What do you think?
Rate this book
Manboobs: A Memoir of Musicals, Visas, Hope, and Cake
A blazing new talent’s hilarious memoir about coming of age and coming out in Pakistan, moving to America, looking for love, and falling in love with himself along the way.
I’m just a man, standing in front of a salad, asking it to be a cake.
What do you do when you’re too gay for Pakistan, too Pakistani to be gay in America, and you’re ashamed of your body everywhere? How can you find happiness despite years of humiliation, physical danger, and a legion of Brooklyn hipsters who know you only as a queer from Whereveristan? How do you summon the courage to be yourself no matter where you are?
Even as a young child in Lahore, Komail Aijazuddin knew he was different—no one else at his all-boys prep school was pirouetting off their desks, or bullied for their “manboobs,” or spontaneously bursting into songs from The Little Mermaid.
Aijazuddin began to believe his only chance at a happy, meaningful life would be found elsewhere: America, the land of the free, the home of the gays. But the hostility of a post-9/11 world and society’s rejection of his art, his desires, and his body would soon teach him that finding happiness takes a lot more than a plane ticket.
Searching for his place between two worlds while navigating a minefield of expectations, prejudice, and self-doubt, Aijazuddin discovered, sometimes painfully, sometimes hilariously, that there are people and places he’d need to let go of to move forward.
I’m just a man, standing in front of a salad, asking it to be a cake.
What do you do when you’re too gay for Pakistan, too Pakistani to be gay in America, and you’re ashamed of your body everywhere? How can you find happiness despite years of humiliation, physical danger, and a legion of Brooklyn hipsters who know you only as a queer from Whereveristan? How do you summon the courage to be yourself no matter where you are?
Even as a young child in Lahore, Komail Aijazuddin knew he was different—no one else at his all-boys prep school was pirouetting off their desks, or bullied for their “manboobs,” or spontaneously bursting into songs from The Little Mermaid.
Aijazuddin began to believe his only chance at a happy, meaningful life would be found elsewhere: America, the land of the free, the home of the gays. But the hostility of a post-9/11 world and society’s rejection of his art, his desires, and his body would soon teach him that finding happiness takes a lot more than a plane ticket.
Searching for his place between two worlds while navigating a minefield of expectations, prejudice, and self-doubt, Aijazuddin discovered, sometimes painfully, sometimes hilariously, that there are people and places he’d need to let go of to move forward.
272 pages, Hardcover
First published August 13, 2024
44 people are currently reading
3210 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 113 reviews
August 9, 2025
I liked this self-aware queer memoir by a gay Pakistani man. I most enjoyed reading about Komail Aijazuddin’s coming-of-age in Pakistan and how he navigated his identity both there and in the United States. The friend group he developed and maintained from his early years into his adulthood was wonderful to read about it.
Aijazuddin’s voice throughout the memoir is affable and humorous, though still self-aware and attuned to himself. He does a nice job of writing about the Islamophobia he has faced both within and outside of the queer community, as well as his complicated yet ultimately hopeful relationship with the United States. My one minor critique of this book is that I wish the elements related to body image were delved into a bit more deeply and critically. While there’s some deconstruction of his self-dislike toward his body toward the very end of the book, I felt that there was a lot of more status quo self-body-shaming for the majority of the book. Anti-fat bias and toxic beauty standards are so prevalent in the queer male community and while I’m glad Aijazuddin addressed the topic somewhat, I also think he could have done more with it.
Aijazuddin’s voice throughout the memoir is affable and humorous, though still self-aware and attuned to himself. He does a nice job of writing about the Islamophobia he has faced both within and outside of the queer community, as well as his complicated yet ultimately hopeful relationship with the United States. My one minor critique of this book is that I wish the elements related to body image were delved into a bit more deeply and critically. While there’s some deconstruction of his self-dislike toward his body toward the very end of the book, I felt that there was a lot of more status quo self-body-shaming for the majority of the book. Anti-fat bias and toxic beauty standards are so prevalent in the queer male community and while I’m glad Aijazuddin addressed the topic somewhat, I also think he could have done more with it.
