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Fairytales for Lost Children
Fairytales For Lost Children is narrated by people constantly on the verge of self-revelation. These characters - young, gay and lesbian Somalis - must navigate the complexities of family, identity and the immigrant experience as they tumble towards freedom.
Using a unique idiom rooted in hip-hop, graphic illustrations, Arabic calligraphy and folklore studded with Kiswahili and Somali slang, these stories mark the arrival of a singular new voice in contemporary fiction.
Using a unique idiom rooted in hip-hop, graphic illustrations, Arabic calligraphy and folklore studded with Kiswahili and Somali slang, these stories mark the arrival of a singular new voice in contemporary fiction.
156 pages, Paperback
First published August 14, 2013
21 people are currently reading
2339 people want to read
About the author
Diriye Osman
10 books59 followersDiriye Osman is a British-Somali author, visual artist, critic and essayist based in London. He's the author of the Polari Prize-winning collection of stories, 'Fairytales For Lost Children', and the collection of interlinked stories, 'The Butterfly Jungle'. His work has appeared in 'The Guardian', 'Granta', 'The Financial Times', 'The Huffington Post', 'Vice', 'Poetry Review', 'Prospect', 'Time Out', 'Attitude' and 'Afropunk'. He lives on a diet of Disney cartoons, graphic novels, masala chai and Missy Elliott records.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 67 reviews
July 30, 2017
I often dream of home. It is a place that exists only in my imagination: it is my Eden, my Janna. Sometimes I associate it with my father, my mother, my grandmother, my sister, all of whom have rejected me, all of whom I still love…Other times I regard Somalia, my birthplace, as home, as the land where my soul will eventually be laid to rest. Many times home is Kenya or London. But none of these places truly embody home for me. Home is in my hair, my lips, my arms, my thighs, my feet and hands. I am my own home.- Diriye Osman, Fairytales for Lost Children
2017 hasn’t been a great year for me writing review-wise. However, on that note, I’m happy to resume more frequent reviewing with a book that encompasses so many of my interests, and also reminds me why we need diverse books, and why the representations of POC in the diaspora are going to have to be more complex.
In the short stories in Fairytales for Lost Children, Osman’ discusses the African (Somali) diaspora, sexuality, and tradition, among other themes ( at this point, if you haven’t already figured it out, it’s probably good to mention that these fairytales are not for children! There is plenty of sexual content in them). Other important themes include love, breakup, tragedy, and family.
One of my favourite stories was the titular Fairytales for Lost Children which featured the kind of teacher I wish I’d had in primary school: Miss Mumbi:
Even Story Time was political. Miss Mumbi infused each story with Kenyan flavour. She illustrated these remixes on the blackboard. ‘Rapunzel’ became ‘Rehema,’ a fly gabar imprisoned in Fort Jesus. Rehema had an Afro that grew and grew…Her Afro became so strong that it burst through the fort.
I really like reading about different diasporas, and this book gave me a lot of info about the Somali diaspora, particularly in Africa and the UK. A couple of the stories speak to living in limbo:
Every day I asked Hooyo, “When’re we heading home?”
“Soon,” she’d sigh, ‘Soon.”
The precariousness of life for groups in the diaspora was definitely very poignant, and it makes sense that the word “fairytale” is in the title, because fairytales can be an escape from the tough realities of life. One reality is not being wanted by the society one lives in:
My waalid may have reinvented themselves but to the booliis we were still refugee bastards who sucked on Nanny State’s iron teats until there was nothing left for her legitimate children.
Sexuality is definitely a huge theme, and all the protagonists in the story are gay. This allows Osman to explore their relationships with their more traditional and conservative environments. There was one excerpt that talked about how in Somalia being gay is likened to being possessed, mentally unstable, and there are stories were gay Somalis are disowned by their family. But the reality is there are gay Somalis, and those like Osman are working hard to share their stories and experiences:
The Prophet once said that dreams are a window into the unseen. I have been told many times by family, friends, colleagues and strangers that I, a black African Muslim lesbian, am not included in this vision; that my dreams are a reflection of my upbringing in a decadent, amoral Western society that has corrupted who I really am. But who am I, really? Am I allowed to speak for myself or must my desires form the battleground for causes I do not care about?
What I’ve found about being part of the African diaspora, and what Osman also managed to illustrate (focusing on queer characters) is how the diaspora is a tricky space to inhabit and navigate. There’s always the question of deciding how to create one’s identity when straddling two or more cultures. Definitely a great collection of short stories to give me a glimpse into how others in the diaspora live.
2017 hasn’t been a great year for me writing review-wise. However, on that note, I’m happy to resume more frequent reviewing with a book that encompasses so many of my interests, and also reminds me why we need diverse books, and why the representations of POC in the diaspora are going to have to be more complex.
In the short stories in Fairytales for Lost Children, Osman’ discusses the African (Somali) diaspora, sexuality, and tradition, among other themes ( at this point, if you haven’t already figured it out, it’s probably good to mention that these fairytales are not for children! There is plenty of sexual content in them). Other important themes include love, breakup, tragedy, and family.
One of my favourite stories was the titular Fairytales for Lost Children which featured the kind of teacher I wish I’d had in primary school: Miss Mumbi:
Even Story Time was political. Miss Mumbi infused each story with Kenyan flavour. She illustrated these remixes on the blackboard. ‘Rapunzel’ became ‘Rehema,’ a fly gabar imprisoned in Fort Jesus. Rehema had an Afro that grew and grew…Her Afro became so strong that it burst through the fort.
I really like reading about different diasporas, and this book gave me a lot of info about the Somali diaspora, particularly in Africa and the UK. A couple of the stories speak to living in limbo:
Every day I asked Hooyo, “When’re we heading home?”
“Soon,” she’d sigh, ‘Soon.”
The precariousness of life for groups in the diaspora was definitely very poignant, and it makes sense that the word “fairytale” is in the title, because fairytales can be an escape from the tough realities of life. One reality is not being wanted by the society one lives in:
My waalid may have reinvented themselves but to the booliis we were still refugee bastards who sucked on Nanny State’s iron teats until there was nothing left for her legitimate children.
