What do you think?
Rate this book
I'm in Seattle, Where Are You? : A Memoir
Longlisted for the PEN Translation Prize.
An award-winning Iraqi writer creates a new world for himself in Seattle in search of lost love.
As the US occupation of Iraq rages, novelist Mortada Gzar, a student at the University of Baghdad, has a chance encounter with Morise, an African American soldier. It’s love at first sight, a threat to them both, and a moment of self-discovery. Challenged by society’s rejection and Morise’s return to the US, Mortada takes to the page to understand himself.
In his deeply affecting memoir, Mortada interweaves tales of his childhood work as a scrap-metal collector in a war zone and the indignities faced by openly gay artists in Iraq with his impossible love story and journey to the US. Marginalized by his own society, he is surprised to discover the racism he finds in a new one. At its heart, I’m in Seattle, Where Are You? is a moving tale of love and resilience.
An award-winning Iraqi writer creates a new world for himself in Seattle in search of lost love.
As the US occupation of Iraq rages, novelist Mortada Gzar, a student at the University of Baghdad, has a chance encounter with Morise, an African American soldier. It’s love at first sight, a threat to them both, and a moment of self-discovery. Challenged by society’s rejection and Morise’s return to the US, Mortada takes to the page to understand himself.
In his deeply affecting memoir, Mortada interweaves tales of his childhood work as a scrap-metal collector in a war zone and the indignities faced by openly gay artists in Iraq with his impossible love story and journey to the US. Marginalized by his own society, he is surprised to discover the racism he finds in a new one. At its heart, I’m in Seattle, Where Are You? is a moving tale of love and resilience.
309 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 1, 2021
1265 people are currently reading
3642 people want to read
About the author
Mortada Gzar
3 books33 followersIraqi novelist, filmmaker, journalist, and visual artist Mortada Gzar was born in Kuwait in 1982, grew up in Basra, Iraq, and now lives in Seattle, Washington
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 116 reviews
January 1, 2021
Mortada Gzar's "I'm in Seattle, Where are You?" is a memoir about loss, oppression, finding hope in love, and finding family in loss.
Mortada is a gay man in Iraq before, during, and after the U.S. war that led to the toppling of Saddam Hussein's regime. During all three stages of this war, Mortada must conceal his sexuality to avoid the brutalities of the Baath party or the even worse brutalities of the fundamentalists who kill anyone suspected of homosexuality. In all of this, he meets Morise, a Black, American soldier, and they fall in love. But when Morise returns to the U.S. and Mortada finds himself confronted with the dangers of living alone as a known homosexual in Iraq, Mortada must find a way to flee - to Seattle to reunite with Morise. In Seattle, Mortada meets a cast of characters who change his life and open up a whole new world for him.
This memoir which is at times enlightening and moving is dogged by prose that was either lost in translation (this book is translated from Arabic) or confused by the plot that zigs and zags between past and present in a way that is hard to follow. These flaws with the prose make it hard to feel connected to the characters and an otherwise important and interesting story gets lost in narrated conversations with shoes and flashbacks that aren't actually in the past. I am encountering this book as an ARC so things could change, but as it stands now this book is its own worst enemy.
Mortada is a gay man in Iraq before, during, and after the U.S. war that led to the toppling of Saddam Hussein's regime. During all three stages of this war, Mortada must conceal his sexuality to avoid the brutalities of the Baath party or the even worse brutalities of the fundamentalists who kill anyone suspected of homosexuality. In all of this, he meets Morise, a Black, American soldier, and they fall in love. But when Morise returns to the U.S. and Mortada finds himself confronted with the dangers of living alone as a known homosexual in Iraq, Mortada must find a way to flee - to Seattle to reunite with Morise. In Seattle, Mortada meets a cast of characters who change his life and open up a whole new world for him.
This memoir which is at times enlightening and moving is dogged by prose that was either lost in translation (this book is translated from Arabic) or confused by the plot that zigs and zags between past and present in a way that is hard to follow. These flaws with the prose make it hard to feel connected to the characters and an otherwise important and interesting story gets lost in narrated conversations with shoes and flashbacks that aren't actually in the past. I am encountering this book as an ARC so things could change, but as it stands now this book is its own worst enemy.