December 9, 2024
My absolute favorite memoir by someone I had never heard of but now know. The audiobook is so worth it. I'm so glad he got to tell his story, educate me about what it's like to be a queer Pakistani man anywhere in the world and to hear him respond to citizenship test questions by (SPOILER) singing lyrics from Hamilton...it was a delight to listen to and gave me pause to not dwell on how heavy things feel right now.
August 2, 2024
This audiobook was absolutely wonderful. A beautiful story about queerness, body image, acceptance and found family, told with wit and tenderness. I really enjoyed this a lot.
September 1, 2024
Great exploration of queerness outside of a solely white context, hilarious and moving and altogether feel-good.
July 26, 2025
I would rate this book 4 1/2 stars only because I reserve 5 star ratings for those books I know I will re-read.
I don’t read that many memoirs but when I do they are generally about people I know and who have lived long enough to observe something interesting about the process. Komall Aijazuddin fits neither of these criteria. I probably picked up the book because it promised to be funny, and don’t we all need a good laugh about now? Having read the book I can tell you that I will never forget who Komall Aijazuddin is going into the future. He is the guy who wrote that very funny book.
The book is exceptionally witty in the manner we come to expect from a self aware gay person forced into adolescence under some unfortunate circumstances. Wit and laughter is how we attempt to manage the unfortunate circumstances. It is part of our survival. So yeah. But the book ends up being so much more than just a bunch of jokes that make lite of these circumstances. Owing to his peculiar positioning, Komall ends up revealing not a small amount of wisdom that easily transcends his relative youth.
Komall speaks of the obvious stereotypes we might harbor about his youth in Pakistan. He reminds us, by way of explaining his love of the musical A Chorus Line: “We had VCRs in Pakistan”. In fact Komall was immersed in western culture and quite naturally grew up to believe that if he could live in the United States he would be finally accepted and loved for who he was. “It would take three decades, two passports, and an unfortunate perm to discover that homophobia is no more a problem solved by geography than any other kind of hatred, and in the meantime I had to carry the weight of other people’s expectations wherever I went”. Here he is speaking about appearing too gay to be a Pakistani, but too Pakistani to be gay in the U.S.
He and his family first visited the U.S. when Komall was a youth and the family took a trip to Washington D.C. He reports weeping the first time he set foot into a Costco. Near Dupont Circle the 13 year old discovered his first gay bar with a rainbow flag above a sign that read “happy hour” and thereafter presuming that happy hour always denoted a gay hangout. What is not to love about that?
As an undergraduate he first attended a university in Montreal before managing to transfer to NYU. But this is all shortly after the events we call “9/11”. Komall does not necessarily find the U.S. to be especially welcoming to brown skinned Muslim males as the country wrestled with the trauma of having been attacked. Curiously few in the country managed a lot of empathy for those living in other countries that would soon come under attack from U.S. bombs, but that is how trauma works. It at least temporarily severs the empathy impulse and targets even Sikhs for hate crimes, because, you know . . .
Komall is well positioned to describe his personal experiences at the butt end of all this suspicion and hatred. As an undergraduate he had the misfortune of entering the U.S. just before the election of the demagogue, the first time. Unable to stay, he must first return to Lahore before he can manage a green card to return, just in time for the re-election of the demagogue. He is able to contrast his experiences during the first great wave of Islamaphobia against the second great wave of Islamaphobia. His description of these experiences are worth the price of the book alone, for while most White Americans may be at least somewhat aware of anti-immigrant sentiment, this awareness is fully flushed out from the perspective of one who must live through the indignities in real time.
You might think that for all his criticism of the hatred and suspicion that he survived during these times that Komall might think twice about wanting to move to the United States. But as he goes through the process to become a citizen you see something of a love letter to the U.S. emerging. A letter which is all the more believable because it is not based on empty mythology and the shiny elements of cultural propaganda, but a love based on something much more powerful, more patriotic even. Komal loves the U.S. despite its many flaws. His vision of his new country is not clouded by faux patriotic rhetoric, but embedded in his ability as an artist to eke out an authentic existence in his new country, a place to discover his voice and write wonderful books such as this memoir.
