Well, this novel was more devastating than I expected it to be. Told from the perspective of two Syrians—Hussam and Wassim—the reader watches the two men coming to terms with their tumultuous pasts while enduring the shakiness of present life impacted by pain and heartache. Hussam and Wassim couldn't be more different. In Vancouver, Hussam is an openly gay refugee dealing with his trauma through every imaginable vice. Meanwhile, on the streets of Damascus, Wassim is in grief from losing so much, much of which he let go of himself when he realized he couldn't keep up with the illusion of leading a heteronormative life.

Ramadan explores grief and trauma with such care and compassion, while also refusing to shy away from the ugliness of it all. I was really taken to the way he explored race and queerness in this novel, and how the journey in coming to terms with one's identity is different for the two protagonists. It's an enormous undertaking to have two complex narratives told in one novel (especially because it's not just about identity), but I thought Ramadan was rather successful in delivering a cohesive and compelling story.

I felt a bit ambivalent about the way the novel ended, but not in a way that totally dissatisfied me. I'll also say that Ramadan may have packed a little too much into this novel, but it wasn't particularly overwhelming to me.