April 24, 2021
Don’t be fooled by the discouraging reviews on Goodreads, this memoir is BEAUTIFUL. A lyrical memoir on scavenging for casings and bullets in land-mined Iraq’s desert as a punishment for being gay; growing up under Saddam Hussein and inter-racial love. A memoir about uprooting yourself for love, longing for your lover and friendship within the LGTBQIA community. It is written like a novel and Gzar’s incredibly painful life will rival any author’s creative fiction. This is my favorite book of the year.
March 1, 2021
Something, Perhaps, Lost in Translation
This memoir is translated from Arabic into English, and I wonder if something was a little lost in the translation of it. This could have been a moving and riveting story of finding love as a homosexual man in a homophobic culture that takes it to an extreme hard for those of us in more open Western societies to understand... physical attacks that even lead to death. Instead, the author’s tale feels disjointed to me, making it so I never felt like I truly connected with the people involved. The story also ping-pongs confusingly between different timelines. Nonlinear writing is hard to do well, and unfortunately, it was not done so here.
I received a free copy of this book, but that did not affect my review.
This memoir is translated from Arabic into English, and I wonder if something was a little lost in the translation of it. This could have been a moving and riveting story of finding love as a homosexual man in a homophobic culture that takes it to an extreme hard for those of us in more open Western societies to understand... physical attacks that even lead to death. Instead, the author’s tale feels disjointed to me, making it so I never felt like I truly connected with the people involved. The story also ping-pongs confusingly between different timelines. Nonlinear writing is hard to do well, and unfortunately, it was not done so here.
I received a free copy of this book, but that did not affect my review.
March 25, 2021
What the hell? This book was so confusing, it had no discernible plot. I hung in and kept reading, hoping it would suddenly start to make sense. It didn’t. It just dragged on and on and on... Please do yourself a favor - do not read this book. It’s truly awful.
April 18, 2021
Mortada Gzar is a novelist born in Basra, Iraq and this is his memoir.
Mortada has an unusual writing style for his memoir. He goes back and forward in time and between his life in Iraq and America. He tells his story to the reader as though he is telling his life story to another person or object. His memoir is centred upon his falling in love with an African American soldier he meets in Baghdad and later moves to Seattle to make a life with him.
I liked Mortada’s story highlighting the cultures within Iraq and Seattle. He makes a big story about his homosexuality and the differences between gay culture in Iraq and America. However his memoir is very easy to relate to regardless of your gender or sexuality. Love of all types happens between people and his book is essentially a love story. The tension slowly but steadily builds as Mortada searches high and low around Seattle to find the love of his life Morise. In the final pages there is a surprise ending that simply tugs at your heart.
I liked how Mortada explained his teenage life around Basra collecting scrap metal from battles staged in the desert, observing an abandoned tank shake and meeting a three legged woman.
I liked reading about Mortada’s university life in Baghdad, where he met Morise and their relationship flowered. I liked the historical perspective of his memoir when Mortada wrote about the illegal invasion of Iraq in 2003. He explained the cultures and prejudices within Iraq, not just the looking down at the people of Basra by the people of Baghdad but the differences between Shi’i and Sunni Muslims.
I liked his observations of the gay scene in Seattle and the colourful and lively people he met. I also liked his use of nicknames and how he shared a house with the Three Monkeys and was befriended by the Three Monks.
I am pleased that I read a copy of I’m in Seattle. Where Are You? - I was irritated by the backwards and forwards in time. I think Mortada wrote his memoir in this format to hook the reader in early with the love interest but I feel this was unnecessary as there were so many varied and enlightening things that happened to him before he met Morise. With his rambling story telling writing style it was so easy to forget this was a memoir/true story and think I was reading a regular mystery novel. As memoirs go, I’m in Seattle was not an inspirational read but an interesting and personal insight into another world. I found this to be a NICE read but I found nothing special or outstanding. Looking through the highlights I made on my Kindle, I found there was not a memorable quote I could use in my review. When I finished reading this book I felt as though I had met Mortada and got the measure of the man. It was a case of “nice to have met you” and I think that I’m in Seattle is an OKAY 3 star read.
Mortada has an unusual writing style for his memoir. He goes back and forward in time and between his life in Iraq and America. He tells his story to the reader as though he is telling his life story to another person or object. His memoir is centred upon his falling in love with an African American soldier he meets in Baghdad and later moves to Seattle to make a life with him.