I don’t read that many memoirs but when I do they are generally about people I know and who have lived long enough to observe something interesting about the process. Komall Aijazuddin fits neither of these criteria. I probably picked up the book because it promised to be funny, and don’t we all need a good laugh about now? Having read the book I can tell you that I will never forget who Komall Aijazuddin is going into the future. He is the guy who wrote that very funny book.
The book is exceptionally witty in the manner we come to expect from a self aware gay person forced into adolescence under some unfortunate circumstances. Wit and laughter is how we attempt to manage the unfortunate circumstances. It is part of our survival. So yeah. But the book ends up being so much more than just a bunch of jokes that make lite of these circumstances. Owing to his peculiar positioning, Komall ends up revealing not a small amount of wisdom that easily transcends his relative youth.
Komall speaks of the obvious stereotypes we might harbor about his youth in Pakistan. He reminds us, by way of explaining his love of the musical A Chorus Line: “We had VCRs in Pakistan”. In fact Komall was immersed in western culture and quite naturally grew up to believe that if he could live in the United States he would be finally accepted and loved for who he was. “It would take three decades, two passports, and an unfortunate perm to discover that homophobia is no more a problem solved by geography than any other kind of hatred, and in the meantime I had to carry the weight of other people’s expectations wherever I went”. Here he is speaking about appearing too gay to be a Pakistani, but too Pakistani to be gay in the U.S.
He and his family first visited the U.S. when Komall was a youth and the family took a trip to Washington D.C. He reports weeping the first time he set foot into a Costco. Near Dupont Circle the 13 year old discovered his first gay bar with a rainbow flag above a sign that read “happy hour” and thereafter presuming that happy hour always denoted a gay hangout. What is not to love about that?
As an undergraduate he first attended a university in Montreal before managing to transfer to NYU. But this is all shortly after the events we call “9/11”. Komall does not necessarily find the U.S. to be especially welcoming to brown skinned Muslim males as the country wrestled with the trauma of having been attacked. Curiously few in the country managed a lot of empathy for those living in other countries that would soon come under attack from U.S. bombs, but that is how trauma works. It at least temporarily severs the empathy impulse and targets even Sikhs for hate crimes, because, you know . . .
Komall is well positioned to describe his personal experiences at the butt end of all this suspicion and hatred. As an undergraduate he had the misfortune of entering the U.S. just before the election of the demagogue, the first time. Unable to stay, he must first return to Lahore before he can manage a green card to return, just in time for the re-election of the demagogue. He is able to contrast his experiences during the first great wave of Islamaphobia against the second great wave of Islamaphobia. His description of these experiences are worth the price of the book alone, for while most White Americans may be at least somewhat aware of anti-immigrant sentiment, this awareness is fully flushed out from the perspective of one who must live through the indignities in real time.
You might think that for all his criticism of the hatred and suspicion that he survived during these times that Komall might think twice about wanting to move to the United States. But as he goes through the process to become a citizen you see something of a love letter to the U.S. emerging. A letter which is all the more believable because it is not based on empty mythology and the shiny elements of cultural propaganda, but a love based on something much more powerful, more patriotic even. Komal loves the U.S. despite its many flaws. His vision of his new country is not clouded by faux patriotic rhetoric, but embedded in his ability as an artist to eke out an authentic existence in his new country, a place to discover his voice and write wonderful books such as this memoir.
April 11, 2025
If the quote “You hold the paintbrush to your life” were a book — or quite literally, a person — it would be Komail. Manboobs touches so many parts of the human experience: privilege, queerness, love, and best of all, the chaotic beauty of coming of age.
As someone who secretly hopes to be a storyteller one day, it’s no surprise that I always gravitate to lived experiences like this. Stories that feel like a reflection escape — a form of escapism that doesn’t pull you away from reality, but somehow keeps you rooted in it, in all its messiness. Komail’s story is full of that raw honesty. It’s like looking in a foggy mirror and, for a second, recognising a part of yourself.
What really hit home for me, though, was how he captured the experience of growing up as a third culture kid. The awkward questions about your accent, the casual “wow, your English is so good” compliments (eye-roll) — it’s all too familiar. Listening to his experiences felt a diary entry I didn’t realize I’d been writing in my head. He reminded me that so many of us exist in this weird in-between, constantly translating ourselves for others while wondering if we even belong to one place fully.
