In a heart-wrenching debut, author Sonny Buttar delivers a multigenerational family saga at once haunting and hopeful.
Teacher Salma Chaudhry lives a quiet life, avoiding all attachments. But after a call from her estranged father, the protective shell she lives within starts to crack and the trauma she's buried for eighteen years emerges.
Salma and her older sister Asma were inseparable growing up in small-town Rosebud. While Asma was bold and fearless, Salma tried to keep the peace in their fractured family. But amid their mother's decline and their parents’ rigid expectations, Asma makes a choice that tears the family apart. The fallout changes everything—and forces Salma to choose between her sister and her parents.
Salma has spent years trying to forget. But as she recollects her past and considers reconciliation with her father, a young student opens a surprising connection to Asma's past. In finally facing her history, Salma finds the bravery to love and hope again.
The Daughters of Rosebud is a powerful exploration of sisterhood, family loyalty, and the courage it takes to heal.
An incredible story that I could NOT put down. The author made the characters truly come alive and they have stayed with me. A novel that looks deeply at family life and circumstances and long-term impact. What we bring to our family and how it shapes us and those around us. A MUST read
“The idea of growing up somehow didn’t mean to actually grow; it meant to be. To be the person our parents wanted us to be. To be the person they expected us to be. A white canvas on which they could project the vision — the least threatening version of us — that was the most palatable.”
Thank you to NetGalley for the opportunity to read an advanced reader copy in exchange for an honest review.
This was an absolutely breathtaking (at times, literally) and stunning debut. The Daughters of Rosebud tenderly unravels a thread that many of us are hesitant to pull at — the lived experience of a multi-generational immigrant family. Utilizing a dual timeline, Sonny Buttar welcomes us into the story of two sisters, Asma and Salma, who, like their parents, were born in Pakistan, but who, unlike their parents, were raised in America.
While Asma, a college freshman, finds every opportunity to rebel, to push back, and to question the “old ways,” Salma, the little sister left behind, tries her best to keep the peace with her parents while supporting the identity that Asma is forging. Then, a choice made at the height of Asma’s becoming shatters the very foundation of the family, and Sonny allows the reader to watch as Salma makes her own determination about who she will be, what of her history she will choose to reckon with, and what a life of hope can look like once she allows herself to heal.
I quite literally could not put this book down. I have never read such a profound, beautiful, and haunting portrait of the immigrant experience — specifically the dissonance experienced by those in younger generations, who possess the innate desire to please their parents (and often the duty to act as their parents’ guide) while also growing up in a society with divergent values and new opportunities. I felt so wholly entangled within this family that I felt the crescendo of this novel deep within my bones.
As other reviewers have noted, this novel does not shy away from exploring physical and sexual violence, and it was certainly difficult to read at times. But I think that is exactly the point. And I think that it is my responsibility as a white reader to not turn away from the discomfort, and rather to lean in; to ask questions; to be curious about systems and cultures that are unfamiliar; to join Asma and Salma as they discover where they came from, what pieces still fit, and which chapters they will rewrite.
Had the ending been fleshed out just a little more, this would have undoubtedly been a 5-star read for me. I cannot wait for everyone to get their hands on this!
(Thank you to NetGalley and Lake Union Publishing for an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. All thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.)
What a debut for Sonny Buttar! This is a heartbreaking yet beautiful story of two sisters in a Pakistani family who immigrate to the United States in the 1970s. While Salma and Asma's father hopes to give his family a better life in America, he doesn't want to allow his daughters to experience the same freedoms as other children around them. Rather, he seeks to keep them under his control, bound by the religious expectations he believes all women should uphold.
Growing up in the small town of Rosebud, the two girls were each other's safe place from the rigid expectations of their parents. Asma, the older sister, is carefree and fearless, longing more than anything to be her own person, free from the grip of her parents' control. Salma, the younger of the two, feels torn between wanting to please her parents and keep the peace in their family, while also recognizing the toxicity of their behavior. When Asma makes a choice that shatters the rules and regulations her parents have sought so hard to maintain, their family is never the same.
Eighteen years later, Salma is still trying to recover from the trauma of her fractured family when she receives a call from her dying father. She is faced with the decision of whether to face him after all the harm he has caused or continue in the life she has made for herself.