I liked Mortada’s story highlighting the cultures within Iraq and Seattle. He makes a big story about his homosexuality and the differences between gay culture in Iraq and America. However his memoir is very easy to relate to regardless of your gender or sexuality. Love of all types happens between people and his book is essentially a love story. The tension slowly but steadily builds as Mortada searches high and low around Seattle to find the love of his life Morise. In the final pages there is a surprise ending that simply tugs at your heart.
I liked how Mortada explained his teenage life around Basra collecting scrap metal from battles staged in the desert, observing an abandoned tank shake and meeting a three legged woman.
I liked reading about Mortada’s university life in Baghdad, where he met Morise and their relationship flowered. I liked the historical perspective of his memoir when Mortada wrote about the illegal invasion of Iraq in 2003. He explained the cultures and prejudices within Iraq, not just the looking down at the people of Basra by the people of Baghdad but the differences between Shi’i and Sunni Muslims.
I liked his observations of the gay scene in Seattle and the colourful and lively people he met. I also liked his use of nicknames and how he shared a house with the Three Monkeys and was befriended by the Three Monks.
I am pleased that I read a copy of I’m in Seattle. Where Are You? - I was irritated by the backwards and forwards in time. I think Mortada wrote his memoir in this format to hook the reader in early with the love interest but I feel this was unnecessary as there were so many varied and enlightening things that happened to him before he met Morise. With his rambling story telling writing style it was so easy to forget this was a memoir/true story and think I was reading a regular mystery novel. As memoirs go, I’m in Seattle was not an inspirational read but an interesting and personal insight into another world. I found this to be a NICE read but I found nothing special or outstanding. Looking through the highlights I made on my Kindle, I found there was not a memorable quote I could use in my review. When I finished reading this book I felt as though I had met Mortada and got the measure of the man. It was a case of “nice to have met you” and I think that I’m in Seattle is an OKAY 3 star read.
March 20, 2021
A beautiful story
I've read few books written in another language and translated to English, and as I was reading I found myself intrigued by the shifting between portions that seemed as though they had been originally composed in English and some that presented thoughts and images in unfamiliar ways. Was this due to the authors native tongue having different rules and patterns than mine, or to his thoughts flowing in a way unique to himself?
I enjoyed the unexpected transitions from fairly straightforward descriptions of events to thoughts, perceptions, or imaginings, and the frequent melding of the them that left me sometimes uncertain if what I was reading was factual, perceptual, or imagined.
As a middle aged, white male heterosexual U.S. citizen I cannot truly understand the experiences of violent persecution and cultural rejection for sexual orientation, the experience of living in pre and post Saddam Iraq, of having a foreign army invade and occupy your country, of having to leave it in fear and immigrate to the very country that invaded yours. But I can relate to the love story that connects all these elements, to the deep loss, fear, indignation, hope, anger, joy and acceptance the author describes. Our common humanity makes us not so very different at all.
I've read few books written in another language and translated to English, and as I was reading I found myself intrigued by the shifting between portions that seemed as though they had been originally composed in English and some that presented thoughts and images in unfamiliar ways. Was this due to the authors native tongue having different rules and patterns than mine, or to his thoughts flowing in a way unique to himself?
I enjoyed the unexpected transitions from fairly straightforward descriptions of events to thoughts, perceptions, or imaginings, and the frequent melding of the them that left me sometimes uncertain if what I was reading was factual, perceptual, or imagined.
As a middle aged, white male heterosexual U.S. citizen I cannot truly understand the experiences of violent persecution and cultural rejection for sexual orientation, the experience of living in pre and post Saddam Iraq, of having a foreign army invade and occupy your country, of having to leave it in fear and immigrate to the very country that invaded yours. But I can relate to the love story that connects all these elements, to the deep loss, fear, indignation, hope, anger, joy and acceptance the author describes. Our common humanity makes us not so very different at all.
January 6, 2022
Much as I wanted to know the author's story, I just couldn't get on with the writing. Disjointed and non-linear in a way that was less intriguing than (deliberately) confusing, dancing back and forth across the lines not just between past and present but between truth and what appears to be fiction, and with all dialogue rendered in endlessly running on overly flowery sentences that I have a hard time imagining coming out of anyone's mouth (at least in English, some of this may be a "lost in translation" effect)... all of this left me so disengaged that what should have been a powerful, poignant tale didn't have anywhere near as much impact on me as it should have had.
