we learn in the first pages of the book, has himself vanished into Syria and the Islamic State, and sister Aneeka, beautiful, religiously devout, headstrong and contrarian. Isma and Aneeka, at separate times and in widely disparate situations, enter into relationships with Eamonn (Anglicized from "Ayman"), aimless, spoiled, thoroughly secular, and British, the son of a driven, naturalized Pakistani member of Parliament, Karamat Lone, the politically shape-shifting "Lone Wolf" whose naked ambition is to become the first "colonial" to occupy No. 10 Downing Street.

Apart from honest scenes from the lives of expatriate Pakistanis living in a challenging moment in time and the web of human relationship that exert a gravitational force on behaviors, Shamsie weaves into her narrative all-too-plausible fictional accounts of the Islamic State's international outreach and recruiting efforts and, in quick strokes, of life in terrorized Raqqa, Syria, the ISIS "capital," at the height of its notoriety and domination of the  daily news cycle. She also seems to draw on the career of Conservative MP Sajid Javid, currently UK's Secretary of State for Housing, Communities and Local Government, in creating an honest, hardly-exaggerated account of political ambition (albeit of a more liberal pedigree) in the context of Parliamentary politics and of the difficulty choices politics forces upon members who must appeal to complex constitencies amid a minefield of parlous issues.

I knew absolutely nothing about this novel before picking it up, other than its recommendation to me by an impeccable source  whose literary-fiction DNA replicates my own. I had a hard time with the sluggish first third--told from Isma's and Eamonn's points of view--but gulped the remainder in down in an evening. Shamsie's a clever architect, with a tendency to florid reflection, but I believed her and found character motive generally plausible. It may be something of spoiler to disclose the specific classic drama after which Home Fire was loosely structured, and I won't, but dedicated readers of reviews will already know this. She uses this to powerful, gripping effect. My sole reservations, important ones, are that I cannot decide how I feel about Eamonn, whose motives I question, and about the conclusion Shamsie has written, on which I'll say no more.

But this is a novel that gains pace as it moves along and is well worth the widest possible attention, both from lovers of story and readers of newspapers looking for insight into disturbing developments that may seem inexplicable to thoroughly Western minds.

Home Fire is not what I thought it would be. It was more complex than a story of a sister being able to live her life away from her family and a son finding his own path apart from his father. To go into detail about the plot does not give it justice. Here's the basics - Isma goes to America to further her education. She raised her twins siblings (now 19 years old) after her mother and grandmother died. With Isma's impending departure, Aneeka and Parvaiz have to figure out where their life will take them. Aneeka has plans to stay in school and live with a family friend. Parvaiz is still finding himself, which makes him vulnerable. That vulnerability is the crux of this novel, and causes the sisters, Aneeka especially, and Eammon (son of a political figure) to learn the power of love. The characters in this novel were complex. Home Fire is told from five different perspectives, and as the plot intensifies, so does the style of writing. By the time we reach Aneeka's perspective (#3), the style has moved to a periphery view. It is clear that words can not describe Aneeka's thoughts or emotions. The book starts off slow; however, by the end, I was left with emotions and questions that I didn't know what to do with in a good way

I want a play version of this so bad. I want to talk about this. I want to study this alongside the play.

As a theatre student, I've spent some time with Antigone. This updates Antigone in a way that makes parts of the play click in ways that feel more immediate.

I had a little trouble with Aneeka, especially in her relationship with Eamonn. Maybe because I first interacted with the play as an 18-year-old, the tragedy of the Haemon and Antigone's relationship has always resonated with me. I didn't mind the extra layer that Shamsie added to that story here, but I didn't feel that root of affection the way I wanted to.

I honestly think there are a whole lotta discussions about how some characters are interpreted here. And they're all going to be subjective. There's a lot to dig into with this one, and I am so glad I experienced it.

“Keep the Home Fires Burning,
While your hearts are yearning,
Though your lads are far away
They dream of home.…”

‘Keep the Home-Fires Burning’ is a British patriotic First World War song composed in 1914 by Ivor Novello with words by Lena Guilbert Ford. It has kept running through my head why I have been formulating this review. In a way, it summarizes the entire book because each of the major characters: Isma, Eamonn, Aneeka, Parvaiz and Karamat are each lookingfor “Home”. The ways they may describe it are different, but their definition of safety is what makes this a very brave book.

We have seen all over the news of how British treat second generation non white refugees: those who would hold citizenship by right of birth, but whose parents were not born there. It happens in the US too. We welcome “the huddled masses” to a point...and then argue blame and point fingers. How safe is anyone in this global nexus? That’s the brave question Kamile Shamise posits here, even having Aneeka say it to Eamonn:”You were hope...the world was dark and then there you were, blazing with light. How could anyone fail to not love hope?”. First, she and her siblings lose their immediate family; then she loses her twin, and in trying to reconnect she grasps at hope. Hope means home to her. And Eamonn tries to be his own man while being Karamat’s son, keeping his own counsel as he matures; finding his own way.