Told from the perspectives of both Salma and Asma, The Daughters of Rosebud draws readers in and causes them to feel the inner turmoil of the sisters and the immense pressure they experienced under their parents' expectations. I could feel my own heart racing and anxiety rising as the sisters' story unfolded, both in Asma knowing and feeling her parents disapproval, and in Salma carrying the full burden of their parents' expectations as the "good" daughter, the compliant one.
I'm surprised more people aren't talking about this beautiful work of literary fiction. I hope Sonny Buttar receives the recognition she deserves for writing such a heartbreaking and eye-opening novel.
Content considerations: -Occasional strong language -Religious oppression -Multiple same-sex relationships, one of which is central to the novel, but still something to consider before reading. -Sexual, emotional, and physical abuse -Some sexual thoughts and dialogue present, but intimacy is closed door; one kiss described
I was initially drawn to The Daughters of Rosebud by its promise of a multigenerational family story rooted in immigration and resilience. While the premise is compelling, I found that the content ultimately wasn’t a good fit for me. The book includes strong language, several same sex relationships, and multiple forms of abuse—emotional, physical, and sexual. These themes, while meaningful to many readers, did not resonate with my personal reading preferences, and values. I know many readers will appreciate the depth and complexity the author brings to these characters and their experiences, but this particular story wasn’t one I connected with. I received a complimentary copy of this book. All comments and opinions are my own.
I think this is probably the most powerful book I've read this year. Heartbreaking in one way but uplifting as well, it's the saga of a family pulled apart by different cultures. Brilliant.
I have witnessed a family much like this one. Too much repetitive details!
We had neighbors who had come to America for an education and stayed to work and start their family here. As their children grew older, they were interested in living like Americans. They did not want arranged marriages, plus they wanted to eat and enjoy hamburgers and hot dogs. Their parents expected them to adhere to their old world standards. I was even asked to speak with the children regarding the decisions they were making. My answer was that I could talk with the children but I told the parents first that they couldn't expect their children to follow the "old world ways" and grow up and attend American schools here, make American friends. That wasn't the answer they were wanting. Had I known this was the subject matter of this book, I would not have chosen it to read, several times I put it aside only to keep trudging to finally finish.
Thank you to NetGalley and Lake Union Publishing for an advanced reader copy of this book
Absolut literary gold, I am speechless!!! The story follows a Pakistani immigrant family in the late 1970s. As children, sisters Salma and Asma are inseparable, but cracks begin to show as they enter young adulthood, a slow fracture triggered by the choices and actions of their parents. The novel beautifully showcases the delicate struggle of trying to preserve your culture in America while staying tethered to your roots. When the central tragedy unfolds, it is utterly heartbreaking. Because the narrative shifts back and forth between the past and the present, you know early on that something terrible has happened to one of the siblings, though the full truth isn't revealed until the very end. I usually lose patience with a delayed reveal, but this slow burn character development was essential, and I was entirely captivated by it. Gaining a window into another culture is always eye opening, and that was certainly true here. The author has crafted a beautiful, rich, and all encompassing story with writing so immersive that I didn't want it to end. It poignantly shows how tragedy can permanently reshape a person, leaving no path back to who they used to be. The way grief manifests and dictates the characters' lives is both haunting and deeply real. This is a magnificent book from beginning to end.
I don’t usually write reviews as others say what I am thinking so well in theirs, I rate a book and move on. This book will not let me just move on. I truly do not have the words to capture not only how much I loved this book but the impact it has had on me. I have read a lot of amazing books but this one will stay with me for years. I cannot believe it is the author’s first book…a stunning achievement. It is well written and touches on so many different issues and feelings, and does so with grace and beauty. I highly encourage you to read it.
I am speechless and shooketh after reading this stunning debut novel! No book I have read has captured the immigrant daughter experience the way this did. Beautifully written and absolutely heartbreaking. But still filled with moments of hope. The ending was a bit abrupt but the rest of the novel still merits the full 5 stars for me.
