Wow... Just wow. In millennial language: WOW! And in the words of our elders: “May your hand never break; may it touch the Kaaba.”
Bless you, Reem Jaafar. Through your pen, you have revived a multitude of emotions—nostalgia, wonder, and longing for home. You’ve worked wonders with this novel, which can only be described as flawless.
Reem takes us on a journey through half a century of Sudanese history, before and after colonization, including the great flood of 1988 and the years that followed. She weaves between past and present, from the farthest reaches of the north to the southernmost regions. One moment, you’re standing at the edges of Kareema, and the next, you’re in Wau, Torit, or near the sources of the White Nile. She escorts us through a unique saga spanning three generations—stories so masterfully told that they feel like lived reality. Perhaps they are.
Reem is an exceptional storyteller. Her characters leap off the page, feeling more like real people than fictional constructs. She has meticulously sketched their features with her words, down to their walks, their speech, and even their distinctive facial scars.
The geography is precise, and the descriptions even more so. The land, the sky, the weather, and the details of daily life—everything appears as if in a vintage cinematic masterpiece. The huts, the carts, the clay water jars, the woven beds, the cooking fires, the flatbreads, the dates, the eggplant salad, the peanut butter, and the Nile—all are vividly and tangibly present, forming the foundation, the beginning, and the end.
She does not overlook their dialects, local languages, or accents—whether from the north or the Shilluk regions—and much has not been lost in translation. The level of detail is astonishing: muddy sandals, striped shawls, the sound of bracelets, the arrangement of traditional kitchens, creaking doors, the call to prayer, and so much more. The nuances will astound you!
The novel does not have a single protagonist; rather, it has many. The story is told at times through one character and at other times through an unnamed narrator, a choice that only enhances the novel’s brilliance.
The narrative fluidly explores themes like religion, inheritance, marriage, birth, customs, and racism, all with an extreme realism that feels like you’re eavesdropping on conversations in your own village—their grievances, joys, and subtle gossip.
From the very first page, you are drawn in. Your heart races to uncover the events. Your mind crafts one scenario after another, but...
Oh, the surprises—the order of events, the unfolding fates, and the triumph of truth!
The opening scene is shocking, and the shocks continue to cascade, leaving you with the bitterness of sorrow and the saltiness of tears, making the title, A Mouth Full of Salt, an apt and perfectly chosen one.
The language is eloquent, akin to an elder who speaks with modesty—no vulgar words or indecency between the lines. Her words are dignified, her descriptions noble. Choosing to write in English was a brilliant decision, as the target audience—both globally and among newer generations—does not predominantly speak Arabic. (An Arabic translation is reportedly forthcoming.)
Despite being written in English, Dr. Reem Jaafar masterfully conveys emotions and expressions.
Through her work, Reem reminds us that the storyteller never dies.
With exceptional craftsmanship, she takes you from Khartoum to Old Dongola, Kareema, Tangasi, Wau, and Torit, sparing you the fatigue of travel. Instead, she provides a comfortable seat, a rush of adrenaline, and a generous reward of dopamine in the final scene.
For me, the novel earns a solid 5 stars—resplendent and well-deserved. I wish I could gift it to everyone as an end-of-year present. Perhaps a piece of our homeland’s tales will bring us back to the homeland, even if only in imagination.
Congratulations to Dr. Reem Jaafar, and a well-deserved win for the Island Prize!