I know this is a cryptic review, but it’s not an easy read. The book is as modern as the next news cycle and as ancient as the first sibling death in history. Shamise’s work is as uncomfortable as it may be hopeful. Highly recommended. 5/5

[I received this book as a gift so it does not register as a verified purchase. I have chosen to read/review it]

Once Kamila Shamsie’s Home Fire gets going, it’s a fairly compelling novel, but it takes nearly 100 pages to get going, with the first third or so of its 247 pages more or less functioning as backstory. A reader’s thought is not “The plot thickens” but “The plot finally arrives.”

Shamsie doesn’t do much with language most of the time, although she can clearly soar when she wants. I would single out chapter7, which begins with an extended attempt to capture grief. (One of Shamsie’s characters, Ameeka, is modeled on that iconic griever, Sophocles’
Antigone.)

Buzz may already have told you that Shamsie's latest novel is a modern-day spin on Sophocles's Antigone. It focuses on the intertwined relationships of two families. At 28, Isma is the de facto head of the Pasha family, three siblings who hold dual British and Pakistani citizenship. Her absentee father, a jihadi warrior, was assumed to have died on the way to Guantanemo long ago, and her mother had died seven years earlier when the twins, Aneeka and Parvaiz, were only 12. Now Isma is ready to start living her own life, having won a scholarship to an American university. But without her steadying influence, things start to go awry. Parvaiz succumbs to the recruitment tactics of a radical Islamic group, and a frantic Aneeka begs her sister to come back to London to help to bring their wayward brother home. When Isma hesitates, Aneeka takes extraordinary measures to accomplish the task on her own.

British Home Secretary Karamat Lone is a politician with his sites on the Prime Minister's seat. He married a wealthy American designer whose money helped propel him to power. Once there, he decided that the best way to advance in his career would be to turn his back on the Muslim community, which he has done with a vengeance. Daughter Emily is away at an American university, and son Eamonn is a handsome, charming, but rather aimless young man. When members of the two families meet, relationships become complicated, and, if you know the story of Antigone, you won't be wrong to expect a tragic turn.

I've had mixed feelings about some of Shamsie's earlier novels, and I wasn't too sure about this one as well. However, the further I got into the story, the more engaged I became. The book is divided into sections devoted to the viewpoints of the main characters (Isma, Eamonn, Parvaiz, Aneeka, and Karamat). The first section is mostly setup and goes rather slowly, although it does establish the relationships among the Pasha siblings and brings Eamonn into the picture. As his seemingly strange but passionate relationship with Aneeka develops, the plot thickens, and by the time I reached Aneeka's section, I could not put the book down until I finished the novel. That part is not a simple straightforward narrative, as are the others: its short section consists of some brief but beautiful poetry, salacious newspaper reports, TV news voice-overs, and official government statements, all of which help to build the tension and lead to an unexpected conclusion.

Home Fire was longlisted for the 2017 Man Booker Prize, and rightfully so; I'm rather surprised and quite disappointed that it didn't make it to the short list. Shamsie has come into her own with this novel, her best so far, in my opinion.

Kamila Shamsie’s thoughtful, immersive, disturbing book starts with an emotional punch, and does not let up

Isma is a British Muslim. She is on her way to take up an academic post in Massachusetts. And is stuck in interrogation at the airport :

“Isma was going to miss her flight. The ticket wouldn’t be refunded because the airline took no responsibility for passengers who arrived at the airport three hours ahead of the departure time and were escorted to an interrogation room……She’d made sure not to pack anything that would invite comment or questions – no Quran, no family pictures, no books on her areas of academic interest…The interrogation continued for nearly two hours. He wanted to know her thoughts on Shias, homosexuals, the Queen, democracy, the Great British Bake Off, the invasion of Iraq, Israel, suicide bombers, dating websites”

Shamsie immediately drops the reader into the experience of being regarded with suspicion, because of ethnicity

Home Fire is on one level just a very human story about a family, and a love story. Older sister Isma takes up her academic position in the States. She meets a vibrant, interesting fellow academic whose path kind of crossed her family’s, back in her teens. Ayman has become Eamonn ‘so that people would know the father had integrated’…his Irish-American wife was seen as another indicator of this integrationist posing rather than an explanation for the son’s name.

Isma and Ayman/Eamonn become friends, though Isma finds herself harbouring deeper feelings for the man whose affection for her is merely brotherly.

Isma is the plainer, studious eldest sister, who has become surrogate mother to her younger siblings, twins Aneeka, fiery, creative, beautiful, and her less sure, less confident brother Parvaiz.

Circumstances will bring Aneeka and Ayman together, initially without Isma’s knowledge, and a story of the love, jealousy and heartache will play out.