An interesting read about a family with 2 daughters from Pakistan settling in America, and the challenges of their traditional values versus American culture. Slow paced but very well written. Enjoyable 🙂
3.5. I read this from amazon’s first reads. first thoughts: some of the writing was clunky and repetitive, the author going over the same experiences through both of the sisters POV, which can be done well but i felt as though at times it was a little redundant. i enjoyed the insight to the dynamics of an immigrant family settling in rural USA. the town itself was more of a backdrop to the familial story, and begs the question would this story have unraveled differently if the girls were brought up somewhere more urban where their father could understand society in america in an immersive way rather than looking in from the outside as a cab driver who experienced abuse at the hands of bigots and racism. there was less exploration of that and more of delving into the minds of the sisters and how they dealt with the neglect from their parents in their individual ways. the twist in the third to last chapter was really sad and in my opinion shocking and unnecessary. i wonder why the author wanted to write the ending that way other than shock factor, which is a cheap out in my opinion. overall i thought it was a compelling story of two sisters who loved each other dearly and had to navigate their respective worlds and relationships within their family unit. i think a lot of people, immigrant or not, can find themselves, in some part, within this story.
Finding peace after years of emotional trauma (2007, 1989 memories; small Midwestern town): Hypnotic, I devoured The Daughters of Rosebud.
The emotional depth and gravity of the issues tackled exquisitely resonated with me. Thinking about why when my cultural, religious, and familial experiences are drastically different than those painfully made clear inside a Pakistani-American immigrant family’s story, it struck me how the appeal is far more universal than any specific American immigrant group or even American immigrants more broadly.
That’s because Sonny Buttar probe’s mental health and psychology on a range of complex universal aspects of Selfhood: self-awareness, self-understanding, self-concept, self-confidence, and the like.
Without a doubt, when you look through the lens of extreme cultural divides within the family at the center of the novel – the older generation’s beliefs crashing into an Americanized younger generation – the story and its trajectory is spectacularly intensified than mine or perhaps yours.
And yet, we’re all, in our own ways, discovering who we are and seeking who we want to be. Plot-wise, two daughters become increasingly aware of their parents’ desire to control their sense of self and follow their desires to figure out and determine their own destinies.
Asma, older by a year, is the restless one, outspoken, defiant, rebellious. Salma intensely feels she must protect her, trying mightily to be the “peacekeeper” within the family.
Buttar alternates Salma and Asma’s voices in two timeframes eighteen years apart. To maintain a certain distance and mystique surrounding Asma’s often muddled personality, she comes to us in the third-person, in 1989. Salma’s third-person narrative creates a more analytical/digging into truths perspective, in 2007.
It’s Asma’s resistance, refusal, and anger at the expectations and traditions demanded of her. On their parts, their parents, Abu and Ami, are adhering to their culture’s strict, traditionalist beliefs and values. A fundamental one is Pakistan’s entrenched patriarchal society. In light of that, the theme of gender equity jumps out and plays out.
In 2006, the World Economic Forum Gender Gap Index ranked Pakistan as 143rd out of 145 countries, noting a rise in education. When Asma leaves home for college, that’s when the story catches on fire.
Page two of the foreboding Prologue draws us in and never lets up. “There is no one left to ask,” Salma says. Already, a mystery is raised: What happened to Asma? Salma wonders:
“When did things start going wrong? If I look hard enough, can I detect the beginning of the end? Did it start when Asma went to university? Or is it even further back? Was our fate sealed when we came to this country? Was immigration our family’s original sin?”
Readers who gravitate to mysteries need to know that while Buttar’s storytelling unravels vividly to paint a disturbing picture of the family’s dysfunction, you won’t see what’s coming. Certainly, not in the shocking manner it does.
Nor will you have enough information to piece together what transpired until page 310 of 340 pages opens. By 2007, Salma has spent eighteen years traumatized by “terrible memories.” Unbearable what she’s long repressed and lost takes time to process and face. “Now comes the part of the story that I find hard to share. Every part of it is impossible to tell without my role, my blame, laid bare.”
That’s the thing. Is she to blame? The concept of self-blame, another psychological mindset.
Putting aside that complicated question, should Salma spend the rest of her “living half a life. Neither young nor old. Neither here nor there. Neither wholly Pakistani nor wholly American”?