July 10, 2021
After finishing Mortada Gzar’s book I walked around in a haze. This was the first book I’ve been unable to put down in a long time. I enjoyed the small moments of incoherence and think these were important to the work of the memoir (and the work of recalling difficult memories, loss, physical trauma) and think the lapses and shifts in time were necessary. When you begin this book, you really have to surrender yourself to its form. You have to come to it willing to stick around.
March 20, 2021
This was a book I chose to read thinking it would broaden by knowledge of a land I know nothing about but is always shrouded in negativity. Unfortunately, I just couldn’t get along with the writing style and found the story confusing as to what was happening when, during the author’s life, what was fact and what was “fantasy”. I ended up skim reading to the end as I wanted to do the author justice by finding out what happened.
June 11, 2021
This was a beautifully written book. I've read reviews that complained about jumping back and forth in time. I don't think the story could have been told any other way. The discombobulation of going back and forth seemed the same as the always uncertain events that took place. In spite of being fairly well read, I had to look up definitions for more than 20 words. I wonder if the translator used such words so the reader would get the feeling of what it's like trying to communicate when you have limited knowledge of the language. The story is poignant. The horrid moments are described with stark reality. The beautiful moments are poetic and express timeless sentiments. There is so much there.
March 6, 2021
Very thought provoking
I wasn't sure how I felt reading this book .... By the end of the book I was so glad I read it. The culture in Iraq is so different from the culture here. I'm glad I read this book. I feel enrichment. Thank you for writing this book. I will be thinking about the subject of this book for a long time.
I wasn't sure how I felt reading this book .... By the end of the book I was so glad I read it. The culture in Iraq is so different from the culture here. I'm glad I read this book. I feel enrichment. Thank you for writing this book. I will be thinking about the subject of this book for a long time.
March 21, 2021
Could have been impactful, but fell short
The last two chapters of the book are the only ones that make any sense.
This book has a powerful subject, interesting point of view, but the main character seems to not have any emotion about anything. The meandering of timelines, the main character's telling of his story to inanimate objects, leaves me highly disappointed.
The last two chapters of the book are the only ones that make any sense.
This book has a powerful subject, interesting point of view, but the main character seems to not have any emotion about anything. The meandering of timelines, the main character's telling of his story to inanimate objects, leaves me highly disappointed.
May 27, 2021
This took a very long time for me to get through and, in fact, largely happened over the burst of a night that our internet happened to be out and I had my phone in hand so I decided to stay where I was and read in my Kindle app. I think the reason I found it so difficult to come back to and to finish this book was the nonlinear timeline. We'd start somewhere, get a bit further into the story and then come crashing in sometime later. It was very hard to follow. The language is also a bit perplexing at times and takes a long time to adjust to. I believe this is because it was originally written in Arabic, which I think (though I am not well versed in it) to be a very poetic and flowery language. English is...not. So, even though I think that the translator did a good job with intent, it comes off a bit stilted in English. There are some pretty harsh things in the book. Being a homosexual Muslim in Iraq doesn't sound easy and this book does not shy away from the hardships that he experienced. It was interesting but definitely not a book to come back to.
June 23, 2021
I've started and stopped on this one a few times, struggling to try to love it more, hoping it was poor timing or stress on my part. But I think I finally have to bit the bullet and just accept - this one is just not for me.
I thought it was interesting how Gzar told the story - his own character telling others his tales. I liked the idea of it but somehow the stories never got through to me. I never felt a connection to these sad and often horrific stories. You could tell how much each story meant to Gzar but I was on the outside of his emotions.
I wish I'd loved this more.
A huge thank you to the author and publisher for providing an e-ARC via Netgalley. This does not affect my opinion regarding the book.
I thought it was interesting how Gzar told the story - his own character telling others his tales. I liked the idea of it but somehow the stories never got through to me. I never felt a connection to these sad and often horrific stories. You could tell how much each story meant to Gzar but I was on the outside of his emotions.
I wish I'd loved this more.
A huge thank you to the author and publisher for providing an e-ARC via Netgalley. This does not affect my opinion regarding the book.