Sexuality is definitely a huge theme, and all the protagonists in the story are gay. This allows Osman to explore their relationships with their more traditional and conservative environments. There was one excerpt that talked about how in Somalia being gay is likened to being possessed, mentally unstable, and there are stories were gay Somalis are disowned by their family. But the reality is there are gay Somalis, and those like Osman are working hard to share their stories and experiences:
The Prophet once said that dreams are a window into the unseen. I have been told many times by family, friends, colleagues and strangers that I, a black African Muslim lesbian, am not included in this vision; that my dreams are a reflection of my upbringing in a decadent, amoral Western society that has corrupted who I really am. But who am I, really? Am I allowed to speak for myself or must my desires form the battleground for causes I do not care about?
What I’ve found about being part of the African diaspora, and what Osman also managed to illustrate (focusing on queer characters) is how the diaspora is a tricky space to inhabit and navigate. There’s always the question of deciding how to create one’s identity when straddling two or more cultures. Definitely a great collection of short stories to give me a glimpse into how others in the diaspora live.
August 5, 2013
Powerful, raw, uneven collection. Oh this needs proofreading, BUT there is so much passion and brilliance in the first half that this collection overcomes its weaknesses. Toward the end of the collection the stories start to feel less essential but Osman brings to light stories of queer Somalis and also tackles what it means to be displaced among a displaced people. Definitely worth reading.
August 6, 2016
For the in-depth review, visit my blog: Read Diverse Books
This short story collection is only 150 pages, but the stories are powerful, memorable, and warrant a reread once you’re done. Each one is about gay, lesbian, or transgender Somalis living in Somalia, Kenya, or England. Somalia has had a troubled history of political turmoil, violence, and famine, so many of people we follow are refugees trying to build a life outside of their homeland. Many of the stories are tragic, but some are hopeful, and all of them are honest and relevant.
If you regularly read LGBT fiction, I urge to read Fairytales for Lost Children with an open mind and a willingness to explore nontraditional and non-western narratives. Also, please note that this collection includes stories that are sexually explicit. I personally thought the explicit content was relevant and realistic, given the subject matter of some of the stories, but others may not agree. The fact that these stories, written by a gay Somali, exist is a bold and powerful statement, so it is important to read them without judgment and allow the voices of the men and women who are traditionally silenced to ring loudly and fearlessly.
This short story collection is only 150 pages, but the stories are powerful, memorable, and warrant a reread once you’re done. Each one is about gay, lesbian, or transgender Somalis living in Somalia, Kenya, or England. Somalia has had a troubled history of political turmoil, violence, and famine, so many of people we follow are refugees trying to build a life outside of their homeland. Many of the stories are tragic, but some are hopeful, and all of them are honest and relevant.
If you regularly read LGBT fiction, I urge to read Fairytales for Lost Children with an open mind and a willingness to explore nontraditional and non-western narratives. Also, please note that this collection includes stories that are sexually explicit. I personally thought the explicit content was relevant and realistic, given the subject matter of some of the stories, but others may not agree. The fact that these stories, written by a gay Somali, exist is a bold and powerful statement, so it is important to read them without judgment and allow the voices of the men and women who are traditionally silenced to ring loudly and fearlessly.
February 29, 2020
Fairytales for Lost Children is narrated by people constantly on the verge of self-revelation. These characters - young, gay and lesbian Somalis - must navigate the complexities of family, identity and the immigrant experience as they tumble towards freedom. Set in Kenya, Somalia and South London, these stories are imbued with pathos, passion and linguistic playfulness, marking the arrival of a singular new voice in contemporary fiction.
I don't remember how I originally stumbled upon this book but I remember being surprised at finding some booktubers talk about it fondly in their videos. Normally, when I search for books by Black writers, especially African ones, nothing shows up on booktube. Giving the subject matter of this book and the fact that I haven't checked out enough queer artist in my reading life, I knew that I would pick it up as soon as possible. I was happy to see that a local bookshop had it in stock (...that also doesn't happen with books by Black writers that aren't on a bestsellers list).
With a little over 150 pages and a couple of pictures sprinkled in between, Fairytales for Lost Children is an incredibly quick read. Diriye's language is accessible and easy. It's not hard to understand what he's saying or what he's getting at. The stories in this book are often sexual. Diriye isn't afraid to break taboos. When reading this book we shouldn't forget that being gay (or otherwise on the LGBT spectrum) is highly illegal in Somalia. Same-sex sexual activity could be punished by up to death. LGBT persons are regularly prosecuted by the government and additionally face stigmatization among the broader population.
So, even though, Diriye is now living in London, his upbringing in Somalia and Kenya shouldn't be overlooked when discussing this book. It's an incredibly brave and bold and unapologetic take on being queer in a society that condemns everything you stand for.
Loss of homeland and family permeates these stories. In one of the most moving pieces, "Your Silence Will Not Protect You", which actually feels more essayistic than fictional, Osman's young protagonist struggles with mental health issues and with coming out to his large, conservative family. When he finally does, their reaction is so bad he fears for his life. Yet the voices he has heard in his head, "shouting homophobic slurs", stop.
Overall, Fairytales for Lost Children is extremely raw and honest, and not for the faint of heart. Diriye sugar-coats nothing... but at the end his life-affirming message is clear: we should all live to be our truest self. We shouldn't have to hide who we are, who we love, why we love. At a time when homosexuality is still illegal in most of Africa, and barely features in contemporary African fiction, this book is a welcome surprise.
I don't remember how I originally stumbled upon this book but I remember being surprised at finding some booktubers talk about it fondly in their videos. Normally, when I search for books by Black writers, especially African ones, nothing shows up on booktube. Giving the subject matter of this book and the fact that I haven't checked out enough queer artist in my reading life, I knew that I would pick it up as soon as possible. I was happy to see that a local bookshop had it in stock (...that also doesn't happen with books by Black writers that aren't on a bestsellers list).