But this is far more than a kind of fairy story of the prettier youngest sister. There are deceptions, deliberate obfuscations and a distinct sense of always living with the potential of menace and misunderstanding because of the real history and the perceived history of race and religion

Parvaiz has vanished, and is not spoken about. He is a family secret, and what has happened to him is on one level obvious.

Isma’s family has a past regarded as suspect. Eamonn/Ayman’s family has integrated so well that his father became an MP. But at the end of the day, integrated or not, ‘identity’ will be recognised by appearance.

This is a hugely uncomfortable (in the very best way) read. It made me feel long and hard about identity. Many of us trace our complex history back with pride, discovering perhaps a history of different European immigrations across the centuries. But where geography is written in skin colour, assumptions, not our own, will be made about who we are.

I shall certainly read more of Shamsie. On this showing, she enters into the psyches of a range of characters, and, whatever the positions, we do get presented with the human complexity within

I received this as an ARC from the publisher via NetGalley

The story has sections allocated several different characters in the book, all of Muslim origin: Isma Pasha, the elder sister; Aneeka, the younger one; Parvaiz, Aneeka’s twin brother; Karamat Lone, a British politician; and Eamonn, Karamat’s son.

In the first of these sections, in which Isma is the principal character, we already learn the bones of the story. The Pasha family, of Pakistani origin, had settled in England. Adil, the three siblings’ father, had been a jihadist who had died while being renditioned from Bagram to Guantanamo Bay. His wife Zainab had died some time later. Isma, nine years older than the twins, had then acted as a mother to them: when the story starts, Isma is 28 and the twins are 19. The twins were very close to each other, and Aneeka had also been very close to Isma until she discovered that Isma, afraid that the whole family might be endangered by their brother’s defection to Syria, had alerted the police, feeling sure that the police might would find out in any case. Aneeka could not forgive her sister for this. Karamat, an ambitious politician, was, unlike the Pasha family, an ardent advocate of complete assimilation, had just been appointed Home Secretary and was particularly strong on counter-terrorist security matters: before he had become Home Secretary and had been just an MP, he had declined to intervene on Adil’s behalf. Isma despised Karamat, but she had fallen in love with his son Eamonn when they both met while they were temporarily in the United States. Isma was deeply upset by the breach with Aneeka, and Eamonn, about the return to London, volunteered to post a peace-offering to Aneeka from there.

All this is developed in subsequent sections. We learn how Parvaiz had been radicalized – and understand how this was possible: even a scene of physical torture to which he had been subjected during his indoctrination contributed to his decision to follow in his father’s footsteps. But his experiences in Syria had made him realize that he had made a terrible mistake, and he wants to come home – will he be allowed to by the authorities? Aneeka wants to help him. Eamonn, back in London, has not posted the peace-offering, but has taken it direct to Aneeka. He falls in love with her and wants to marry her. Will his father, the Home Secretary, allow this, and will Eamonn be able to persuade him to facilitate Parvaiz’s return? And, in any case, would Parvaiz even manage to escape from ISIS?

I read this book on Kindle; but I gather that the dust-jacket of the printed book mentions that it is a re-telling of the story of Sophocles’ Antigone. It is therefore not a spoiler – at least not for those readers who know the story of Antigone - if I say that it is at this point that the novel begins to echo the classical play. In the play, Polyneices is a rebel and has been killed in battle; King Kreon, considering him a traitor, forbids his burial. Polyneices has two sisters: Ismene the elder, Antigone the younger. Ismene bows to authority, but Antigone defies Kreon’s decree, and is imprisoned by him. Kreon’s son, Haemon, was betrothed to Antigone, and pleads for her with his father. Kreon had also been warned that the gods and Athenian public opinion would be angry if he left Polyneices unburied and Antigone imprisoned. Kreon relents, but before he can free Antigone, he learns that she has killed herself. Haemon then also commits suicide; and his mother, Kreon’s wife, then also kills herself. (When the reader compares the two stories, he/she will see why Kamila Shamsie’s characters have the names they have.)

So there is enough here to suggest what the later stages of the novel might be, The end of the play and the novel is doom all round, though the novel is by no means a slavish adaptation, and there are some aspects which do not fit with the original. But readers who know the play will admire the way Kamila Shamsie has adapted the classic story with all its moral dilemmas (adding to these the dilemmas and identity issues that face Muslims in Britain); and even if they don’t know it, they will be gripped by the novel.

This book is divided into sections told mostly from the points of view of three siblings: twins Parvaiz and Aneeka, and elder sister Isma. Their father abandoned them years ago to become a jihadi, and his reputation has haunted them ever since. When Parvaiz disappears, seemingly down the same path as their father, the sisters have to decide how far they will go to save him.

Isma – strong and independent, but terrified of the suspicion cast on the family because of her father’s reputation. She tries so hard to distance them all from the labels of ‘militant Muslim’, ‘extremist’, and ‘terrorist’ that follows any mention of their father’s name. I saw a lot of myself in Isma – as the oldest sibling and only pseudo-parent figure, she is the planner, the protector, the mentor, the mama bear.

