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You Exist Too Much
'Deeply compelling... sexy.' Roxane Gay'Takes you on a dizzying tour of love addiction, rehab, homophobia, betrayal, obsession and the aching need for a mother's unconditional love. At different times throughout, you'll find the protagonist needy, reckless and selfish but also smart, intuitive and trapped between two cultures - because as we all know, humans are nothing if not complicated. Roxane is this deserves five stars.' StylistTold in vignettes that flash between the US and the Middle East, Zaina Arafat's powerful debut novel traces her protagonist's progress from blushing teen to creative and confused adulthood.In Brooklyn, she moves into an apartment with her first serious girlfriend and tries to content herself with their comfortable relationship. Soon, her longings, so deeply hidden during her teenage years, explode out into reckless romantic encounters and obsessions with other people, which results in her seeking unconventional help to face her past traumas and current demons.As heard on Radio 2 Book Club, this captivating novel is perfect for readers who love Maggie Nelson and Garth Greenwell. Opening up the fantasies and desires of one young woman caught between cultural, religious and sexual identities, You Exist Too Much is a captivating story charting two of our most intense longings - for love, and a place to call home.What people are saying about You Exist Too 'Real and deliciously messy.' Attitude'An elegantly written debut... A thought-provoking exploration of love and belonging, and how the two come together to create a sense of self.' New European'Exquisitely written and crafted with a compelling lightness of touch.' Living Magazine'A nuanced, sparky debut.' Observer'A wonderfully written, queer, coming-of-age story.' i newapaper'A novel of self-discovery following a Palestinian-American girl as she navigates queerness, love addiction and a series of tumultuous relationships.' The Millions, One of the Most Anticipated Books of the Year'Powerful... With You Exist Too Much, Arafat announces herself as a provocative and insightful writer.' Irish Times
273 pages, Kindle Edition
First published June 9, 2020
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 3,233 reviews
June 16, 2020
Hypnotically meandering narrative structure. Deeply compelling protagonist. Lovely sentences. Sexy, in it's own way.
November 17, 2022
As someone whose main qualm with existence is how much of it there is, I had high hopes for this book.
And as someone whose main source of great reads now comes from a made-up subgenre known the world over (or to me exclusively, same difference) as Literary Fiction About Unlikable Women, the hopes only got higher when it came to the synopsis.
But the thing about rollercoasters is that the highs must come down. (Or so I've heard. I do not ride rollercoasters due to the fact that I don't have a death wish, and even if I did I'd want to go out more glamorously. Like in a limousine accident, or while wearing an evening gown.)
In other words, I've been reading hit after hit since I identified my love of Literary Fiction About Unlikable Women, and this just...didn't deliver.
Our protagonist is very damaged, it's true, but her behavior wasn't so much shocking as it was depressing. It was hard and sad to see her repeat acts of self-destruction that could clearly be traced to their origins. And relatedly, while I enjoyed the connection between her relationship with her parents and her homeland, and those in turn with these tendencies, I felt it was very obvious from the first page and we were thereby holding on for a reveal or realization that had already come.
This book holds your hand thematically more than most, and it bored me because of it.
Also something I thought was amazing is that our protagonist has a brother who is in her life, but he has not a single personality trait or line of dialogue.
Kind of a whoopsie moment.
Bottom line: Okay stuff, but not good stuff. Does that make sense?
2.5
----------------
pre-review
there's a point in this book in which a character tells our protagonist, "From you, I expect more out of
a story about love."
so do i.
review to come / 3 stars
----------------
tbr review
i think this title is a vibe personally!
And as someone whose main source of great reads now comes from a made-up subgenre known the world over (or to me exclusively, same difference) as Literary Fiction About Unlikable Women, the hopes only got higher when it came to the synopsis.
But the thing about rollercoasters is that the highs must come down. (Or so I've heard. I do not ride rollercoasters due to the fact that I don't have a death wish, and even if I did I'd want to go out more glamorously. Like in a limousine accident, or while wearing an evening gown.)
In other words, I've been reading hit after hit since I identified my love of Literary Fiction About Unlikable Women, and this just...didn't deliver.
Our protagonist is very damaged, it's true, but her behavior wasn't so much shocking as it was depressing. It was hard and sad to see her repeat acts of self-destruction that could clearly be traced to their origins. And relatedly, while I enjoyed the connection between her relationship with her parents and her homeland, and those in turn with these tendencies, I felt it was very obvious from the first page and we were thereby holding on for a reveal or realization that had already come.
This book holds your hand thematically more than most, and it bored me because of it.
Also something I thought was amazing is that our protagonist has a brother who is in her life, but he has not a single personality trait or line of dialogue.
Kind of a whoopsie moment.
Bottom line: Okay stuff, but not good stuff. Does that make sense?
2.5
----------------
pre-review
there's a point in this book in which a character tells our protagonist, "From you, I expect more out of
a story about love."
so do i.
review to come / 3 stars
----------------
tbr review
i think this title is a vibe personally!
July 7, 2024
I know the ways of gawd are puzzling to #humanity. But she was extra inscrutable sending YOU EXIST TOO MUCH, a 30ish #Palestinian #queerartist woman's 1st novel, to explain 60ish #gaymale me to myself.
My 6*-of-5 #BookReview:
In a word: WOW
So, okay. Book review of YOU EXIST TOO MUCH is up on my blog. It's too long to fit here. Suffice to say that a 30-something bisexual Palestinian-American woman tells me my life in beautiful, painfully honest sentences. I read this book twice and that is (as y'all're aware) an increasingly rare occurrence for me, at my age and with my TBR approaching mid-four figures. The reason I decided that I needed a second trip through the book was simple: I was so completely shattered by the honest and vulnerable story Author Arafat tells, a story that could with only minor tweaks be my own, that I didn't trust my opinion-forming ability. I was too close, too in the moment, to feel remotely analytical.
I was powerfully moved by this read. I identified with this young woman's pathology and her ancestry, although I'm not ethnically Arab or Palestinian or anything else the US looks down on. I totally understand misgendering and omitting details about one's significant others. Being situationally out, being "reserved" (the polite self-lie for "closeted"), being unable to see past the mountain of unworthy feelings that we stand under, behind, below.
I want y'all to read it. Like, a lot.
My 6*-of-5 #BookReview:
In a word: WOW
So, okay. Book review of YOU EXIST TOO MUCH is up on my blog. It's too long to fit here. Suffice to say that a 30-something bisexual Palestinian-American woman tells me my life in beautiful, painfully honest sentences. I read this book twice and that is (as y'all're aware) an increasingly rare occurrence for me, at my age and with my TBR approaching mid-four figures. The reason I decided that I needed a second trip through the book was simple: I was so completely shattered by the honest and vulnerable story Author Arafat tells, a story that could with only minor tweaks be my own, that I didn't trust my opinion-forming ability. I was too close, too in the moment, to feel remotely analytical.
I was powerfully moved by this read. I identified with this young woman's pathology and her ancestry, although I'm not ethnically Arab or Palestinian or anything else the US looks down on. I totally understand misgendering and omitting details about one's significant others. Being situationally out, being "reserved" (the polite self-lie for "closeted"), being unable to see past the mountain of unworthy feelings that we stand under, behind, below.
I want y'all to read it. Like, a lot.
September 5, 2021
I enjoyed this book a lot more than I thought I would given its lower star rating on Goodreads. At the heart of You Exist Too Much lies addiction: addiction to love, romantic love, specifically romantic love that involves unavailable older women, false idealizations of potential partners, and rejecting healthy intimacy. Though other reviewers may have found the writing style jarring, I found it psychologically compelling for Zaina Arafat to use flashbacks to demonstrate how difficult incidents from our protagonist’s past affect her relational issues in the present. I appreciated how Arafat wrote from the perspective of a bisexual Palestinian American woman who makes mistakes and has deep emotions. Our protagonist’s mother receives a nuanced characterization and humanization that does not excuse her mistreatment of our protagonist.