With a little over 150 pages and a couple of pictures sprinkled in between, Fairytales for Lost Children is an incredibly quick read. Diriye's language is accessible and easy. It's not hard to understand what he's saying or what he's getting at. The stories in this book are often sexual. Diriye isn't afraid to break taboos. When reading this book we shouldn't forget that being gay (or otherwise on the LGBT spectrum) is highly illegal in Somalia. Same-sex sexual activity could be punished by up to death. LGBT persons are regularly prosecuted by the government and additionally face stigmatization among the broader population.
So, even though, Diriye is now living in London, his upbringing in Somalia and Kenya shouldn't be overlooked when discussing this book. It's an incredibly brave and bold and unapologetic take on being queer in a society that condemns everything you stand for.
I have been told many times by family, friends, colleagues and strangers that I, a Black African Muslim lesbian, am not included in this vision; that my dreams are a reflection of my upbringing in a decadent, amoral Western society that has corrupted who I really am. But who am I, really? Am I allowed to speak for myself or must my desires form the battleground for causes I do not care about?I appreciate everything this collection stands for, nonetheless, I also have my gripes with it. First and foremost, I wasn't the biggest fan of the writing style. It was too ordinary and blunt for me, sometimes even vulgar. I get that not everything has to be written in a beautiful way, but I am always looking for something special, for something with literary merit in its style, and Diriye couldn't deliver on that front. On top of that, I found it somewhat annoying that most of these stories were so sexually graphic or focused on the protagonist's sex lives. Given the fact that I don't enjoy reading about sex (...and people who tend to think about nothing else), it's not the biggest surprise that those instances annoyed me. However, I was very happy to see that apart from the sex, other topics are discussed as well. The struggles that Diriye's characters face are manifold: religion, race, class, mental illness.
In the Somali culture many things go unsaid: how we love, who we love and why we love that way. I don't know why Suldana loves the way she does. I don't know why she loves who she does. But I do know that by respecting her privacy I am letting her dream in a way that my generation was not capable of. I'm letting her reach for something neither one of us can articulate.In "Tell the Sun not to Shine", a young Muslim goes to pray at Peckham Mosque and recognises the imam, now with a wife and child, as Libaan, the fellow Somali teenager who was his lover years earlier in Nairobi. "Shoga" is set in Nairobi, where another Somali teenager tells us, "I was 17 and I specialised in two things: weed and sex." He becomes lovers with his grandmother's servant, a refugee from Burundi. When his grandmother finds out, she sacks the servant and cuts off her grandson: "We became two strangers bound by blood and bad history."
Loss of homeland and family permeates these stories. In one of the most moving pieces, "Your Silence Will Not Protect You", which actually feels more essayistic than fictional, Osman's young protagonist struggles with mental health issues and with coming out to his large, conservative family. When he finally does, their reaction is so bad he fears for his life. Yet the voices he has heard in his head, "shouting homophobic slurs", stop.
Overall, Fairytales for Lost Children is extremely raw and honest, and not for the faint of heart. Diriye sugar-coats nothing... but at the end his life-affirming message is clear: we should all live to be our truest self. We shouldn't have to hide who we are, who we love, why we love. At a time when homosexuality is still illegal in most of Africa, and barely features in contemporary African fiction, this book is a welcome surprise.
November 16, 2016
Find this and other Reviews at In Tori Lex
This was a beautiful exploration of what it's like to grapple with your identity. It illustrates how people toil just to exist as they need to; as a minority, as a lesbian/gay person, as a refugee and as someone who identifies with a religion that demonizes parts of themselves. These short stories are intimate glances into young people's lives who are discovering themselves. The writing is wonderful because it seamlessly flows from thoughtful prose into believable dialogue. Most of the stories are about Somali refugees who dream of home, while dealing with the pain of being rejected from their Somalian and Muslim community's.
There are wonderful illustrations between each chapter that whimsically interpret the themes in each story. I would recommend this book to readers who enjoy great writing and reading about gay and lesbian marginalized voices. Below are short summaries of each short story to pique your interest and give you more context:
Watering the Imagination - focuses on a mother's understanding of her daughter's happiness s more important than her understanding of it.
Tell the Sun Not to Shine - follows the lives of two adolescents who experimented together, but later occupy very different roles in their community.
FairyTales of Lost Children - explores how quickly, naively and tragically friendship can being and end.
Shoga - follows a young man who is demoralized by his loved ones and struggles to accept it.
If I Were A Dance - a couple comes back together to interpret their relationship into dance for a show, the dance leads them to both to grapple with the truth of that relationship.
Pavilion - is about a transsexual woman who flamboyantly flaunts her otherness, and vulgarly rejects those who don't.
Ndambi - is about loving someone beyond their dislike for who you are, and learning to cope with the loss.
Earthling - is about a woman who is dealing with her declining mental health, and trying to be in love with someone who has s struggling to keep her grip on reality.
Your Silence Will Not Protect You - details the often long, painful and sometimes dangerous process that coming out to a intolerant family can be.
The Other (Wo)man - is about struggling to learn gender boundaries, relationship honesty and being comfortable on the journey to a choice.
My Roots Are Your Roots - is about two men finding home with each other and not living in the beauty of love and intimacy with each other.
I received this book from the author in exchange for an honest review.
This was a beautiful exploration of what it's like to grapple with your identity. It illustrates how people toil just to exist as they need to; as a minority, as a lesbian/gay person, as a refugee and as someone who identifies with a religion that demonizes parts of themselves. These short stories are intimate glances into young people's lives who are discovering themselves. The writing is wonderful because it seamlessly flows from thoughtful prose into believable dialogue. Most of the stories are about Somali refugees who dream of home, while dealing with the pain of being rejected from their Somalian and Muslim community's.
"In the end something gives way. The earth doesn't move but something shifts. That shift is change and change is the layman's lingo for that elusive state that lovers, dreamers, prophets and politicians call 'freedom'."
There are wonderful illustrations between each chapter that whimsically interpret the themes in each story. I would recommend this book to readers who enjoy great writing and reading about gay and lesbian marginalized voices. Below are short summaries of each short story to pique your interest and give you more context:
Watering the Imagination - focuses on a mother's understanding of her daughter's happiness s more important than her understanding of it.
Tell the Sun Not to Shine - follows the lives of two adolescents who experimented together, but later occupy very different roles in their community.
FairyTales of Lost Children - explores how quickly, naively and tragically friendship can being and end.
Shoga - follows a young man who is demoralized by his loved ones and struggles to accept it.
If I Were A Dance - a couple comes back together to interpret their relationship into dance for a show, the dance leads them to both to grapple with the truth of that relationship.
Pavilion - is about a transsexual woman who flamboyantly flaunts her otherness, and vulgarly rejects those who don't.
Ndambi - is about loving someone beyond their dislike for who you are, and learning to cope with the loss.
Earthling - is about a woman who is dealing with her declining mental health, and trying to be in love with someone who has s struggling to keep her grip on reality.
Your Silence Will Not Protect You - details the often long, painful and sometimes dangerous process that coming out to a intolerant family can be.
The Other (Wo)man - is about struggling to learn gender boundaries, relationship honesty and being comfortable on the journey to a choice.
My Roots Are Your Roots - is about two men finding home with each other and not living in the beauty of love and intimacy with each other.
"But I've learnt that when is comes to being an African artist working in a white field, tutors or patrons want my experiences to reflect their fantasies: the cliched notion of the noble savage. Sometimes you have to give in, because they hold your destiny in their hands."
I received this book from the author in exchange for an honest review.
August 2, 2017
!!! Review here: https://africanbookaddict.com/2016/04...
*sigh*
Raw, erotic, sassy, exciting, vivid, devastating, liberating. This has got to be the ultimate LGBTQ- themed African lit novel out there. I enjoyed and remember every single one of these stories (11 stories in all). Until I read another LGBTQ themed African fiction novel, this is my number 1. I can't recommend this enough. I truly admire Diriye Osman.
*sigh*
Raw, erotic, sassy, exciting, vivid, devastating, liberating. This has got to be the ultimate LGBTQ- themed African lit novel out there. I enjoyed and remember every single one of these stories (11 stories in all). Until I read another LGBTQ themed African fiction novel, this is my number 1. I can't recommend this enough. I truly admire Diriye Osman.
July 7, 2022
Una serie di racconti-testimonianza di giovani, provenienti dalla Somalia, che nascondono, a fatica e con sofferenza, la loro omosessualità.
My roots are your roots
Un paese devastato dalla guerra civile, le cui radici religiose sono ancora molto ben radicate.
Persone obbligate a costruirsi una vita famigliare eterosessuale perché Dio condanna chi non è "normale". Persone sole, incomprese, perseguitate, ripudiate, solamente perché l'unico peccato che hanno commesso è stato quello di confidare il loro amore.
"These stories were about love, loss, fear, innocence, strenght. I was Muslim but fiction was my true religion. The God of Immagination lived in fairytales. And the best fairytales made you fall in love."
My roots are your roots
Un paese devastato dalla guerra civile, le cui radici religiose sono ancora molto ben radicate.
Persone obbligate a costruirsi una vita famigliare eterosessuale perché Dio condanna chi non è "normale". Persone sole, incomprese, perseguitate, ripudiate, solamente perché l'unico peccato che hanno commesso è stato quello di confidare il loro amore.
"These stories were about love, loss, fear, innocence, strenght. I was Muslim but fiction was my true religion. The God of Immagination lived in fairytales. And the best fairytales made you fall in love."
September 1, 2016
A really beautiful collection of short pieces spanning Somalia, Kenya and South London, and a whole lot of people who, at the end of the day, know who they are, even if it's not easy to be that person. The shortest stories are less than 2 pages long but have a lovely poetic quality that begs to be read aloud and shared. There are a few bum notes, but I forgive those for the ones that made me cry.
January 10, 2020
Words...wells and wells of words...
March 14, 2014
i've never really been a fan of short stories till I stumbled on this book. And my god. Every story's a tenderly woven cloth. As you turn each page, it begins to wrap itself around you, and once the last line on the final page is read, you feel warm inside and wrapped up on the outside. That's what it is to me. The author writes prose in a moving, poetic form thus I struggled to put it down even for a few minutes. Interesting concept and a beautiful book.
August 14, 2022
This was such a great short story collection. Even without a lot of the cultural and personal context of this - Osman still wrote something that was incredibly relatable and approachable. Each story was in its own way a blend of sensuality, heartbreak, and hope. Overall I’m very happy someone gifted this to me - it’s probably not something I would’ve chosen to read on my own but I’m very happy I did!
October 4, 2020
Beautifully written, such an eye-opener too. So glad I finally read this little gem!
July 26, 2020
Primer libro somalí que leo en mi vida. Y he quedado impactado de muchas maneras.
Lo primero que me sorprendió es que cada cuento es protagonizado por un miembro de uno de los diversos colectivos que conforman la comunidad LGBTQ+. Cada historia representa a uno de los muchos rostros de este grupo humano y los diversos problemas sociales que enfrentan. Pero no es una historia juvenil de enamoramientos y finales (necesariamente) felices. Todo lo contrario, es un libro adulto que transmite todas las emociones del mundo real que experimentan aquellos que son marginados por ser diferentes a aquello que se espera de ellos.
Para la sexualidad no es la única excusa que encuentra la sociedad para dejar de lado a estas personas. Ellos, además, son negros, musulmanes, refugiados y/o tienen algún tipo de enfermedad mental. En esencia, todo lo que son es mal visto en el entorno sociocultural en el que se desenvuelven. Y sus experiencias y emociones están tan bien planteadas que, al lector, al menos desde mi experiencia, le termina doliendo el alma.
