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| William Morrow |
Nadia Hashimi
2014
The Summary
"Kabul, 2007: The Taliban rules the streets. With a drug-addicted father and no brothers, Rahima and her sisters can rarely leave the house or attend school. Their only hope lies in the ancient Afghan custom of bacha posh, which allows young Rahima to dress and be treated as a son until she is of marriageable age. As a boy, she has the kind of freedom that was previously unimaginable...freedom that will transform her forever.
"But Rahima is not the first in her family to adopt this unusual custom. A century earlier, her great-great-grandmother Shekiba, left orphaned by an epidemic, saved herself and built a new life in the same way - the change took her on a journey from the deprivation of life in a rural village to the opulence of a king's palace in the bustling metropolis in Kabul.
"Crisscrossing in time, The Pearl That Broke Its Shell interweaves the stories of these two remarkable women who are separated by a century but share the same courage and dreams. What will happen once Rashima is old enough to marry? How long can Shekiba pass as a man? And if Rahima cannot adapt to life as a bride, how will she survive?"
The Good
I devoured The Pearl That Broke Its Shell. It's a heart-wrenching novel - that is, I'm fairly certain I cried while reading it - but it's so beautifully written and it's such a gripping story that I couldn't help getting sucked into it. I loved reading about Rahima and Shekiba, women who became bacha posh in order to survive in a society hostile to women, especially independent women.
I also love the fact that the stories are told in such a unique way. Rahima tells her story in the present, a first-person point of view that catalogs current events as they happen, and she's incredibly candid. More importantly, Nadia Hashimi manages to show Rahima's growth as she matures into a young woman - a young woman intent on making decisions for herself.
Shekiba, on the other hand, has her story shared: Rahima receives the story of her great-great grandmother in pieces, one little bit at a time. I like that events in Shekiba's story mirror those in Rahima's life as if these two ladies share a parallel destiny, a future that seems just a little more optimistic.
I devoured The Pearl That Broke Its Shell. It's a heart-wrenching novel - that is, I'm fairly certain I cried while reading it - but it's so beautifully written and it's such a gripping story that I couldn't help getting sucked into it. I loved reading about Rahima and Shekiba, women who became bacha posh in order to survive in a society hostile to women, especially independent women.
I also love the fact that the stories are told in such a unique way. Rahima tells her story in the present, a first-person point of view that catalogs current events as they happen, and she's incredibly candid. More importantly, Nadia Hashimi manages to show Rahima's growth as she matures into a young woman - a young woman intent on making decisions for herself.
Shekiba, on the other hand, has her story shared: Rahima receives the story of her great-great grandmother in pieces, one little bit at a time. I like that events in Shekiba's story mirror those in Rahima's life as if these two ladies share a parallel destiny, a future that seems just a little more optimistic.
The Bad
I suppose my one complaint is character perspective.
I don't mind that the novel switches between Rahima and Shekiba, respectively first and third-person; however, I was bothered by the occasional and seemingly arbitrary (or, perhaps, accidental) switch in the midst of either chapter. It happened infrequently, usually Shekiba would begin to refer to herself in the first-person during her story, but it occurred enough that I definitely took note.
I suppose my one complaint is character perspective.
I don't mind that the novel switches between Rahima and Shekiba, respectively first and third-person; however, I was bothered by the occasional and seemingly arbitrary (or, perhaps, accidental) switch in the midst of either chapter. It happened infrequently, usually Shekiba would begin to refer to herself in the first-person during her story, but it occurred enough that I definitely took note.
The Ugly
Rahima and Shekiba do not lead easy lives. Shekiba endures tremendous loss, first her siblings and mother, and then her father, and suffers abuse at the hands of her extended relatives. Likewise, Rahima deals with her father's addiction to opium and, later, endures violent physical, emotional, and sexual abuse at the hands of her husband.
Neither woman is given the opportunity to express independence, to decide who they wish to be. The men in their lives control their every action, keeping them contained, keeping them blind as Rahima's aunt points out: "Your husband is a lot of things, but he's not a stupid man. He knows what he's doing. He doesn't want you to see what's going on in the rest of the country, what other women are doing. [...] He needs to keep you blindfolded."
And that fact is pretty sickening.
Rahima and Shekiba do not lead easy lives. Shekiba endures tremendous loss, first her siblings and mother, and then her father, and suffers abuse at the hands of her extended relatives. Likewise, Rahima deals with her father's addiction to opium and, later, endures violent physical, emotional, and sexual abuse at the hands of her husband.
Neither woman is given the opportunity to express independence, to decide who they wish to be. The men in their lives control their every action, keeping them contained, keeping them blind as Rahima's aunt points out: "Your husband is a lot of things, but he's not a stupid man. He knows what he's doing. He doesn't want you to see what's going on in the rest of the country, what other women are doing. [...] He needs to keep you blindfolded."
And that fact is pretty sickening.
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