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What Remains After a Fire
A desperate wife, haunted by the ghost of her sister, is pushed to the brink of madness by her marriage to a man she does not love. A lonely woman becomes obsessed with a cloth worry doll as she tries to make sense of her existence. A young girl sifts through memories of her childhood with a maid who refused to be tamed. A father, who teaches his young son to shoot feral dogs, sets into motion devastating decisions that wreak havoc on his daughter and wife.
What Remains After a Fire offers an unflinching, searing portrait of mothers and sisters, wives and daughters who are singed by life. Some emerge, phoenix-like, from the ashes; many learn quiet endurance; a few lurch towards complete erasure.
Provocative, wise and tender, Kanza Javed's short story collection tells of women-united by their search for love and acceptance-in a world governed by men.
What Remains After a Fire offers an unflinching, searing portrait of mothers and sisters, wives and daughters who are singed by life. Some emerge, phoenix-like, from the ashes; many learn quiet endurance; a few lurch towards complete erasure.
Provocative, wise and tender, Kanza Javed's short story collection tells of women-united by their search for love and acceptance-in a world governed by men.
237 pages, Kindle Edition
Published November 17, 2025
16 people are currently reading
5299 people want to read
About the author
Kanza Javed
3 books161 followersKanza Javed holds an MFA in Fiction from West Virginia University, where she was awarded the prestigious Rebecca Mason Perry Award. She has also received two U.S. State Department research scholarships, studying at the University of Massachusetts Amherst and Arizona State University.
Her debut novel, Ashes, Wine and Dust, was shortlisted for the Tibor Jones South Asia Prize and became a national bestseller in South Asia. Her short stories have appeared in esteemed literary journals, including American Literary Review, The Punch Magazine, Salamander, Greensboro Review, and The Malahat Review. She is the recipient of the Reynolds Price Prize for Fiction (Center for Women Writers, Salem College) and has been a finalist for the 51st New Millennium Writing Award, the Salamander Short Fiction Award, and the Robert Watson Literary Prize.
Javed’s work has been highlighted in The Commonwealth Journal and included in Narrating Pakistan (Pakistan's first literary anthology), as well as Oxford University Press's In the New Century: An Anthology of Pakistani Literature, along with several other publications
Her debut novel, Ashes, Wine and Dust, was shortlisted for the Tibor Jones South Asia Prize and became a national bestseller in South Asia. Her short stories have appeared in esteemed literary journals, including American Literary Review, The Punch Magazine, Salamander, Greensboro Review, and The Malahat Review. She is the recipient of the Reynolds Price Prize for Fiction (Center for Women Writers, Salem College) and has been a finalist for the 51st New Millennium Writing Award, the Salamander Short Fiction Award, and the Robert Watson Literary Prize.
Javed’s work has been highlighted in The Commonwealth Journal and included in Narrating Pakistan (Pakistan's first literary anthology), as well as Oxford University Press's In the New Century: An Anthology of Pakistani Literature, along with several other publications
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 62 reviews
October 1, 2025
In a Nutshell: An exceptional OwnVoices short story collection covering contemporary experiences of Pakistanis in their country and of the diaspora in the USA. Brilliant writing and memorable characters. A haunting kind of melancholic tone to every story. I don’t remember the last time I was so enraptured by a story collection. Much, much recommended!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This collection of eight stories is an OwnVoices work by Pakistani-American author Kanza Javed. The stories are set either in Pakistan or in the USA, and represent contemporary experiences of the citizens and/or the diaspora.
There is no introductory note specifying the unifying theme across these stories. But the blurb indicates that the stories focus on “fiercely resilient characters who desire more than what their circumstances can offer them—and what these desires ultimately cost them.” I cannot put it better! (For once, the blurb is not just accurate but also brilliant!)
When I read short story collections or anthologies, I usually read a story or two every day. But even with this spaced-out reading, I often find my attention dipping in the second half. Not this time, though. For the first time in ages, every single story of a collection kept me captivated to more or less the same measure. I never felt that the stories were dragging or that the mood was becoming monotonous or that the plots were getting repetitive.
These eight stories are written either in first person or third person, with one stellar entry using the second-person POV as well. The narrators of the stories are also not standardised. We have male as well as female narrators, senior citizens as well as young adults and children. The stories feature a variety of characters coming from different social backgrounds. Unlike what you would assume, not all of the stories are about Pakistani-Muslim experiences; a couple of the tales are from Pakistani-Christian characters.
Usually, with short fiction, we get a glimpse of the character’s present. Due to the constraint in word count, character development and world building is sometimes compromised in this genre. So I was pleasantly surprised to see the author excel at both. She is simply amazing at character detailing! While the tales focus on women and their forced submissiveness under the patriarchal society, many of the plots also highlight their inherent strength, their courage, and their will to surmount the odds. Not a single central character left me unaffected.
At 240 pages, this is quite a short book, but it packs volumes inside! The writing is so beautiful that I never felt like rushing through any story. (Heck, even the acknowledgement section is lyrical!) I just savoured the picturesque descriptions, the realistic character sketching, and the brooding atmosphere. The stories are melancholic without being melodramatic - that's quite an achievement! Even the setting feels visceral. Whether based in Pakistan or the USA, every story captures the ethos of both the countries accurately.
When I don’t find anything to complain about in short story collections, I usually look at the endings to see if I can do any nitpicking there. Even that didn’t work! Almost all the stories end at just the right point. I love that there are no forced HEAs here; they wouldn’t have suited the tone of the work anyway. Rather, every story culminates at a point where you can sit back and ponder on what you read and on what fate might have in store next for the character.
There are a couple of Urdu words here and there, but no glossary. This didn’t bother me much as Urdu is quite similar to Hindi. But perhaps a glossary might benefit international readers.
As always, I rated the stories individually. Of the eight stories, not a single one dipped below 3.5 stars! Not just that, half of the stories won all the stars from me. These are my favourites, with 4.5+ stars each.
Basically, this has been the best-performing story collection I have read in a long time. Be it the characters, the culture, the storylines, the writing, the vocabulary, the locations, the endings,… I can’t think of anything I could have changed. The whole collection is gritty, grounded, and simply brilliant! If this author pens anything else (and I sure hope she does for she is so talented!), I am going to read it for sure.
Much, much recommended to all short story fans looking for a genuine and well-written OwnVoices work from an underrepresented nation in the literary genre.
4.4 stars, based on the average of my ratings. (If you are familiar with my ratings, you know that an average that goes beyond 4 stars is outstanding for an anthology!) I will be rounding up my rating for the fabulous reading experience this has been from start to end.
My thanks to W. W. Norton & Company for providing the DRC of “What Remains After a Fire” via NetGalley. This review is voluntary and contains my honest opinion about the book.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Connect with me through:
My Blog || The StoryGraph || Instagram || Facebook ||
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This collection of eight stories is an OwnVoices work by Pakistani-American author Kanza Javed. The stories are set either in Pakistan or in the USA, and represent contemporary experiences of the citizens and/or the diaspora.
There is no introductory note specifying the unifying theme across these stories. But the blurb indicates that the stories focus on “fiercely resilient characters who desire more than what their circumstances can offer them—and what these desires ultimately cost them.” I cannot put it better! (For once, the blurb is not just accurate but also brilliant!)
When I read short story collections or anthologies, I usually read a story or two every day. But even with this spaced-out reading, I often find my attention dipping in the second half. Not this time, though. For the first time in ages, every single story of a collection kept me captivated to more or less the same measure. I never felt that the stories were dragging or that the mood was becoming monotonous or that the plots were getting repetitive.
