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Prodigal
What does it take to find God in all cultures and religions? In these fratricidal times, the devout yet reasoning soul of Akbar Ali Samandar explores the irrationality of extremist tendencies in Pakistan, the problems of Western impositions on tolerant and liberal Islam as well as the ways in which these misunderstandings can be transcended for a better understanding of humanity. Akbar has felt his unusual connection to God from an early stage of his life. These visitations continue through his questioning of extremist practice and abusive behaviour to children, brewing in a madrasa in Pakistan. Questioning this orthodoxy in Karachi while living in the select residence of his father, who is Chief Justice of the High Court, leads him to a scholarly quest for the discovery of tolerance in Islam in the famous Islamic research centre of Dar-ul Aman in Taliban-controlled FATA region of northwest Pakistan. A brush with a friend-turned-extremist, then finding real love and twins out of the marriage in Dar-ul Aman are not able to hold back Akbar in his quest for tolerance and understanding among people of different religions. Fate takes him to Trinity College in Cambridge where he is finally able to bridge the scholarly with the experiential and feel proximity to God's love. And just then, his world gets thrust into the unfurling hatred of extremist terrorism. Akbar is left to negotiate the terror of religious violence through his belief in love and humanity. ‘A book of our times that brings us face to face with some very uncomfortable truths about ourselves’ Mohammed Hanif, author of A Case of Exploding Mangoes, Red Birds and other novels ‘An innovative campus novel of terrific scope that takes us from madrasas to the gleaming spires of fashionable universities. Irshad Abdul Kadir paints delicate portraits of young people from each of these complex worlds negotiating with the other' Claire Chambers, author of Britain Through Muslim Eyes and Rivers of Selected Essays
310 pages, Paperback
Published July 23, 2019
About the author
Irshad AbdulKadir
4 books1 followerIrshad AbdulKadir is a graduate of Cambridge University and a barrister at law. He is also a lecturer in legal studies, specializing in common law traditions and reasoning. Several articles written by him on socio-economics, governance and politics have appeared in newspapers and journals. He is noted too as a theatre critic and a civil rights activist as well. His book Clifton Bridge: Stories of Innocence and Experience from Pakistan is the first publication of his fictional work.
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
September 25, 2019
A book where one person seeks his own identity by making a lot of changes during his lifetime to finally resort to a blissful and happy place. Got to know Islam quite well. The value of living life at your own terms.
January 11, 2020
In contemporary Anglophone fiction, there are not many fictional narratives exploring a character’s relationship to their faith, particularly if the path through their faith happens to be through Islam. Of course, there was a plethora of South Asian Anglophone fiction written post-9/11 that explored the role played by religious extremism or violent Islamic fundamentalism in the development of an individual or society. But a nuanced exploration of the role Islamic spirituality can play in a person’s life — without inevitably veering into zealotry — is rare to find in contemporary Anglophone literature. The one exception that I have come across is the works of Sudanese-Scottish writer Leila Abouelela, whose novels explore their Muslim characters’ varied and nuanced relationships to their faith as an important — but not the only — aspect of their lives.
Pakistani writer Irshad Abdulkadir’s new novel, Prodigal, is similarly concerned with exploring a young man’s evolving relationship to his faith, an exploration which is often rich and nuanced, but which — unlike Aboulela’s narratives — ultimately leads towards a brush with Islamic militancy. The intertwining of Islamic spirituality with violence is undoubtedly an important area of exploration, particularly in a contemporary geopolitical context, but it also feels a little well-trodden.
Abdulkadir’s protagonist is Akbar Ali, the rich son of a chief justice of the High Court of Pakistan, whose fascination with spirituality has made him, from a young age, stand apart from the elite, secular circles within which he exists. His evolving relationship to his faith — which he is unable to articulate fully even to himself, but which he feels compelled to explore through various avenues — takes him from a madressah in Karachi to an Islamic research centre in Taliban-controlled Fata and then, eventually, to Trinity College at the University of Cambridge. There is a carefully rendered reflection of the academic and scholarly world of Islam, as depicted in Akbar’s stints at the Karachi madressah as well as the Dar-ul-Aman seminary in Fata.