March 24, 2021
I got this book free as part of Amazon's first reads. The story flips from the present to the past a lot and at times it not always immediately obvious whether you are in the past or present. The story is not only interesting but reading of the author's treatment just because he is gay is absolutely shocking, and of course the treatment of others. Like some others I wonder if some elements have been lost in translation as at times I found myself thinking "this is just weird". Though as I progressed through the book some of the weird parts started to make sense. Some of it was incredibly wordy and I did wonder at parts what was the point of some bits of the story, but maybe it just went over my head. Some parts of the book really did make me LOL to. I really loved the end of the book - I though that was so well done, was toying between 3 and 4 stars.
September 21, 2021
Couldn't get through it. Story didn't really go anywhere. Finally gave up instead of wasting more time.
February 1, 2023
Non linear, translated well, beautiful and peculiar metaphors that are a breath of fresh air, and an illuminating perspective on LGBT oppression.
December 18, 2022
A devastating story that seems both fairy tale and horror story mixed together. The book’s settings are Seattle, Baghdad and Basra. An unexpected love story and of great loyalty. Comic at times, profoundly sad in others, it is a testament to belief in one another.
May 9, 2021
2.5.
It breaks my heart to rank this so low when the premise is so interesting and Gzar is writing about some truly painful experiences.
However, the way this is written makes it really hard to follow. Gzar "tells" his story to different people at different times and so it often becomes unclear when he's starting to talk to someone about the past and when he's just talking in the present day of the story. This made it super hard to follow.
Because he's literally telling his story, the narration is also heavily focused on telling rather than showing, which detracted from the story.
There are some lines that show some reflection and could be good, but the structure here just takes away from it.
It breaks my heart to rank this so low when the premise is so interesting and Gzar is writing about some truly painful experiences.
However, the way this is written makes it really hard to follow. Gzar "tells" his story to different people at different times and so it often becomes unclear when he's starting to talk to someone about the past and when he's just talking in the present day of the story. This made it super hard to follow.
Because he's literally telling his story, the narration is also heavily focused on telling rather than showing, which detracted from the story.
There are some lines that show some reflection and could be good, but the structure here just takes away from it.
August 16, 2021
I’m happy I didn’t put this down. I wanted to throughout the first half, some of the characters and plot points feeling unclear. I couldn’t tell if there was a lot lost in translation, if the story had been distorted somehow, if the Iraqi culture was that hard for me to vibe with, or if I just wasn’t connecting, plain and simple.
By the end, I had learned a lot about the horrors that he and so many people experienced and understood that this book was meant to unfold a lot like life does- people do inexplicable things, act in puzzling ways, and if we are patient through the discomfort of not understanding, we just might be rewarded with someone’s precious story.
By the end, I had learned a lot about the horrors that he and so many people experienced and understood that this book was meant to unfold a lot like life does- people do inexplicable things, act in puzzling ways, and if we are patient through the discomfort of not understanding, we just might be rewarded with someone’s precious story.
April 14, 2021
Like Hari Ziyad's "Black Boy Out of Time", "I'm in Seattle Where are You?" provides a unique but distanced view into what it means to be gay and different and living in America. But where Hari's approach is to relate his story through the distance of intellectualism and analysis, Gzar's approach is to provide that distance through artistic vision, drawings and magic realism. But Gzar's approach is particularly effective, particularly giving weight to the PTSD-like trauma of an Iranian war refugee adjusting to life in Seattle, his need to tell his story, and the horror of the things he witnessed in Iran. When he first arrives in Seattle, as a reader you are a bit confused as to just what kind of situation he is living in, but you begin to realize as the story goes on how damaged he is and shocked by all he has endured. But he is also compelled to tell his story, and tell of his one great love. In the end, as Mortada slowly adjusts to his life and comes to terms with his loss, the truth can finally be seen clearly. Overall a masterful achievement in memoir writing.
March 27, 2021
Profound description of life as a homosexual in Iraq , and elsewhere?
This is at the same time an illuminating story with lots of disturbing facts about mistreatment. There lots of very profound statements that make one stop and think.
I am so glad I read it but also I am very sad about the attitudes that must exist in religiously controlled societies towards various minorities.
An education.
This is at the same time an illuminating story with lots of disturbing facts about mistreatment. There lots of very profound statements that make one stop and think.
I am so glad I read it but also I am very sad about the attitudes that must exist in religiously controlled societies towards various minorities.
An education.
