A profound debut into the significance of the Arab-Muslim identity in America, The Beauty of Your Face fleshes out a veritably raw narrative detailing the struggles of a culturally conflicted Palestinian woman. One can discuss the meaning of the Arab/Muslim-Western identity till the cows come home, but frankly, it's tiresome reading book after book on the implications of being ‘other’ in the West. Instead, one yearns for a novel that indeed centres around identity, but does not revolve around the renunciation of faith and/or culture. Refreshingly, this book succeeded where most others have failed; that is, in carving a storyline that does not revolve around a compromised Muslim identity. There are certainly elements of the story that fed into this cliché, but the life of the protagonist (Afaf) mainly focuses on her religious growth in light of difficulties she’s faced in both childhood and adulthood.
The novel alternates chapters, reflecting the past and present, both of which are set in pre and post-9/11 America. The protagonist had a grueling childhood. Fleeting moments of happiness were overshadowed by problematic family dynamics that were psychologically damaging to young Afaf. Pairing parental negligence with rejection from her peers both Arab and non-Arab, Afaf is stuck between a rock and a hard place. After a life-changing event, she fails to connect with her deeply discontent mother whose only desire is to move back to Palestine, and is impassive towards her neglectful father who often finds himself in less than ideal situations. Growing up, neither parents cared for religion, living secular lives, yet clinging to their Palestinian heritage and customs. Interestingly, the story didn’t focus a lot on the Palestinian struggle. Of course, there were references, but that wasn’t the primary theme of the story; the protagonist’s journey to Islam and navigation of her faith took centre stage. In the present, we focus in on Afaf who is now the headmistress of a Muslim girl’s school in Chicago – a school that is unexpectedly infiltrated by an Islamophobic, radicalized right-wing white shooter (read: terrorist). Although hard to stomach, the story really highlighted the ruthlessness and cruelty harbored in the hearts of bigoted individuals.
Somewhat familiar with Levantine vernacular, it was nice to understand bits and pieces of phrases (namely food) in Arabic – though I do wish the author had written the English alongside the Arabic, as often whole phrases were written without translation. Aside from this, I find very little to criticise - although I would have wanted a bit more written about the fate of Afaf’s mother and more of a focus on the school shooting.
In all, the novel was deeply moving and insightful, tackling loss, neglect, acceptance, mental illness, and most notably, the impact of religion on one’s life.