Aneeka – wild and carefree, piously observing many practices of Islam while outrageously flouting others, she and Parvaiz are literally two halves of a whole, and she will stop at nothing to bring him home. Aneeka is bold and brave, and although I didn’t agree with many of her decisions, I adored her anyway. Her boundless love for her brother really hit home for me.

Parvaiz – Oh, Parvaiz. He is bright and loyal, but searching, and that makes him so vulnerable. He’s looking for his place in the world, for a sense of his identity, for the father figure he was denied. The Parvaiz section was my favorite, but it was also the one that broke my heart. I can honestly say that I have never read a book that looks behind the scenes at recruitment for extremist groups. (Please understand that this isn’t a book that condones terrorists, I’d say the opposite even, but it does show you how people can be groomed and converted to believe almost anything.) His section reminded me that at the end of the day, we are all humans. Someone’s brother, someone’s son, someone’s friend. It doesn’t at all excuse bad choices, or evil actions, but it does remind you that everything is not always as black and white as it may be portrayed in the media.

This is one of those books that gets progressively better and stronger as you go. I enjoyed the beginning with Isma, Aneeka’s section was even more enjoyable, but the section from Parvaiz was, by far, most poignant and my absolute favorite. Such a beautifully written book, and one that I will be thinking about for a long time to come.

Thanks to NetGalley and to Bloomsbury Publishing for providing me with an ARC of this novel that I freely chose to review.
When I read in the description of this novel that it was a contemporary version of Antigone, I was intrigued. If all Greek tragedies are powerful stories, I’ve always been inclined towards those that figure female characters at their centre, and by the moral questions they pose. The author explains, in a note at the end, that the project had started as a suggestion to write a modern adaption of the play for the stage but it had ended up as a novel. Her choices on adapting the original material make it, in my opinion, very apt to the current times, whilst at the same time preserving the eternal nature of its moral and ethical questions.
I don’t think I can improve on the description of the novel that I’ve shared above, but I thought I’d offer a few more details. The story, told in the third person, is divided into five parts, each one narrated by one of the main characters of the story. First, we have Isma Pasha, the oldest sister of a Pakistani-British family. When her mother died, she sacrificed herself for her twin sibling and left her studies to support them until they were old enough to choose their own paths. She is serious, studious, hard-working, and remembers a bit more than her siblings do what it was like when her father, a Jihadist who was never home, died on his way to Guantanamo Bay. The questions, the surveillance, the suspicions, the need to be ‘beyond reproof’… When her sister Aneeka, is about to start university, and her brother, Parvaiz, is pursuing a career in sound and media studies, she accepts an offer by one of her old professors to continue her studies at Amherst College in Massachusetts. She enjoys her quiet life there and meets a young man, Eamonn, whom she recognises as the son of an important UK politician, and one that had had some dealings with her family in the past. Although from very different social classes they share some things in common (they are both from London and they have Pakistani family, although Eamonn knows very little about that side of things). Their friendship never develops into anything deeper, but it brings hope and possibility to Isma’s life.
The next part is told by Eamonn, who intrigued by a photo he’d seen of Isma’ sister, tracks her down, and despite the secrecy surrounding their relationship, falls for her.
Parvaiz’s story is that of a young man brought up among women, who is very close to his twin-sister, Aneeka, but annoyed because the women in his life make decisions without him and he has no male role-model to guide him. A chance meeting with a man who tells him he knew his father ends up in his indoctrination and eventual joining of the Caliphate.
Aneeka’s chapters talk about her grief and her determination to do what she thinks is right, no matter the price or the consequences, both to herself and to those around her. When is love too much and how far would you go for your family?
Karamat Lone, the British Home Secretary, has the two final chapters. He is of Pakistani origin but has abandoned much of his culture and identity (including his religion and his way of life) and advocates assimilation and harsh punishment for those who don’t. Like for Aneeka, for him, there can be no compromise. He repeatedly chooses politics and his official life over his family and that has terrible consequences.
Shamsie has created multi-faceted characters, all distinctive and different in the way they feel, they see the world, and they relate to others. I found Parvaiz’s story particularly effective and touching, particularly as his decision might be the most difficult to understand for many readers. He loves sounds and the way he describes everything he hears is fascinating. The story of his indoctrination and the way he ends up trapped in a situation with no way out is hard to read but totally understandable. They choose him because he is a young man, vulnerable, looking for a father figure, and easy to manipulate. He makes a terrible mistake, but like the rest of the characters, he is neither totally good nor bad. They all keep secrets, in some cases to avoid others getting hurt, in others to try and save somebody or something. At times questions are not asked so as not to shatter an illusion, and at others, even the characters themselves no longer know what the truth is. The structure of the novel allows us to see the characters from their own perspective but they also appear in the stories of the others, and that gives us a better understanding of who they really are, how they appear to the rest of the people, and of the lies they tell themselves and others.
The novel deals with a number of relevant subjects, like terrorism and counter-terrorist measures, religion, ethnic and religious profiling, social media, surveillance and state-control, popular opinion and its manipulation by the media, politics, identity, family, love (many different kinds of love), ethics and morality. Although many of these topics are always at the centre of scholarly and popular debates, now they are more pressing than ever.
This is a beautiful book, lyrical at times, full of warmth and love (family love, romantic love, love for knowledge and tradition…), but also of fear and hatred. It is passionate and raw. We might not agree with the actions and opinions of some (or even all) the characters, but at a certain level, we get to understand them. We have fathers (and most of the men, although not Eamonn) prepared to sacrifice their families and their feelings for what they think is a higher and mightier good (country, religion, politics…). We have women trying to maintain the family ties and do what is right beyond creed, country lines, written laws, and paperwork. And a clash of two versions of family, identity, and survival condemned to never reaching an agreement.
I highlighted many lines of the text (and although always in the third person, the language and the expressions of the characters are very different in each segment), and some are very long (another writer not concerned about run-on sentences at times, although they serve very clear purposes), but I decided to share just a few examples:
Always these other Londons in London.
He was nearing a mosque and crossed the street to avoid it, then crossed back so as not to be seen as trying to avoid a mosque. (This is Eamonn walking around London).
She was the portrait to his father’s Dorian Gray —all the anxiety you’d expect him to feel was manifest in her. (Eamonn thinking about his mother).
Grief was what you owed the dead for the necessary crime of living on without them. (Aneeka thinking about her brother and about grief).
This was not grief. It was rage. It was his rage, the boy who allowed himself every emotion but rage, so it was the unfamiliar part of him, that was all he was allowing her now, it was all she had left of him. She held it to her breast, she fed it, she stroked its mane, she whispered love to it under the starless sky, and sharpened her teeth on its gleaming claws.
The human-rights campaign group Liberty issued a statement to say: ‘Removing the right to have rights is a new low. Washing our hands of potential terrorists is dangerously short-sighted and statelessness is a tool of despots, not of democrats.’
He looked like opportunity tasted like hope felt like love (Anika about Eamonn).
Working class or Millionaire, Muslim or Ex-Muslim, Proud-Son-of-Migrants or anti-Migrant, Moderniser or Traditionalist? Will the real Karamat Lone please stand up? (The newspapers talking about Karamat Lone, the Home Secretary).
Who would keep vigil over his dead body, who would hold his hand in his final moments? (Karamat thinking about his mother’s death and then his own).
This is a powerful book and a novel that made me see things from a different perspective. What happens to those left behind? We are used to hearing about the families of young men and women who leave them and their country of birth to join terrorist groups. We hear of their surprise at what has happened, they seem unable to react or understand how their son, daughter, sister, brother… has become somebody they no longer understand or know. But, what must life be like for them afterwards?
There are elements that might stretch the imagination but for me, they fit within the scope of the story (it is supposed to be a tragedy, after all) and the novel treads carefully between realism and dramatic effect.
A great novel that brings to life many issues that are sometimes ignored in the political and media discourses but that are fundamental if we want to reach a better understanding of the situation. A book for people who are looking for something more than a good story and a bit of entertainment, and are prepared to ask themselves some questions. Another author I had not read yet but whom I will eagerly follow from now on.