Abu and Ami came to America not long after Pakistan became an independent country (in the late 1940s) when Asma was eight, Salma seven. How much of their homeland should they be expected to remember? Compared to the rest of their childhood, adolescent, and coming-of-age years? How much should they be expected to connect with their Pakistani culture when their parents chose to move to a small, rural town of some three hundred people in the Midwest when most Pakistanis have concentrated in three states: New York, Texas, and California, according to the American Pakistan Foundation?
The ultimate tragedy in the story is that neither parent was willing or able to listen to what their children wanted. Salma aptly characterizes her family as “upside-down.” Ami’s deafening silence, subservient to her husband’s authority, greatly exasperates their feelings since she shows no affection or compassion towards her daughters, even privately.
Ami is the product of an arranged marriage, a practice very much alive in her home country, reportedly shifting in America. Married at sixteen, she’s perceived by her daughters as one of the “girls,” not an adult.
As Salma’s memories begin to unfold, she “can see that Ami was failing from the beginning.” She wants to give her mother the benefit of the doubt. “The truth is that no matter what happened later, we were a form of happy in those early years.”
Salma’s voice switches from unearthing buried memories as “painful as cut glass” to her current situation for the past ten years as a second-grade teacher in a highly diverse elementary school full of rewards and joy. Her teaching philosophy and empathy towards her students and their family situations is outstanding, heartwarming. Poppy is one of her new students when a new school year begins in 2007. Hers is also a complicated emotional life that pulls at our heartstrings given what a young girl is subjected to, yet how grown up she becomes and thrives.
While you’ll feel the parental tensions and dangers piling up, Salma’s classroom infuses an “antidote to the death grip my history holds on me, making it “hard to feel depressed in their presence.”
Mamoo (or uncle in Pakistan’s national and regional languages, Urdu and Punjabi), along with his wife Aunty for a long while, function as surrogate, real parents for the sisters. Acknowledging, listening, nurturing, and being there for them unconditionally.
Mamoo exemplifies the meaning of unconditional love, having an “ability to love so clearly, holding nothing back, despite the profound losses.”
I’ve wondered if Buttar’s purpose in crafting this hard-hitting story is to move us to greater empathy for those who are culturally and otherwise different than us. For those of us who feel powerless? Suffering traumatic events outside their control? To remind us that “life is lived in the small moments”? That “happiness and joy still exist”?
The beauty of the novel is showing us through Salma how it’s possible to find peace while suffering. Early on, Mamoo clues us in when he tells Salma all her kids need is “radical acceptance.”
Turns out this is also the name of a therapeutic technique conceived of by Professor Emeritus of Psychology at the University of Washington, Marsha Linehan. Given Buttar’s thoughtfulness, I’d like to think she was mindful of this healing method all along.
Numerous articles online explain what the practice is and isn’t. By no means approving of what’s happened, nor giving up the fight. It’s a type of cognitive behavioral therapy for learning how to live with enormous suffering while also finding a measure of peace.
I went into The Daughters of Rosebud expecting to fall for Salma and Asma...and I did care about their stories...but it was two supporting characters who really stole my heart.
Sonny Buttar tells the story of two sisters who immigrate from Pakistan to the U.S. in the 1970s, caught between their parents’ traditions and American freedom. But this is no gentle coming-of-age tale. It’s a novel that builds slowly toward heartbreak, and by the final pages you understand just how high the cost of that collision can be.
But my favorite parts of this book belonged to Marlene and Mamoo.
Marlene, a mom at the school where Salma works, is wonderfully imperfect — she’s forever picking her daughter Poppy up late — but she’s kind in a way that feels completely unforced. She genuinely wants to be Salma’s friend, and she becomes one of the people who helps Salma find love and connection again.
And then there’s Mamoo. Salma’s uncle has lost so much, and yet he’s one of the steadiest presences in her life. He carries his grief without being defined by it, and he is a true source of strength for Salma when she needs it most.
I recommend The Daughters of Rosebud for readers who appreciate family stories that don’t shy away from hard truths. This one will stay with you long after the last page, not just for its central tragedy, but for the unforgettable people surrounding it.