What I most loved about this novel is its unflinching portrayal of addiction. Arafat shows in punchy sentences the root causes of our protagonist’s love addiction, such as being caught in between two cultures, her mother’s unpredictable rages and withdrawals, and to an extent society’s glorification of romantic love. A few passes took my breath away, both in how they reminded me of my clinical work with people with substance use and codependency issues, as well as my own recovery from an eating disorder. Arafat captures the nitty gritty parts of the recovery process, ranging from those solitary, unsexy moments when you have to make the right decision even though it hurts while you’re sitting all alone in your quiet apartment, to the relapses and slow yet steady gains when you heal in the right direction for you. I felt connected to our protagonist’s pursuit of a more healthful relational life, her struggles and hard-won victories along the way.
My only critique of this novel: I felt that the protagonist’s relationship with at the end of the novel moved way too fast. I wanted a more slowed down, detailed showing of how our protagonist . Despite this pacing issue, I would still recommend this novel to those interested in the idea of love addiction and who want to develop empathy for a protagonist who is flawed, while still trying her best to be better.
What I most loved about this novel is its unflinching portrayal of addiction. Arafat shows in punchy sentences the root causes of our protagonist’s love addiction, such as being caught in between two cultures, her mother’s unpredictable rages and withdrawals, and to an extent society’s glorification of romantic love. A few passes took my breath away, both in how they reminded me of my clinical work with people with substance use and codependency issues, as well as my own recovery from an eating disorder. Arafat captures the nitty gritty parts of the recovery process, ranging from those solitary, unsexy moments when you have to make the right decision even though it hurts while you’re sitting all alone in your quiet apartment, to the relapses and slow yet steady gains when you heal in the right direction for you. I felt connected to our protagonist’s pursuit of a more healthful relational life, her struggles and hard-won victories along the way.
My only critique of this novel: I felt that the protagonist’s relationship with at the end of the novel moved way too fast. I wanted a more slowed down, detailed showing of how our protagonist . Despite this pacing issue, I would still recommend this novel to those interested in the idea of love addiction and who want to develop empathy for a protagonist who is flawed, while still trying her best to be better.
January 4, 2023
You’re On Your Own, Kid by Taylor Swift realness idk
January 17, 2026
there is no plot in this book. there is, however, a litany of of love interests who come and go, a unnecessarily harsh commentary on eating disorders (topics like that need a LOT more attention and not be shoved in there and talked about so aggressively and carelessly), and a myriad of cheating. if thats your cup of tea.
things made me want to die: there's a line where one of the love interests (there are many) says something along the lines of "you're my girlfriend but i also think of you as my daughter."
things made me want to die: there's a line where one of the love interests (there are many) says something along the lines of "you're my girlfriend but i also think of you as my daughter."
April 29, 2020
It’s always frustrating when a blurb promises one thing but the book does not follow thru. You Exist intrigued me because it was seemingly a story of culture clash, a young American of Palestinian descent who struggles between the expectations of her Arab heritage and her quest to come into her own, an out and proud bisexual woman.
Unfortunately, 80% of the book does nothing of the sort. The novel is told in first person present tense and reads like a journal that mostly details the mc’s college partying days and bed hopping as well as her time at a therapy camp. Much too long and tedious.
But at the very end, the narrative brightens and we get a taste of what might have been. The unnamed main character takes us along as she enters the West Bank to attend her grandmother’s funeral. It’s one of only a few brief but powerful moments throughout the book that reveal the heart of the story, a glimpse into the life of an American living between the Middle East and the USA and what it all might mean for a Palestinian woman who loves another woman. Also importantly, a volatile daughter/mother relationship exists that infuses much of the character’s behavior but again, there’s simply not enough development. Undoubtedly, all of these short passages are where the book shines and I sincerely hope that the author revisits the material and revises the focus because it’s too important a story to leave untold. That’s a book I would read willingly.
“It is a bizarre and unsettling feeling, to exist in a liminal state between two realms, unable to attain full access to one or the other.”
I received this arc from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
Unfortunately, 80% of the book does nothing of the sort. The novel is told in first person present tense and reads like a journal that mostly details the mc’s college partying days and bed hopping as well as her time at a therapy camp. Much too long and tedious.
But at the very end, the narrative brightens and we get a taste of what might have been. The unnamed main character takes us along as she enters the West Bank to attend her grandmother’s funeral. It’s one of only a few brief but powerful moments throughout the book that reveal the heart of the story, a glimpse into the life of an American living between the Middle East and the USA and what it all might mean for a Palestinian woman who loves another woman. Also importantly, a volatile daughter/mother relationship exists that infuses much of the character’s behavior but again, there’s simply not enough development. Undoubtedly, all of these short passages are where the book shines and I sincerely hope that the author revisits the material and revises the focus because it’s too important a story to leave untold. That’s a book I would read willingly.
“It is a bizarre and unsettling feeling, to exist in a liminal state between two realms, unable to attain full access to one or the other.”
I received this arc from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
January 24, 2023
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4 ½ stars (rounded up)
Although I'd intended to read You Exist Too Much I nearly didn't after reading a really negative review for it, one that was very critical of Zaina Arafat's depiction of bisexuality. Luckily, my mother read this first and recommended it to me. When an author writes about a character—and even more so when they draw upon their own personal experiences to do so—they are presenting a unique point of view and they are not making generalisations for entire groups of people. The protagonist of this novel is a “love addict” not because of her bisexuality but because of her distorted relationship with her parents—in particular with her mother—and her belief that she's not worthy of love. Arafat never implies that bisexual people can't be faithful nor does she suggests that her protagonist's “love addiction” is caused by her bisexuality (it seems to stem instead from her fraught relationship with her narcissistic mother).
Arafat portrayal of mental illness also struck me as incredibly realistic and deeply resonated with my own personal experiences (having had an eating disorder and having lived with a parent who was undiagnosed bipolar and had substance abuse issues).
All of this to say that Arafat's treatment of mental and physical health conditions struck me as both informed and believable (feel free to disagree).
I will say that while I found this to be a deeply compelling read, I’m aware that it may not appeal to readers who dislike reading about self-destructive characters. If you hated Madame Bovary for the selfish behaviour of its eponymous heroine, well, chances are you won't like this one either (curiously enough Arafat's protagonist thinks rather harshly of Emma Bovary for “her childish fantasies and for cheating on Charles”).
You Exist Too Much presents its readers with an intimate and in-depth character study. While there are many new novels featuring self-loathing protagonists whose alienation interferes with their ability to form—and sustain—meaningful connections with others, You Exist Too Much feels like a fresh take on this 'genre'.
After yet another breakup the unnamed main character of You Exist Too Much tries to break free from this vicious cycle of self-sabotaging. She’s unable, and at times unwilling, to maintain healthy relationships with others and frequently becomes drawn to unattainable people, often women. Her infatuation with them soon morphs into toxic obsessions. Arafat's protagonist mistakes attention for affection and she repeatedly harms those who actually care for her in order to pursue her objet petit a (what can I say, Lacan comes in handy now and again).
When the main character’s girlfriend finds out about her latest “inappropriate emotional connection”, she breaks up with her, telling her to “sift through your issues and face them” so that “maybe one day you’ll learn you can’t treat people with such disregard. Even yourself”. Our narrator attempts to do just that.
The narrative moves between past and present, from the Middle East to New York City and from Italy and Egypt. Readers are given a glimpse into the protagonist’s childhood—her emotionally distant father, her overbearing narcissistic mother—where we see the way these early years skew her self-perception. Her mother tells her she’s unlovable and that she “exists too much”. The narrator is aware that her attraction towards women is a problem for her mother, yet, even if she knows that she would be more accepted if she were to become exclusively romantically involved with men, she pursues relationships with women. So, while our protagonist clearly seeks her mother’s approval, she’s unwilling to deny her sexuality.