También llamó poderosamente mi atención que, en esencia, el libro habla sobre la experiencia de ser LGTBQ+ en Somalia y, sin embargo, prácticamente ninguna de las historias se desarrolla ahí. Esto me llevó a averiguar más sobre este lejano país del cuerno de África y descubrí que tienen una seria crisis de migración debido a la situación bélica en la que se encuentran. Se me erizó la piel al entender que, en Somalia, para hablar de sí mismos, deben hacerlo desde afuera porque dentro ya no queda nada… Porque la experiencia de ser somalí es igual a ser migrante y refugiado. Se me hizo chiquito el corazón.
A pesar de todo lo que tienen en contra, estos personajes nunca dejan de soñar, de vivir, de descubrirse a sí mismos. Es un libro cortito, lleno de dolor, pero también de esperanza. A pesar de su breve extensión, cuenta con muchas voces y eso siempre se aplaude. Además, la historia de cada uno de ellos es realmente impactante (por supuesto, algunas más que otras, pero todas funcionan igual de bien). Destaco ampliamente la capacidad del autor para crear personajes tan variados y humanos y para transmitir una gran cantidad de emociones. Todo eso es algo que siempre se agradece.
Lo primero que me sorprendió es que cada cuento es protagonizado por un miembro de uno de los diversos colectivos que conforman la comunidad LGBTQ+. Cada historia representa a uno de los muchos rostros de este grupo humano y los diversos problemas sociales que enfrentan. Pero no es una historia juvenil de enamoramientos y finales (necesariamente) felices. Todo lo contrario, es un libro adulto que transmite todas las emociones del mundo real que experimentan aquellos que son marginados por ser diferentes a aquello que se espera de ellos.
Para la sexualidad no es la única excusa que encuentra la sociedad para dejar de lado a estas personas. Ellos, además, son negros, musulmanes, refugiados y/o tienen algún tipo de enfermedad mental. En esencia, todo lo que son es mal visto en el entorno sociocultural en el que se desenvuelven. Y sus experiencias y emociones están tan bien planteadas que, al lector, al menos desde mi experiencia, le termina doliendo el alma.
También llamó poderosamente mi atención que, en esencia, el libro habla sobre la experiencia de ser LGTBQ+ en Somalia y, sin embargo, prácticamente ninguna de las historias se desarrolla ahí. Esto me llevó a averiguar más sobre este lejano país del cuerno de África y descubrí que tienen una seria crisis de migración debido a la situación bélica en la que se encuentran. Se me erizó la piel al entender que, en Somalia, para hablar de sí mismos, deben hacerlo desde afuera porque dentro ya no queda nada… Porque la experiencia de ser somalí es igual a ser migrante y refugiado. Se me hizo chiquito el corazón.
A pesar de todo lo que tienen en contra, estos personajes nunca dejan de soñar, de vivir, de descubrirse a sí mismos. Es un libro cortito, lleno de dolor, pero también de esperanza. A pesar de su breve extensión, cuenta con muchas voces y eso siempre se aplaude. Además, la historia de cada uno de ellos es realmente impactante (por supuesto, algunas más que otras, pero todas funcionan igual de bien). Destaco ampliamente la capacidad del autor para crear personajes tan variados y humanos y para transmitir una gran cantidad de emociones. Todo eso es algo que siempre se agradece.
March 1, 2017
I might do a longer, more in depth review of this if I have the time but for now...
This is one of the best books I have read all year. I am a sucker for good, honest, and original LGBTQ literature, and this collection covers all the ground. You have a diverse array of narrators, an unflinching depiction of their circumstances (both wondrous and abysmal), and most importantly, heartbreak upon heartbreak. I laughed, cried, and rejoiced.
This is a rejuvenating book. It's the whole package. I highly recommend for any LGBTQ reader and especially for anyone who wants to understand the realities and complexities of this community.
This is one of the best books I have read all year. I am a sucker for good, honest, and original LGBTQ literature, and this collection covers all the ground. You have a diverse array of narrators, an unflinching depiction of their circumstances (both wondrous and abysmal), and most importantly, heartbreak upon heartbreak. I laughed, cried, and rejoiced.
This is a rejuvenating book. It's the whole package. I highly recommend for any LGBTQ reader and especially for anyone who wants to understand the realities and complexities of this community.
February 3, 2017
This short story collection was a Christmas present which I don't think I would have bought for myself, making it the best kind of present. The stories all feature young LGBT characters trying to find their way in the world, but also intersecting with issues of race, religion, being a refugee, mental health and more besides.
Not all the stories were stand-out for me. Some were hopeful, some were sad, but they were all evocative and moving.
Not all the stories were stand-out for me. Some were hopeful, some were sad, but they were all evocative and moving.
June 6, 2019
Somalisk, muslimsk LGBT-fiktion. Ikke noget, jeg plejer at gøre det så meget i. Måske derfor overraskede somalisk-britiske Diriye Osmans novellesamling mig så meget mere positivt. Samlingen fremstår måske en smule rå og upoleret, men til gengæld også frisk, intens, energifyldt og troværdig. Diriye Osman har noget på hjerte. Og han kan skrive.
Læs hele min anmeldelse på K's bognoter: https://bognoter.dk/2019/05/27/diriye...
Læs hele min anmeldelse på K's bognoter: https://bognoter.dk/2019/05/27/diriye...
August 26, 2014
Amazing. I totally fell in love with this book after the first story. This is really an extraordinary book, which I recommend to all queer somali folks. And to everyone in general. A complete page turner.
February 22, 2020
An absolute must!!!!
June 5, 2022
En líneas generales, estos cuentos escritos por el somalí Diriye Osman (señalo su nacionalidad porque seguramente muchos no conocemos autores africanos y esto le da un valor extra a la experiencia lectora), son una necesaria perspectiva que debemos conocer sí o sí de lo que significa ser persona lgbqt+ en un contexto complejo.
La orientación sexual en determinadas sociedades puede ser una sentencia de muerte, tanto física como simbólica, ya que la religión, el sistema jurídico, o las tradiciones culturales suelen condenar la diversidad. Si a eso le sumamos el hecho de un conflicto armado o el desplazamiento forzado, la situación puede empeorar. Somalia ha sido una nación castigada por el imperialismo europeo, el caos post colonial, las hambrunas, la violencia, el fundamentalismo y, principalmente, la indolencia mundial que prefiere mirar hacia otro lado para lamentarse luego cuando se imposibilita ocultar las evidencias.