December 19, 2021
One of the Best Books I have ever read. In a league all its own. The way the story twines and unfolds, it is crafted, channeled, reading from the Gods! Breath holding and breath taking! Beautiful and Brutal. So very moving! Encompassing. Thought provoking! But for the Grace of God Go I! Right.
Gzar takes you on a journey of the soul.
Gzar takes you on a journey of the soul.
March 20, 2021
“The world still overflows with the goodness of humanity and with souls who open the windows of their spirit to fill their interior peace with distant vistas, because compassionate hearts are a power.”
“At times, it’s appropriate for us to protect our innocence and refrain from hearing other people’s memories, since our own memory is quite capable of destroying us.”
I loved this book, it was everything I have been wanting, a different voice, non linear, and fantastical, and seemed to tell the story of all of us while being specifically about a gay man fleeing a country that torture and kill him for who he loved, a refugee from a country I have gotten to know through two Iraqi friends. There is so much wisdom in non-eurocentric cultures, and I just love the opportunity to read it and listen to the brave, buoyant, terrifying, heart breaking story; how much is true is irrelevant, but it is a story and metaphor and analogy breathe differently once you escape the current accepted, award winning literature.
You can’t cross the same river twice,’ the human Heraclitus says,” I muttered to myself. The dog Heraclitus says, “You can’t walk in Seattle twice.” It’s not possible. Seattle runs faster than a river and inevitably changes. Morise’s Seattle might no longer exist; there are millions of Seattles that take turns here. I feel this while I walk the amazing streets in the heart of the city or its outskirts. I sense its skin corroding and another skin growing, only to be shed and replaced again.
He kept his head bowed while he said these things, but I felt we were looking each other in the eye, because my head was also bowed. Faces looking in different directions see each other at some point in space, especially when these are harmonious faces or ones linked by a clear tie of sincere affection. I reflected on a non-Euclidean geometry lesson that said two straight, parallel lines meet at a point somewhere—even the rays from my glances and those from his tearful eyes.
I would have liked to reach him in a single bound and open all the passages of his memory with my lips, a door at a time. I would take him back to Baghdad, or bring Baghdad to him, displaying it before his eyes.
It isn’t right for your moments to collapse beneath the feet of some other person or for you to refuse to see yourself without him. It is a massive error for us to put our lives on hold for one individual and to deny ourselves any worth without him—for us to be unable to imagine ourselves without him. Imagine yourself after him. Re-create your Self beyond that forbidding barrier, and cross over with us to life. Leap on board the ship.
If it had been Morise, even if it hadn’t been Morise. I had to work hard to free myself from my feeling that he was the lord of the city and its shaykh, on whose crown falcons dozed, because everything in Seattle pointed to him and led toward him—each detail and sign. He did not merely dwell in this city; he was its creator, who had woven it from warp and woof. He had re-created it and then shaken the dust off it as if it were a carpet from Tabriz. Everything in the city carried his signature and his fingerprint: the joyful queues on weekends at pot stores, the empty seats in outdoor cafés sprinkled by drops of rain, girls’ colorful wool caps, tech workers’ badges dangling to their laps, the panting of elderly Asians climbing its heights, the spoons of busy restaurants clicking against the teeth of children of wealthy Indians, the helmets of cyclists who pause to look at the tranquility of the Japanese Garden, the sigh of buses as they lower a lift for an elderly white woman in a wheelchair, the roars of laughter of Saudi teens in the swimming pools of the University…all these tell his story. Everything glorifies his name.
“The world seems to be smaller than the eye of a needle,” my mother used to say. But it returns to its normal, infinite size when we aren’t crazy in love with anyone, because love is a minimizing glass that collects and reduces the size of the whole world until it fits into the palm of one hand.
People devote more effort to correcting the errors of the past than they do to improving the future. In Seattle, Basra, Baghdad, and other places, you can see the past’s skiff tugging on the wrist of every pedestrian or passenger. This is the invisible skiff we drag with us over dry land. The fact that no one acknowledges its existence makes it very powerful. The skiff that accompanies me bumps a lot when I drag it through the city’s streets. It delays me at every turn. Memory’s film clips, which encircle this skiff, make it capsize and wobble, capsize and wobble.
(Caveat: I am not sure how this lands in the gay and BIPOC community, between translation and culture, so I apologize if there is anything that offends, but hope that it was proofread by someone in the community that he belongs to, for example: he calls his roommates monkeys and one is Black and talks about a transgender friend still in Iraq.)