And that’s why the beauty of “third spaces” shines so strongly in this book. Komail shows how crucial it is to find or build those spaces where you don’t have to filter yourself, where you can live as your full, unedited self without hesitation. Those third spaces — be it friendships, creative communities, or even the quiet corners of your own mind — become like oxygen.
Privilege, as Komail shows, is such a strange, slippery thing. Fluid. Unpredictable. Like queerness (yes, I said it). Sometimes you’re overflowing with it — growing up in a liberal family in modern Pakistan — and other times, it vanishes, like when your Muslim name follows you to America, and suddenly you’re hyper-visible for all the wrong reasons. His art, too, faced the same kind of treatment — labelled as “too different” by people who honestly wouldn’t recognise brilliance if it sat on their face. There’s such a quiet ache in that. That feeling of being unseen, or being seen in all the wrong ways. Those small scars? You carry them longer than you realise.
But here’s what I loved the most (no surprise): the friendships. Truly. The people he met along the way, especially during school, were like tiny lifelines — genuine, silver threads in his story. They felt like real armours, not the fake shiny kind, but the kind built out of late-night conversations, silent understandings, and standing beside each other when the world feels like it’s slipping from under you. I’m such a sucker for those relational stories. They remind me how much people can be home.
Of course, his self-deprecating humour is its own form of armour too. I laughed more than I expected, because even when he was making fun of himself, you could feel the layers of protection he’d built over the years. His “manboobs” — both literal and metaphorical — were like this running symbol of all the burdens he carried, but also the shield he used to face the world. (Until he got surgery — yay for him, living his best life!)
And then there’s that moment in the cab with the Pakistani man who claimed asylum by pretending to be gay. Without spoiling it, let’s just say it’s the kind of interaction that stays with you. It cracked open this uncomfortable truth about survival and identity, how sometimes people wear certain identities for safety, even if they don’t live them fully. It’s complicated. It’s uncomfortable. But it’s real — and Komail doesn’t shy away from it.
In the end, Manboobs is about finding your way in a world that keeps shifting under your feet. Komail stumbles, but he keeps walking. He keeps painting his life, brush in hand. And honestly? That’s what makes this book so human.
As someone who secretly hopes to be a storyteller one day, it’s no surprise that I always gravitate to lived experiences like this. Stories that feel like a reflection escape — a form of escapism that doesn’t pull you away from reality, but somehow keeps you rooted in it, in all its messiness. Komail’s story is full of that raw honesty. It’s like looking in a foggy mirror and, for a second, recognising a part of yourself.
What really hit home for me, though, was how he captured the experience of growing up as a third culture kid. The awkward questions about your accent, the casual “wow, your English is so good” compliments (eye-roll) — it’s all too familiar. Listening to his experiences felt a diary entry I didn’t realize I’d been writing in my head. He reminded me that so many of us exist in this weird in-between, constantly translating ourselves for others while wondering if we even belong to one place fully.
And that’s why the beauty of “third spaces” shines so strongly in this book. Komail shows how crucial it is to find or build those spaces where you don’t have to filter yourself, where you can live as your full, unedited self without hesitation. Those third spaces — be it friendships, creative communities, or even the quiet corners of your own mind — become like oxygen.
Privilege, as Komail shows, is such a strange, slippery thing. Fluid. Unpredictable. Like queerness (yes, I said it). Sometimes you’re overflowing with it — growing up in a liberal family in modern Pakistan — and other times, it vanishes, like when your Muslim name follows you to America, and suddenly you’re hyper-visible for all the wrong reasons. His art, too, faced the same kind of treatment — labelled as “too different” by people who honestly wouldn’t recognise brilliance if it sat on their face. There’s such a quiet ache in that. That feeling of being unseen, or being seen in all the wrong ways. Those small scars? You carry them longer than you realise.
But here’s what I loved the most (no surprise): the friendships. Truly. The people he met along the way, especially during school, were like tiny lifelines — genuine, silver threads in his story. They felt like real armours, not the fake shiny kind, but the kind built out of late-night conversations, silent understandings, and standing beside each other when the world feels like it’s slipping from under you. I’m such a sucker for those relational stories. They remind me how much people can be home.
Of course, his self-deprecating humour is its own form of armour too. I laughed more than I expected, because even when he was making fun of himself, you could feel the layers of protection he’d built over the years. His “manboobs” — both literal and metaphorical — were like this running symbol of all the burdens he carried, but also the shield he used to face the world. (Until he got surgery — yay for him, living his best life!)
And then there’s that moment in the cab with the Pakistani man who claimed asylum by pretending to be gay. Without spoiling it, let’s just say it’s the kind of interaction that stays with you. It cracked open this uncomfortable truth about survival and identity, how sometimes people wear certain identities for safety, even if they don’t live them fully. It’s complicated. It’s uncomfortable. But it’s real — and Komail doesn’t shy away from it.
In the end, Manboobs is about finding your way in a world that keeps shifting under your feet. Komail stumbles, but he keeps walking. He keeps painting his life, brush in hand. And honestly? That’s what makes this book so human.
October 22, 2024
i want to become komail aijazuddin’s friend, but i’ll settle for following his instagram once i reactivate
such a fun read. my favourite part is how the author doesn’t take himself too seriously (this is of course a separate kind of lightness from the obviously very serious journey of self-acceptance he went on etc., more to do with his form than his content, if that makes sense?), because it reflected in his writing style, and because i love it when men don’t take themselves too seriously (it is very rare. seriously.)
the only major thing i have to say as a possible con is many parts seemed written for a much whiter audience than me. but it wasn’t too preachy and still very good anyhow.
such a fun read. my favourite part is how the author doesn’t take himself too seriously (this is of course a separate kind of lightness from the obviously very serious journey of self-acceptance he went on etc., more to do with his form than his content, if that makes sense?), because it reflected in his writing style, and because i love it when men don’t take themselves too seriously (it is very rare. seriously.)
the only major thing i have to say as a possible con is many parts seemed written for a much whiter audience than me. but it wasn’t too preachy and still very good anyhow.
November 26, 2024
2.75. Doesn’t really go anywhere. Likeable fellow, but feel like I missed the point he was trying to make.
November 27, 2024
Komail’s memoir is a combination of comedy and tragedy; taking you on a roller coaster of laughter and heartache. His story on coming out in Pakistan is told hilariously but underlying it all is the kind of fear that nobody should have to live through. He is a captivating writer!
August 2, 2024
4.5 stars rounded up!
I picked this up because the title suggested a funny, self-depricating memoir. Instead, I listened to a sometimes funny, mostly deep memoir of a gay man growing up in Pakistan, dealing with homophobia, Islamophobia, and fatphobia across multiple countries and continents. He is very transparent with his own internalized -phobias throughout, and this book is sprinkled with many incredibly eye opening and heart warming statements about how no one needs to prove themselves of their worth to others. Aijazuddin moves to New York shortly after 9/11 and gives a very clear picture of what it was like to be a Muslim man at this time, particularly one from an Islamic country who has to deal with visas and interrogations. I was not only granted access to his life through this memoir, but an experience of this world that I had never personally read about.
I had never heard of Aijazuddin before this book (the title was quite intriguing alone) but after reading this I looked up his work. He is an incredibly talented artist, and I hope this book spreads his art further!
Overall I really enjoyed this. I learned a lot, I laughed, and I feel like I have become friends with Komail without having met him (particularly when ch 17 was labelled "ch 17 going on 18") Highly recommend!
The audiobook is read by the author, who has a beautiful, soothing voice. Highly recommend reading in audio format!
Thank you to RBmedia and NetGalley for an audio ARC in exchange for an honest review!
I picked this up because the title suggested a funny, self-depricating memoir. Instead, I listened to a sometimes funny, mostly deep memoir of a gay man growing up in Pakistan, dealing with homophobia, Islamophobia, and fatphobia across multiple countries and continents. He is very transparent with his own internalized -phobias throughout, and this book is sprinkled with many incredibly eye opening and heart warming statements about how no one needs to prove themselves of their worth to others. Aijazuddin moves to New York shortly after 9/11 and gives a very clear picture of what it was like to be a Muslim man at this time, particularly one from an Islamic country who has to deal with visas and interrogations. I was not only granted access to his life through this memoir, but an experience of this world that I had never personally read about.