The most fascinating aspects of the novel are the ones in which Akbar is brushing up against various interpretations of Islamic faith, which often clash with and complicate his own view of faith as an ultimately peaceful endeavour. One such scene early on in the novel, for example, is where a seminary student questions the need to inculcate in oneself a fear of God in order to be a “proper” Muslim. In contrast to the imams of the place who are more inclined toward rigid and less layered answers to such questions, Akbar — by that point an unofficial intern at the madressah because of his incredible talent and passion for Islam — attempts to provide an answer. He brings the students’ attention to a Quranic verse that mentions the fear of Allah, and explains how the original Arabic word is uttaku, which, he says, “refers to a reverence which is like love, which fears to do anything which is not pleasing to the object of love, a fear of not losing the beloved.”
The translation of the word, Akbar explains, loses the connotation intended by the original Arabic word and leads to a more rigid understanding of “fear of Allah” that is popularly understood. Conversations such as these, where Akbar converses with people with different understandings of Islam, as well as with people who have simplistic and prejudiced views about the religion — such as his elite friends who make fun of him for being a “fundo” — make the novel enriching and interesting.
On the other hand, this complexity of ideas and thought is often overshadowed by the prose, which is simplistic and bordering on amateurish in some places. There is a tendency in the writing to tell rather than show, which keeps the characters at a distance from the reader. There are also some very strange choices in editing, where all dialogues — as well as the characters’ inner monologues — are filled with ellipses instead of proper punctuation, which I found extremely distracting.
These are, of course, limitations in proper editing, which are sometimes found in books published in India and they speak more to the editing side of the publishing industry than to the skill of any individual writer. What emerges, however, is a novel that has interesting ideas, but feels half-baked in its prose and plotting. There is a much better novel that can be found within the pages of Prodigal — one which explores the complexity of being a person of faith at a time when many interpretations of your religion lead to fundamentalism or violence — which has better prose and tighter plotting, but that novel only peeks out occasionally from the shadows.
Published in Dawn, Books and Authors in December 2019: https://www.dawn.com/news/1523709/fic...
Pakistani writer Irshad Abdulkadir’s new novel, Prodigal, is similarly concerned with exploring a young man’s evolving relationship to his faith, an exploration which is often rich and nuanced, but which — unlike Aboulela’s narratives — ultimately leads towards a brush with Islamic militancy. The intertwining of Islamic spirituality with violence is undoubtedly an important area of exploration, particularly in a contemporary geopolitical context, but it also feels a little well-trodden.
Abdulkadir’s protagonist is Akbar Ali, the rich son of a chief justice of the High Court of Pakistan, whose fascination with spirituality has made him, from a young age, stand apart from the elite, secular circles within which he exists. His evolving relationship to his faith — which he is unable to articulate fully even to himself, but which he feels compelled to explore through various avenues — takes him from a madressah in Karachi to an Islamic research centre in Taliban-controlled Fata and then, eventually, to Trinity College at the University of Cambridge. There is a carefully rendered reflection of the academic and scholarly world of Islam, as depicted in Akbar’s stints at the Karachi madressah as well as the Dar-ul-Aman seminary in Fata.
The most fascinating aspects of the novel are the ones in which Akbar is brushing up against various interpretations of Islamic faith, which often clash with and complicate his own view of faith as an ultimately peaceful endeavour. One such scene early on in the novel, for example, is where a seminary student questions the need to inculcate in oneself a fear of God in order to be a “proper” Muslim. In contrast to the imams of the place who are more inclined toward rigid and less layered answers to such questions, Akbar — by that point an unofficial intern at the madressah because of his incredible talent and passion for Islam — attempts to provide an answer. He brings the students’ attention to a Quranic verse that mentions the fear of Allah, and explains how the original Arabic word is uttaku, which, he says, “refers to a reverence which is like love, which fears to do anything which is not pleasing to the object of love, a fear of not losing the beloved.”