Throughout the course of the novel, readers will realise that the narrator is perpetuating the same self-destructive behaviour. Regardless of how her relationships start, they always seem to come to disastrous ends because of her unfaithfulness (emotional and physical) and her “love addiction”, her solipsism and self-loathing, and her underlining unresolved issues with herself and her mother.
Now, I know that I’m making this novel sound rather depressing. And, to be fair, it has quite a few bleak moments. The protagonist makes a lot of awful choices, and she does some really terrible things. She’s also pretty much aware that her actions are wrong, and she does try to improve (for example she goes to rehab for her “love addiction”).
There are more downs than ups as time and again we witness her repeating the same damaging behaviour (becoming attached to unavailable or toxic people). It certainly isn’t easy to unlearn habits, especially ones that are instilled in us during our upbringing. Our narrator messes up a lot, she hurts people who genuinely love her—breaking their trust, keeping them at arm’s length—and readers will probably want to shake her quite a few times. Still, I found myself growing attached to her. I really liked her cutting sense of humour, which also lightens the overall tone and her introspectiveness. Her longing for happiness, for love, for acceptance, are rendered with clarity. Regardless of when or where she is—New York or the West Bank—the narrator is deeply aware of her own ‘otherness’. Although she grew up outside of the Middle East she remains strongly attached to her Arab roots, yet, she notes that “it’s the idiosyncrasies of culture that keep me an outsider, and leave me with a persistent and pervasive sense of otherness, of non-belonging”. In the U. S. too she’s “just as much of an outsider” and she’s made “starkly aware of [her] nonconformity”.
Arafat introduces her readers to flawed, yet ultimately compelling, characters. Regardless of their role in the narrator’s story, these characters—who are all contending with their own issues and desires— felt incredibly nuanced.
While this novel focuses a lot on the narrator failing to connect to others, there are moments of genuine understanding and love between the protagonist and her acquaintances/friends/partners. The narrator's quest for love isn't a happy one and her self-divide—between family obligation and desire, between her homelands, between the kind of person she is and the person she wants to be—don't make for easy reading material. Still, the directness of Arafat's narrator can at times make her into a rather charming individual.
You Exist Too Much is an impressive debut novel, one that is poignant, thoughtful, and bold and will appeal to readers who enjoyed The Far Field by Madhuri Vijay or books on this
list.
4 ½ stars (rounded up)
“It is a bizarre and unsettling feeling, to exist in a liminal state between two realms, unable to attain full access to one or the other.”
Although I'd intended to read You Exist Too Much I nearly didn't after reading a really negative review for it, one that was very critical of Zaina Arafat's depiction of bisexuality. Luckily, my mother read this first and recommended it to me. When an author writes about a character—and even more so when they draw upon their own personal experiences to do so—they are presenting a unique point of view and they are not making generalisations for entire groups of people. The protagonist of this novel is a “love addict” not because of her bisexuality but because of her distorted relationship with her parents—in particular with her mother—and her belief that she's not worthy of love. Arafat never implies that bisexual people can't be faithful nor does she suggests that her protagonist's “love addiction” is caused by her bisexuality (it seems to stem instead from her fraught relationship with her narcissistic mother).
Arafat portrayal of mental illness also struck me as incredibly realistic and deeply resonated with my own personal experiences (having had an eating disorder and having lived with a parent who was undiagnosed bipolar and had substance abuse issues).
All of this to say that Arafat's treatment of mental and physical health conditions struck me as both informed and believable (feel free to disagree).
I will say that while I found this to be a deeply compelling read, I’m aware that it may not appeal to readers who dislike reading about self-destructive characters. If you hated Madame Bovary for the selfish behaviour of its eponymous heroine, well, chances are you won't like this one either (curiously enough Arafat's protagonist thinks rather harshly of Emma Bovary for “her childish fantasies and for cheating on Charles”).
“All along I knew what I was doing was wrong, that I was dangerously close to a precipice. But still, I need to fall in order to stop.”
You Exist Too Much presents its readers with an intimate and in-depth character study. While there are many new novels featuring self-loathing protagonists whose alienation interferes with their ability to form—and sustain—meaningful connections with others, You Exist Too Much feels like a fresh take on this 'genre'.
After yet another breakup the unnamed main character of You Exist Too Much tries to break free from this vicious cycle of self-sabotaging. She’s unable, and at times unwilling, to maintain healthy relationships with others and frequently becomes drawn to unattainable people, often women. Her infatuation with them soon morphs into toxic obsessions. Arafat's protagonist mistakes attention for affection and she repeatedly harms those who actually care for her in order to pursue her objet petit a (what can I say, Lacan comes in handy now and again).
When the main character’s girlfriend finds out about her latest “inappropriate emotional connection”, she breaks up with her, telling her to “sift through your issues and face them” so that “maybe one day you’ll learn you can’t treat people with such disregard. Even yourself”. Our narrator attempts to do just that.
The narrative moves between past and present, from the Middle East to New York City and from Italy and Egypt. Readers are given a glimpse into the protagonist’s childhood—her emotionally distant father, her overbearing narcissistic mother—where we see the way these early years skew her self-perception. Her mother tells her she’s unlovable and that she “exists too much”. The narrator is aware that her attraction towards women is a problem for her mother, yet, even if she knows that she would be more accepted if she were to become exclusively romantically involved with men, she pursues relationships with women. So, while our protagonist clearly seeks her mother’s approval, she’s unwilling to deny her sexuality.
Throughout the course of the novel, readers will realise that the narrator is perpetuating the same self-destructive behaviour. Regardless of how her relationships start, they always seem to come to disastrous ends because of her unfaithfulness (emotional and physical) and her “love addiction”, her solipsism and self-loathing, and her underlining unresolved issues with herself and her mother.
Now, I know that I’m making this novel sound rather depressing. And, to be fair, it has quite a few bleak moments. The protagonist makes a lot of awful choices, and she does some really terrible things. She’s also pretty much aware that her actions are wrong, and she does try to improve (for example she goes to rehab for her “love addiction”).
There are more downs than ups as time and again we witness her repeating the same damaging behaviour (becoming attached to unavailable or toxic people). It certainly isn’t easy to unlearn habits, especially ones that are instilled in us during our upbringing. Our narrator messes up a lot, she hurts people who genuinely love her—breaking their trust, keeping them at arm’s length—and readers will probably want to shake her quite a few times. Still, I found myself growing attached to her. I really liked her cutting sense of humour, which also lightens the overall tone and her introspectiveness. Her longing for happiness, for love, for acceptance, are rendered with clarity. Regardless of when or where she is—New York or the West Bank—the narrator is deeply aware of her own ‘otherness’. Although she grew up outside of the Middle East she remains strongly attached to her Arab roots, yet, she notes that “it’s the idiosyncrasies of culture that keep me an outsider, and leave me with a persistent and pervasive sense of otherness, of non-belonging”. In the U. S. too she’s “just as much of an outsider” and she’s made “starkly aware of [her] nonconformity”.
Arafat introduces her readers to flawed, yet ultimately compelling, characters. Regardless of their role in the narrator’s story, these characters—who are all contending with their own issues and desires— felt incredibly nuanced.
While this novel focuses a lot on the narrator failing to connect to others, there are moments of genuine understanding and love between the protagonist and her acquaintances/friends/partners. The narrator's quest for love isn't a happy one and her self-divide—between family obligation and desire, between her homelands, between the kind of person she is and the person she wants to be—don't make for easy reading material. Still, the directness of Arafat's narrator can at times make her into a rather charming individual.
You Exist Too Much is an impressive debut novel, one that is poignant, thoughtful, and bold and will appeal to readers who enjoyed The Far Field by Madhuri Vijay or books on this
list.
September 9, 2024
Sorry, no. What is the purpose of a book like this? To make us feel as miserable as our mc is? To inundate us with harmful bisexual stereotypes and poor handling of eating disorder content? To force us to follow an unfaithful, terrible, narcissistic human being as she interacts with her fellow unfaithful, terrible, narcissistic friends, family, and lovers and viciously outs women she sleeps with (while keeping herself safely in the closet), befriends rapists, and cheats on her long term girlfriend with abandon? This book shares so many awful qualities with I’m a Fan by Sheena Patel - but without the piercing social commentary.