Los cuentos para niños perdidos son esencialmente "relatos" de adolescentes y jóvenes somalíes lgbtq+ cuya vida es atravesada por el conflicto. Y cuando hablo de conflicto no solo me refiero a la guerra sino a la crisis de identidad, las fracturas familiares, la condición migrante, las enfermedades mentales, la violencia, la pobreza, la marginación, etc. Sus protagonistas son seres sensibles pero orgullosos de su carga ancestral y de su orientación. Aunque atraviesan por momentos durísimos, su fuerza interior les permite transitar siempre atentos, siempre aprendiendo de sí mismos.
Ese es el valor principal que me llevo de leer estos relatos: acá no encontramos pornomiseria ni porno emocional. La resolución de cada cuento, sin ocultar la dureza de la vida ni las injusticias sociales, nos muestra a personas fuertes que son capaces de llevar la frente en alto y superan sus propios miedos. No son "pobrecitos" o "pobrecitas" a quienes quisiéramos en un acto caritativo. No. Son seres humanos que no señalan esperanza y fortaleza, tanta como sea necesaria a pesar de vivir en las peores condiciones.
No le doy las 5 estrellas porque siento que en algunos pasajes la escritura me pareció algo plana. Cuando el autor da un poco más de vuelo a su estilo, los textos son ricos y sugestivos. También considero que el cuento donde narra su propia experiencia hubiera funcionado más si lo hubiera puesto al inicio o al final del libro. De todos modos, es una obra 100% recomendada y necesaria.
La orientación sexual en determinadas sociedades puede ser una sentencia de muerte, tanto física como simbólica, ya que la religión, el sistema jurídico, o las tradiciones culturales suelen condenar la diversidad. Si a eso le sumamos el hecho de un conflicto armado o el desplazamiento forzado, la situación puede empeorar. Somalia ha sido una nación castigada por el imperialismo europeo, el caos post colonial, las hambrunas, la violencia, el fundamentalismo y, principalmente, la indolencia mundial que prefiere mirar hacia otro lado para lamentarse luego cuando se imposibilita ocultar las evidencias.
Los cuentos para niños perdidos son esencialmente "relatos" de adolescentes y jóvenes somalíes lgbtq+ cuya vida es atravesada por el conflicto. Y cuando hablo de conflicto no solo me refiero a la guerra sino a la crisis de identidad, las fracturas familiares, la condición migrante, las enfermedades mentales, la violencia, la pobreza, la marginación, etc. Sus protagonistas son seres sensibles pero orgullosos de su carga ancestral y de su orientación. Aunque atraviesan por momentos durísimos, su fuerza interior les permite transitar siempre atentos, siempre aprendiendo de sí mismos.
Ese es el valor principal que me llevo de leer estos relatos: acá no encontramos pornomiseria ni porno emocional. La resolución de cada cuento, sin ocultar la dureza de la vida ni las injusticias sociales, nos muestra a personas fuertes que son capaces de llevar la frente en alto y superan sus propios miedos. No son "pobrecitos" o "pobrecitas" a quienes quisiéramos en un acto caritativo. No. Son seres humanos que no señalan esperanza y fortaleza, tanta como sea necesaria a pesar de vivir en las peores condiciones.
No le doy las 5 estrellas porque siento que en algunos pasajes la escritura me pareció algo plana. Cuando el autor da un poco más de vuelo a su estilo, los textos son ricos y sugestivos. También considero que el cuento donde narra su propia experiencia hubiera funcionado más si lo hubiera puesto al inicio o al final del libro. De todos modos, es una obra 100% recomendada y necesaria.
December 29, 2020
Nice little collection of stories involving quite a range of themes & topics, including mental health and dealing with family—all over the central idea of being queer and accepting yourself, often while being far away from the place where you grew up. There are both M/M and F/F stories, and I enjoyed them all—not something you can always say about a collection. (There's also a good range of lengths.)
Great writing and a quick read. I'll definitely check out more of the author's writing.
Great writing and a quick read. I'll definitely check out more of the author's writing.
June 15, 2020
I really enjoyed this book. Finished it in one sitting, so a short and enjoyable read. It took me on an emotional journey, moments of laughter followed by moments of melancholy. Not to mention, the illustrations were a delight and a surprise.
My personal favourite was the reference from Peep Show's last season haha.
I hope to become the support and safe space that the supporting characters like Kinsi provide young queer Somalis.
Wa mahad santahye for having the courage to produce such work.
My personal favourite was the reference from Peep Show's last season haha.
I hope to become the support and safe space that the supporting characters like Kinsi provide young queer Somalis.
Wa mahad santahye for having the courage to produce such work.
August 7, 2020
I loved every one of the stories in this anthology. Each story or vignette featured a gay or lesbian Somali. They represent an intersection of Somali culture, Muslim values and sexuality. A few of the stories even included representations of mental illness. So often, we consume media that highlights only one aspect of a character's identity but what struck me about these stories was the complexity and nuance each character had. They were represented as a full, flawed, messy human and it was a joy to read about each one.
I will note that if sexual content is uncomfortable to you, I wouldn't recommend this book. I personally did not mind it and felt that it added to some of the stories. I appreciated that sex wasn't used just for the sake of it (but am not against such depictions, let's normalize sex positivity between consenting adults) and felt that most of the depictions were connected to the character's self-revelation in some way.
I will note that if sexual content is uncomfortable to you, I wouldn't recommend this book. I personally did not mind it and felt that it added to some of the stories. I appreciated that sex wasn't used just for the sake of it (but am not against such depictions, let's normalize sex positivity between consenting adults) and felt that most of the depictions were connected to the character's self-revelation in some way.
June 20, 2020
Diriye's writing is lyrical, humorous, raw, and thrumming with life. He is a fantastic story-teller who honours the lives of lgbtqia+ Somalis with nuance + great care. I adore this book, and I will continue to return to this collection when my lil queer heart needs some lifting.
January 24, 2021
This is a great collection of stories, giving insight into a Somali, Muslim, and LGBTQ+ experience in the UK. I especially appreciated the range in LGBTQ+ experiences. Each story is beautifully written as well.
August 26, 2020
Brilliant stories. Using three of them for teaching.
Watering the Imagination - A Somalian mother is supportive of her gay daughter.
Fairytales for lost Children - A young Somalian refugee attends an English school in Kenya and his teacher is fired for telling traditional fairytales with African characters.
Your silence will not save you - a coming out tale of a young Somalian Muslim refugee in London struggles with mental illness and his family's mixed reaction when he tells them he is gay.
Watering the Imagination - A Somalian mother is supportive of her gay daughter.
Fairytales for lost Children - A young Somalian refugee attends an English school in Kenya and his teacher is fired for telling traditional fairytales with African characters.
Your silence will not save you - a coming out tale of a young Somalian Muslim refugee in London struggles with mental illness and his family's mixed reaction when he tells them he is gay.
June 1, 2023
★★★½
A beautiful short story collection that talks about sexuality and gender identity from the perspective of the Muslim faith
Very glad I read this
A beautiful short story collection that talks about sexuality and gender identity from the perspective of the Muslim faith
Very glad I read this
December 20, 2016
Imagine if your cultural identity is wrapped up in being part of a Somalian Muslim large family which is not only patriarchal but also conservative. You are dispossessed of your country of origin and seek refuge in Kenya. In Kenya, you are not very welcome and constantly have to hide from the police. Finally you land up in London where you are more welcome but still not part of the mainstream. Add to this being gay, lesbian or trans and you are further on the periphery with nowhere to call home. Most of the stories in this collection describe a version of such lives.
Each one has a unique protagonist with a unique set of circumstances. A further dimension is added in that several of the protagonists also suffer from mental illness in the form of psychosis. In Your Silence Will Not Protect You, the voices in the protagonists head stop once he distances himself from his family. In Earthling, a cathartic moment helps Zaytun towards wholeness.
There is tenderness, anguish, pride, revenge and courage in abundance; all the emotions that exist in relationships are wonderfully portrayed. The writer does not shy away from describing sexual encounters very explicitly until the lust and tenderness and sweat virtually drips from the pages.
In one of my favourites, the title story, Fairytales for Lost Children, the boy is learning “Ingriis” living in Kenya. The school has a wonderful black teacher who subverts all the fairytales so they learn of Jomo and the Beanstalk and Kohl Black and the Seven Street Boys! so inventive. Sadly the teacher does not last long. This story ends a little in the air with the reader wondering if the worst really did happen.
The language changes depending on the character, some use english slang, some are aggressive and macho, some reflective. A feature that seems prevalent in writers of African origin is a wonderful use of metaphor. In describing the effect of a tranquiliser, the protagonist says it dilutes the voices “until they were faint crackles: a transistor radio still picking up signals but at a low volume.” In, If I Were a Dance, Anas says of his ex-lover ‘if his ego were bottled a drop would poison a scorpion.” This story is heart-wrenching as Anas and Narciso dance out their relationship in front of an audience.
I often avoid short stories because I can get frustrated with their abrupt endings. In this collection, they seem sufficient unto themselves. Every story has something different to offer as each describes, in one way or another, how they have been displaced and outcast as much in terms of nationality as sexuality. It seems impossible to cast oneself away from the family and/or culture that is deeply loved and to find what truly embodies home. Nevertheless these stories show ways of doing just this.
Each one has a unique protagonist with a unique set of circumstances. A further dimension is added in that several of the protagonists also suffer from mental illness in the form of psychosis. In Your Silence Will Not Protect You, the voices in the protagonists head stop once he distances himself from his family. In Earthling, a cathartic moment helps Zaytun towards wholeness.
There is tenderness, anguish, pride, revenge and courage in abundance; all the emotions that exist in relationships are wonderfully portrayed. The writer does not shy away from describing sexual encounters very explicitly until the lust and tenderness and sweat virtually drips from the pages.
In one of my favourites, the title story, Fairytales for Lost Children, the boy is learning “Ingriis” living in Kenya. The school has a wonderful black teacher who subverts all the fairytales so they learn of Jomo and the Beanstalk and Kohl Black and the Seven Street Boys! so inventive. Sadly the teacher does not last long. This story ends a little in the air with the reader wondering if the worst really did happen.
The language changes depending on the character, some use english slang, some are aggressive and macho, some reflective. A feature that seems prevalent in writers of African origin is a wonderful use of metaphor. In describing the effect of a tranquiliser, the protagonist says it dilutes the voices “until they were faint crackles: a transistor radio still picking up signals but at a low volume.” In, If I Were a Dance, Anas says of his ex-lover ‘if his ego were bottled a drop would poison a scorpion.” This story is heart-wrenching as Anas and Narciso dance out their relationship in front of an audience.
I often avoid short stories because I can get frustrated with their abrupt endings. In this collection, they seem sufficient unto themselves. Every story has something different to offer as each describes, in one way or another, how they have been displaced and outcast as much in terms of nationality as sexuality. It seems impossible to cast oneself away from the family and/or culture that is deeply loved and to find what truly embodies home. Nevertheless these stories show ways of doing just this.
January 2, 2017
Content Warning: Homophobia, Hate Crimes, Psychotic Episodes, MC uses "Tranny" as an insult,
This is a fantastic group of short stories. Every one stars a different Somalian in either Kenya, Somalia, or South London. There are also beautiful black drawings to accompany each story. Also, I don't know what the binding and cover is made of but I absolutely love it. It still looks beautiful after living in my purse for so long as I read it in starts and fits.
Being a short story collection, it jumps and changes but I noticed the first stories start with children and progress into adulthood. The final story is only a page and a half about two grown established men loving fiercly and proudly.
Fairytales for Lost Children contains nothing typical. There is no royalty or treasures. That alone speaks volumes about the Muslim QUILTBAG Somalian experience.
As such, it will not be light and fluffy reading. This hits hard in vulnerable spots but leaves hope among the scars.
Fairytales does contain graphic detail for sex, but it fits the stories and is a rebellious act to reclaim the part your country, your people, and your religion wants to circumcise. You might even find yourself liking it ;)
Since I don't typically read short stories and because of the the content, I took a break after each story. It really helped resolve my lingering problem of "What happens next?" and for the stories to permeate and settle.
Each tale is striking. The writing is strong, the characters jump from the page, the dialogue is laced with their natural slang, and is a testament to their pain, resilience, and voice.
It isn't dumbed down or explained, it comes through in context and demands the reader learn and acknowledge their experiences.
As I said in my Goodreads update, this is what diverse books is all about.
Important to Note:
There are two stories towards the end where the MC is schizophrenic and I really want to emphasize that while working on being fulfilled and at peace as a person will help, this isn't the kind of problem that just goes away. Each of them were on medicine and stayed on meds. It's not "make the world a better place and this won't happen to people kind of thing".
There is also one story where the MC is struggling with being an effeminate gay man and expressing both sides of himself. He along with his best friend use the word "tranny" as an insult with no debunking or anything. It's just there and apparently approved of.
This is a fantastic group of short stories. Every one stars a different Somalian in either Kenya, Somalia, or South London. There are also beautiful black drawings to accompany each story. Also, I don't know what the binding and cover is made of but I absolutely love it. It still looks beautiful after living in my purse for so long as I read it in starts and fits.
Being a short story collection, it jumps and changes but I noticed the first stories start with children and progress into adulthood. The final story is only a page and a half about two grown established men loving fiercly and proudly.
Fairytales for Lost Children contains nothing typical. There is no royalty or treasures. That alone speaks volumes about the Muslim QUILTBAG Somalian experience.
As such, it will not be light and fluffy reading. This hits hard in vulnerable spots but leaves hope among the scars.
Fairytales does contain graphic detail for sex, but it fits the stories and is a rebellious act to reclaim the part your country, your people, and your religion wants to circumcise. You might even find yourself liking it ;)
Since I don't typically read short stories and because of the the content, I took a break after each story. It really helped resolve my lingering problem of "What happens next?" and for the stories to permeate and settle.
Each tale is striking. The writing is strong, the characters jump from the page, the dialogue is laced with their natural slang, and is a testament to their pain, resilience, and voice.
It isn't dumbed down or explained, it comes through in context and demands the reader learn and acknowledge their experiences.
As I said in my Goodreads update, this is what diverse books is all about.
Important to Note:
There are two stories towards the end where the MC is schizophrenic and I really want to emphasize that while working on being fulfilled and at peace as a person will help, this isn't the kind of problem that just goes away. Each of them were on medicine and stayed on meds. It's not "make the world a better place and this won't happen to people kind of thing".
There is also one story where the MC is struggling with being an effeminate gay man and expressing both sides of himself. He along with his best friend use the word "tranny" as an insult with no debunking or anything. It's just there and apparently approved of.
April 15, 2017
Fairytales for Lost Children is a book of short stories by Diriye Osman, a Somali-British author. Each short story explores the experiences of LGBT+ Somali individuals in utterly raw and powerful ways.
This collection is not for the faint of heart. It is full of sex and power and a specific community that is attempting to find itself. After a few stories, I could almost feel myself sticky with hairspray and full of revolt – like the teacher who turns Snow White black, or the lesbian who attempts to attend her sister’s traditionalist wedding. And all of this contains the undercurrent of the violence of civil war, and the micro-aggressions POC and LGBT+ individuals face on a daily basis.
Fairytales for Lost Children also speaks frankly about traditional Somali attitudes towards mental illness. The stories that really stood out for me in this respect are ‘Earthling’ and ‘Your Silence Will Not Protect You’. In both stories, the protagonists have psychotic episodes – making already complicated relationships with parents and lovers even more difficult. It is clear that Osman knows what he’s talking about (go here for a fabulous article he wrote for The Huffington Post called ‘How Mental Illness Fed My Creativity’).
The one problem I had is that the collection often uses the t-slur, which made me quite uncomfortable. This might be an attempt to re-claim the word, much as ‘queer’ has been reclaimed by the general LGBT+ community. However, I am not transgender, so I’m not really in a position to say. It did bother me, though, I’m not going to lie.
Once again, thanks to Naz at ReadDiverseBooks for getting me in touch with Osman, who kindly sent me a (signed!) copy of Fairytales for Lost Children. It is violent and gorgeous and I can’t wait to see what Osman writes next.
This collection is not for the faint of heart. It is full of sex and power and a specific community that is attempting to find itself. After a few stories, I could almost feel myself sticky with hairspray and full of revolt – like the teacher who turns Snow White black, or the lesbian who attempts to attend her sister’s traditionalist wedding. And all of this contains the undercurrent of the violence of civil war, and the micro-aggressions POC and LGBT+ individuals face on a daily basis.
Fairytales for Lost Children also speaks frankly about traditional Somali attitudes towards mental illness. The stories that really stood out for me in this respect are ‘Earthling’ and ‘Your Silence Will Not Protect You’. In both stories, the protagonists have psychotic episodes – making already complicated relationships with parents and lovers even more difficult. It is clear that Osman knows what he’s talking about (go here for a fabulous article he wrote for The Huffington Post called ‘How Mental Illness Fed My Creativity’).
The one problem I had is that the collection often uses the t-slur, which made me quite uncomfortable. This might be an attempt to re-claim the word, much as ‘queer’ has been reclaimed by the general LGBT+ community. However, I am not transgender, so I’m not really in a position to say. It did bother me, though, I’m not going to lie.
Once again, thanks to Naz at ReadDiverseBooks for getting me in touch with Osman, who kindly sent me a (signed!) copy of Fairytales for Lost Children. It is violent and gorgeous and I can’t wait to see what Osman writes next.
May 26, 2021
Definitely worth the read.
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