These eight stories are written either in first person or third person, with one stellar entry using the second-person POV as well. The narrators of the stories are also not standardised. We have male as well as female narrators, senior citizens as well as young adults and children. The stories feature a variety of characters coming from different social backgrounds. Unlike what you would assume, not all of the stories are about Pakistani-Muslim experiences; a couple of the tales are from Pakistani-Christian characters.
Usually, with short fiction, we get a glimpse of the character’s present. Due to the constraint in word count, character development and world building is sometimes compromised in this genre. So I was pleasantly surprised to see the author excel at both. She is simply amazing at character detailing! While the tales focus on women and their forced submissiveness under the patriarchal society, many of the plots also highlight their inherent strength, their courage, and their will to surmount the odds. Not a single central character left me unaffected.
At 240 pages, this is quite a short book, but it packs volumes inside! The writing is so beautiful that I never felt like rushing through any story. (Heck, even the acknowledgement section is lyrical!) I just savoured the picturesque descriptions, the realistic character sketching, and the brooding atmosphere. The stories are melancholic without being melodramatic - that's quite an achievement! Even the setting feels visceral. Whether based in Pakistan or the USA, every story captures the ethos of both the countries accurately.
When I don’t find anything to complain about in short story collections, I usually look at the endings to see if I can do any nitpicking there. Even that didn’t work! Almost all the stories end at just the right point. I love that there are no forced HEAs here; they wouldn’t have suited the tone of the work anyway. Rather, every story culminates at a point where you can sit back and ponder on what you read and on what fate might have in store next for the character.
There are a couple of Urdu words here and there, but no glossary. This didn’t bother me much as Urdu is quite similar to Hindi. But perhaps a glossary might benefit international readers.
As always, I rated the stories individually. Of the eight stories, not a single one dipped below 3.5 stars! Not just that, half of the stories won all the stars from me. These are my favourites, with 4.5+ stars each.
🔥 Rani: With such a title (Rani means "queen" or "princess"), I thought this would be a happy story. But the title turned out to be ironic. What a beautiful portrayal of life choices and end-of-life regrets! Loved the writing as well as the character development. - 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
🔥 It Will Follow You Home: This is beautiful, depressing, haunting. The use of the second person enhances the immersive experience. - 🌟🌟🌟🌟✨
🔥 Stray Things Do Not Carry a Soul: Oh, the irony of the title! I absolutely hated what happened in this story, but I absolutely love how the story was written. Rarely have I seen a first-person narrator creating dread and fury in me at the direction taken. Rarely have I felt so many emotions within so few pages. One of the best short stories I've ever read! (Trigger warning for animal assault. But it is not gratuitous and works for the plot.) - 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
🔥 The Last Days of Bilquees Begum: Poignant. So much emotion and impact from a single story! - 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
🔥 Ruby: There are so many things I want to say about this story, and yet, I don’t know how or where to begin. What a story to end the book with! Left me shell-shocked. - 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
Basically, this has been the best-performing story collection I have read in a long time. Be it the characters, the culture, the storylines, the writing, the vocabulary, the locations, the endings,… I can’t think of anything I could have changed. The whole collection is gritty, grounded, and simply brilliant! If this author pens anything else (and I sure hope she does for she is so talented!), I am going to read it for sure.
Much, much recommended to all short story fans looking for a genuine and well-written OwnVoices work from an underrepresented nation in the literary genre.
4.4 stars, based on the average of my ratings. (If you are familiar with my ratings, you know that an average that goes beyond 4 stars is outstanding for an anthology!) I will be rounding up my rating for the fabulous reading experience this has been from start to end.
My thanks to W. W. Norton & Company for providing the DRC of “What Remains After a Fire” via NetGalley. This review is voluntary and contains my honest opinion about the book.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Connect with me through:
My Blog || The StoryGraph || Instagram || Facebook ||
January 26, 2026
Appreciate this short story collection about Pakistani folks living both in Pakistan and in the U.S. Kanza Javed does a nice job of tackling themes about gender, class, and religion and how people respond to oppression and differences in power. “Worry Doll,” in particular, stood out to me as a moving story about immigration and loss and adjustment to circumstances beyond one’s control. Unfortunately I didn’t love this collection as many of the stories felt either too brief or more message-driven than character-driven for me to get invested in. However, I’m glad Javed is putting her voice out there and I can see why others like What Remains After a Fire.
May 15, 2025
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the arc. All opinions are my own.
Wow. What an exquisitely powerful and moving collection of stories revolving around the themes of death and grief. What Remains After a Fire is a collection of stories about grieving and loss. I was immediately captivated by Kanza’s powerful messages and sense of imagery. I absolutely adored every story. Each character and story provided a window into central themes of what it means to belong to yourself and be true to your own life. I found this book to be incredibly moving and inspiring. This book was an incredible experience from start to finish.
I would caution readers only to make sure they read the summary as some of the themes in the book are quite heavy, so it is ideal to know that these will be addressed when going into the novel. There are themes of suicide and depression so please take this recommendation accordingly.
I am extremely excited to visit her other work and hope for more in the future!
Wow. What an exquisitely powerful and moving collection of stories revolving around the themes of death and grief. What Remains After a Fire is a collection of stories about grieving and loss. I was immediately captivated by Kanza’s powerful messages and sense of imagery. I absolutely adored every story. Each character and story provided a window into central themes of what it means to belong to yourself and be true to your own life. I found this book to be incredibly moving and inspiring. This book was an incredible experience from start to finish.
I would caution readers only to make sure they read the summary as some of the themes in the book are quite heavy, so it is ideal to know that these will be addressed when going into the novel. There are themes of suicide and depression so please take this recommendation accordingly.
I am extremely excited to visit her other work and hope for more in the future!
August 15, 2025
Thanks to NetGalley and W.W. Norton & Company for providing me with an eARC.
This is definitely one of the best short story collections I've read in a while. Every story hit its mark accurately -- haunting and heartbreaking. Somehow the stories manage to be both dark and uplifting in a way that's difficult to describe. The stories were primarily about handling grief and a lot of self- introspection and were executed very well. The writing and structure of the stories heavily reminded me of Khaled Hosseini's books, especially A Thousand Splendid Suns. I would recommend this to anyone who is looking for an anthology that will evoke strong emotions while reading that is set in South Asian countries and cultures.
This is definitely one of the best short story collections I've read in a while. Every story hit its mark accurately -- haunting and heartbreaking. Somehow the stories manage to be both dark and uplifting in a way that's difficult to describe. The stories were primarily about handling grief and a lot of self- introspection and were executed very well. The writing and structure of the stories heavily reminded me of Khaled Hosseini's books, especially A Thousand Splendid Suns. I would recommend this to anyone who is looking for an anthology that will evoke strong emotions while reading that is set in South Asian countries and cultures.
May 25, 2025
This is an incredible collection of stories that delve into the darkest and truest parts of life on the margins of society as an immigrant, woman, child, as well as broader commentary of life in both modern day Pakistan and the Pakistani diaspora. I could not recommend this more!
September 7, 2025
I really enjoyed the writing, which was immersive, and explored heavy topics. death in a story is a litmus test for good writers to be able to elicit emotion from the reader- and she does it well, eight different times, which are unique and death wasn't always the final point of the emotion. I am not as familiar with Pakistani culture, so that was an interesting aspect for me that I really enjoyed exploring among her stories, and although some may hit home more with a different audience, she still hit societal core problems from many other cultures that injure and portrayed resilience.
October 26, 2025
In What Remains After a Fire, Kanza Javed returns to fiction with a collection that burns softly but steadily — a series of stories that linger long after the final page, like the smell of smoke after a blaze. Across eight stories, Javed examines what is left behind when ordinary lives are scorched by loss, displacement, and desire.
The collection moves between Lahore’s narrow lanes, rural Pakistan, and the fragmented landscapes of immigrant life in America. What ties these worlds together is not geography but a shared ache — a sense of standing at the edge of something once whole. Javed’s characters, many of them women, are haunted not by grand tragedies but by the intimate wreckage of daily existence: a dying grandmother’s fading memories, a marriage unraveling in silence, a boy’s initiation into cruelty.
In “Rani,” a divorced woman returns home to care for her ailing grandmother, only to confront an old betrayal that resurfaces with unnerving force. In “Stray Things Do Not Carry a Soul,” Javed dares to look at violence from a child’s uncomprehending eyes — a story that chills precisely because it is so unsentimental. Elsewhere, in “Worry Doll,” a Pakistani woman in Maryland struggles to reconcile the person she has become abroad with the one she left behind. Each story feels distinct, yet together they form a coherent meditation on resilience and reinvention.
Javed’s prose is remarkable for its restraint. She writes with an economy that allows silence to speak louder than words. Her images — a mud-red henna stain, a flicker of firelight, the slow drift of dust through a room — do not decorate; they deepen. There is music in her simplicity, and an honesty in her refusal to sensationalize pain.
Thematically, fire becomes both literal and metaphorical: a destroyer, a purifier, and a measure of endurance. What remains, Javed seems to suggest, are not ashes but the quiet persistence of those who continue — who find meaning not in redemption, but in survival.
What distinguishes this collection is Javed’s ability to locate universality in the particular. Deeply rooted in Pakistani realities — social hierarchies, family expectations, the politics of gender — her stories nonetheless speak across borders. They remind us that displacement, whether physical or emotional, is a condition of being human.
What Remains After a Fire is not an easy read, nor does it seek to comfort. Its power lies in its emotional precision, its quiet moral courage, and its refusal to look away. Kanza Javed has crafted a collection that asks us to sit with discomfort — to witness the aftermath, the residue, and, above all, the endurance that defines what it means to live.
The collection moves between Lahore’s narrow lanes, rural Pakistan, and the fragmented landscapes of immigrant life in America. What ties these worlds together is not geography but a shared ache — a sense of standing at the edge of something once whole. Javed’s characters, many of them women, are haunted not by grand tragedies but by the intimate wreckage of daily existence: a dying grandmother’s fading memories, a marriage unraveling in silence, a boy’s initiation into cruelty.
In “Rani,” a divorced woman returns home to care for her ailing grandmother, only to confront an old betrayal that resurfaces with unnerving force. In “Stray Things Do Not Carry a Soul,” Javed dares to look at violence from a child’s uncomprehending eyes — a story that chills precisely because it is so unsentimental. Elsewhere, in “Worry Doll,” a Pakistani woman in Maryland struggles to reconcile the person she has become abroad with the one she left behind. Each story feels distinct, yet together they form a coherent meditation on resilience and reinvention.
Javed’s prose is remarkable for its restraint. She writes with an economy that allows silence to speak louder than words. Her images — a mud-red henna stain, a flicker of firelight, the slow drift of dust through a room — do not decorate; they deepen. There is music in her simplicity, and an honesty in her refusal to sensationalize pain.
Thematically, fire becomes both literal and metaphorical: a destroyer, a purifier, and a measure of endurance. What remains, Javed seems to suggest, are not ashes but the quiet persistence of those who continue — who find meaning not in redemption, but in survival.
What distinguishes this collection is Javed’s ability to locate universality in the particular. Deeply rooted in Pakistani realities — social hierarchies, family expectations, the politics of gender — her stories nonetheless speak across borders. They remind us that displacement, whether physical or emotional, is a condition of being human.
What Remains After a Fire is not an easy read, nor does it seek to comfort. Its power lies in its emotional precision, its quiet moral courage, and its refusal to look away. Kanza Javed has crafted a collection that asks us to sit with discomfort — to witness the aftermath, the residue, and, above all, the endurance that defines what it means to live.
June 12, 2025
"What Remains After A Fire" is a captivating collection of stories from told from eight different perspectives from people from both Pakistan and the diaspora in the US. It is very stylistically unique and presents the truth of living life as a minority in a place that does not welcome you with the only alternative being living in a place that accepts you only within strict guidelines. This truth is presented without sweetener, but each story is also a tale of resilience. These characters are powerfully written and diverse in personality.
I think that fans of "The Gangster We Are All Looking Fo" by Lê Thị Diễm Thúy would like this; there are definitely similar themes. Both would be good picks to compare the stories of minorities in the US and to broaden horizons. I cannot express how important it is to diversity your reading, and this is a perfect book for it.
Thank you to NetGalley, W. W. Norton & Company, and Kanza Javed for allowing me to read "What Remains After A Fire" in exchange for an honest review.
I think that fans of "The Gangster We Are All Looking Fo" by Lê Thị Diễm Thúy would like this; there are definitely similar themes. Both would be good picks to compare the stories of minorities in the US and to broaden horizons. I cannot express how important it is to diversity your reading, and this is a perfect book for it.
Thank you to NetGalley, W. W. Norton & Company, and Kanza Javed for allowing me to read "What Remains After A Fire" in exchange for an honest review.
June 8, 2025
I struggle with short stories a lot. There wasn’t a story in this collection that had that effect on me. Fantastic writing. Not the happiest stories I’ve ever read but so compelling.
October 9, 2025
this book just put into words the feelings that live in my throat. i have always felt that we don't have enough books that truly, truly capture the soul-crushing weight of just existing as a woman in desi society. the quiet, daily erosion of the self. and this one does exactly that. it felt like it was written about women and for women.
it's just such a brilliantly, devastatingly moving collection. every single story felt familiar. these characters, so painfully real and deeply human, felt like ppl i have passed on the street, relatives i have sat with in quiet rooms. she writes about loss, the grief that feels like home, the desperate search for belonging, and the ingrained misogyny that is the very air we breathe. she has given voice to the thoughts i believe every brown woman has carried at least once. the ones we swallow down bec to speak them aloud would mark us as the oddball. the difficult one. she shows how, for a woman in our world, the simple act of being true to yourself, of refusing to let go of your own sense of self, is a revolutionary act. an act of defiance. and she writes it all so hauntingly. so beautifully.
all the stories wrecked me, but 'My Bones Hold a Stillness' will stay with me for a long, long time. it immediately reminded me of the girl who died in a school shooting a few years ago. it was only after she was gone that i found out she lived so close to my house. right near the park where i spent so many childhood evenings. and i still pass her house. you would never know that a family inside is living with a grief that has probably seeped into the walls. there was a banner, held so high for a week after the funeral. and now there's nothing. just an ordinary street. and everyone passes it, every day, rushing to their lives. but every time i do, my heart just... pauses. and i grieve for her. for the girl who lost her life in a moment of senseless violence. for the girl who lost all her dreams.
i remember her debut novel from years ago, and what pulled me in then was how she wrote lahore as if it were a character itself. breathing and sighing and alive. you can always tell when an author truly loves a city, and that deep affection is here in these pages too.
the only reason i couldn't give it five stars is bec i have always struggled with short stories. they always leave me wanting more. it's not my favourite genre. but for someone who loves the form, this would easily, without a doubt, be a five-star read !
it's just such a brilliantly, devastatingly moving collection. every single story felt familiar. these characters, so painfully real and deeply human, felt like ppl i have passed on the street, relatives i have sat with in quiet rooms. she writes about loss, the grief that feels like home, the desperate search for belonging, and the ingrained misogyny that is the very air we breathe. she has given voice to the thoughts i believe every brown woman has carried at least once. the ones we swallow down bec to speak them aloud would mark us as the oddball. the difficult one. she shows how, for a woman in our world, the simple act of being true to yourself, of refusing to let go of your own sense of self, is a revolutionary act. an act of defiance. and she writes it all so hauntingly. so beautifully.
all the stories wrecked me, but 'My Bones Hold a Stillness' will stay with me for a long, long time. it immediately reminded me of the girl who died in a school shooting a few years ago. it was only after she was gone that i found out she lived so close to my house. right near the park where i spent so many childhood evenings. and i still pass her house. you would never know that a family inside is living with a grief that has probably seeped into the walls. there was a banner, held so high for a week after the funeral. and now there's nothing. just an ordinary street. and everyone passes it, every day, rushing to their lives. but every time i do, my heart just... pauses. and i grieve for her. for the girl who lost her life in a moment of senseless violence. for the girl who lost all her dreams.
i remember her debut novel from years ago, and what pulled me in then was how she wrote lahore as if it were a character itself. breathing and sighing and alive. you can always tell when an author truly loves a city, and that deep affection is here in these pages too.
the only reason i couldn't give it five stars is bec i have always struggled with short stories. they always leave me wanting more. it's not my favourite genre. but for someone who loves the form, this would easily, without a doubt, be a five-star read !
January 29, 2026
A book that felt like finding my parents’ untold memories in someone else’s stories.
Reading What Remains After a Fire felt like overhearing family history that was never discussed.
As a Pakistani American, this book gave me language for a kind of inherited sadness I’ve always felt but never quite understood. These stories softly highlight the pressures, expectations, and emotional silences that shape everyday life especially for women, in ways that are rarely discussed with honesty or tenderness.
The women in these pages live inside invisible cages: marriages that drain them, social rules that suffocate them, and quiet violences that are never called violence. The stories of betrayal, illness, death, and endurance will stay with me long after finishing. Because they are heartbreakingly familiar in spirit.
This book didn’t just move me. It gave me a new compassion for my parents’ generation, and a deeper understanding of how survival often required silence, adaptation, and emotional invisibility.
Reading What Remains After a Fire felt like overhearing family history that was never discussed.
As a Pakistani American, this book gave me language for a kind of inherited sadness I’ve always felt but never quite understood. These stories softly highlight the pressures, expectations, and emotional silences that shape everyday life especially for women, in ways that are rarely discussed with honesty or tenderness.
The women in these pages live inside invisible cages: marriages that drain them, social rules that suffocate them, and quiet violences that are never called violence. The stories of betrayal, illness, death, and endurance will stay with me long after finishing. Because they are heartbreakingly familiar in spirit.
This book didn’t just move me. It gave me a new compassion for my parents’ generation, and a deeper understanding of how survival often required silence, adaptation, and emotional invisibility.
December 22, 2025
Surreal, poignant, empowering and unhinged short stories about women stuck in the shackles of patriarchy. But these women are strong and independent who know their way out. They aren’t your damsels in distress but are go-getters who will fight resiliently till they get what they want.
These short stories are an absolute must read. Totally recommend!!
These short stories are an absolute must read. Totally recommend!!
December 5, 2025
Razor sharp prose, never stale or cold. I was recommended this book by a friend and I am so happy she did!
"What Remains After a Fire" is one of those books that quietly gets under your skin and then refuses to leave. It’s a stunning collection of standalone stories moving between Pakistan and the Pakistani diaspora in the US, focusing on people especially wome—who are trying to live, love, and stay whole in deeply unequal oppressive world. The character do not wallow in self-pity but are resilient, brutal.
I’m already looking forward to whatever Javed writes next.
"What Remains After a Fire" is one of those books that quietly gets under your skin and then refuses to leave. It’s a stunning collection of standalone stories moving between Pakistan and the Pakistani diaspora in the US, focusing on people especially wome—who are trying to live, love, and stay whole in deeply unequal oppressive world. The character do not wallow in self-pity but are resilient, brutal.
I’m already looking forward to whatever Javed writes next.
December 11, 2025
One thing You should be doing this December is reading these stories.
Characters so real that You want to meet and console them. But then stories so painful that You needed to be consoled as well.
Beautiful writing, reading Her feels like Home.
Characters so real that You want to meet and console them. But then stories so painful that You needed to be consoled as well.
Beautiful writing, reading Her feels like Home.
February 11, 2026
six stars I'm not even kidding
December 13, 2025
There are certain incidents I don’t even want to talk to myself, let alone speak about aloud. No matter how old or buried they are, they still make my skin crawl. Something tightens in my stomach, the opposite of butterflies. These are the things I want locked away in a trunk, the keys lost forever and no locksmith able to make a copy.
There are manuals for everything: how to handle difficult relatives, how to crack job interviews, how to make friends. But there is no guide for dealing with old wounds, even after you believe you’ve healed, accepted them, and moved on. They are like a faint childhood nail mark on the face, barely visible, but always known. You don’t see it every day, you almost forget it’s there, but it's freaking there, like a trespasser.
This book is a collection of such moments past and present that continue to haunt women, sometimes even on their deathbeds. Quite Literally. What makes these stories bitter is not their extremity, but their familiarity. None of them feel exaggerated or imagined. They are as real and inevitable as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.
Reading these accounts, I kept thinking of animals in circuses: traumatised, conditioned, their spirits broken so thoroughly that even a lion can be tamed! The comparison feels uncomfortable, but so does the truth behind it.
All that being said, this isn't a male bashing piece of literature, it talks about what South Asian women go through and how these are normalised.How, instead of helping the victim, society often turns on her — questioning, diminishing, and disciplining her further. If that hurts sentiment, maybe you should talk to someone (or read that book?).
Reading this book feels like reopening old memories, mostly painful ones and letting grief look back at you without flinching. It is not an easy read, but it is an honest one. Perhaps the discomfort is the point.
There are manuals for everything: how to handle difficult relatives, how to crack job interviews, how to make friends. But there is no guide for dealing with old wounds, even after you believe you’ve healed, accepted them, and moved on. They are like a faint childhood nail mark on the face, barely visible, but always known. You don’t see it every day, you almost forget it’s there, but it's freaking there, like a trespasser.
This book is a collection of such moments past and present that continue to haunt women, sometimes even on their deathbeds. Quite Literally. What makes these stories bitter is not their extremity, but their familiarity. None of them feel exaggerated or imagined. They are as real and inevitable as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.
Reading these accounts, I kept thinking of animals in circuses: traumatised, conditioned, their spirits broken so thoroughly that even a lion can be tamed! The comparison feels uncomfortable, but so does the truth behind it.
All that being said, this isn't a male bashing piece of literature, it talks about what South Asian women go through and how these are normalised.How, instead of helping the victim, society often turns on her — questioning, diminishing, and disciplining her further. If that hurts sentiment, maybe you should talk to someone (or read that book?).
Reading this book feels like reopening old memories, mostly painful ones and letting grief look back at you without flinching. It is not an easy read, but it is an honest one. Perhaps the discomfort is the point.
February 16, 2026
Contrary to what everyone believed, my mourning was menacingly grand. But I did not need to share it. It started as a small flame, flickering in the depths of my stomach, until it began to spread and the fire hit me like a lightning bolt. Struck me silent. Left a little ember. A fire started and swallowed me whole, burning every single cell in my body and every strand of hair on my head until I was nothing but ash. My body became a vessel of flames. The flesh charred. Everything burnt, every single cell in the body burnt, every black strand on the head burnt, the buttons on the coats caught on fire, everything in and on me yowled. Then, the fire leapt out of my body and became a storm. A thunder rumbled through me. A flood cooled down the ferocious fire. Cooled me down. Defused the burning flames. The wavering white smoke fizzled away. And left nothing but ash.
No harness. No bearing.
Lifeless. Lying inside smoke and vapor. For months, I was nothing but ash. An incorporeal thing. Formless. Limited. Waiting for grass, ghost pipes, bluebells, and wild mushrooms to grow around me.
Ash.
I read this short story collection – the Pakistan-American author’s first collection (and second book after a debut novel) – due to its longlisting for the 2026 Dylan Thomas Prize, a prize for authors writing in English aged 39 and under (Thomas himself having died at that age) which is open to novels, short story collections, poetry collections and plays – one of two short story collections this year.
It is made of eight stories of around 15-40 pages each, in a 2021 interview around one of the stories (“Worry Doll”) she discussed the, then in-progress work, saying “The stories offer vignettes into the lives of characters who burn and resurrect from fires (metaphorical and literal). The characters unspool lives laced with societal oppression, suffocating inherited traditions, and perplexing new worlds and biases, all the while asking questions of identity, agency, belonging and loss.” – which for me serves as a really useful introduction to the theme (and particularly the titular image) around which the collection coalesces.
In the melancholic opener “Rani” – which unusually for an opening story I thought one of the least striking and least related to the fire theme– the recently-divorced first party narrator, asked to look after her dementia-suffering Grandmother after the recent loss of her Grandfather, confronts her Grandmother (even if she cannot fully understand) about an incident when she was younger, and her grandmother sent a servant (with who the narrator was close with) away for getting pregnant – even though she must have know the Grandfather was responsible.
“It Will Follow You Home” is a strikingly different second story – told in second person and in some 26 vignettes (a little in the style of therapy transcripts), the core story is of a 26 year old Pakistan-born young poetry-MFA turned lecturer in the US town of Morgantown, West Virginia (where the author did her MFA) suffering with depression after a relationship breakdown. Much wider than that though the vignettes – which draw heavily on observation from her time in West Virginia) – capture in a collective form the immigrant student experience (particularly when not really at home in either country, the author has said in interviews “a country that no longer nurtures you, yet missing it because it is your mother: a little abusive, but loving. Then you go back to another country, like a foster mother, who gives you opportunities and money, but keeps reminding you that you did not come from her home.”). And it also has a nicely metafictional reference to writing about Lahore: “It does not speak to you or wail for you, yet you write only about Lahore. You preserve it in your poetry. You suppress it in a verse. You capture it in the refrain of a poem: its beating heart, its howls and cries, its chuckle. Yes, Lahore chuckles.”)
“Some Things Do Not Carry A Soul” – is a deliberately disturbing (but effective) story of patriarchal indoctrination – the first party narrator, the young son of a violent father (but economically marginalised in his own household due to his drug taking and dead end job shooting feral dogs) is gradually groomed to share his father’s misogynistic worldview.
“Carry It All”, perhaps the most lyrical in the collection, beings and ends with fire: “She dreamt of fire again, of things catching fire. The old house. The big garden. The elementary school down the road. Her dead twin's face and hair. She dreamt of flames of red, orange, and blue, eating the dressing table and melting the turquoise wallpaper. Gray smoke, thick and billowing out the windows and into the air, choking her sister, squeezing her lungs.”- the third party narrator, inspired by the ghost of her sister (who self-immolated after a marital row) takes a fiery and revengeful escape from her own oppressive marriage after the latest of a series of miscarriages.
“The Last Days of Bilquees Begum” is something of a ghost story – featuring as third party protagonist Noorie, a young Pakistani-Christian (herself being strung along by a potential lover who never quite is prepared to tell his family he wants to date across religious boundaries), who acts as an end of life carer to the eponymous cancer-victim who is haunted not just by guilt but it seems quite literally the her ex-lover who was seemingly killed by her family for transgressing caste-boundaries.
“My Bones Hold A Stillness” – the first party narrator’s struggles to process the shooting of another Pakistani-origin US student, bring to the fore her difficulties in processing the much earlier death (by overdose) of her mother – a suicide which she feels is due to the guilt her mother felt when she realised than her daughter’s accusations of sexual abuse by an Uncle were true.
“Worry Doll” – the third party narrator Zara has moved with her recent husband to the US where he has a PhD, her dependent-spouse visa very much restricting what she can do and she starts to question her choice to accompany him (even while another friend on the same visa embraces the opportunities of America) – the story accompanied by a Guatemalan worry doll which acts as a metaphor for Zara’s concerns.
“Ruby” has another Christian family – the first party narrator’s mother Rubina is downtrodden by her husband, but after his death reinvents herself as Ruby (Ruby is a fire-starter) and openly seeks out relationships – meanwhile the daughter suffers from her mother’s new self-interest but does find another friend. If I had a criticism of this story – the longest in the collection - it felt like it lost a little focus in the middle with rather too many characters for a short story (but not enough heft for a short novella). However it came together at the end with mother and daughter ultimately suffer from sectarian rejection – the daughter just in the manipulative breakdown of a friendship, but the mother with her car-mechanic lover succumbing to communal violence in a severe fire which effectively ends the collection.
Overall, I found this a strong collection – no story really stood out as outstanding but equally none were really weak, and I felt the stories cohered well under the central image of fire while also covering well both the Pakistan based aspects of the stories and the immigrant experience in the US.
October 28, 2025
After being a fan of Javed's work for a few years now, I was excited to see my old favourites within this collection along with getting entirely new stories. However, over the years, I always wondered how could I describe these stories? Was there truly a word that could encompass everything I felt while reading?
After finishing the first story, "Rani", I realised that that word was "haunting". It was a word that crept into every story, burned the characters, and yet made them all still linger in my mind hours after reading about them. Every story, every character, every page was filled with energy that we'd rather not consciously think about. Somehow, it still ends up haunting you despite pushing it all away.
The stories about the housekeeper being abused by her employer, a grandmother who watched her love and herself die every day, of a Christian man being burned alive, they are all tragedies we hear about everyday in newspapers, the TV and social media. This book ended up giving them what the headlines never could: a story that haunts you, that tells you it lives even after it's left with ashes.
That's the experience this collection grants, and I am so, so glad to have read and cherished these stories one by one. These are the kind of stories that you remember years after you've read about them just because of how alive and haunting they were.
After finishing the first story, "Rani", I realised that that word was "haunting". It was a word that crept into every story, burned the characters, and yet made them all still linger in my mind hours after reading about them. Every story, every character, every page was filled with energy that we'd rather not consciously think about. Somehow, it still ends up haunting you despite pushing it all away.
The stories about the housekeeper being abused by her employer, a grandmother who watched her love and herself die every day, of a Christian man being burned alive, they are all tragedies we hear about everyday in newspapers, the TV and social media. This book ended up giving them what the headlines never could: a story that haunts you, that tells you it lives even after it's left with ashes.
That's the experience this collection grants, and I am so, so glad to have read and cherished these stories one by one. These are the kind of stories that you remember years after you've read about them just because of how alive and haunting they were.
February 11, 2026
"I just heard two words, "marry" and "you." Nothing else that came from his lips mattered. No man had ever said that to me before. No man had looked at me in that tender, kind way. I had never had someone listen to me, pay attention to the words that hung from my lips. I had never had someone touch my hand and squeeze my palm as if in fear of losing me. Me? Someone so plain?
This kind of warm attention was normally reserved for others. The attention I received from men had always been menacing and foul. I had been groped at a bus station once when I was returning home from my classes. I had kicked the man in his knee and run down the road, petrified. I had been catcalled and flirted with on rickshaw rides. Street corners filled with leering men".
"I turned the folded letter over in my hands and considered the women in my life, and the men in theirs. Fatima and Hannan. Ruby and Samuel. Tanya and her long-dead husband. All three simmering in love. Yet what was love, I wondered, to make these women pine and yearn and cry and mourn and give their whole selves to another? To stop eating for days like Tanya baji or speak incessantly about nothing else like Fatima? It was a sinister thing, love. It was not warm. It was not sane. It was maddening. It ate them, and it starvedme. My lack of it. Lingering on the edges.
Asking to be loved. I turned the concept over in my head, trying to fit it within the contours of my brain".
"Worry dolls, Zara thought, weary dolls.
Buried underneath the malaise. Burying an onslaught of emotions. Buried underneath the lullabies of a good marriage. Chores. Garlic cloves and peppercorns. Laundromats and dryer sheets. Birthday parties in parks with a folding table, cheese boards, and cheap wine. Worry dolls like her and Nitu, and Kavya. The unsung heroes. Like the mice in the laboratory or a mother with ten kids in a rural village in Pakistan. Weary dolls, waiting. Good, biddable, offering women. Pretending to ignore the smell, the sadness, the snowy days, the drifting marriage. Burying everything they feel beneath a pillow, behind ornamental peonies and spider plants".
HORROR STORIES DONT HAUNT ME
THE WAY KANZA JAVED'S STORIES DO. OUTSTANDING. MASTERCLASS. AMAZING.
I wish i could read it for the first time again because it feels like it ended way too quickly😭
This kind of warm attention was normally reserved for others. The attention I received from men had always been menacing and foul. I had been groped at a bus station once when I was returning home from my classes. I had kicked the man in his knee and run down the road, petrified. I had been catcalled and flirted with on rickshaw rides. Street corners filled with leering men".
"I turned the folded letter over in my hands and considered the women in my life, and the men in theirs. Fatima and Hannan. Ruby and Samuel. Tanya and her long-dead husband. All three simmering in love. Yet what was love, I wondered, to make these women pine and yearn and cry and mourn and give their whole selves to another? To stop eating for days like Tanya baji or speak incessantly about nothing else like Fatima? It was a sinister thing, love. It was not warm. It was not sane. It was maddening. It ate them, and it starvedme. My lack of it. Lingering on the edges.
Asking to be loved. I turned the concept over in my head, trying to fit it within the contours of my brain".
"Worry dolls, Zara thought, weary dolls.
Buried underneath the malaise. Burying an onslaught of emotions. Buried underneath the lullabies of a good marriage. Chores. Garlic cloves and peppercorns. Laundromats and dryer sheets. Birthday parties in parks with a folding table, cheese boards, and cheap wine. Worry dolls like her and Nitu, and Kavya. The unsung heroes. Like the mice in the laboratory or a mother with ten kids in a rural village in Pakistan. Weary dolls, waiting. Good, biddable, offering women. Pretending to ignore the smell, the sadness, the snowy days, the drifting marriage. Burying everything they feel beneath a pillow, behind ornamental peonies and spider plants".
HORROR STORIES DONT HAUNT ME
THE WAY KANZA JAVED'S STORIES DO. OUTSTANDING. MASTERCLASS. AMAZING.
I wish i could read it for the first time again because it feels like it ended way too quickly😭
November 28, 2025
This isn’t just a short story collection — it’s a gathering of bruised hearts. Each story feels like a glimpse into a life shaped by silence, sacrifice, faith, and the constant search for belonging. These are Muslim lives — stitched together by prayer, duty, culture, and the fear of losing oneself in a world that doesn’t always understand them. The author takes us across Lahore’s dusty streets, quiet American towns, and homes where dreams are nurtured with trembling hope. The stories don’t shout their pain. They whisper it, and somehow that hurts more.
The narration is simple, almost deceptively soft — but beneath that simplicity lies a sharp emotional force. The author doesn’t tell you what to feel; she lets the characters’ vulnerabilities pull emotions straight out of you. Many times I found myself pausing, absorbing a line that felt too close to my own fears. The pacing is gentle, allowing each story to unfold tenderly, like someone finally speaking a truth they’ve hidden for years.
What I loved the most was the way characters are written. They are flawed, fragile, and still fighting. There’s no dramatic heroism here — only quiet resilience. My favourite stories are 'Carry It All ' and ' The Last Days of Bilquees Begum' - They are ordinary people, but their sorrows feel extraordinary.
The writing style is lyrical but grounded — she paints with precise details and heavy silences. There’s a beauty in the rawness of her words. She doesn’t rush to conclusions or offer neat endings. Some stories leave you unsettled, questioning what remains unsaid — and that’s exactly what makes them unforgettable. She knows that real heartbreak often happens between the lines — in the spaces where faith meets fear, love meets loss, and belonging feels just out of reach.
This is not a book you move past quickly. It lingers. It asks you to sit with the discomfort of loss, displacement, and yearning — and to acknowledge the bravery of continuing to believe, to love, to pray, even when life keeps burning. When I finished the last page, I felt like I was holding not just a book, but the remnants of many Muslim lives — each one still burning softly inside me.
The narration is simple, almost deceptively soft — but beneath that simplicity lies a sharp emotional force. The author doesn’t tell you what to feel; she lets the characters’ vulnerabilities pull emotions straight out of you. Many times I found myself pausing, absorbing a line that felt too close to my own fears. The pacing is gentle, allowing each story to unfold tenderly, like someone finally speaking a truth they’ve hidden for years.
What I loved the most was the way characters are written. They are flawed, fragile, and still fighting. There’s no dramatic heroism here — only quiet resilience. My favourite stories are 'Carry It All ' and ' The Last Days of Bilquees Begum' - They are ordinary people, but their sorrows feel extraordinary.
The writing style is lyrical but grounded — she paints with precise details and heavy silences. There’s a beauty in the rawness of her words. She doesn’t rush to conclusions or offer neat endings. Some stories leave you unsettled, questioning what remains unsaid — and that’s exactly what makes them unforgettable. She knows that real heartbreak often happens between the lines — in the spaces where faith meets fear, love meets loss, and belonging feels just out of reach.
This is not a book you move past quickly. It lingers. It asks you to sit with the discomfort of loss, displacement, and yearning — and to acknowledge the bravery of continuing to believe, to love, to pray, even when life keeps burning. When I finished the last page, I felt like I was holding not just a book, but the remnants of many Muslim lives — each one still burning softly inside me.
February 20, 2026
n What Remains After a Fire, Kanza Javed speaks of aftermaths, not the drama of burning, but the quiet taking of stock as the smoke disperses. In eight stories that move between Pakistan and the United States, lives are transformed not by moments of grand revelation but by small tragedies: a word unspoken, a door shut, a memory that insists on staying buried.
Javed is sensitive to the fault lines of everyday life. In “Rani,” a woman’s visit to her grandmother’s sickbed becomes a meeting with the sediment of family history, love corroded by pride, loyalty besmirched by humiliation. “Stray Things Do Not Carry a Soul” is disturbing, not because it is graphic, but because it is told through a child’s eyes; what is unseen is more terrifying than what is seen. In other stories, immigrants wander through the American landscape that promises transformation but delivers only loneliness, their accents and desires betraying them as forever in transit. A father and son move through the stray dogs of Lahore and their own unspoken legacies of cruelty and kindness that circle each other warily.
These stories are obsessed with power, domestic, religious, social but they do not preach. They observe. Women are burdened with expectation; men are beset by weakness and thwarted power; children absorb more than they should. Nobody is entirely innocent, but nobody is made monstrous either. Javed gives her characters the honor of complexity.
The stories are written in a sparse, almost laconic style, but one that is full of suggestion. Rooms are airless, afternoons are heavy, gestures are weighted with what cannot be said. Conclusions are reached without fanfare; they end where comfort would begin, leaving the reader in the uncomfortable space between pain and endurance.
What remains, in the end, is not destruction but residue, the obstinate presence of those who live on among the ashes, changed but not obliterated.
Javed is sensitive to the fault lines of everyday life. In “Rani,” a woman’s visit to her grandmother’s sickbed becomes a meeting with the sediment of family history, love corroded by pride, loyalty besmirched by humiliation. “Stray Things Do Not Carry a Soul” is disturbing, not because it is graphic, but because it is told through a child’s eyes; what is unseen is more terrifying than what is seen. In other stories, immigrants wander through the American landscape that promises transformation but delivers only loneliness, their accents and desires betraying them as forever in transit. A father and son move through the stray dogs of Lahore and their own unspoken legacies of cruelty and kindness that circle each other warily.
These stories are obsessed with power, domestic, religious, social but they do not preach. They observe. Women are burdened with expectation; men are beset by weakness and thwarted power; children absorb more than they should. Nobody is entirely innocent, but nobody is made monstrous either. Javed gives her characters the honor of complexity.
The stories are written in a sparse, almost laconic style, but one that is full of suggestion. Rooms are airless, afternoons are heavy, gestures are weighted with what cannot be said. Conclusions are reached without fanfare; they end where comfort would begin, leaving the reader in the uncomfortable space between pain and endurance.
What remains, in the end, is not destruction but residue, the obstinate presence of those who live on among the ashes, changed but not obliterated.
January 2, 2026
If you’re looking for a book that sticks with you, this collection of eight short stories is a must-read.
Kanza Javed doesn’t rely on crazy plot twists; instead, she focuses on the messy, real-life stuff like how we deal with loss, who we are when we’re far from home, and the "burn marks" that trauma leaves on our lives.
The title says it all: it’s about what’s left behind after a disaster. Sometimes that’s guilt or regret, but other times, it’s a quiet kind of hope.
The book jumps around quite a bit, which keeps it interesting.
The first story, "Rani," follows a divorced woman caring for her grandmother who has Alzheimer’s. As her grandmother loses her memory, the woman starts remembering some uncomfortable truths about how her family treated a housemaid years ago.
In "Stray Things Do Not Carry a Soul," we see the world through a young boy’s eyes as he tries to make sense of his father’s addiction and violence. It’s a heavy look at how families pass down pain without even realizing it.
The Author doesn't use fancy, over-the-top language; she’s direct and clear, making you feel like you’re right there with the characters.
Don't expect every story to end with a neat little bow. Most of them end with questions, which feels a lot more like real life.
This isn't a "light" read, but it’s a deeply human one. It’s the kind of book that asks you to sit with the characters' pain and really understand it. If you appreciate writers who can get deep into the human soul, you'll love Javed's work.
October 22, 2025
Why are short stories so underrated and under-loved?
They are beautiful, providing distilled moments of truth, entire lifetimes, and heartaches compressed into a few pages. They don’t sprawl; they strike. They don’t explain; they reveal through a host of characters. And that’s exactly what "What Remains After a Fire does." This has to be the best book for me this year.
Kanza Javed doesn’t waste a single word. Her prose feels both precise and lyrical , and there’s beauty even in the pain she describes. What struck me most was how quietly devastating the stories are. Deeply haunting. Deeply real. You know the writer reads people, studies cities, and comprehension subjects like mental health, trauma, dysfunctional families.
You don’t realize how deeply this book has cut you until you close the book and suddenly feel the ache of it.
The women in these stories feel startlingly real; flawed, fierce, tired, brave. They live in Karachi, Lahore, Virginia, small towns, and empty rooms; in bad marriages and dull friendships, but they love, they soar, they shed skins.
Nothing is melodramatic like you expect in a South Asian book. Nothing is performative.
My favorite stories were “It Will Follow You Home” “My Bones Hold a Stillness," "Stray Things," and "Rani."
They are beautiful, providing distilled moments of truth, entire lifetimes, and heartaches compressed into a few pages. They don’t sprawl; they strike. They don’t explain; they reveal through a host of characters. And that’s exactly what "What Remains After a Fire does." This has to be the best book for me this year.
Kanza Javed doesn’t waste a single word. Her prose feels both precise and lyrical , and there’s beauty even in the pain she describes. What struck me most was how quietly devastating the stories are. Deeply haunting. Deeply real. You know the writer reads people, studies cities, and comprehension subjects like mental health, trauma, dysfunctional families.
You don’t realize how deeply this book has cut you until you close the book and suddenly feel the ache of it.
The women in these stories feel startlingly real; flawed, fierce, tired, brave. They live in Karachi, Lahore, Virginia, small towns, and empty rooms; in bad marriages and dull friendships, but they love, they soar, they shed skins.
Nothing is melodramatic like you expect in a South Asian book. Nothing is performative.
My favorite stories were “It Will Follow You Home” “My Bones Hold a Stillness," "Stray Things," and "Rani."
November 13, 2025
For someone who isn’t an avid reader and often finds it difficult to stay focused, when words seem to jump across the lines, this particular book broke the spell. From the first page to the last, I was completely engrossed.
Though each story is brief, it contributes beautifully to a larger picture. The curiosity it sparks, those lingering thoughts of what if, why not, how, and what next, follow the reader long after closing the book. I often found myself pausing between stories, simply to process and reflect, as each one leaves a lasting impression.
There are moments of deep, sometimes dark emotions woven through the characters and their circumstances. Yet, that’s precisely what makes the book so real, life itself is not always gentle or fair. The author handles these themes with both honesty and grace, wrapping each narrative in elegance and respect.
I would wholeheartedly recommend this book to anyone who loves stories but struggles to stay engaged with reading for any reason. After years of finding it difficult to finish a book, I finally did, and I’m proud of that. Not only was it an easy and immersive read, but the way it resonates, whether through entire stories or fleeting moments, feels truly remarkable.
Though each story is brief, it contributes beautifully to a larger picture. The curiosity it sparks, those lingering thoughts of what if, why not, how, and what next, follow the reader long after closing the book. I often found myself pausing between stories, simply to process and reflect, as each one leaves a lasting impression.
There are moments of deep, sometimes dark emotions woven through the characters and their circumstances. Yet, that’s precisely what makes the book so real, life itself is not always gentle or fair. The author handles these themes with both honesty and grace, wrapping each narrative in elegance and respect.
I would wholeheartedly recommend this book to anyone who loves stories but struggles to stay engaged with reading for any reason. After years of finding it difficult to finish a book, I finally did, and I’m proud of that. Not only was it an easy and immersive read, but the way it resonates, whether through entire stories or fleeting moments, feels truly remarkable.
November 23, 2025
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ A Hauntingly Beautiful Exploration of Loss and Renewal
What Remains After a Fire is one of those rare books that lingers in your mind long after you’ve turned the last page. It’s not just a story; it’s an emotional journey through devastation, resilience, and the quiet strength that emerges from ashes.
The author paints vivid scenes that make you feel the heat of the flames and the chilling silence that follows. The characters are deeply human, flawed yet courageous, and their struggles resonate with anyone who has faced unexpected upheaval. What truly sets this book apart is its ability to balance heartbreak with hope, reminding us that even in the aftermath of destruction, there is beauty in rebuilding.
If you’re looking for a novel that combines lyrical prose with a gripping narrative, this is it. It’s perfect for readers who appreciate stories about survival, identity, and the transformative power of community. By the end, you’ll not only care about the characters, you’ll reflect on your own capacity to rise from life’s fires.
Highly recommended for fans of emotionally rich, character-driven fiction. Don’t hesitate; add this to your shelf and prepare to be moved.
What Remains After a Fire is one of those rare books that lingers in your mind long after you’ve turned the last page. It’s not just a story; it’s an emotional journey through devastation, resilience, and the quiet strength that emerges from ashes.
The author paints vivid scenes that make you feel the heat of the flames and the chilling silence that follows. The characters are deeply human, flawed yet courageous, and their struggles resonate with anyone who has faced unexpected upheaval. What truly sets this book apart is its ability to balance heartbreak with hope, reminding us that even in the aftermath of destruction, there is beauty in rebuilding.
If you’re looking for a novel that combines lyrical prose with a gripping narrative, this is it. It’s perfect for readers who appreciate stories about survival, identity, and the transformative power of community. By the end, you’ll not only care about the characters, you’ll reflect on your own capacity to rise from life’s fires.
Highly recommended for fans of emotionally rich, character-driven fiction. Don’t hesitate; add this to your shelf and prepare to be moved.
December 12, 2025
"But I believed the house needed to mourn, too. After the guests had departed and the residents had retreated into slumber, the house needed to wail as well."
I have no words to describe this work. Ironic, as I am here to pen a review. It's a haunting book. The heart of this book is fire, lots of fire imagery, vivid, metaphorical even if not literal in places. Kanza Javed writes in "My Bones Hold a Stillness:"
"It started as a small flame, flickering in the depths of my stomach, until it began to spread and the fire hit me like a lightning bolt. Struck me silent. Left a little ember. A fire started and swal- lowed me whole, burning every single cell in my body and every strand of hair on my head until I was nothing but ash. My body became a vessel of flames..."
The quote goes on to capture displacement and depression in immigrant students in a raw, bold, beautiful way.
"Rani" begins as:
"My grandmother kept calling her dead husband to bed. On the night of the funeral, Daddi looked for my grandfather in the folds of her velvet blanket, the hollows of her cheeks, and the flickering flames in the gas heater."
She has nailed the art of writing the perfect ending and beginning. One of my favourite reads from this year.
I have no words to describe this work. Ironic, as I am here to pen a review. It's a haunting book. The heart of this book is fire, lots of fire imagery, vivid, metaphorical even if not literal in places. Kanza Javed writes in "My Bones Hold a Stillness:"
"It started as a small flame, flickering in the depths of my stomach, until it began to spread and the fire hit me like a lightning bolt. Struck me silent. Left a little ember. A fire started and swal- lowed me whole, burning every single cell in my body and every strand of hair on my head until I was nothing but ash. My body became a vessel of flames..."
The quote goes on to capture displacement and depression in immigrant students in a raw, bold, beautiful way.
"Rani" begins as:
"My grandmother kept calling her dead husband to bed. On the night of the funeral, Daddi looked for my grandfather in the folds of her velvet blanket, the hollows of her cheeks, and the flickering flames in the gas heater."
She has nailed the art of writing the perfect ending and beginning. One of my favourite reads from this year.
February 5, 2026
It is as if you are watching 8 TELEFILMs based on sad realities of Pakistan which skip your heartbeat for a second..
The unsettling haunting tales of mostly women depicting pain of loneliness, love, and struggling life. What remains after a fire makes you ponder over survival of unhealed lives finally making through the tragedies and loss in dehumanized society which questions their worth.
👉Rani The story literally made me cry at night which unfolds a character name Rani being wronged and became a prey of victim blaming for not reason.
👉My bones Still Holds a Stillness where a young girl pursuing her studies abroad encountered with a violence that shatters her to think of her terrible past and fear of residing in such countries where there was no safety for women
👉Last Days of Bilquees Begum where a take care endeavored to meet ghost of her owner's lover and tried to reconcile them ...
👉Worry Doll who kept her search in finding solutions to get rid of hostility, emptiness , and unfamiliar atmosphere of a foreign country with her husband.
👉Similarly other emotional stories that keep you hooked with beautiful words and prose , highlighting indepth yet accurate details of sorrow and longing.
The unsettling haunting tales of mostly women depicting pain of loneliness, love, and struggling life. What remains after a fire makes you ponder over survival of unhealed lives finally making through the tragedies and loss in dehumanized society which questions their worth.
👉Rani The story literally made me cry at night which unfolds a character name Rani being wronged and became a prey of victim blaming for not reason.
👉My bones Still Holds a Stillness where a young girl pursuing her studies abroad encountered with a violence that shatters her to think of her terrible past and fear of residing in such countries where there was no safety for women
👉Last Days of Bilquees Begum where a take care endeavored to meet ghost of her owner's lover and tried to reconcile them ...
👉Worry Doll who kept her search in finding solutions to get rid of hostility, emptiness , and unfamiliar atmosphere of a foreign country with her husband.
👉Similarly other emotional stories that keep you hooked with beautiful words and prose , highlighting indepth yet accurate details of sorrow and longing.
June 13, 2025
Haunting. Heartbreaking. This collection broke me—and then, somehow, it also fixed something. Javed's writing confronts dark, unflinching truths about human lives with bold honesty. The prose is fearless, and the characters are achingly real—wounded, resilient, unforgettable. "Stray Things" and "The Last Days of Bilquees Begum" were especially my favorites.
I understand how some readers might find the sad endings unpalatable, but I found shadows of hope threaded between the characters. Characters leaving places and things that don't serve them. Characters gaining insight about dysfunctional dynamics. Lyrical prose and believable character arcs.
There are moments of quiet defiance, tenderness, and grace that linger long after the last page. The book stayed with me.
What Remains After a Fire: Stories
Must read!
I understand how some readers might find the sad endings unpalatable, but I found shadows of hope threaded between the characters. Characters leaving places and things that don't serve them. Characters gaining insight about dysfunctional dynamics. Lyrical prose and believable character arcs.
There are moments of quiet defiance, tenderness, and grace that linger long after the last page. The book stayed with me.
What Remains After a Fire: Stories
Must read!
September 8, 2025
What an intense and moving read this turned out to be! As someone from Pakistan, I felt such a deep connection with Kanza Javed’s writing. I am tired of South Asian writers pandering for the West, writing for the West while stereotyping society or showing only the elite aspects of society which many remain an alien to.
Kanza Javed captures our realities with honesty and nuance, making the characters feel painfully real, flawed, vulnerable, and deeply human. There is a host of characters, all social classes, myriad/range of problems, every reader will find something to connect with.
The stories are truly heart-breaking, but beautifully told. Took me a while to recover, but I loved every last word.
A small trigger warning: the book carries heavy themes. They didn’t rattle me as I believe such stories need to exist to shed light on social issues that are often overlooked, even within our own country or the world in general.
Kanza Javed captures our realities with honesty and nuance, making the characters feel painfully real, flawed, vulnerable, and deeply human. There is a host of characters, all social classes, myriad/range of problems, every reader will find something to connect with.
The stories are truly heart-breaking, but beautifully told. Took me a while to recover, but I loved every last word.
A small trigger warning: the book carries heavy themes. They didn’t rattle me as I believe such stories need to exist to shed light on social issues that are often overlooked, even within our own country or the world in general.
October 31, 2025
Each story in this collection is written with exceptional empathy. There were various female characters, daughters, mothers and wives, that stood out to me! The collection offered a glimpse into experiences I kept going back to – for example the narrator in 'My Bones Hold a Stillness' who's chosen to leave their home country only to be forced to face violence and lack of safety in their new environment. And then compared to the protagonist of 'Worry Doll' who was forced to move by circumstance but the safety of her new environment does not make up for what was lost from her life at home. What remains after a fire seemed to offer multiple perspectives, and each voice and story has stayed in my mind long after I finished the book.
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