The translation of the word, Akbar explains, loses the connotation intended by the original Arabic word and leads to a more rigid understanding of “fear of Allah” that is popularly understood. Conversations such as these, where Akbar converses with people with different understandings of Islam, as well as with people who have simplistic and prejudiced views about the religion — such as his elite friends who make fun of him for being a “fundo” — make the novel enriching and interesting.
On the other hand, this complexity of ideas and thought is often overshadowed by the prose, which is simplistic and bordering on amateurish in some places. There is a tendency in the writing to tell rather than show, which keeps the characters at a distance from the reader. There are also some very strange choices in editing, where all dialogues — as well as the characters’ inner monologues — are filled with ellipses instead of proper punctuation, which I found extremely distracting.
These are, of course, limitations in proper editing, which are sometimes found in books published in India and they speak more to the editing side of the publishing industry than to the skill of any individual writer. What emerges, however, is a novel that has interesting ideas, but feels half-baked in its prose and plotting. There is a much better novel that can be found within the pages of Prodigal — one which explores the complexity of being a person of faith at a time when many interpretations of your religion lead to fundamentalism or violence — which has better prose and tighter plotting, but that novel only peeks out occasionally from the shadows.
Published in Dawn, Books and Authors in December 2019: https://www.dawn.com/news/1523709/fic...
September 1, 2019
Prodigal by Irshad Abdulkadir
Irshad Abdulkadir is a well-known Muslim scholar and this was one of my most anticipated read of 2019. Once I completed the book, I settled with mixed feelings towards it. The book tries to drive home multiple facets of Islam as a religion and a practice. The protagonist of the book is sketched from the author himself. The story is about two young boys – Akbar Ali and Bairam Afridi who forge a new friendship while on their way to their missions from Karachi to Peshawar. I loved how the author creates a backdrop in the first chapter itself – it paints a vivid picture of the smuggling scene in Pakistan.
The contrast between the two characters and their journey takes the reader on an uninterrupted ride portraying a poignant picture with a layered plot. Though the story mostly revolves around Akbar as the protagonist, I loved how the author has played with various diverse characters, even if briefly. The narrative is fast paced but a little dense at times. There might be moments where the reader might feel derailed from the storyline which weighs its philosophical, spiritual and theological aspect on the reader.
The book gives a fresh perspective on Islam, something I have never known or read. An intellectually coherent and stimulating read for those looking to reading something informative, impactful and heavy.
Irshad Abdulkadir is a well-known Muslim scholar and this was one of my most anticipated read of 2019. Once I completed the book, I settled with mixed feelings towards it. The book tries to drive home multiple facets of Islam as a religion and a practice. The protagonist of the book is sketched from the author himself. The story is about two young boys – Akbar Ali and Bairam Afridi who forge a new friendship while on their way to their missions from Karachi to Peshawar. I loved how the author creates a backdrop in the first chapter itself – it paints a vivid picture of the smuggling scene in Pakistan.
The contrast between the two characters and their journey takes the reader on an uninterrupted ride portraying a poignant picture with a layered plot. Though the story mostly revolves around Akbar as the protagonist, I loved how the author has played with various diverse characters, even if briefly. The narrative is fast paced but a little dense at times. There might be moments where the reader might feel derailed from the storyline which weighs its philosophical, spiritual and theological aspect on the reader.
The book gives a fresh perspective on Islam, something I have never known or read. An intellectually coherent and stimulating read for those looking to reading something informative, impactful and heavy.
November 8, 2019
A work of contemporary fiction. The writer brilliantly brings out a plot involving two contrasting characters in their understanding and interpretation of Islam. The central character Akbar goes on to learn and understand higher aspects in true sense by academic pursuits, while the journey of opposing character Bairam goes the extremists way. The writer stitches the story in form of beautiful narratives of Akbar's life for his quest of knowledge with occasional encounters with Bairam in his path to achieving the truth.
A wonderful read !!!
A wonderful read !!!
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 24, 2020
It's a good read. I found myself completely invested in the first and second part of the book. However, last part of the book bored me with its lack of direction or intent.
September 1, 2024
Different book than others.
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews