What do you think?
Rate this book
The Opium Prince
Jasmine Aimaq’s stunning debut explores Afghanistan on the eve of a violent revolution and the far-reaching consequences of a young Kochi girl’s tragic death.
Afghanistan, 1970s. Born to an American mother and a late Afghan war hero, Daniel Sajadi has spent his life navigating a complex identity. After years in Los Angeles, he is returning home to Kabul at the helm of a US foreign aid agency dedicated to eradicating the poppy fields that feed the world's opiate addiction.
But on the drive out of Kabul for an anniversary trip with his wife, Daniel hits and kills a young Kochi girl named Telaya. He is let off with a small fine, not only because nomad tribes are all but ignored by the law, but because a stranger named Taj Maleki intercedes on his behalf. Wracked with guilt and visions of Telaya, Daniel quickly unravels, running from his crumbling marriage and escalating threats from Taj, who turns out to be a powerful opium khan.
This groundbreaking literary thriller reveals the invisible lines between criminal enterprises and fragile political regimes—and one man’s search for meaning as his country is pulled into chaos.
Afghanistan, 1970s. Born to an American mother and a late Afghan war hero, Daniel Sajadi has spent his life navigating a complex identity. After years in Los Angeles, he is returning home to Kabul at the helm of a US foreign aid agency dedicated to eradicating the poppy fields that feed the world's opiate addiction.
But on the drive out of Kabul for an anniversary trip with his wife, Daniel hits and kills a young Kochi girl named Telaya. He is let off with a small fine, not only because nomad tribes are all but ignored by the law, but because a stranger named Taj Maleki intercedes on his behalf. Wracked with guilt and visions of Telaya, Daniel quickly unravels, running from his crumbling marriage and escalating threats from Taj, who turns out to be a powerful opium khan.
This groundbreaking literary thriller reveals the invisible lines between criminal enterprises and fragile political regimes—and one man’s search for meaning as his country is pulled into chaos.
384 pages, Hardcover
First published December 1, 2020
157 people are currently reading
3513 people want to read
About the author
Jasmine Aimaq
3 books30 followersJasmine Aimaq is the author of The Opium Prince, an Amazon Editors' pick for December 2020. The Opium Prince is on the Washington Post's list of "10 Books to Read" in December and on Popsugar's list of "21 New Books Everyone Will be Talking About." With Starred Reviews from Booklist and Publishers Weekly, The Opium Prince has also garnered critical acclaim on BookTrib and LitHub.
Jasmine was born in Germany to a Swedish mother and Afghan father. At age 4, she moved to Afghanistan with her parents and sister. They left the country in 1976, two years before the Communist Revolution. After some time in London and Hamburg, the family settled in Los Angeles. Jasmine divides her time between British Columbia and California. The Opium Prince is her first novel.
Jasmine was born in Germany to a Swedish mother and Afghan father. At age 4, she moved to Afghanistan with her parents and sister. They left the country in 1976, two years before the Communist Revolution. After some time in London and Hamburg, the family settled in Los Angeles. Jasmine divides her time between British Columbia and California. The Opium Prince is her first novel.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 112 reviews
Read
December 8, 2020First and foremost, a large thank you to NetGalley, Jasmine Aimaq, and Soho Press for providing me with a copy of this publication, which allows me to provide you with an unbiased review.
As a reader, there are always books that one comes across that appear out of this world when perusing the dust jacket blurb. However, once you get into the thick of the story, things take you to another place entirely, not always for the good. This is likely why someone coined the phrase about judging a book by its cover. The premise sounded highly alluring and I could see myself loving this piece of historical fiction, not least because there was so much action that was described within its pages. However, I could not find myself able to push through the early part during three sittings. This is indicative of a pass for me.
For me, Jasmine Aimaq’s piece was well written, to the point that I was not entirely lost in the opening pages. However, it failed to grab me when I needed the story to hold onto my collar and shake me. It could be that my head was not in it. It might also be because the publisher ‘gifted’ this book to me seven days after it was published and the review window was only a day before NetGalley locked it away, forcing me to rush to begin. It might also have been because I was simply expecting one thing and got another. That’s why I have to mark it as DNF and move along!
Whatever it is, I am surely in the minority here and don’t hold it against the author, the publisher, or anyone else who loved the book. This just happened to cross my path at the wrong time, under poor review-time restrictions, and I could not deliver for myself or others. It happens to the best and worst of us!
Kudos, Madam Aimaq, for penning what might have been an epic novel for many.
As a reader, there are always books that one comes across that appear out of this world when perusing the dust jacket blurb. However, once you get into the thick of the story, things take you to another place entirely, not always for the good. This is likely why someone coined the phrase about judging a book by its cover. The premise sounded highly alluring and I could see myself loving this piece of historical fiction, not least because there was so much action that was described within its pages. However, I could not find myself able to push through the early part during three sittings. This is indicative of a pass for me.
For me, Jasmine Aimaq’s piece was well written, to the point that I was not entirely lost in the opening pages. However, it failed to grab me when I needed the story to hold onto my collar and shake me. It could be that my head was not in it. It might also be because the publisher ‘gifted’ this book to me seven days after it was published and the review window was only a day before NetGalley locked it away, forcing me to rush to begin. It might also have been because I was simply expecting one thing and got another. That’s why I have to mark it as DNF and move along!
Whatever it is, I am surely in the minority here and don’t hold it against the author, the publisher, or anyone else who loved the book. This just happened to cross my path at the wrong time, under poor review-time restrictions, and I could not deliver for myself or others. It happens to the best and worst of us!
Kudos, Madam Aimaq, for penning what might have been an epic novel for many.
August 9, 2020
I have never read another book like this one. The Opium Prince is a crime novel, a work of historical fiction, and a literary gem. It defies categorization in any one genre, and is written with such vivid prose that it is hard to believe that it is a debut novel. I was immediately drawn into the worlds Aimaq creates and did not want to stop reading. At the end, I wanted a sequel.
The characters in this novel inhabit such profoundly different perspectives, yet each one is equally compelling. The novel puts an Afghan-American aid worker, an opium dealer and a ghost- child on a collision course in Afghanistan during the late 1970s, a time when that country is itself on a collision course leading ultimately to the Soviet invasion of 1979. Daniel is the son of an Afghan hero, but he works for a U.S. agency tasked with destroying opium fields. Even within his own thinking there is a dual American and Afghan perspective, or really a triple perspective as the ghost of the little girl he has accidentally killed continues to haunt him. Her death at the beginning of the novel confronts us with the way in which some human lives are devalued. Telaya is the daughter of nomadic parents, and her death, like her birth, is unmarked and essentially unpunished. Officially, her life seems not to matter. And yet, her death changes everything. Her voice, her demand to be seen, continues to haunt Daniel throughout the novel, and continues to take him to places he would not otherwise have gone. The plot is unpredictable, and I would not want to spoil it for you. You just have to read it.
The characters in this novel inhabit such profoundly different perspectives, yet each one is equally compelling. The novel puts an Afghan-American aid worker, an opium dealer and a ghost- child on a collision course in Afghanistan during the late 1970s, a time when that country is itself on a collision course leading ultimately to the Soviet invasion of 1979. Daniel is the son of an Afghan hero, but he works for a U.S. agency tasked with destroying opium fields. Even within his own thinking there is a dual American and Afghan perspective, or really a triple perspective as the ghost of the little girl he has accidentally killed continues to haunt him. Her death at the beginning of the novel confronts us with the way in which some human lives are devalued. Telaya is the daughter of nomadic parents, and her death, like her birth, is unmarked and essentially unpunished. Officially, her life seems not to matter. And yet, her death changes everything. Her voice, her demand to be seen, continues to haunt Daniel throughout the novel, and continues to take him to places he would not otherwise have gone. The plot is unpredictable, and I would not want to spoil it for you. You just have to read it.
December 15, 2020
An Afghan-born American diplomat Daniel Sajedi is posted to Kabul in the 1970’s to head a U.S. foreign aid agency whose agenda is to eradicate poppy fields. He accidentally kills a young Kochi nomad girl (Telaya), who runs in front of his car. In trying to make reparations, he meets a powerful opium khan, Taj Maleki, who uses Daniel’s guilt to blackmail him. Strong beginning, that goes sideways for most of the remainder of the book, with an excellent reveal at the end. It was hard to care about the characters, but the political chaos of the time period is faithfully recounted. I found that the chapters in italics about Boy also interrupted the slow developing story. At times though, Aimaq's descriptive writing was captivating, and Daniel's final mission really captures America's primary directive in Afghanistan.
August 7, 2020
I loved this book so much! It tells the story of Daniel, a young Western-educated idealist in 1970s Afghanistan whose life changes in a single, tragic moment on a deserted highway. The accident pulls him into the brutality of the opium trade, forces him to reckon with his past and leads him to make a pact with a devil that will have consequences on his marriage, friendships and much more. That devil, an opium dealer named Taj, has a complicated history as well. The feat of this novel is that there are no clear good guys and bad guys; all of the characters are fully fleshed, flawed, sympathetic humans.
The writing is beautiful and often very funny. The author has built a fully immersive universe: the sights, sounds and smells of Kabul and Herat, the lethal beauty of the poppy fields. The Afghanistan of the 70's, I learned, is nothing like the country we see on the news today; back then, there were European sports cars, discotheques, platform shoes. The contrast to now is both stark and poignant.
Lastly, the novel is a real page-turner. (I had to slow myself down!) The momentum builds especially quickly through the second half until we burst to the unexpected finish.
I highly, highly recommend this novel!
The writing is beautiful and often very funny. The author has built a fully immersive universe: the sights, sounds and smells of Kabul and Herat, the lethal beauty of the poppy fields. The Afghanistan of the 70's, I learned, is nothing like the country we see on the news today; back then, there were European sports cars, discotheques, platform shoes. The contrast to now is both stark and poignant.
Lastly, the novel is a real page-turner. (I had to slow myself down!) The momentum builds especially quickly through the second half until we burst to the unexpected finish.
I highly, highly recommend this novel!
dnf
July 30, 2022DNF @ 69%. Nothing wrong with this - it actually seems pretty good; it's just the wrong book for me right now. I have been completely checked out and couldn't recount what's happened to this point.
April 11, 2022
Pre-reading question: Who is the least powerful in Afghan Society?
As a friend remarked on an attorney taking advantage of lack of conflict of interest regulations in contracting, “Smart people make choices, to use their power for good or evil.”
Aside from the tribal and street children, the least powerful among the adults including foreigners, are the adults hampered by denial, almost complete lack of self-awareness, and arrogance.
Thank you Jasmine Amiaq. Your book is a classic.
Following an early reviewer of Huston Smith’s The Religions of Man, “If you never write another book, when you get old you’ll look back and be comforted knowing you wrote “The Opium Prince.”
Check out 2022 Oscar nominated Documentary (Short Subject) “Three Songs for Benazir” for confirmation of heroin impact on Afghan society.
As a friend remarked on an attorney taking advantage of lack of conflict of interest regulations in contracting, “Smart people make choices, to use their power for good or evil.”
Aside from the tribal and street children, the least powerful among the adults including foreigners, are the adults hampered by denial, almost complete lack of self-awareness, and arrogance.
Thank you Jasmine Amiaq. Your book is a classic.
Following an early reviewer of Huston Smith’s The Religions of Man, “If you never write another book, when you get old you’ll look back and be comforted knowing you wrote “The Opium Prince.”
Check out 2022 Oscar nominated Documentary (Short Subject) “Three Songs for Benazir” for confirmation of heroin impact on Afghan society.
August 8, 2020
I’ve been reading a lot of books — I’m up to 106 so far this year — that end the way I expect them to, about characters who do what I expect them to do. My heart might still be in the middle of the story, and I’m still feeling the characters, but the question that arises as I turn the corner for the last part of the book is “This way or that way?” not, unfortunately, “Whoa, that way, like that?! Amazing!” And so, when I started Jasmine Aimaq’s The Opium Prince, I thought I knew where we were going and how we were going to get there.
And I was so delightfully wrong.
The Opium Prince — please spend a moment when you close the book to appreciate the depth of this title — is going to be hard for me to write about because I don’t want to take away the joy of the plot and character turns. In order to assure that doesn’t happen, I’m going to talk about themes and why these are so important in their contribution to those satisfying endings that make a book worth it. I don’t apologize for saving you your pleasure.
The heart of The Opium Prince is housed in two questions, nested and interrelated. The first asks us to reflect on how the self-discovery of our own complexity is held by and related to our understanding of our family’s complexity, which is held and nested in our understanding of our cultural complexity. Learning how we are both the same and different from each other provides that added distance to see how our family is the same and different from other families (Tolstoy’s “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way “ aside), and how we are held within a culture that is the same and different from the culture next door. I didn’t like the main character, Daniel until about half way through the story, when he is forced to understand himself, his family, and his culture. And isn’t that really the way, though? As we learn that we are not superficial beings, we can see others better in their multidimensionality. It’s hard to think about the people in our life so deeply as we are interacting with them, but a book gives us the space to engage with others’ complexity and then to see this reflected in the people in our lives. This is the art of literature, and why we have classics that we return to when we need to be reminded what it means to feel like a human. This is where The Opium Prince takes us.
With the second question, we are left in that dark place with a flickering single candle to show us the cyclic nature of life. While reading the book, I was drawn deeply to question the various sorts of father-son relations echoed through the book. How do we relate to our fathers? To our sons? I had to see differently what it means to be a son or a stand-in father in a strongly patriarchal culture. Aimaq provides a different answer to where an atheist son turns for salvation when his father is gone. In asking how our relationships are echoed down the generations and how these relationships insinuate themselves in the choices we make in our own lives, I was confronted with the echos in my own life’s twists and turns. Aimaq’s characters ask these questions of each other and themselves, providing a new sort of space into which I can ask those questions as well. This is a gift.
The Opium Prince is also a fast-paced, engaging story, sprinkled with vivid scenes that live in your visual cortex as though you saw them yourself. I read an earlier version of the first chapter and have been haunted by its images for several years. The characters are spot on — indeed, there are two or three people in the book who I’m sure I’ve met at dinner parties in Africa and Asia, working for the US government in -AID positions of some sort. The Opium Prince excites as a great (historical) story, as well as providing a deeply satisfying space to think about the human condition.
Here’s why this book is staying at the front of my brain: the starkness of the reality of the book’s characters standing in contrast to the deeply philosophical questions asked by the actions of the characters. The conjoining of lived philosophy and thoughtful reality is seductive. I read for many reasons but one of the strongest is because I want to feel how others live their lives. This is my highest praise of any book — to feel what their questions are like to live — and that is The Opium Prince.
I read an advance copy, so you’ll have to wait until December. You’ll also want to read this book with a friend or two because you will want to talk about it. A lot.
And I was so delightfully wrong.
The Opium Prince — please spend a moment when you close the book to appreciate the depth of this title — is going to be hard for me to write about because I don’t want to take away the joy of the plot and character turns. In order to assure that doesn’t happen, I’m going to talk about themes and why these are so important in their contribution to those satisfying endings that make a book worth it. I don’t apologize for saving you your pleasure.
The heart of The Opium Prince is housed in two questions, nested and interrelated. The first asks us to reflect on how the self-discovery of our own complexity is held by and related to our understanding of our family’s complexity, which is held and nested in our understanding of our cultural complexity. Learning how we are both the same and different from each other provides that added distance to see how our family is the same and different from other families (Tolstoy’s “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way “ aside), and how we are held within a culture that is the same and different from the culture next door. I didn’t like the main character, Daniel until about half way through the story, when he is forced to understand himself, his family, and his culture. And isn’t that really the way, though? As we learn that we are not superficial beings, we can see others better in their multidimensionality. It’s hard to think about the people in our life so deeply as we are interacting with them, but a book gives us the space to engage with others’ complexity and then to see this reflected in the people in our lives. This is the art of literature, and why we have classics that we return to when we need to be reminded what it means to feel like a human. This is where The Opium Prince takes us.
With the second question, we are left in that dark place with a flickering single candle to show us the cyclic nature of life. While reading the book, I was drawn deeply to question the various sorts of father-son relations echoed through the book. How do we relate to our fathers? To our sons? I had to see differently what it means to be a son or a stand-in father in a strongly patriarchal culture. Aimaq provides a different answer to where an atheist son turns for salvation when his father is gone. In asking how our relationships are echoed down the generations and how these relationships insinuate themselves in the choices we make in our own lives, I was confronted with the echos in my own life’s twists and turns. Aimaq’s characters ask these questions of each other and themselves, providing a new sort of space into which I can ask those questions as well. This is a gift.
The Opium Prince is also a fast-paced, engaging story, sprinkled with vivid scenes that live in your visual cortex as though you saw them yourself. I read an earlier version of the first chapter and have been haunted by its images for several years. The characters are spot on — indeed, there are two or three people in the book who I’m sure I’ve met at dinner parties in Africa and Asia, working for the US government in -AID positions of some sort. The Opium Prince excites as a great (historical) story, as well as providing a deeply satisfying space to think about the human condition.
Here’s why this book is staying at the front of my brain: the starkness of the reality of the book’s characters standing in contrast to the deeply philosophical questions asked by the actions of the characters. The conjoining of lived philosophy and thoughtful reality is seductive. I read for many reasons but one of the strongest is because I want to feel how others live their lives. This is my highest praise of any book — to feel what their questions are like to live — and that is The Opium Prince.
I read an advance copy, so you’ll have to wait until December. You’ll also want to read this book with a friend or two because you will want to talk about it. A lot.
December 5, 2020
Thanks to NetGalley and Soho Press for the ARC
This book almost feels like it doesn't know what it wants to be.
There are moments when it feels like a crime novel or a thriller, and then at times like a study of character. But all in all not bad, but not good either.
The book takes place in 1970s Afghanistan and we follow the lives of two Afghanis – David who owns a gem store and works for the Americans, and Taj who runs an opium business. David accidentally runs over a little girl and kills her. When explaining this to her parents and the police he meets Taj. Taj decides to make use of the situation and things happen. At the same time, the different forces within the country are on the brink of unrest: government supported by the Americans, naïve rebels supported by the Russians and the clerics in hiding all trying to swim to the top of the mess that is 1970s Afghanistan.
What bothered me more than this book’s inability to decide on genre was the inability to decide on tone. There are sentences when this book is as beautiful as a poem, but in the very next sentence it's as adjective-adverse as a Hemingway novel. It sort of causes whiplash.
The characters are ok. There are too many in my opinion. There are also strange focuses that appear only for one segment of a chapter and then you spend the rest of the book waiting to see them again, only to have them appear again at the end of the book as a sentence to show how badly the communist supporters treated the ordinary people on the street. I didn't care for that.
There was no need to spend pages on a passer-by just to show brutality. It's as if we the reader would not feel sympathy with a sweeper getting shot for not getting out of the way of a rebel without first learning about his OCD sweeping methods. Cheap tricks that only serve to shine a light on the fact that the reader was underestimated.
To end this I'd just like to leave you with a sentence from the book that confused me to no end. There is no mention of books until this point. There is some strange mention of Lolita by Nabokov, but I really don’t want to get into this. So, to get to my point. While flying David comments on the nature around him: “Like the hills of Middle-earth in winter.” Why? Just why?
Memorable quotes:
“The rich world has rules and regulations. The poor world has rituals and traditions.”
**
“…if you keep beating people over the head with democracy, they end up with a concussion. And you wonder why they can’t hear you anymore.”
**
“We can’t predict the future – we can only turn our backs on the past.”
This book almost feels like it doesn't know what it wants to be.
There are moments when it feels like a crime novel or a thriller, and then at times like a study of character. But all in all not bad, but not good either.
The book takes place in 1970s Afghanistan and we follow the lives of two Afghanis – David who owns a gem store and works for the Americans, and Taj who runs an opium business. David accidentally runs over a little girl and kills her. When explaining this to her parents and the police he meets Taj. Taj decides to make use of the situation and things happen. At the same time, the different forces within the country are on the brink of unrest: government supported by the Americans, naïve rebels supported by the Russians and the clerics in hiding all trying to swim to the top of the mess that is 1970s Afghanistan.
What bothered me more than this book’s inability to decide on genre was the inability to decide on tone. There are sentences when this book is as beautiful as a poem, but in the very next sentence it's as adjective-adverse as a Hemingway novel. It sort of causes whiplash.
The characters are ok. There are too many in my opinion. There are also strange focuses that appear only for one segment of a chapter and then you spend the rest of the book waiting to see them again, only to have them appear again at the end of the book as a sentence to show how badly the communist supporters treated the ordinary people on the street. I didn't care for that.
There was no need to spend pages on a passer-by just to show brutality. It's as if we the reader would not feel sympathy with a sweeper getting shot for not getting out of the way of a rebel without first learning about his OCD sweeping methods. Cheap tricks that only serve to shine a light on the fact that the reader was underestimated.
To end this I'd just like to leave you with a sentence from the book that confused me to no end. There is no mention of books until this point. There is some strange mention of Lolita by Nabokov, but I really don’t want to get into this. So, to get to my point. While flying David comments on the nature around him: “Like the hills of Middle-earth in winter.” Why? Just why?
Memorable quotes:
“The rich world has rules and regulations. The poor world has rituals and traditions.”
**
“…if you keep beating people over the head with democracy, they end up with a concussion. And you wonder why they can’t hear you anymore.”
**
“We can’t predict the future – we can only turn our backs on the past.”
December 16, 2020
Set in Afghanistan in the 1970s, this impressive debut novel weaves historical fiction and thriller together in a tale involving the far-reaching consequences of a tragic accident, the opium trade, politics, the growing tensions soon to erupt in the Communist takeover of the government, a troubled marriage and family secrets. Well developed characters (despite protagonist Daniel seeming painfully naive at times) and wonderfully rendered settings, no doubt taken straight from the author's memories of living in Afghanistan in the 70s. The pace was a bit slow at times, but the story proved engrossing.
April 7, 2021
A perfect example of how every solution leads to a problem that is worse than the one that required the initial fix. And there's a string of them here.
An American, biracial man oversees a US "development" program in Afghanistan during President Carter's term. His father was a prominent Afghan but that hardly provides more insight or keener judgment.
This is a fast-paced book. There is intrigue and multiple backstories, many wrapped in or informed by either local politics or local culture/history. Overall, it makes for an intriguing take. And the snowballing action seems to "explain" some of the challenges and occurrences in modern Afghanistan.
I enjoyed this title and would recommend it. It's smart and riveting...and entertaining.
An American, biracial man oversees a US "development" program in Afghanistan during President Carter's term. His father was a prominent Afghan but that hardly provides more insight or keener judgment.
This is a fast-paced book. There is intrigue and multiple backstories, many wrapped in or informed by either local politics or local culture/history. Overall, it makes for an intriguing take. And the snowballing action seems to "explain" some of the challenges and occurrences in modern Afghanistan.
I enjoyed this title and would recommend it. It's smart and riveting...and entertaining.
May 15, 2022
Boring....that's how I describe this book. The characters and plot were both dull. Audiobook wasn't great either.
March 14, 2021
Took me a third of the book to get invested but after that I was drawn in by the main character and his series of bad decisions. Granted he is in a bit of a hard place but....come on. An interesting end to the story concerning the pivotal event that started the book.
7/10
7/10
September 2, 2021
I will no doubt be in the minority on this book.
I wanted to enjoy it: set in Afghanistan in the 1970s, with the opium becoming one of the defining symbols of the country, Russia attempting to take the country, the US creating and arming the Taliban as an answer, and within all this turmoil, David Sajedi, half American and half Afghani, working for an American agency attempting to destroy the opium trade by taking out poppy fields, hits and kills a young girl while driving.
What is not to like? This: the book could not determine what it wanted to be. This will no doubt draw comments about how many books don't fit into a single category, and it's x of me to try to apply labels. Yes, some books defy categorization. In order to do this, though, they must be consistent, and they must be well written throughout. Characters are introduced and that appear to be playing a part in this book in some important way are never heard from or about) again. Thee are some pacing issues as well. The shifts in writing range from soaring language that is almost poetic to basic noun-verb-period. There are also some weird references to other books as we slog to the end that make no sense at all.
The premise is good. the story should be good, placed against that background. I just didn't really like the execution. Sorry, not for me.
Two out of five stars.
Thanks to Soho Press/Soho Crime and NetGalley for the reading copy.
I wanted to enjoy it: set in Afghanistan in the 1970s, with the opium becoming one of the defining symbols of the country, Russia attempting to take the country, the US creating and arming the Taliban as an answer, and within all this turmoil, David Sajedi, half American and half Afghani, working for an American agency attempting to destroy the opium trade by taking out poppy fields, hits and kills a young girl while driving.
What is not to like? This: the book could not determine what it wanted to be. This will no doubt draw comments about how many books don't fit into a single category, and it's x of me to try to apply labels. Yes, some books defy categorization. In order to do this, though, they must be consistent, and they must be well written throughout. Characters are introduced and that appear to be playing a part in this book in some important way are never heard from or about) again. Thee are some pacing issues as well. The shifts in writing range from soaring language that is almost poetic to basic noun-verb-period. There are also some weird references to other books as we slog to the end that make no sense at all.
The premise is good. the story should be good, placed against that background. I just didn't really like the execution. Sorry, not for me.
Two out of five stars.
Thanks to Soho Press/Soho Crime and NetGalley for the reading copy.
December 1, 2020
This may have been published as a crime novel, but it is so much more. Jasmine Aimaq’s debut novel is mystery and historical fiction about international relations. When Afghan-born American diplomat is posted to Kabul in 1970 to head the poppy eradication program, he finds himself enmeshed in a nightmare after killing a young girl when she ran in front of his car. When trying to make reparations for her death, he meets an opium kingpin, Taj Makeki who uses Daniel’s guilt to blackmail him. Tensions between the communists and the Islamic fundamentalists grow and their lives are thrown into danger. Its also a glimpse into the complicated Afghan political and cultural situation. And one thing the reader learns is that there really are no good guys in white hats. People often wear both hats. I was surprised at the humor in the book, its not a humorous subject portrayed in this page turner.
September 17, 2020
The Opium Prince may be published on a crime imprint, nevertheless it moved me to tears. It isn't just another thriller with international affairs as the setting. It asks deep questions about the underlying dynamics and difficult personal choices involved. Stunning for a first novel.
July 23, 2024
(Read the book blurb as I haven’t summarized it here.) For a thriller mystery/historical fiction and a debut book by the author, I found this book riveting, deep and amazingly well done. It’s rare that I use the word “deep” for a thriller mystery even thought I would also classify it as historical fiction. That’s because the characters are so well drawn, the emotional toll as a result of choices - good or bad - are so well reflected, and the complex relationships and secrets so heartbreakingly real. All this set against the backdrop of turmoil and uncertainty in 1970s Afghanistan when the country was being torn apart by political strife, economic hardship and the poppy fields that were leveraged to stem the tide of hunger among the average Afghan through its harvesting and distribution of opium. What choices would we have made? I thought the author did a great job creating the characters of Daniel Sajadi, Taj Malaki and Telaya - I could literally see them in my mind’s eye. I also could conjure up the other characters - Rebecca, Peter, etc. This book is rooted in the universal realities of character, survival, and relationships - realities similar around the world and throughout the ages. The story and characters have stayed with me long after I finished it. I listened to the audiobook, superbly read by Pete Bradley. I am surprised at the book's rating on GR - I would have expected a higher rating. I gave it 5 stars and highly recommend this book.
November 22, 2020
This book wasn't for me. The narrative was interesting but I found the quality of the writing lacking.
The novel starts off with an automobile accident wherein a man hired by the U.S. government to discourage poppy growing in Afghanistan runs over a young girl in a tragic automobile accident. He is immediately taken to the girl's parents and to the local rural law enforcement.
I couldn't identify with the characters and found the book somewhat plodding.
The novel starts off with an automobile accident wherein a man hired by the U.S. government to discourage poppy growing in Afghanistan runs over a young girl in a tragic automobile accident. He is immediately taken to the girl's parents and to the local rural law enforcement.
I couldn't identify with the characters and found the book somewhat plodding.
November 16, 2020
To describe this book as “interesting” would not do it justice. It was very well written and moved with ease from chapter to chapter. The culture, hardships, government aspects of the book were not known to me even though Afghanistan is known for the military actions in the country.
I enjoyed the story line and find myself often thinking about the book. While reading the last chapters, I came to understand the book’s title and wonder what the author was thinking about the future of the characters.
I enjoyed the story line and find myself often thinking about the book. While reading the last chapters, I came to understand the book’s title and wonder what the author was thinking about the future of the characters.
July 12, 2020
A first novel by the author, this smoothly written, deeply researched, and fascinating story captures the reader's attention almost immediately. Italicized sections give depth to the story, enabling us to understand backgrounds and feelings not in the regular text. Short chapters keep the action going.
The author's own background enables her to describe the recent history of the "poppy wars" in Afghanistan through the characters she places in the story. We smell, feel, see the country in its turmoil, the poverty and power division.
I will not summarize the plot, as others will do a better job of that. But my feelings about the characters, their strengths, their flaws, their plans, their hopes, kept me reading well into the night. We are fortunate to have the opportunity to read the first of, hopefully, other equally important and exciting stories.
The author's own background enables her to describe the recent history of the "poppy wars" in Afghanistan through the characters she places in the story. We smell, feel, see the country in its turmoil, the poverty and power division.
I will not summarize the plot, as others will do a better job of that. But my feelings about the characters, their strengths, their flaws, their plans, their hopes, kept me reading well into the night. We are fortunate to have the opportunity to read the first of, hopefully, other equally important and exciting stories.
November 25, 2020
Wow, what a satisfying thriller. Aimaq walks that fine line perfectly: the twists and turns are surprising and exciting but they also make sense within the story's world. And what a rich setting! 1970s Afghanistan is brought to life: gritty, sensual, troubled, complex, gorgeous. I think what surprised me most about this book was that I kept thinking about it in the months after I finished it. I came away with a new understanding of the region's complex politics and how, when faced with nothing but horrible options, reasonable people end up supporting the rise of an organisation like the Taliban. I have been recommending The Opium Prince to anyone who likes suspense, literary fiction, or historical fiction -- or just great books in general.
June 9, 2021
I don't believe I've ever written a review this harsh. Generally, I don't like to write reviews unless I enjoyed the book. This one is a hot mess. The plot is confusing, the protagonist unsympathetic, the structure meandering and unclear. Worst of all, there's just little to care about beyond the tragedy chronicled in the first few pages of the novel I got more than halfway through, as I always like to give an author the benefit of the doubt and so respect (being a novelist myself) the amount of work that goes into a book. All the same, I'd skip this one and hope for better from this author in the future.
January 13, 2023
This earned an extra star by being better than I thought it was going to be. I was really not enjoying it until the plot kicked into high gear somewhere just before the halfway point. I found the writing to be too ponderous and self-serious, and Telaya as a recurring motif to be irritating. I hate that the author tries to toe this line of stressing to the reader that she’s definitely a manifestation of Daniel’s guilt, she’s not literally in his head whispering to him, she’s not literally a ghost — but she might as well just be a literal ghost for how she’s treated in this story. She knows things Daniel doesn’t know, he describes her as a physical presence at times (she runs away from him in the alley, she holds his hand at one point), and she acts independently of him. She’s basically an actual ghost!
Which is weird and unfortunate that there’s this supernatural element that uproots the physical and material world, and it’s in the middle of this political thriller where no one really acknowledges it. Daniel stumbles through the factions and ideologies of revolutionary Afghanistan and isn’t like “Hey, guys, stop fighting, I have proof that ghosts are real, I killed this little girl at the beginning of this book and now she’s straight-up talking to me and leading me places and I can sometimes feel her touching me, like, in a physical way.”
I don’t like Telaya is what I’m saying here and I rolled my eyes at her character many times through the course of this novel.
But otherwise, there’s a lot to like here! The setting is interesting — Afghanistan in the 70s, a place that I as American know almost nothing about except for the parts where we went to war in and against the country. The characters are decent — Daniel, the spoiled scion of a powerful family who now works in a very small way for the most powerful government in the world, who gets his shit rocked immediately by unintentionally committing a grave crime right in the beginning of the book, who has to confront his notions of self and father and country throughout the course of the book. The plot is very nice, I very much enjoyed the escalation and of course, the twist that kicks everything off after the Agent Ruby thing, that was so unexpected and such a good narrative decision, just really throwing all the characters in the deep end of the pool by that point. The writing did get better as Daniel’s pompous introspection started to be about things that matter instead of just circling the same theme of “wow it’s really sad that that bad thing happened.”
Overall, I’m glad I kept going with this book. I thought the last minute twist was a bit shallow — again, I kind of hate this whole Telaya angle — but I still enjoyed it and I learned some things about a faraway place, and really, that’s good enough for me.
Which is weird and unfortunate that there’s this supernatural element that uproots the physical and material world, and it’s in the middle of this political thriller where no one really acknowledges it. Daniel stumbles through the factions and ideologies of revolutionary Afghanistan and isn’t like “Hey, guys, stop fighting, I have proof that ghosts are real, I killed this little girl at the beginning of this book and now she’s straight-up talking to me and leading me places and I can sometimes feel her touching me, like, in a physical way.”
I don’t like Telaya is what I’m saying here and I rolled my eyes at her character many times through the course of this novel.
But otherwise, there’s a lot to like here! The setting is interesting — Afghanistan in the 70s, a place that I as American know almost nothing about except for the parts where we went to war in and against the country. The characters are decent — Daniel, the spoiled scion of a powerful family who now works in a very small way for the most powerful government in the world, who gets his shit rocked immediately by unintentionally committing a grave crime right in the beginning of the book, who has to confront his notions of self and father and country throughout the course of the book. The plot is very nice, I very much enjoyed the escalation and of course, the twist that kicks everything off after the Agent Ruby thing, that was so unexpected and such a good narrative decision, just really throwing all the characters in the deep end of the pool by that point. The writing did get better as Daniel’s pompous introspection started to be about things that matter instead of just circling the same theme of “wow it’s really sad that that bad thing happened.”
Overall, I’m glad I kept going with this book. I thought the last minute twist was a bit shallow — again, I kind of hate this whole Telaya angle — but I still enjoyed it and I learned some things about a faraway place, and really, that’s good enough for me.
April 30, 2021
A brilliant debut, The Opium Prince tells the story of two men whose lives become entangled following the death of a little girl. It's set in 1970s Afghanistan, amid a US Foreign Aid entity attempts to eradicate the poppy fields that are fueling the world's growing opium addiction and at the beginning of a Communist takeover of the government. Daniel Sajadi is the son of a wealthy Afghan war hero/businessman and an American mother, who spent his early adult life in the US, returning to Afghanistan as part of that US delegation. I didn't love the drama between Daniel and his wife, but I can see how it emphasizes how torn Daniel between Afghanistan and America. This is an engaging thriller, with plenty of plot twists - one or two that are easily guessed, and some that I didn't anticipate, which is always fun, since they aren't unbelievable or ridiculous.
As a side note, I highly recommend the audiobook version which is brilliantly narrated by Pete Bradbury.
As a side note, I highly recommend the audiobook version which is brilliantly narrated by Pete Bradbury.
August 16, 2022
I’m surprised this book isn’t more talked about, maybe because it’s an area that’s been frequently explored by other authors/movies/tv shows…
Regardless this book provides a highly unique glimpse into the Afghan opium trade. It explores the intertwining lives destroyed by the red flower, people brought to its mercy, near and far. Veterans who succumbed to its influence after their third tour in Afghanistan, as well as the nomads who are made to harvest it.
This book serves as a reminder that U.S foreign interests seldom bring about much good, and instead bring conflict and turmoil to regions they sought to bring stability to. Well-written, critical, and highly relevant this book is crucial literature for discourse on The War on Drugs and just what that even means anymore reveals to be seen.
Fantastic.
Regardless this book provides a highly unique glimpse into the Afghan opium trade. It explores the intertwining lives destroyed by the red flower, people brought to its mercy, near and far. Veterans who succumbed to its influence after their third tour in Afghanistan, as well as the nomads who are made to harvest it.
This book serves as a reminder that U.S foreign interests seldom bring about much good, and instead bring conflict and turmoil to regions they sought to bring stability to. Well-written, critical, and highly relevant this book is crucial literature for discourse on The War on Drugs and just what that even means anymore reveals to be seen.
Fantastic.
December 1, 2020
This book is one of the best, most interesting books I have ever read. Aimaq's use of language, breadth of imagination, and insight into cultural conflict is unparalleled. One might think, upon reading it, that one has stumbled upon an author at the height of her literary power; but for this to be a debut novel is simply breathtaking.
The motivating conflict in this book is a complex one: to what extent are we responsible for the actions of other people? Daniel Sajadi is forced to confront and answer this question repeatedly—not just with respect to his nemesis, Taj Maleki, but also with respect to several other characters in the book. The various ways Daniel responds to this question drives the narrative.
Aimaq sets her story in 1970s Afghanistan, and has a critical awareness of historical and cultural events, leading up to the communist coup and extending through to the Taliban and 9/11. But what is most striking is how she portrays her characters. Daniel, her hero, is a man caught between two cultures, and much of interest issues from that tension. But Taj constantly threatens to upstage everyone else in the book—we can feel his charm, even as we try to resist him. Add to that a host of well-developed characters, and we end up with a richly developed story that demands attention and engagement from the reader.
This book is not a quick read; but it is a very rewarding read. I am eager to see more from Aimaq in the future.
The motivating conflict in this book is a complex one: to what extent are we responsible for the actions of other people? Daniel Sajadi is forced to confront and answer this question repeatedly—not just with respect to his nemesis, Taj Maleki, but also with respect to several other characters in the book. The various ways Daniel responds to this question drives the narrative.
Aimaq sets her story in 1970s Afghanistan, and has a critical awareness of historical and cultural events, leading up to the communist coup and extending through to the Taliban and 9/11. But what is most striking is how she portrays her characters. Daniel, her hero, is a man caught between two cultures, and much of interest issues from that tension. But Taj constantly threatens to upstage everyone else in the book—we can feel his charm, even as we try to resist him. Add to that a host of well-developed characters, and we end up with a richly developed story that demands attention and engagement from the reader.
This book is not a quick read; but it is a very rewarding read. I am eager to see more from Aimaq in the future.
December 20, 2020
At first, Daniel Sayedi, firmly believes in his US government mission to eradicate the poppy fields. Set in 1970's Afghanistan, he is haunted by his role in the fatal accident of a young girl. With his American wife by his side, they have an active social life amongst the others living abroad. But he is also looking to his family's past and what they had to leave behind when they fled the area.
I enjoyed the author's detailed descriptions of the characters and their settings. I empathized with Daniel's internal struggles but had difficulty connecting with him.
Thanks to NetGalley and Soho Books for an copy of this book. My review is voluntary.
I enjoyed the author's detailed descriptions of the characters and their settings. I empathized with Daniel's internal struggles but had difficulty connecting with him.
Thanks to NetGalley and Soho Books for an copy of this book. My review is voluntary.
December 28, 2020
An intriguing story set during a most tumultuous time, the story explores Afghan's history prior to the Soviet-backed revolution and foreshadows the eventual changes in power that have led to where the country finds itself today.
The protagonist Daniel Sajadi works for a foreign-aid agency dedicated to transitioning opium poppy fields to food and other crops. Born to a wealthy Afghani father and an American mother, he is determined to use his privilege to help his homeland.
With such a premise, it seems that good and bad / right and wrong should be easy to distinguish. But as with all well-developed characters, Aimaq blurs the lines and I found myself sympathizing more with Daniel's nemesis, an opium khan.
Jasmine Aimaq describes the landscape, culture and complexities of power in such stark, beautiful detail that I gained great appreciation for a place I know little about.
The protagonist Daniel Sajadi works for a foreign-aid agency dedicated to transitioning opium poppy fields to food and other crops. Born to a wealthy Afghani father and an American mother, he is determined to use his privilege to help his homeland.
With such a premise, it seems that good and bad / right and wrong should be easy to distinguish. But as with all well-developed characters, Aimaq blurs the lines and I found myself sympathizing more with Daniel's nemesis, an opium khan.
Jasmine Aimaq describes the landscape, culture and complexities of power in such stark, beautiful detail that I gained great appreciation for a place I know little about.
February 28, 2024
A bit different to what I usually read but was fascinating nonetheless. Set in 1960/70s Afghanistan that is a critique of colonialism and its impact on the people and their struggles during the revolution and rise of communism. The ending may be slightly american centric and seems too patriotic for my liking, but overall the novel is a fascinating dive into this historical era and looks at the devastating impact of poppy plantations.
Read
February 10, 2021This hooked me from the opening pages and I hung on for the ride! Wonderful plot. Complicated hero Daniel Sajadi vs opium khan Taj Maleki. Who will win “the war”? And who is “the opium prince”?
p.163
“Taj, any man can be king. He needs only to find people who are looking for one.”
p.163
“Taj, any man can be king. He needs only to find people who are looking for one.”
April 4, 2022
I am intrigued to want to learn more about the history Afghanistan and the opium growing in past half century there.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 112 reviews