Very rarely do immigrant stories address the specific migration configuration of a family of middle aged parents with children who are just old enough to remember the rules of the Before Times, but young enough to recognize the opportunities to adapt and grow. It is a childhood and adolescence that is full of dualities and contradictions and an undue responsibility to protect the parents and their lesser ability to adapt. My brother and I were a only a bit older than Asma and Salma, and how their roles and personas evolve isn't very dissimilar to ours, with notable differences. We're not Muslim, or both female, and the rules were always different for him than me. But never for a minute were we ever allowed to forget that we owe our parents a life debt for bringing us to America, so we must excel in the exact ways they imagine excellence. Unfortunately, their imagination was tainted with a newborn insecurity about losing touch with the familiar and feeling lost in a dream that they hadn't had the resources to fully understand. It wasn't a stretch for me to relate viscerally to Asma, and see my brother's experience reflected in Salma's, especially as it relates to the ways our relationship deepened and we're strained as a result of our unique migration experience and how we had to manage our parents' fears and expectations and reactions to change. That Asma is queer and the first one of a closed family unit to try to find herself out in the world, has eerie parallels to my life -- falling into the theater community, dealing with passive aggressive parental comments about hair and appearance, threatening dire consequences about spending time with friends well into adulthood, throwing resumes and contacts of random Desi men at me without my consent as a solution to my mental health crisis, and so on and so forth. Of course l my family and I have grown past those difficult times of adjustment and our story isn't the tragic story of the Chaudhry family. And yet, I'm blown away by how incisive and introspective this story is about all the ways we can break and be broken by the push and pull of tradition and opportunity. Also how similar circumstances can birth very different growth journeys for immigrant families. How tenuous our ideas of our selves are for the rest of our lives and how the story of every migration is a story of grief, love and liberation at the same time. The narrative provides so much grace and compassion to all the characters who are struggling and cannot help but keep hurting themselves and those they love. In any other narrative, I would find that grating and feel it wasn't earned -- but in this one, I have lived the inevitability of compulsory empathy when you know the exact thing that broke the person you love who is hurting. Because it almost broke you, and perhaps did, just differently. Thanks to Netgalley for the audiobook ARC, narrated by three of my favorite Desi narrators, who bring so much depth to this cast of characters, some of whom, in lesser voices, could've easily been unempathic. It took me two whole days after finishing to write this review because honestly I was thrown back in time to the days where it seemed I was living in resentment and grief and heartbreak, and I had to remind myself that it is survivable, and on the other side of the collective growing pains is a family who has learned to love and cherish each other more deeply and honestly and create joy, even as the world burns. Make of that what you will. I hope this is read by more non-immigrants to at least further a narrative of immigrant experience that is more nuanced than the current political rhetoric would have one believe.
Book rating: 4.5 ⭐️ Genre: historical fiction Themes: sisterhood, cultural expectations, betrayal, family 📖 Read if you like: Inheritance, How to Commit Postcolonial Murder
Thank you to @Booksparks and author @Sonny_Buttar for sending me a copy of this captivating novel. #FRC2026
What an outstanding debut! While I am not Pakistani, but there were parts of this story that really resonated with me as a third culture kid of colour, especially with regards to the role of women. It tackled difficult conversations around eastern patriarchal cultures and traditions while attempting to assimilate in the west, just as posed the possibilities of non-conformity when it comes to mindset, sexuality, freedom within the confines of stifling convention. It was full of sharp and poignant observations on what it is to be an immigrant sketched within a family drama that was full of heartache and judgement, but also love.
I was blown away by both the quality of writing and the absorbing storytelling. All the characters were vividly drawn and multi-dimensional. They were influenced by the past and decisions they cannot outrun, but also by heartfelt connections and warring loyalties. While complacency within the family to hide the unseemly and a need to please that comes from years of brainwashing was difficult to read, it also rang of truth. They all felt so real and affected by circumstances that this story is certain to pull at your heartstrings, in both directions.
While this may be a dual timeline narrative between the late 1980s and 2007, this could be a story across time and space. It was relatable, but also revelatory in its projection and well crafted narrative. It explored the essence of otherness, the isolation and the damage of cultural expectations and inherited trauma that is never spoken about, while also maintaining an air of mystery and grief with a foreshadowed death that very much shaped the story.
At its heart, this is a story of two sisters. The novel managed to capture the complexities and juxtapositions of sisterhood from deep love and resentment, care and disregard, loyalty and selfishness, memory and a wish to forget. Brilliant and outspoken Asma is the rouge elder sister paving the way for her younger sister’s liberation. She takes all the punches, both metaphorically and physically, while Salma is the quiet good girl. Observant and often the peacekeeper, Salma is the one torn between loyalty to her parents and her culture and her beloved sister.
One I admired and the other I disliked. I couldn’t help but assign some blame to Salma for being complicit and her blatant betrayals of trust. The pretense of good intentions could not be justified with her age and past events. The idea of forgiveness all round was tough to swallow given the tragedy.
This really was a beautiful story that evoked strong emotions in me. I found it neatly wrapped up, which I thought was a little too saccharine given the nature of this narrative, but many readers will appreciate the closure I think.
🎧 Thank you to Brilliance Publishing for an accompanying ALC. Soneela Nankani, Deepa Samuel and Vikas Adam did a great job with Asma, Salma and their father. The narration was well paced and imbued with emotion. I didn’t quite like the voice used for Poppy, but the other voices suited the story well.
I received this book as an Amazon First Reads selection, drawn in by the promise of an immigrant family saga. It includes significant themes surrounding family, culture clashes, and coming of age. Told mostly through the voices of two sisters in a Pakistani family that immigrates to the US, the story is moving, suspenseful, and beautifully written.
My mother and her siblings were brought to America by their parents when they were about the same age as Selma and Asma in this book, so I was interested to consider how their experience formed their futures. Besides the fact that my mom, aunt, and uncle all worked to drop their accents while my grandparents proudly maintain theirs over fifty years later, I've never been aware of significant cultural issues for them like are faced in this book. It makes me wonder what I don't know about my own family.
Coming from a Muslim family with arranged marriages and strict gender roles, the sisters are a part of one world at home and another at school or in their community in a way that their parents never understand to a tragic extent. Asma, a year older than her sister, pushes against the boundaries that her parents see as vital and she views as utterly ridiculous. Asma is a typical American teenager - selfish, rebellious, emotional - but her parents don't know how to work through this stage with a daughter they thought would somehow accept a traditional Pakistani lifestyle that had never really been part of her experience.
Selma is the peacekeeper, caught between disappointing her sister or her parents. Some of the dysfunction in this family was painfully familiar for reasons besides coming from another country. The prose was well-written and insightful when it came to these relationships, how they can cause so much pain and love at the same time, and how we often don't understand that our parents are figuring out life even as they are raising children. This is the part of the story that made me consider giving it 5 stars.
What I didn't enjoy was Asma's coming of age journey. Honestly, I find stories of teenagers discovering/exploring their sexuality boring in most contexts, and this one is very drawn out and repetitive. I just am not interested in whether she likes girls or boys or how much her insides are quivering. The family dynamics and relationships were far more interesting.
The reader is told very early on that the family was torn apart by a tragedy, but I was unprepared for what was finally revealed near the end of the book. I had wondered how Selma allowed an event in her past to define her life so completely....but it ends up making more sense than I thought it would.
Highly recommended to readers who love family dramas.
There are some things only children of immigrants, and children of a specific sort of parents, could understand. It felt like the author looked into my brain, picked out pieces of my experiences growing up as a brown child in modern day America, split between the cultural traditions and sense of duty emphasized within the four walls of my parents’ house and the freedom and open mindedness this country boasts for all of its young minds. Above all, she spun those experiences into a much more beautiful and tragic story than I could ever verbalize. What struck me most was how deeply I could see myself in both Salma and Asma, despite how different they are from one another. There were parts of Salma that felt painfully familiar: the instinct to keep the peace, to carry the expectations of your family quietly, and to understand the weight of duty even when a part of you desperately wants something different. But I could also recognize pieces of Asma: the stubbornness, the desire to push against the boundaries placed around you, and that almost instinctive need to ask why you should have to choose between who you are and what your family expects you to be. I think that is one of the things Sonny Buttar does so beautifully. Neither daughter ever felt like a character I was simply supposed to “pick a side” on. They both felt completely human, with so many layers to their personalities, motivations, and choices that I found myself understanding and empathizing with both of them even when I disagreed with them. Their actions never felt like they existed simply to move the plot forward; they felt like the complicated consequences of everything they had experienced, everything they had been taught, and everything they were trying to become. The prose was absolutely beautiful. From the very beginning, I felt completely pulled into the story, and there was something about the author's writing that made it incredibly easy to disappear into Salma's world. The story felt intimate without ever feeling slow, and emotional without feeling like it was trying to force an emotion out of me. I genuinely kept telling myself I would stop reading after “just one more chapter,” and then looked up hours later having finished the book. I devoured this book in a day, and I think that says everything about how completely it drew me in. But more than simply being a book I couldn't put down, The Daughters of Rosebud is one that made me recognize pieces of myself in its characters and reflect on experiences I had thought were too specific to me to ever see written about this way. It is heartbreaking, deeply human, and incredibly beautiful.
First and foremost, a large thank you to NetGalley, Sonny Buttar, and Lake Union Publishing for providing me with a copy of this publication, which allows me to provide you with an unbiased review.
From the very first few chapters of The Daughters of Rosebud, I was completely pulled into Salma and Asma’s world. Sonny Buttar crafts a deeply emotional and immersive family story that explores sisterhood, identity, generational trauma, and the impossible weight of expectations placed upon immigrant children trying to navigate two very different worlds.
This is not always an easy read. The novel tackles difficult subjects including religious oppression, emotional and physical abuse, and the lasting scars that family conflict can leave behind. There were moments that genuinely hurt to read, but that emotional heaviness is also what made the story impossible to put down. You can feel the years of pain, silence, and fractured love woven through every interaction, and I constantly found myself hoping these characters could somehow find their way back to one another.
What stood out most to me was the relationship between the sisters. Salma and Asma feel incredibly real — messy, loving, frustrating, loyal, and deeply connected even when life pulls them apart. Their individual journeys are heartbreaking in different ways, and the dual timeline structure helps slowly unravel how their family reached such a painful breaking point. While the timeline occasionally required close attention, the emotional payoff was absolutely worth it.
Sonny Buttar also does a beautiful job exploring the immigrant experience and the tension between cultural expectations and personal identity. The novel never feels preachy or overly dramatic; instead, it allows the characters’ choices, fears, and heartbreaks to speak for themselves. By the end, I cared far more deeply about this family than I expected to when I first started reading.
Heartbreaking, thoughtful, and emotionally powerful, The Daughters of Rosebud is a memorable debut that lingers long after the final page. Sonny Buttar truly made this story stick with me.
Kudos to Sonny Buttar for such a moving and impactful novel.
Thank you to NetGalley and Lake Union Publishing for an advanced reader copy of this book in exchange for my honest opinion.
Sonny Buttar tells a heartbreaking and emotional multigenerational family saga in her debut book, The Daughters of Rosebud. A dual-timeline story told by two sisters in a Pakistani family who immigrated to the United States in the 1970s. Salma and Asma, grow up under the strict control of their traditional parents while trying to embrace and assimilate into American culture. While rebellious and independent Asma longs for freedom, dutiful Salma struggles between loyalty to her family while recognizing their toxic expectations and control. After a life-changing event, Salma must confront her painful past years later when her dying father contacts her. Told through both sisters’ perspectives, The Daughters of Rosebud explores family, trauma, cultural and religious expectations, and sisterhood with emotional depth and intensity.
This was not an easy read for me. It is emotionally intense, yet beautifully done. I could feel the emotions, and tension the two sisters were dealing with, while loving their relationship. It handles some tough topics of religious oppression, domestic and sexual abuse, family conflict, and the immigrant experience. The bond between the two sisters is what drives this story, focusing on their authenticity, struggles and their love for one another. The dual timeline slowly reveals the family’s painful history, leading to a heart-wrenching yet poignant ending, that will stay with me for awhile.
The dual timeline was confusing at times, jumping back and forth even within the same paragraph. Also, two chapters were told from the father’s perspective. They came later in the book and just seemed odd and out of place.
This was a heart-wrenching but incredibly powerful read. Sonny Buttar’s debut pulled me into Salma and Asma’s lives and kept me thinking about them long after I finished reading.