I read this book in about two days. I finished yesterday, at night, on a bus home. I stared at the ending in shock. I had forgotten the book takes Antigone as its matrix: a tragedy based off a tragedy. I still don't even know if i have adequate words for this book.

Kamila Shamsie brings you into each character's world one at a time, so that, as the story progresses, you see it through different eyes. You are dropped into each character for two chapters, giving you the perspective of five very different individuals. You don't have past moments replayed, except in the character's retrospect. It's a really interesting way of constructing the book, which the blurb gives no hint of at all. It's a little disorienting; i was expecting to follow Isma for the whole book, not jump to other people.

What can i really say about this book? It is not a happy story. It is sad. It is powerful. I either didn't know, or had forgotten, that Antigone was the base for it, so the way events unfolded stunned me. I was naive enough to think that things would go well, would turn out okay. (view spoiler)

Instead, Shamsie gives us sorrow, rage, and regret. At the conclusion, we can only imagine how much more these emotions are amplified. How will Isma move on? How will Karamat and his family recover, if at all?

I keep trying to type something, and i keep deleting what i have. There aren't really any adequate words to describe this book, and the feelings it elicits from you. I want to talk about it, but i can't articulate anything worthwhile. I just want to tell people to read it, especially people who are so fiercely loyal to concepts like patriotism, and the war on terror.

I thought this was absolutely excellent. I had to be persuaded to read it because the idea of an updated Antigone about terrorism, radicalisation and its consequences didn't appeal at all. In fact, I found it gripping, convincing and very moving as well as saying important things about modern Britain – and the world.

The story is told successively from several points of view, which worked very well for me. We have members of the Muslim Pasha family in North London plus a Muslim Home Secretary, determined to show the world that he is tough on radical Islam, and his son who becomes involved with the Pasha family. I won't give any spoilers, but what emerges is beautifully evoked responses from all the characters involved, whose internal lives are convincing and vividly real. The complexities, deceits and decencies of what happens are exceptionally well done, and I found the whole thing completely involving and ultimately extremely moving.

Kamila Shamsie writes beautifully. Her prose is extremely readable and simply carried me along. She creates some beautiful, evocative sentences; for example: "The sky was a rich blue, the water surged like blood leaving a heart, a lean young man from a world very distant from hers was waiting for her to walk back to him." Or: "Months after their mother died, Parvaiz, a boy suddenly arrived into adolescence in a house where bills and grief filled all crevices…" It's wonderful writing.

I was surprised by how very much I liked this book. It's one of the best I've read for some time, and warmly recommended.

(I received an ARC via NetGalley.)

An emotional and timely novel, Home Fire is a compelling story about Muslim families in crisis. Isma is the responsible older sister of twins Aneeka and Parvaiz. Their mother and grandmother have passed away and the twins are now 18 years old, so Isma, having previously put her ambitions on the back burner to look after her siblings, is leaving her home in London to travel to America for a work opportunity. Aneeka is beautiful and intelligent and will be studying law in London, and Parvaiz vacates the country on a quest to learn about his father, a known jihadist, who fought in Chechnya and Afghanistan.

In the US, Isma meets Eamonn, the son of a British politician who has a Muslim background like she does, but values that appear to be very different. It seems like a spark is developing between them but then Eamonn returns to London and gets involved with younger sister, Aneeka. Parvaiz is unfocused and becomes radicalized by a friend who under false pretenses convinces him to go to Syria where he is told he will learn more about his estranged father but has really been recruited to a terrorist group. When he decides he doesn’t want to follow in his father’s footsteps but wants to return home to London, the law is not on his side and Aneeka is desperately hoping for help from Eamonn and his powerfully political father.

Government, loyalty to family and religious beliefs all come into play as author Kamila Shamsie skillfully writes about the Muslim immigrant struggle and the difficulties the innocent communities face due to extremists. I loved this book and believe it has great movie potential.

Kamila Shamsie performs an amazing feat of writing in Home Fire by shifting the narrative among characters of various ages, backgrounds and ideologies and yet makes each character, if not sympathetic, a fully realized person who has their own motives for their actions, however objectionable. Shamsie takes a classic Greek play and projects it onto our modern age of polarized families and tribalized nationalities. The novel is filled with surprises, sparkling dialogue and incisive, but not showy, descriptions.
It is difficult to review the book without giving away important plot points, so let me just say it is the story of two families, very different in status but not that different in background, whose lives and beliefs become entwined in ways they never suspected. I am very familiar with the Greek play the novel is based upon, but Home Fires uses the play as a base to address modern concerns in a compelling way and to create some unforgettable characters.
Highly recommended.

It takes a very skilled writer to use a one of their world's most famous tales to launch their story and not be mediocre. The problem they face is everybody knows the moves and everybody knows the ending. On the other hand at least it is a story that has enthralled people for thousands of years so it has a certain track record.
But to take that sort of tale and turn it into something completely modern, a contemporary meditation on living in the modern world is a task that requires near genius. Kamila Shamsie succeeds and excels in doing that. She doesn't avoid the givens but she does humanise them and forges reactions within them into characters everybody can identify with.
There are many stories that tell about being culturally semi alienated in the West with the problems and dilemmas that entails, but rather than recite tropes Shamsie uses those archetypes to transport the reader into a situation where they care about the actors and see the intense humanness behind the everyday memes.
The characters come alive and one finds oneself sharing their strengths and weaknesses and understanding a little what people do and feel when compelled by the Moirai to actions they might usually eschew as they are driven to rage against the machine.
Altogether a brilliant book that I can't recommend too highly.

I can not recommend this highly enough! So often the Man Booker longlist is filled with worthy if less than engaging novels. That's not the case here. Shamsie has written a topical important book. Forget Antigone- this is a tale for our times. The sisters, Isma Aneeka and their brother Parvais, are so beautifully rendered, Parvais' recruiters and colleagues are evil incarnate- so clever and so devious. Eamonn-you'll find his conflict fascinating. His father Lone is a politician but not a human in so many ways. This stunned me. The writing is gorgeous even as the tale is painful but oh so true. I suspect some of this might resonate more in the UK than in the US but don't be fooled that this could not happen and has not happened here. The issues of national identity and culture but most importantly family are at the forefront. Please don't judge this or anyone before you read Shamsie's novel. Were I on the Booker committee, this would be my choice.

Let’s acknowledge first that “Home Fire” is a retelling of Sophocles’ "Antigone". Built on ancient scaffolding, the story reminds us of the play’s timeless themes of love and the power (and vulnerability) of the individual when confronting the state.

That said, Kamila Shamsie’s novel couldn’t be more contemporary. While germinating from a kernel planted by Sophocles about the power and responsibilities of sibling love, Shamsie burrows deep into the matrix of family relations, especially the minefield of fathers and sons. But this is no mere family saga, since the story – set largely in London and Amherst, Mass., though with critical scenes set in Syria and Karachi – fearlessly explores western society’s uncertain response to religious zealotry, terror and barbarism.

Shamsie’s agonizing tale of how Parvaiz Pasha, a born-but-not-bred Englishman, just 19 years old and with a twin sister studying the law, is reeled into the grip of Islamic terrorism, is psychologically credible, even though Parvaiz is smart enough that he should have other choices. Meanwhile, his twin Aneeka – Antigone – goes to astounding lengths to save him in life and death.

Revolving around the twins and their older sister, who raised them following their parents’ early deaths, is another family, also Pakistani-British, which has managed, through force of will and an opportune marriage, to approach the pinnacle of British politics and power. The intermittent though profound interplay between the families across 15 years drives the action.

The book moves in paired chapters (with one exception) from one key character’s perspective to the next, and Shamsie inhabits each with no loss of nerve or understanding. Her writing is always compelling, powerful as a jackhammer or delicate as crystal, as the moment merits. And the ending is… well, you won’t forget it.

I really wanted to get into this novel and enjoy the story, but I just couldn't.  One problem I had was not connecting with the writing style, it never engaged me with the characters or with the plot. I found myself reading the same paragraph over and over before I realized what it said. 

I also wasn't a fan of the dual POV narration, this is a problem I have with a lot of novels and I probably wouldn't have picked up the book at all had I known about it. I find that I can't connect with characters as easily when the narration is switching back and forth between people. 

In the end I gave this book 1 star. 

I have not read (or seen) Antigone so I can't say how this book measures up as an adaptation, however as a novel it is outstanding. I felt such deep empathy for each character and their unique struggles. After the first perspective change, I was upset to longer be able to read from that character but I quickly changed my mind and enjoyed the novel being told from various perspectives. Each character's fear to be themselves, fear of their perception, and fear of the world around them is so true to real people living in our current climate. I found this book to be thought provoking and moving and would highly recommend it.

This is a phenomenal book! Truly, truly beautiful and deep and real and achingly sad. The development of the characters was amazing, especially the meticulous crafting of the process by which a loving, vulnerable, lost, sensitive child with so much potential is manipulated and turned against his family. That process if happening everyday all across the globe right this minute, and is seems invaluable to me for readers to have some ability to empathize. I sensed no agenda of any kind.....the author told a story. The end of this particular story is something I will be thinking about for a long time, which I guess is the best endorsement of all.

I thought this was a brilliant book and I read it blissfully unaware of its parallels with the Ancient Greek tragedy, Antigone. I guess that says something about my education! Anyway I was totally taken up in it and thought it a perfect narrative for the confused times in which we live. There is a rich cast of totally convincing characters plus a vivid reflection of contemporary UK politics. A tragedy for our times. Would that the world and its leaders would learn some lessons. O tempora, o mores.

Kamila Shamsie covers extremely complex social, moral and political issues within the story of two Muslim families in current day London. Her deft handling of the very sensitive topics of assimilation, family loyalty, government politics, jihad violence and the boundaries of love create a fast-paced novel with many sympathetic yet somewhat flawed characters. The storyline is compelling and it leaves you understanding that life is often very complex shades of grey.

Wow, this is a must-read! I was seriously blown away by this book in all kinds of ways. To me, the sign of a really good book is one that can make you question everything you thought you knew and makes you put yourself in someone else’s shoes when you’d rather just shut your eyes. Home Fire is about love, religion, politics, and global issues (whoa sounds heavy, right?), but also entertains and does an amazing job of connecting you to the characters.

Home Fire is a tour de force, an extraordinary story, set in modern times but straddling worlds, of what can happen when rigidity clashes with love, Jihad with family, security with humanity and law with cultural traditions. Shamsies' intensity, pace, humor and character development is artful, and the conclusion of this novel is an absolute page turner. As the NY Times reviewer said: "There is high, high music in the air at the end of 'Home Fire.'"

This is a great book that will stay with you. Shamise uses her characters to present differing points of view on the main themes of the book (terrorism, immigrants, Islam, etc.). It leads you to think about how we all tend to judge current events as if we know everything about the situation, condemning some and exalting others, when the reality is usually much more complicated and wrought with the often tragic nature of the human experience.

A story that explores the controversial subject of the indoctrination of the ISIS philosophy into a sympathetic yet ultimately misguided populace.