If you are considering reading this to support Palestinian authors, I highly suggest you skip it and read A Minor Detail or Enter Ghost, both of which were incredible, instead.
Trigger/Content Warnings: pedophilia, domestic violence, drug abuse, sexual assault (not on the page), eating disorders, self-harm, homophobia, infidelity, toxic relationships, age gap relationships, misogyny
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If you are considering reading this to support Palestinian authors, I highly suggest you skip it and read A Minor Detail or Enter Ghost, both of which were incredible, instead.
Trigger/Content Warnings: pedophilia, domestic violence, drug abuse, sexual assault (not on the page), eating disorders, self-harm, homophobia, infidelity, toxic relationships, age gap relationships, misogyny
You can find me on...
Youtube | Instagram | TikTok
You can join our book club over on Patreon...
PBB Book Club
April 13, 2020
I can't help but feel, as a queer (bi/pansexual) Palestinian myself, that this is a book I (and so many in my community, I suspect) have needed for a long, long time. While Arafat's narrator does a good job at making the Palestinian aspects of this narrative accessible to those outside of our community, it never detracts from the novel or comes off as over-explanatory; this is a book for us, yes, though others are not excluded from the convo. Here is a representation of diasporic queerness, trauma, mental illness, and mother-child relations that really strikes home for me - a representation that is unafraid to lean into uncomfortable, even contradictory, elements and confront conversations some of us may be running from. I loved the journey Arafat's narrator took me on, in all her cringe moments and imperfections. Reading You Exist Too Much made me think of something Carmen Maria Machado touched on in In The Dream House, about how this expectation of neat, morally pure, and sympathetic queer characters under *insert so many intersecting forms of normative gaze* is, itself, queerphobic and dehumanizing. I love that Arafat has given us an intimate look at a messy diasporic main character - yes, one who cheats and does terrible things often - because this character and their trauma *needed* to exist as such within the universe/familial relations of the book, and moreover, this trauma is delved into and unpacked, as the narrator's actions are held accountable, in a very tangible and interesting way.
In summary, I feel not only Seen by many parts of this book, but Understood. On that note alone, this book will always have a special place in my heart & I'm so grateful that it exists. I'm gonna be thinking about these lines from the penultimate chapter for a while:
"From you, I expect more out of a story about love," she'd written in a response. "Tell us about something that left you shattered."
In summary, I feel not only Seen by many parts of this book, but Understood. On that note alone, this book will always have a special place in my heart & I'm so grateful that it exists. I'm gonna be thinking about these lines from the penultimate chapter for a while:
"From you, I expect more out of a story about love," she'd written in a response. "Tell us about something that left you shattered."
June 19, 2020
The background of the novel is a woman born to Palestinian parents, who were forced to relocate in 1967. They have family in Lebanon, West Bank, and Jordan, but live in America. Her parents had a volatile relationship and her mother has often treated her like competition or an inconvenience, telling her "You exist too much" when she responds emotionally, especially when she starts trying to come out to her. The refusal to understand her daughter as anything but straight is one backbone to the novel.
But this is not a family saga. It's more like a recovery novel. At the start of the novel, a relationship between the MC and her girlfriend Anna has just ended and it's definitely her fault. She's been sleeping with randos at the bar where she DJs and carrying on with a married professor while claiming to be monogamous; she decides to check in to a facility for addiction...love addiction. I was a bit surprised at this as the majority of the story, because the very first scene of the novel, where she gets in trouble for exposing her ankles in Bethlehem, made me think it would be a different type of story.
I was more interested in the parts about her mother, honestly, what her life started as and what happened in the war, the distributed nature of her family, the strangeness of her parents' marriage and how violence was the only form of attention - the author was making the connection between that upbringing and the MC's behavior but I think the piece that was missing is that I'm not sure the MC ever does. This makes it feel like the novel is a snapshot of the story but not the entire story, and I think that's okay, but somehow not as satisfying as I would have liked.
ETA: Okay, so I literally just wrote this review a couple of hours ago, by my thumbs in Instagram this morning after sleeping on finishing the book last night. Since then I have watched one 15-minute video that is part of Resmaa Menakem's free eCourse on Racialized Trauma and if you add that context and understanding to this novel - woah. The MC's tendency to make everything about her, to become hypersensitive and volatile, emotional, to "exist too much" - what if that is her only option of response to the racialized trauma her family has experienced in the last few generations (and of course before that but very centrally on her parents and grandparents in particular.) I don't know if Arafat intended this connection but it is an interesting one to think about.
I had a copy of this book from the publisher through Edelweiss, and it came out June 9, 2020.
But this is not a family saga. It's more like a recovery novel. At the start of the novel, a relationship between the MC and her girlfriend Anna has just ended and it's definitely her fault. She's been sleeping with randos at the bar where she DJs and carrying on with a married professor while claiming to be monogamous; she decides to check in to a facility for addiction...love addiction. I was a bit surprised at this as the majority of the story, because the very first scene of the novel, where she gets in trouble for exposing her ankles in Bethlehem, made me think it would be a different type of story.
I was more interested in the parts about her mother, honestly, what her life started as and what happened in the war, the distributed nature of her family, the strangeness of her parents' marriage and how violence was the only form of attention - the author was making the connection between that upbringing and the MC's behavior but I think the piece that was missing is that I'm not sure the MC ever does. This makes it feel like the novel is a snapshot of the story but not the entire story, and I think that's okay, but somehow not as satisfying as I would have liked.
ETA: Okay, so I literally just wrote this review a couple of hours ago, by my thumbs in Instagram this morning after sleeping on finishing the book last night. Since then I have watched one 15-minute video that is part of Resmaa Menakem's free eCourse on Racialized Trauma and if you add that context and understanding to this novel - woah. The MC's tendency to make everything about her, to become hypersensitive and volatile, emotional, to "exist too much" - what if that is her only option of response to the racialized trauma her family has experienced in the last few generations (and of course before that but very centrally on her parents and grandparents in particular.) I don't know if Arafat intended this connection but it is an interesting one to think about.
I had a copy of this book from the publisher through Edelweiss, and it came out June 9, 2020.
August 18, 2020
There is a gentle sweetness to this story that surprised me given the subject matter. The novel doesn't demand too much of the reader. The language is a little high-school-essayish, and in places sounds so rhetorically flat that it gives the effect of being narrated by a non-native speaker, someone who learned the language in a classroom. Maybe this is the intended effect.
For example, here are a couple of randomly chosen short paragraphs--
1) "A week had passed since the restaurant incident. Anya and I had been trying to act as though nothing had happened, but the memory of that night was still thick between us. That evening we were both at home, reading on opposite ends of the couch--me a novel, and she leather-bound law books--when my phone buzzed. My heart leaped when I saw who the message was from: the professor.
2) "Two months later, I take a bus from New York to Washington to see my mother, who's just returned from overseas after settling all of Teta's affairs. Anouk and I plan to move in together soon, and it's time to tell my mother about her, as much as I've resisted doing so."
This kind of writing will flow easy for some readers, They will have no problem at all with "my heart leaped" or "as much as I've resisted doing so." These readers will inhabit the story, rather than worry about how it is told. But I personally prefer my literary novels to take more chances with language, and to say things in more unique and precise ways.
For example, here are a couple of randomly chosen short paragraphs--
1) "A week had passed since the restaurant incident. Anya and I had been trying to act as though nothing had happened, but the memory of that night was still thick between us. That evening we were both at home, reading on opposite ends of the couch--me a novel, and she leather-bound law books--when my phone buzzed. My heart leaped when I saw who the message was from: the professor.
2) "Two months later, I take a bus from New York to Washington to see my mother, who's just returned from overseas after settling all of Teta's affairs. Anouk and I plan to move in together soon, and it's time to tell my mother about her, as much as I've resisted doing so."
This kind of writing will flow easy for some readers, They will have no problem at all with "my heart leaped" or "as much as I've resisted doing so." These readers will inhabit the story, rather than worry about how it is told. But I personally prefer my literary novels to take more chances with language, and to say things in more unique and precise ways.
July 17, 2020
This felt like 5 different books, none of which I particularly enjoyed.
July 5, 2020
This is an interesting novel in that I did NOT like the main character yet could not stop reading. She is a train wreck and self-sabotaging young woman who is struggling to define herself, to find herself in the world.
Author Zaina Arafat tells the story of a Palestinian woman who is struggling to find her identity as a Palestinian born woman, living most of her life in America. Arafat’s chapters are more like vignettes told in narrative form of a rudderless un-named narrator. The chapters skip In time and place yet are easy to follow. Our narrator is conflicted in her sexuality which leads to her self-sabotaging circumstances. Culturally, her non-traditional sexuality poses friction with her mother who is a true piece of work.
I enjoyed this as a novel that provided me insights to Arab cultural differences for those in the United States. The narrator’s reckless behavior was difficult to read. I cannot say I could recommend this one, as I think I’m not the age group this is marketed for.
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Author Zaina Arafat tells the story of a Palestinian woman who is struggling to find her identity as a Palestinian born woman, living most of her life in America. Arafat’s chapters are more like vignettes told in narrative form of a rudderless un-named narrator. The chapters skip In time and place yet are easy to follow. Our narrator is conflicted in her sexuality which leads to her self-sabotaging circumstances. Culturally, her non-traditional sexuality poses friction with her mother who is a true piece of work.
I enjoyed this as a novel that provided me insights to Arab cultural differences for those in the United States. The narrator’s reckless behavior was difficult to read. I cannot say I could recommend this one, as I think I’m not the age group this is marketed for.
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October 29, 2022
There was not much to this novel except the musings of a young woman about her many failed relationships. I made it more than half way through the tedium.
June 12, 2020
"You exist too much." These are the words of a mother to our unnamed narrator. It is ironic that she would choose these words to berate her child considering that her character comes off too full of her own self and her own existence. She really sees everything as it pertains to her and how it would affect her. There is no compassion or empathy there. Not especially for her daughter. Instead, she blames the narrator for her sacrifice. The life she would have had had she not fallen for her father. Where she would have gone in the world if she had not got pregnant with the narrator a year later. As you can see her mother is cruel and abusive. This mother-daughter relationship, its codependency, the abusive behavior is what our narrator brings into all of her love relationships.
Throughout the novel we see her try to deal with these issues through rehab centers and twelve step programs. But she is messy. Her baggage pollutes anyone who comes to love her as she cheats and invests her time in other people. She is a love addict. In love with the idea with being in love, but never loving the one she is with. Instead she chases after the unattainable - her counselor, her professor, married straight women. She is reckless.
Not knowing how to love herself or considering herself worthy of love, she sees herself through her mother's eyes. And although she knows that their relationship is dysfunctional she still craves her mother's affection and attention. Does she figure it all out and fix herself up in the end? I am not sure. As with real life we come to know what our flaws are and we may understand the root of our problems. Regardless of how much work we may put in we will never be perfect. We can only hope that we are better versions of ourselves.
Here are some quotes from the book that moved me and capture the essence of the narrator:
On her discovering her sexuality -
" I enjoyed occupying blurred lines. Ambiguity was an unsettling yet exhilarating space."
On her relationship with her mother -
"her approval was my compass, even when that meant resisting it."
On her pursuing the unattainable -
"The less visible I was to her, the thinner I got and the less space I took up in her life, the more likely things were to continue."
"I'd been clinging to her I-love-yous like a refugee clings to a threatened nationality. They were the homeland that validated my existence."
Special thanks to NetGalley, Catapult and Zaina Arafat for access to this book."
Throughout the novel we see her try to deal with these issues through rehab centers and twelve step programs. But she is messy. Her baggage pollutes anyone who comes to love her as she cheats and invests her time in other people. She is a love addict. In love with the idea with being in love, but never loving the one she is with. Instead she chases after the unattainable - her counselor, her professor, married straight women. She is reckless.
Not knowing how to love herself or considering herself worthy of love, she sees herself through her mother's eyes. And although she knows that their relationship is dysfunctional she still craves her mother's affection and attention. Does she figure it all out and fix herself up in the end? I am not sure. As with real life we come to know what our flaws are and we may understand the root of our problems. Regardless of how much work we may put in we will never be perfect. We can only hope that we are better versions of ourselves.
Here are some quotes from the book that moved me and capture the essence of the narrator:
On her discovering her sexuality -
" I enjoyed occupying blurred lines. Ambiguity was an unsettling yet exhilarating space."
On her relationship with her mother -
"her approval was my compass, even when that meant resisting it."
On her pursuing the unattainable -
"The less visible I was to her, the thinner I got and the less space I took up in her life, the more likely things were to continue."
"I'd been clinging to her I-love-yous like a refugee clings to a threatened nationality. They were the homeland that validated my existence."
Special thanks to NetGalley, Catapult and Zaina Arafat for access to this book."
May 14, 2022
A stunning exploration of a woman’s obsession with people just out of her reach, ultimately shattering all her relationships. This quick literary fiction also touches upon being a Palestinian-American, a strained relationship with the protagonist’s mother, and exploring her sexuality.
While the last few chapters felt rushed and concluded too soon for my liking, I had a great time journeying alongside this protagonist in her daily life.
While the last few chapters felt rushed and concluded too soon for my liking, I had a great time journeying alongside this protagonist in her daily life.
January 23, 2022
Not going to lie, I immediately wanted to read this book because of the title and I am so happy I finally got around to reading it!
In You Exist Too Much we meet an unnamed narrator who is Palestinian-American, she currently lives in New York, DJs at nights and is looking to start in an MFA programme soon. She lives with her first serious girlfriend but as diagnosed love addict, she messes things up big time! She decides to seek therapy for her love addition but must first work on her relationship with her mother and all the pasts hurt.
We piece together the narrator’s life through a series of vignettes that flashes between the US and the Middle East, during her adult and teenage life. We get a glimpse into how she was raised, why her mother is the way she is and all the hurt she felt growing up.
Honestly, I thoroughly enjoy this book! It was fresh, funny at times but also have some deeply moving moments. We meet a narrator who creates wild love fantasy about almost everyone she meets and that messes up her entire reality. I don’t think I’ve heard about Love Addiction until I read this book but I felt this topic was dealt with so well.
A super fresh and interesting book that I almost didn’t want to end.
In You Exist Too Much we meet an unnamed narrator who is Palestinian-American, she currently lives in New York, DJs at nights and is looking to start in an MFA programme soon. She lives with her first serious girlfriend but as diagnosed love addict, she messes things up big time! She decides to seek therapy for her love addition but must first work on her relationship with her mother and all the pasts hurt.
We piece together the narrator’s life through a series of vignettes that flashes between the US and the Middle East, during her adult and teenage life. We get a glimpse into how she was raised, why her mother is the way she is and all the hurt she felt growing up.
Honestly, I thoroughly enjoy this book! It was fresh, funny at times but also have some deeply moving moments. We meet a narrator who creates wild love fantasy about almost everyone she meets and that messes up her entire reality. I don’t think I’ve heard about Love Addiction until I read this book but I felt this topic was dealt with so well.
A super fresh and interesting book that I almost didn’t want to end.
June 9, 2020
First off, I have to say this was one of my most anticipated reads of the year. If you’ve been following me for awhile you know I love Middle Eastern lit and obviously as a queer woman who has been begging and pleading for more queer women’s stories finding this one was amazing. I’ve been telling people about it and recommending it for so many months. And as a Jewish woman who reads more Israeli lit than most, I’ve been making the effort to read more Palestinian authors. There are some scenes that take place at the Israeli/Palestinian border that were uncomfortable for me to read but I was glad that I did and grateful they were included.
I did not expect this book to hit quite so close to home but at the center of this one in so many ways is how our earliest relationships and experiences shape us and our unnamed narrator in You Exist Too Much has a mother who I’d definitely call a narcissist. When you grow up knowing your mothers live is very conditional (and that try and try and TRY as you might you never can seem to meet those conditions, not really) it damages you. You live your life certain that if your own mother couldn’t love you, maybe no one ever will, and spend your time guarding your heart. What this looks like from the outside varies and on the most basic level I have coped much differently than the narrator in this book but as she attends a rehab like facility for “love addiction” and is forced to confront her issues, underneath it all, oof, the narrator and I sure had so much in common.
And that wasn’t always pleasant to realize. Sometimes she drove me absolutely mad with the horrible decisions she made. I had to sit with this book after finishing and then just start throwing down thoughts to even begin to figure out how to review it. I’ve read quite a few books in recent months with unlikeable and very troubled characters and they’ve all kind of had this same general theme of making you understand why these characters behave the way they do and make the choices you can’t stand. That’s something very special and I’m well aware in many ways I didn’t always like this character for the mirror she was holding up to myself.
On this subject, I wanted to include a quote from the author from an interview with The Rumpus discussing this book-
“This leads to another question I get asked a lot, which is, “why is the narrator so painful?” And I think the answer is that this is the reality of internalized homophobia. It’s what being abused looks like. It looks like a constant inclination to sabotage yourself and project that self-loathing onto others, and thwart your ability to find love, which is the only thing the character really wants. It was meant to be an unflinching look at how these conditions can manifest in human beings.”
The above may not be immediately clear to every reader and I, on some level, didn’t totally want to see it but yes. This. I know I can be every bit as intense, self protective and self sabotaging (I find those two go perversely hand in hand for many), and often unintentionally abrasive as the character in this story. In the book our narrator ponders- “I’m aware I can be exhausting—‘you exist too much,’ my mother often told me.”
The title of this book is what immediately drew my attention and excited me and I know this is because I’m incredibly familiar with that feeling, believing I’m too much, I exist too much. In fact the more I discuss this, the more I think I’m bumping my rating. I have never read another book that reflected so much and so well on these very difficult parts of myself. And I think I’m also in place and space to finally be owning my own damage and working to heal. I needed this novel.
Reading it, in fact, I had to triple check it wasn’t nonfiction because woah does it ever read that way. The detailed memories, the extremely familiar sort of narcissistic behavior from the mother, this books reads raw, rawer than many memoirs even get. I’m still curious how much of it may be based of Arafat’s own experiences (and good gosh would I ever love to meet her and discuss her book with her!)
In addition to the above, the other underlying theme of the novel is a constant sense of displacement. This exists in relation to the narrators relationship with her mother and the abuse there, with the homophobia- internal, external, cultural and religious, and also in the way our main character never fully fits in within the US or even the Arab diaspora community her family is a part of but when she spends summers in Jordan and the West Bank, she doesn’t fit in there either. Another favorite line of mine from the book is this comparison- “I’d been clinging to her I-love-yous like a refugee clings to a threatened nationality. They were the homeland that validated my existence.” And in another section she brings up being a people without a country and how lost that can make you feel when you’re forever a minority and don’t fit in but don’t have a place of your own.
Jumping back to what I said in my first paragraph, and including it because while this book is fiction, the author is a journalist and she has a master’s degree in international affairs, and parts of this book are inherently political- I found the last part above striking because if anything this is the thing Jews/Israelis and Palestinians both have in common, why so many Jews feel conflicted because we want, need, ache for our own homeland too. A favorite politician of mine, intimately involved in peace negotiations often says that it can’t be a religious negotiation because religious conflicts are unsolvable but reading this part of the book I began to wonder it the real issue is it’s an emotional, belonging and longing argument and if maybe that’s the most unsolvable conflict of all. I wasn’t expecting to gain a new outlook on a political issue so important to me but gosh, this book was meant for me. And I appreciate the endless things I gained from it. If that isn’t a testament to an incredible writer- I don’t know what is!
This wasn’t the review I expected to write either but I think it’s an incredibly honest one and a reflection on what this book is. Thank you to Zaina and Catapult not just for my early copy of the book, but for giving me a book that gave me so much, held a mirror up to many of my own experiences and most difficult parts of myself. This is the kind of book I’ll hold in my heart for a lifetime.
I did not expect this book to hit quite so close to home but at the center of this one in so many ways is how our earliest relationships and experiences shape us and our unnamed narrator in You Exist Too Much has a mother who I’d definitely call a narcissist. When you grow up knowing your mothers live is very conditional (and that try and try and TRY as you might you never can seem to meet those conditions, not really) it damages you. You live your life certain that if your own mother couldn’t love you, maybe no one ever will, and spend your time guarding your heart. What this looks like from the outside varies and on the most basic level I have coped much differently than the narrator in this book but as she attends a rehab like facility for “love addiction” and is forced to confront her issues, underneath it all, oof, the narrator and I sure had so much in common.
And that wasn’t always pleasant to realize. Sometimes she drove me absolutely mad with the horrible decisions she made. I had to sit with this book after finishing and then just start throwing down thoughts to even begin to figure out how to review it. I’ve read quite a few books in recent months with unlikeable and very troubled characters and they’ve all kind of had this same general theme of making you understand why these characters behave the way they do and make the choices you can’t stand. That’s something very special and I’m well aware in many ways I didn’t always like this character for the mirror she was holding up to myself.
On this subject, I wanted to include a quote from the author from an interview with The Rumpus discussing this book-
“This leads to another question I get asked a lot, which is, “why is the narrator so painful?” And I think the answer is that this is the reality of internalized homophobia. It’s what being abused looks like. It looks like a constant inclination to sabotage yourself and project that self-loathing onto others, and thwart your ability to find love, which is the only thing the character really wants. It was meant to be an unflinching look at how these conditions can manifest in human beings.”
The above may not be immediately clear to every reader and I, on some level, didn’t totally want to see it but yes. This. I know I can be every bit as intense, self protective and self sabotaging (I find those two go perversely hand in hand for many), and often unintentionally abrasive as the character in this story. In the book our narrator ponders- “I’m aware I can be exhausting—‘you exist too much,’ my mother often told me.”
The title of this book is what immediately drew my attention and excited me and I know this is because I’m incredibly familiar with that feeling, believing I’m too much, I exist too much. In fact the more I discuss this, the more I think I’m bumping my rating. I have never read another book that reflected so much and so well on these very difficult parts of myself. And I think I’m also in place and space to finally be owning my own damage and working to heal. I needed this novel.
Reading it, in fact, I had to triple check it wasn’t nonfiction because woah does it ever read that way. The detailed memories, the extremely familiar sort of narcissistic behavior from the mother, this books reads raw, rawer than many memoirs even get. I’m still curious how much of it may be based of Arafat’s own experiences (and good gosh would I ever love to meet her and discuss her book with her!)
In addition to the above, the other underlying theme of the novel is a constant sense of displacement. This exists in relation to the narrators relationship with her mother and the abuse there, with the homophobia- internal, external, cultural and religious, and also in the way our main character never fully fits in within the US or even the Arab diaspora community her family is a part of but when she spends summers in Jordan and the West Bank, she doesn’t fit in there either. Another favorite line of mine from the book is this comparison- “I’d been clinging to her I-love-yous like a refugee clings to a threatened nationality. They were the homeland that validated my existence.” And in another section she brings up being a people without a country and how lost that can make you feel when you’re forever a minority and don’t fit in but don’t have a place of your own.
Jumping back to what I said in my first paragraph, and including it because while this book is fiction, the author is a journalist and she has a master’s degree in international affairs, and parts of this book are inherently political- I found the last part above striking because if anything this is the thing Jews/Israelis and Palestinians both have in common, why so many Jews feel conflicted because we want, need, ache for our own homeland too. A favorite politician of mine, intimately involved in peace negotiations often says that it can’t be a religious negotiation because religious conflicts are unsolvable but reading this part of the book I began to wonder it the real issue is it’s an emotional, belonging and longing argument and if maybe that’s the most unsolvable conflict of all. I wasn’t expecting to gain a new outlook on a political issue so important to me but gosh, this book was meant for me. And I appreciate the endless things I gained from it. If that isn’t a testament to an incredible writer- I don’t know what is!
This wasn’t the review I expected to write either but I think it’s an incredibly honest one and a reflection on what this book is. Thank you to Zaina and Catapult not just for my early copy of the book, but for giving me a book that gave me so much, held a mirror up to many of my own experiences and most difficult parts of myself. This is the kind of book I’ll hold in my heart for a lifetime.
May 28, 2020
Thanks to Catapult for the free advance copy of this book.
YOU EXIST TOO MUCH's unnamed narrator struggles with a lifetime of self-destructive relationships, beginning with her abusive mother. After yet another relationship implodes, she checks into an alternative therapy retreat to seek treatment for what's been labeled her "love addiction."
I have rather mixed feelings about this book. On the one hand, it's quite readable - I found myself drawn in to the story even when I wasn't sure I liked the book. The protagonist is a fascinating character, dealing with a soup of trauma and bad decisions that she desperately wants to fix, even though she has no idea how.
I enjoyed that while the narrator's identities - bisexual, Palestinian American, writer, etc. - are key to who she is but it isn't necessarily a story about her identities. Certainly the book wouldn't exist without the tension her identities create, but she feels like a whole person rather than a set of lessons.
YOU EXIST TOO MUCH walks riiight up to the trope of the cheating, voracious bisexual. It's about half a step from being a real negative stereotype. However, she's got just enough backstory that her actions feel true to what we know of her, though I felt a bit on edge about it for a lot of the book.
I do feel like this book wrapped up too quickly.
YOU EXIST TOO MUCH's unnamed narrator struggles with a lifetime of self-destructive relationships, beginning with her abusive mother. After yet another relationship implodes, she checks into an alternative therapy retreat to seek treatment for what's been labeled her "love addiction."
I have rather mixed feelings about this book. On the one hand, it's quite readable - I found myself drawn in to the story even when I wasn't sure I liked the book. The protagonist is a fascinating character, dealing with a soup of trauma and bad decisions that she desperately wants to fix, even though she has no idea how.
I enjoyed that while the narrator's identities - bisexual, Palestinian American, writer, etc. - are key to who she is but it isn't necessarily a story about her identities. Certainly the book wouldn't exist without the tension her identities create, but she feels like a whole person rather than a set of lessons.
YOU EXIST TOO MUCH walks riiight up to the trope of the cheating, voracious bisexual. It's about half a step from being a real negative stereotype. However, she's got just enough backstory that her actions feel true to what we know of her, though I felt a bit on edge about it for a lot of the book.
I do feel like this book wrapped up too quickly.
May 18, 2020
Based on the description of this book I was expecting something much different, and I think that’s where my trouble began. The blurb read as a coming of age, culture clash novel in which the main character finds herself along the way. What I read felt more shallow and dramatic then I had expected.
The unnamed narrator, in what I read as an effort to make up for her treacherous relationship with her mother, is obsessed with attention and approval from women. We follow her series of romantic encounters, and subsequent disasters, as she searches for healthy love.
It’s hard for me to enjoy a novel with an unlikeable narrator, making this a difficult read. She was dramatic, rude, and constantly lied and cheated. There was also so much gratuitous sex. It felt never ending and left me so frustrated. I think the narrator slept with at least 2/3 of the characters in this novel, even the ones she hated. It was grating to read about such unhealthy relationships that never seemed to end.
I enjoyed the flashbacks to the Middle East and would’ve loved to spend more time learning about the cultural contrasts. Unfortunately, between the unlikeable characters and unnecessary amount of sex, this is not a book I particularly enjoyed.
The unnamed narrator, in what I read as an effort to make up for her treacherous relationship with her mother, is obsessed with attention and approval from women. We follow her series of romantic encounters, and subsequent disasters, as she searches for healthy love.
It’s hard for me to enjoy a novel with an unlikeable narrator, making this a difficult read. She was dramatic, rude, and constantly lied and cheated. There was also so much gratuitous sex. It felt never ending and left me so frustrated. I think the narrator slept with at least 2/3 of the characters in this novel, even the ones she hated. It was grating to read about such unhealthy relationships that never seemed to end.
I enjoyed the flashbacks to the Middle East and would’ve loved to spend more time learning about the cultural contrasts. Unfortunately, between the unlikeable characters and unnecessary amount of sex, this is not a book I particularly enjoyed.
September 6, 2020
shockingly beautiful.
April 29, 2024
Told by an unnamed narrator, "You Exist too Much" is about a woman who is bisexual, Palestinian-American, and often has people around her trying to define her through their own projections. Basically, this is a narrator struggling with her ethnic and sexual identity and her rejection of being put into a box.
Being someone who has been criticized and defined by both gay and heteronormative individuals I've met in and out of my life, I can absolutely relate and attest to the microaggressions, racism, and stereotypes inflicted on to me by others growing up in South Florida.
I agree with the narrator ruefully stating, "Baggage, no one ever breaks free from it. Everyone has to figure out how to go on living, to be decent, in spite of it" (Arafat 214).
Ms. Arafat's novel weaves from different places where she has had relationships, primarily New York, Paris, and Chicago where the main supporting characters are her relationships with Anna, Matias, Anouk.
The narrator also struggles with her domineering mother who hurtfully tells her that "you exist too much" (Arafat 134) when she attempts to tell her mother about who she is.
This criticism from her mother will persist through her life, and this search for love and peace of mind with identity comes to a harrowing insult that she is a terrorist- for being Palestinian among champagne liberals who casually say they support Israel, but do not examine the complexities of the Middle East conflict.
The all-too human feeling of not wanting to be rejected is as plain as day, "when you don't want to lose someone, it's so tempting to deceive them" (Arafat 215).
I marveled at how this narrator, like myself, grew up with a domineering parent- and for me it was my father and grandmother. I can agree with the narrator stating, "one must proceed cautiously and always be on the lookout, always withhold information, and never reveal something that can later be used as ammunition" (Arafat 84).
The narrator even spends some time where I grew up: In Palm Beach County, especially the mention of Boca Raton, FL made me feel our stories, though she's fictional, were somehow linked. I have always felt that I need to "wear masks to protect...but to also keep from being vulnerable" (Arafat 85).
It's the queer experience, the bisexual experience, the desire to be oneself without others projecting their feelings of inadequacy that has to be learned, and Ms. Arafat writes in an honest and unsentimental way that sexuality is complicated.
I can relate to her summing up her innermost feelings in this really honest way, "I hate myself for my immaturity, but old habits rarely go away entirely, and I can never fully escape myself. I relapse" (Arafat 243).
I loved this book, I love how the narrator spoke her truth, and honestly unpacked all the messiness that being othered makes one feel, and how even though it's liberating to declare your truth- it's still not going to be enough and it's always work to keep telling yourself that you're all right.
Being someone who has been criticized and defined by both gay and heteronormative individuals I've met in and out of my life, I can absolutely relate and attest to the microaggressions, racism, and stereotypes inflicted on to me by others growing up in South Florida.
I agree with the narrator ruefully stating, "Baggage, no one ever breaks free from it. Everyone has to figure out how to go on living, to be decent, in spite of it" (Arafat 214).
Ms. Arafat's novel weaves from different places where she has had relationships, primarily New York, Paris, and Chicago where the main supporting characters are her relationships with Anna, Matias, Anouk.
The narrator also struggles with her domineering mother who hurtfully tells her that "you exist too much" (Arafat 134) when she attempts to tell her mother about who she is.
This criticism from her mother will persist through her life, and this search for love and peace of mind with identity comes to a harrowing insult that she is a terrorist- for being Palestinian among champagne liberals who casually say they support Israel, but do not examine the complexities of the Middle East conflict.
The all-too human feeling of not wanting to be rejected is as plain as day, "when you don't want to lose someone, it's so tempting to deceive them" (Arafat 215).
I marveled at how this narrator, like myself, grew up with a domineering parent- and for me it was my father and grandmother. I can agree with the narrator stating, "one must proceed cautiously and always be on the lookout, always withhold information, and never reveal something that can later be used as ammunition" (Arafat 84).
The narrator even spends some time where I grew up: In Palm Beach County, especially the mention of Boca Raton, FL made me feel our stories, though she's fictional, were somehow linked. I have always felt that I need to "wear masks to protect...but to also keep from being vulnerable" (Arafat 85).
It's the queer experience, the bisexual experience, the desire to be oneself without others projecting their feelings of inadequacy that has to be learned, and Ms. Arafat writes in an honest and unsentimental way that sexuality is complicated.
I can relate to her summing up her innermost feelings in this really honest way, "I hate myself for my immaturity, but old habits rarely go away entirely, and I can never fully escape myself. I relapse" (Arafat 243).
I loved this book, I love how the narrator spoke her truth, and honestly unpacked all the messiness that being othered makes one feel, and how even though it's liberating to declare your truth- it's still not going to be enough and it's always work to keep telling yourself that you're all right.
April 15, 2020
YOU EXIST TOO MUCH is a novel following an unnamed narrator back and forth through time, across the United States and the Middle East. Our narrator is a Palestinian American queer woman grappling with a “love addiction,” a complex relationship with her mother, and countless destructive relationships. The novel follows her as she goes into treatment for love addiction. I can see her being an unlikeable character for sure, but I was helplessly rooting for her to face her demons, set boundaries with her mother, and develop a healthy relationship to intimacy.
I really enjoyed this book. It was readable, engaging, and easy to get lost in - something I needed. Queer literature so often explores topics of shame around sexuality & the desire for family acceptance, but I rarely get tired of reading them - and this brought a fresh perspective since I haven’t read a lot of queer Arab literature.
I read a negative review on Goodreads that critiqued this book for its portrayal of bisexuality. There are SO many harmful tropes about bisexuals as devious, promiscuous cheaters, etc, and the main character certainly is unfaithful & struggles w commitment. However I felt like the novel wasn’t falling into a trope bc the author fully fleshed out the depth behind our protagonist’s flawed relationship with her mother, how that showed up in her intimate relationships, and her desire to correct that. I’m open to other perspective on this - there’s a lot to unpack in this book.
Thank you to the publisher for the free book in exchange for an honest review. I genuinely enjoyed this & recommend preordering it before it comes out in June!
I really enjoyed this book. It was readable, engaging, and easy to get lost in - something I needed. Queer literature so often explores topics of shame around sexuality & the desire for family acceptance, but I rarely get tired of reading them - and this brought a fresh perspective since I haven’t read a lot of queer Arab literature.
I read a negative review on Goodreads that critiqued this book for its portrayal of bisexuality. There are SO many harmful tropes about bisexuals as devious, promiscuous cheaters, etc, and the main character certainly is unfaithful & struggles w commitment. However I felt like the novel wasn’t falling into a trope bc the author fully fleshed out the depth behind our protagonist’s flawed relationship with her mother, how that showed up in her intimate relationships, and her desire to correct that. I’m open to other perspective on this - there’s a lot to unpack in this book.
Thank you to the publisher for the free book in exchange for an honest review. I genuinely enjoyed this & recommend preordering it before it comes out in June!
July 1, 2020
For fans of Garth Greenwell and Weike Wang, You Exist Too Much is a startling debut novel of desire and doubleness following the life of a young Palestinian American woman caught between cultural, religious, and sexual identities.
February 21, 2023
An earnest reflection on the need for love and acceptance in the face of generational trauma and toxic codependency. Sincere and filled with emotion, we follow the turbulent tides of obsession and the need to be in control of something, as the fissures between sexual liberation, mother-daughter relationships, and cultural identity grow more fragile. An atonement for self sabotage, and a hope for healing, You Exist too Much is a fluid and heartfelt discussion on the close ties between physical and emotional displacement, and the ways in which our environment affects our ability to love others as well as ourselves.
July 19, 2020
2.5 stars, rounded up. I was so excited for this book (I even pre-ordered it) but ended up disappointed. I felt misled by how it was pitched and marketed as a coming-of-age-and-identity story.
Some of it was okay, but overall... uneven and disjointed, and in some cases distracting — how did the narrator pay for her bougie retreat/rehab when she was cut off from her family? I wondered the same thing about the vacation to the South of France she took as an undergraduate. I also had questions about how she became a “sought-after DJ,” as the cover flap puts it, when she seems overwhelmingly ambivalent about having that gig and isn’t shown to have enduring connections to that world at any point in the book, which through vignettes and flashbacks spans several years. There also was zero lead-up to her acceptance into what we are to assume is a very competitive MFA program, given that she doesn’t seem to have any concerns re: funding.
Maybe this could have been something that I enjoyed had I known what I was getting into but I just felt like there was a lot missing. It was really hard for me to suspend my disbelief. (I also found a lot of the relationships to be unbelievable and the volatile portrayal of bisexuality potentially harmful in the vacuum of this story, which lacks any meaningful wider queer context in which to situate the narrator’s own overwhelmingly destructive expression of her sexuality.)
Some of it was okay, but overall... uneven and disjointed, and in some cases distracting — how did the narrator pay for her bougie retreat/rehab when she was cut off from her family? I wondered the same thing about the vacation to the South of France she took as an undergraduate. I also had questions about how she became a “sought-after DJ,” as the cover flap puts it, when she seems overwhelmingly ambivalent about having that gig and isn’t shown to have enduring connections to that world at any point in the book, which through vignettes and flashbacks spans several years. There also was zero lead-up to her acceptance into what we are to assume is a very competitive MFA program, given that she doesn’t seem to have any concerns re: funding.
Maybe this could have been something that I enjoyed had I known what I was getting into but I just felt like there was a lot missing. It was really hard for me to suspend my disbelief. (I also found a lot of the relationships to be unbelievable and the volatile portrayal of bisexuality potentially harmful in the vacuum of this story, which lacks any meaningful wider queer context in which to situate the narrator’s own overwhelmingly destructive expression of her sexuality.)
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February 1, 2025Never reviewed this book but this is like a type of book that I love, a woman who is depressed and gay and all of the things that happen to her. I think I may reread this next year.
June 14, 2020
Highlighted great big passages throughout. My heart hurts in the best way and never have I felt more understood as a Palestinian.
It’s interesting to read reviews calling the mother a narcissist. I see that as another cultural conflict: In the ME, domestic life is a matriarchal domain, societal life is patriarchal. So even inherently within the culture mothers are basically relegated to being society’s middle managers, wielding what limited powers and freedoms they have over their children. They end up being controlling and often centre their children’s experiences around their own. They almost can’t help it. I think Arafat’s unnamed character understands that her mother’s way of moving through the world is as complicated as her own, and their narcissism stems from inherited traumas and power dynamics that are passed down generationally.
A rich and layered book I’ll have to revisit. Mabrook!
It’s interesting to read reviews calling the mother a narcissist. I see that as another cultural conflict: In the ME, domestic life is a matriarchal domain, societal life is patriarchal. So even inherently within the culture mothers are basically relegated to being society’s middle managers, wielding what limited powers and freedoms they have over their children. They end up being controlling and often centre their children’s experiences around their own. They almost can’t help it. I think Arafat’s unnamed character understands that her mother’s way of moving through the world is as complicated as her own, and their narcissism stems from inherited traumas and power dynamics that are passed down generationally.
A rich and layered book I’ll have to revisit. Mabrook!
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