At its heart, this is a story about sisterhood, family loyalty, cultural expectations, trauma, and the complicated ways we carry our past with us. I was especially moved by the relationship between Salma and Asma and the different ways they each responded to the expectations placed on them. Their story is painful, complicated, and deeply human.
The multigenerational family dynamics and exploration of the immigrant experience added another layer that made this story feel especially meaningful. There were moments that were genuinely difficult to read, but I think that emotional weight is what made the story so impactful. And ultimately, beneath all the heartbreak, there is a beautiful thread of hope, healing, forgiveness, and finding the courage to move forward.
This is one of those books that isn’t necessarily an easy read—but it’s a worthwhile one. I found myself emotionally invested in these characters and their journey, and the story stayed with me after I turned the final page.
Definitely check the trigger/content warnings before picking this one up, as it deals with some very difficult and heavy subjects, including abuse and trauma.
A powerful, emotional debut that I won’t soon forget. 5 stars.
Thank you to NetGalley and Lake Union Publishing for the advanced reader copy. All thoughts and opinions are my own.
As a Canadian born and raised, I can only imagine the challenges of immigrating from another country. Adapting to new surroundings while clinging to deeply ingrained family beliefs is a difficult balancing act. My grandparents, immigrants themselves, underwent a complete transformation to assimilate into their adopted country’s values. This experience has always intrigued me, as I never faced such a transition.
This book masterfully captures the complexities of both parents’ and children’s perspectives during this period of adjustment. It delves into their struggles to learn, grow, and navigate the demands of change. The author effectively illustrates how parents grapple with the desire to preserve their beliefs while ensuring their children’s safety, all while trying to comprehend the nuances of growing up in a vastly different culture.
The story follows two sisters with contrasting values and expectations, highlighting the challenges of navigating a world filled with cultural differences, diverse beliefs, and a fundamentally different sense of humanity. While the book can be difficult to read at times, it offers a profound and enlightening experience.
If you’re interested in exploring how individuals grow and adapt in a rapidly changing world, this book is a must-read. It provides a valuable perspective on the complexities of cultural assimilation and the enduring bonds of family.
This was an Amazon First free book, so I came in with really low expectations since about 1 out of 10 Amazon First Read book is actually readable with an actual plot.
I’m amazed that this was a debut novel with such simplicity in voice yet powerful in human emotions. Tho I didn’t grow up with strict parents, I had friends who had very strict parents that wouldn’t even allow them to hang up music posters in their room let alone allow them to date or have any individual thoughts. Growing up, I knew my East Asian was different than Desi Asian, yet we daughters all share the same burdens placed upon our shoulders to be like Americans but not *be* like “them” esp the first born daughters. This novel depicts the struggle very well, and I felt the story telling was natural and not forced, unlike a lot of novels that try to be so overly righteous and spell it out for you rather than showing you the complexity of a life between two worlds. Human emotions are not two dimensional, and the author does such a good job portraying the messiness of feelings. Not one single character was perfect; they all have their flaws and their goodness without the need to vilify anyone.
I usually hate dual time line stories, esp ones told from first person voice. However, the author does such a good job with varying the voice and narration that it wasn’t distracting from the overall story. The story was constantly drawing me in so I kept reading to find out what Salma did not want to think about for almost two decades. Highly recommend.
This is such an insightful, thoughtful, and educational book. When reading it, it is made very clear how difficult it is for children to have to straddle an inexplicable line between two very opposing cultures. This is a book of two sisters, one extroverted and brilliant, the other, introverted and also smart, and the dichotomy of the lives they lived. When I was in the final year of a Master’s program in literature at a university I was asked to teach an experimental class geared to teaching students in a transitional stage of learning. It was a small class of very mixed cultures. One of their assignments was to write a paper about their journey from their original country to America. Some of their stories were hair raising, literally dangerous. During office hours they would often tell me stories of the way their parents did not understand them. One student of a very strict family told me that she would have to tell her parents that she was going to the library just to be able to meet her friends, to socialize. This wonderfully written book tells the story of just such a family and their struggles. Perhaps it should be required reading for high school students as well as adults to make us more conscious of what some of our immigrant families are going through, to be more empathetic to their experiences. Can’t recommend this book enough. Well worth our time.