Isma Pasha followed her dream to America leaving behind her elegant sister Aneeka and her vulnerable yet impressionable brother Parvaiz. Eamonn, the son of outspoken Home Secretary Karamat Lone, becomes captivated by the beauty that is Aneeka. Does Aneeka reciprocate this love or is she merely using Eamonn to help rescue her twin brother Parvaiz who has since travelled to Syria but very quickly learns to regret this decision.

There is a nice balance in this novel between the Pasha family whose father Adil, had been a jihadi and had gone to Afghanistan to fight with the Taliban and died for his beliefs, and Home Secretary Karamat Lone a traditionalist and yet a reformer. He loathed those citizens irrespective of beliefs or culture..."who treated the privilege of British citizenship as something that could be betrayed without consequences"...and further..."I hate the Muslims who make people hate Muslims"......

I can understand why Home Fire was the winner of the Women's Prize for fiction 2018 and whilst the first part of this novel was a little reticent and slow to impress the second half presented neatly formulated ideas and beliefs all leading to a very sudden unexpected conclusion. Home Fire is a story of the modern world and shows what happens when the corrupt and misguided prey on the weak and receptive.

Very disappointing. Can't understand all positive reviews and how this book can be on the Booker Prize List. I thought that it could be an interesting insight on the issue of Muslim identity but found it very shallow and predictable. The characters are not at all interesting and the writing is very plain. I didn't FEEL anything throughout the whole book, nor sympathize with any character. As I went on reading I totally lost interest.

An interesting story about Pakistani immigrant families in Britain. As a onlooker into this community, if nothing else this dispels the view that all immigrants share the same views, as well as a look at how Muslim hardliners recruit innocent people.

3.5 stars. I enjoyed the book and it was thought provoking, especially in terms of getting a little perspective on possible ISIS recruiting tactics. It was interesting to see different sides of the same coin. However, I just didn’t feel like the characters were developed enough....I found myself wanting a little more. Overall, I’m glad I read it though.

This was a really great and timely book. It illustrates the heart-wrenching choices that people -- in this book Muslims living in Britain -- have to make, between loyalty to loved ones, and simply existing in a society that will look for any reason to exile them. Using the backdrop of Antigone puts the modern-day tale in historical perspective. As a reader, I empathized with each of the characters, understanding how their histories put pressure on them to act in the way that they did. The tragic ending shows how in cases like these, there is no good and evil, and no one wins.

Very interesting story that tells story about the interaction between racism, family relationship, in Pakistani/British families that have taken very different paths. Very Engrossing, and highly recommended.

Shamsie seems to capture those "truths" one wonders about. It's sad just how wily a "cult" can use words and actions to lure and brainwash the young. It's a well written story even if it is tragically sad. Well done.

Not just an entertaining story, this one takes the receptive reader by the hand and heart and asks that they walk a mile in the shoes of a family forced into a very personal struggle with the war on terror.

Back in 2015, our publishing company, Not a Pipe Publishing, accepted Kamila Shamsie's challenge to make 2018 "The Year of Publishing Women," so I knew I needed to read her work, but it took me far too long to get around to it. I just finished Home Fire. I tell students my favorite kind of writing sucker-punches the reader. This novel left me gasping. I think Ms. Shamsie may have broken a couple of my ribs and permanently bruised my heart. Read Home Fire. The force of impact will linger in your body.

This book is about two Muslim families living in Britain, one family with ties to a jihadist, and the other in politics. It’s about family and love and isolation and friendship, and was very well written and engaging, though sad.

Home Fire is an in depth inside view of the character’s lives, loves, motivation and fear. I found the tale to be mesmerizing.
I recommend Home Fire to anyone hoping to find a connection to lives other than your own.

The prose is enjoyable enough to keep a reader engaged. The issues and questions the book raises are ones that ought to be more carefully considered. However, structurally, there are some fundamental flaws. Just one example: the opening chapter is all backstory. It was tough to get through it and I was left wondering why an editor didn't raise the issue. Ms. Shamsie is an intelligent writer but somewhere in the process, she forgot that books are for readers.

Wow. I teach English but read frivolous stuff and serious stuff. This novel is the best I've read in ages. Thought provoking and suspenseful and THE ENDING!! You don't need to know Antigone to read it. WOW. I'm SO sad it is over. THE ENDING!!!!

Wow. I bought this book based on a friend's recommendation and I just loved it. Incredible character developments and non-stop pacing. A beautiful read .. some of the prose took my breath away. I just finished and was compelled to write a review to encourage you to take a chance on this book. It's incredible.

This novel did not hold me. The beginning was interesting but the characters are what you would imagine them to be. Empty. Self centered. Blaming others for being who THEY are and the suspicions they raise. Lacking gratitude for the society in which they live. There is not one friendship with an "other". I don't care about these people and what they believe; what they offer to the world: Nothing of value. This book is an attempt to be relevant but it does not succeed. No life in it. No joy. Dead. Just like the milieu she describes. I loved her first novel but I threw this down in disgust 1/3 of the way in. Waste of my precious time.