I had never heard of Aijazuddin before this book (the title was quite intriguing alone) but after reading this I looked up his work. He is an incredibly talented artist, and I hope this book spreads his art further!
Overall I really enjoyed this. I learned a lot, I laughed, and I feel like I have become friends with Komail without having met him (particularly when ch 17 was labelled "ch 17 going on 18") Highly recommend!
The audiobook is read by the author, who has a beautiful, soothing voice. Highly recommend reading in audio format!
Thank you to RBmedia and NetGalley for an audio ARC in exchange for an honest review!
July 30, 2024
A funny yet sad memoir about a Pakistani gay man with weight struggles. Some parts of this are transparent descriptions of his traumatic experiences, especially the homophobia and prejudice he has to overcome. He recognizes that homophobia is not exclusive to straight people, fat phobia not exclusive to fit people. This is about belonging versus fitting in. So much of our shame is internalized. This memoir is almost like being a fly on the wall in someone’s therapy sessions. I loved the pop culture references at the beginning of each chapter. I really hate the title and the cover. But the description very much intrigued me. I am still rooting for Komail as he learns to love the man he is.
I listened to the audiobook version, and it is voiced by the author. Thank you to NetGalley and RB Media for the ARC.
I listened to the audiobook version, and it is voiced by the author. Thank you to NetGalley and RB Media for the ARC.
February 21, 2025
So laugh out loud funny, this memoir is of a Pakistani-American writer and artist who, I only realized like three quarters of the way through when Googling, is NOT a professional comedian. Someone get this man a contract! This story covers him growing up gay in Pakistan, coming to Canada and America for school (spoiler: it’s not all roses and sunshine), then having to return to Pakistan because of visa / etc issues… my heart broke for him at points. That he can integrate his voice and humor so seamlessly throughout this book, even while detailing some of his more difficult moments, is commendable.
Note: My favorite part was his conversation with a Pakistani cab driver in New York - I took a picture of the paragraph so I could reread and laugh to my heart’s content in the future.
Note: My favorite part was his conversation with a Pakistani cab driver in New York - I took a picture of the paragraph so I could reread and laugh to my heart’s content in the future.
July 30, 2024
This memoir was good but not great in my view. There were parts of it that I loved, and parts that felt like a more thorough examination could have been beneficial.
The narrator was the author, who has a very distinct voice and a keen delivery for his cutting little comments. I love a mean gay boy who loves musicals as much as the next girl, so I did delight in that at first, but it did get a little wearing.
My main issues were the rampant internalized and externalized fatphobia that the author really never seems to move past or acknowledge as bias rather than just a fact of life, as well as some of the more shallow examinations of various themes. For me personally, I would have loved to hear more about his relationships with his queer friends from Pakistan. I adored the stories of them meeting each other but after those initial scenes, it did feel like they were almost just facts of his life without further analysis. I love a found family narrative so I just would have liked more of that!
I did feel that the author examined coming out/being gay in Pakistan as well as two very impactful relationships, one as a boy in Pakistan and one with a man in London, in a very thoughtful way, and those sections, while often painful, were some the most deeply emotional sections of the book.
Overall I thought this was a pretty good memoir but could have been beefed up/a little deeper in sections, and I think the fatphobia could have been addressed and acknowledged in a kinder way. The author seems like a cool guy with a great sense of humor and definitely someone who would have added both color commentary and a global perspective to Sex & the City back in the day that really would have turned Stanford’s head.
Thank you to NetGalley, the publisher, and the author for the ARC of this audiobook!
The narrator was the author, who has a very distinct voice and a keen delivery for his cutting little comments. I love a mean gay boy who loves musicals as much as the next girl, so I did delight in that at first, but it did get a little wearing.
My main issues were the rampant internalized and externalized fatphobia that the author really never seems to move past or acknowledge as bias rather than just a fact of life, as well as some of the more shallow examinations of various themes. For me personally, I would have loved to hear more about his relationships with his queer friends from Pakistan. I adored the stories of them meeting each other but after those initial scenes, it did feel like they were almost just facts of his life without further analysis. I love a found family narrative so I just would have liked more of that!
I did feel that the author examined coming out/being gay in Pakistan as well as two very impactful relationships, one as a boy in Pakistan and one with a man in London, in a very thoughtful way, and those sections, while often painful, were some the most deeply emotional sections of the book.
Overall I thought this was a pretty good memoir but could have been beefed up/a little deeper in sections, and I think the fatphobia could have been addressed and acknowledged in a kinder way. The author seems like a cool guy with a great sense of humor and definitely someone who would have added both color commentary and a global perspective to Sex & the City back in the day that really would have turned Stanford’s head.
Thank you to NetGalley, the publisher, and the author for the ARC of this audiobook!
July 28, 2024
Komail Aijazuddin's memoir tracks his life from being an effeminate young boy tricking his cousins into 'making' him play with dolls, to his struggles with body image, feeling accepted for his sexuality and finding a place he could be all the versions of himself at once.
This is wittily written, I really enjoyed the musical references peppered throughout and the way that Aijazuddin is able to talk about some really harrowing moments or tough political times with such a hope. I read this with the aim of expanding my own horizons, understanding life in another place or how it feels to be part of a community that can be so marginalised. It's educational, shocking -not his actions, but those of the world around him, and I find it hard to rate....how do you rate another person's life?!
This is a great read; it's not preachy, never dull and I think there's a lot to be learned from Komail and his route to bring entirely himself.
This is wittily written, I really enjoyed the musical references peppered throughout and the way that Aijazuddin is able to talk about some really harrowing moments or tough political times with such a hope. I read this with the aim of expanding my own horizons, understanding life in another place or how it feels to be part of a community that can be so marginalised. It's educational, shocking -not his actions, but those of the world around him, and I find it hard to rate....how do you rate another person's life?!
This is a great read; it's not preachy, never dull and I think there's a lot to be learned from Komail and his route to bring entirely himself.
April 17, 2025
Loved every page of this charming memoir. Sarcastic, witty, shallow, deep, painful and funny. I devoured this book which is set in the city I started my working life in at the same time as the author migrated from Dubai. His account gave me a completely different view of my home at the time. It’s very familiar in its description of Lahore’s elite class and their pretensions and preoccupations. It’s a heartbreaking story of a lonely boy and how he escapes this condition, told in the hilarious voice of an optimist. I fell in love with the author’s character, who is so brutally honest whether it’s exposing the hypocrisies of relentless bullies at school or his own deepest dreams and fears. What a triumph and what a brave story to tell. As someone who comes from that world I can imagine how hard it must have been to let all this out into the open. You’re a sensation Komail. Hope you write some more.
September 6, 2024
Such a fantastic commentary on the world from a many hyphenated man wittily and vulnerably sharing his journey(s) literally, metaphorically, and physically. The audiobook is heartbreaking, funny, and hopeful. I loved walking and listening to the author’s voice as I laughed out loud, teared up, sighed, and gasped at Komail’s experiences and revelations.
November 10, 2024
I love reading perspective and experiences of people who are completely different and yet relatable to myself. This is a great read into what it’s like to be a queer brown PoC coming from across the world into a western American life!
Thank you Komail for sharing the story of your life :)
Thank you Komail for sharing the story of your life :)
November 5, 2025
Rounding up a wee bit, but zoomed through it at a speed not dissimilar to when my friends and I are catching up over coffee and cover at least a dozen deeply personal topics (within earshot of the next table) before we even take the second sips of our drinks.
October 13, 2024
Being gay is hard :(
December 24, 2025
He is funny ngl
June 18, 2025
4.5 stars
Candid and raw, honest and sometimes too much so, uncomfortable at times and like a comforting blanket of being seen at others... You don't have to be queer to 'get' this story - we've all been that kid who doesn't fit, be it at one point of our life or most of our life. The rawness of this memoir exposes the psyche and lifelines of this kid from Pakistan who was always different and just wanted to fit in but nowhere would allow him to fit in. Then the journey becomes of finding this place...and realizing this place is all inside you, after all.
It's a heart-wrenching tale of growing up queer and gay in a land oppressed by culture, traditions, and religion. Anyone who hasn't fitted like a piece of the puzzle in any such context - or all of them - will find a part of themselves in this narrative. The humour doesn't hurt, though it can be crass at times, but that's the author's voice, take him as he is or leave it. I really enjoyed the fact that he knew his spirit, knew his own soul, and strove for his authenticity throughout his life. The mark of a strong and beautiful heart, I'd say, and for this, it's been one of the strongest and most life-affirming memoirs I've ever come across.
Why is it not getting 5 stars then? I wanted to see more of the author's life in New York, after he passed his citizenship exam, with his posse of wonderful friends who all carved their precious lives outside of Pakistan as their own true person. Also, what was it like to be a gay man without the manboobs after his surgery? Here's to hoping there's another book coming soon, one which focuses on all this. I didn't want to let this person go, as it felt like we became friends throughout his story.
One of the strongest, most powerful life stories of queerness and ultimately 'difference' in a world that wants you to fit a round hole when you're a square peg. It's not for the faint of heart - candid and with no filter at times! - but so poignant and enriching overall.
Candid and raw, honest and sometimes too much so, uncomfortable at times and like a comforting blanket of being seen at others... You don't have to be queer to 'get' this story - we've all been that kid who doesn't fit, be it at one point of our life or most of our life. The rawness of this memoir exposes the psyche and lifelines of this kid from Pakistan who was always different and just wanted to fit in but nowhere would allow him to fit in. Then the journey becomes of finding this place...and realizing this place is all inside you, after all.
It's a heart-wrenching tale of growing up queer and gay in a land oppressed by culture, traditions, and religion. Anyone who hasn't fitted like a piece of the puzzle in any such context - or all of them - will find a part of themselves in this narrative. The humour doesn't hurt, though it can be crass at times, but that's the author's voice, take him as he is or leave it. I really enjoyed the fact that he knew his spirit, knew his own soul, and strove for his authenticity throughout his life. The mark of a strong and beautiful heart, I'd say, and for this, it's been one of the strongest and most life-affirming memoirs I've ever come across.
Why is it not getting 5 stars then? I wanted to see more of the author's life in New York, after he passed his citizenship exam, with his posse of wonderful friends who all carved their precious lives outside of Pakistan as their own true person. Also, what was it like to be a gay man without the manboobs after his surgery? Here's to hoping there's another book coming soon, one which focuses on all this. I didn't want to let this person go, as it felt like we became friends throughout his story.
One of the strongest, most powerful life stories of queerness and ultimately 'difference' in a world that wants you to fit a round hole when you're a square peg. It's not for the faint of heart - candid and with no filter at times! - but so poignant and enriching overall.
September 6, 2024
A Funny but heart-breaking memoir about growing up gay in Pakistan, trying to find your place in the world while trying to find love for and acceptance of yourself. This is such a great book, part social history, part self-help this is Komail Aijazuddin's life story so far and its hilarious, sad and shocking all at once.
August 27, 2024
Komail grew up in Pakistan, knowing from a young age he was different and that he liked boys. But being gay was not acceptable and so he dreamed of escaping to the USA where he could live his full life. This was sad in parts but mostly it was a fabulous joy of a read.
August 23, 2024
Personal Stories/Writing: A
Narration: A-
Pacing: A-
Best Aspect: Very truthful and heartfelt memoir. Read by the author.
Worst Aspect: A bit long at times.
Recommend: Yes.
Narration: A-
Pacing: A-
Best Aspect: Very truthful and heartfelt memoir. Read by the author.
Worst Aspect: A bit long at times.
Recommend: Yes.
September 11, 2024
Found this via my local indie. Emotive and fabulously hilarious.
February 1, 2025
She finally read a book!
This was lovely, if sensitive to 'internalised-fat-shaming' maybe exercise caution but overall felt warm and lovely and hopeful even through the sad bits
This was lovely, if sensitive to 'internalised-fat-shaming' maybe exercise caution but overall felt warm and lovely and hopeful even through the sad bits
February 5, 2025
Honestly was so insightful and I loved it
February 10, 2025
An enjoyable autobiography; uncompromising in its voice, though uneven in parts. Hoping to write a longer review later.
March 8, 2025
Excellent memoir!!
April 3, 2025
Loved this book! I listened to the audio book and loved hearing the author's own voice. This was funny, enlightening & heartbreaking at the same time.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 113 reviews