“At times, it’s appropriate for us to protect our innocence and refrain from hearing other people’s memories, since our own memory is quite capable of destroying us.”
I loved this book, it was everything I have been wanting, a different voice, non linear, and fantastical, and seemed to tell the story of all of us while being specifically about a gay man fleeing a country that torture and kill him for who he loved, a refugee from a country I have gotten to know through two Iraqi friends. There is so much wisdom in non-eurocentric cultures, and I just love the opportunity to read it and listen to the brave, buoyant, terrifying, heart breaking story; how much is true is irrelevant, but it is a story and metaphor and analogy breathe differently once you escape the current accepted, award winning literature.
You can’t cross the same river twice,’ the human Heraclitus says,” I muttered to myself. The dog Heraclitus says, “You can’t walk in Seattle twice.” It’s not possible. Seattle runs faster than a river and inevitably changes. Morise’s Seattle might no longer exist; there are millions of Seattles that take turns here. I feel this while I walk the amazing streets in the heart of the city or its outskirts. I sense its skin corroding and another skin growing, only to be shed and replaced again.
He kept his head bowed while he said these things, but I felt we were looking each other in the eye, because my head was also bowed. Faces looking in different directions see each other at some point in space, especially when these are harmonious faces or ones linked by a clear tie of sincere affection. I reflected on a non-Euclidean geometry lesson that said two straight, parallel lines meet at a point somewhere—even the rays from my glances and those from his tearful eyes.
I would have liked to reach him in a single bound and open all the passages of his memory with my lips, a door at a time. I would take him back to Baghdad, or bring Baghdad to him, displaying it before his eyes.
It isn’t right for your moments to collapse beneath the feet of some other person or for you to refuse to see yourself without him. It is a massive error for us to put our lives on hold for one individual and to deny ourselves any worth without him—for us to be unable to imagine ourselves without him. Imagine yourself after him. Re-create your Self beyond that forbidding barrier, and cross over with us to life. Leap on board the ship.
If it had been Morise, even if it hadn’t been Morise. I had to work hard to free myself from my feeling that he was the lord of the city and its shaykh, on whose crown falcons dozed, because everything in Seattle pointed to him and led toward him—each detail and sign. He did not merely dwell in this city; he was its creator, who had woven it from warp and woof. He had re-created it and then shaken the dust off it as if it were a carpet from Tabriz. Everything in the city carried his signature and his fingerprint: the joyful queues on weekends at pot stores, the empty seats in outdoor cafés sprinkled by drops of rain, girls’ colorful wool caps, tech workers’ badges dangling to their laps, the panting of elderly Asians climbing its heights, the spoons of busy restaurants clicking against the teeth of children of wealthy Indians, the helmets of cyclists who pause to look at the tranquility of the Japanese Garden, the sigh of buses as they lower a lift for an elderly white woman in a wheelchair, the roars of laughter of Saudi teens in the swimming pools of the University…all these tell his story. Everything glorifies his name.
“The world seems to be smaller than the eye of a needle,” my mother used to say. But it returns to its normal, infinite size when we aren’t crazy in love with anyone, because love is a minimizing glass that collects and reduces the size of the whole world until it fits into the palm of one hand.
People devote more effort to correcting the errors of the past than they do to improving the future. In Seattle, Basra, Baghdad, and other places, you can see the past’s skiff tugging on the wrist of every pedestrian or passenger. This is the invisible skiff we drag with us over dry land. The fact that no one acknowledges its existence makes it very powerful. The skiff that accompanies me bumps a lot when I drag it through the city’s streets. It delays me at every turn. Memory’s film clips, which encircle this skiff, make it capsize and wobble, capsize and wobble.
(Caveat: I am not sure how this lands in the gay and BIPOC community, between translation and culture, so I apologize if there is anything that offends, but hope that it was proofread by someone in the community that he belongs to, for example: he calls his roommates monkeys and one is Black and talks about a transgender friend still in Iraq.)
January 12, 2022
I’m In Seattle, Where Are You? by Mortada Gzar
Translated by William Hutchins
Mortada Gzar is a talented artist and writer who emigrated to the U.S. from Iraq. Rather than tell his story by speaking directly to us, the readers, Mortada tells his story to anyone (and anything) who will listen. “Yes, dear cup, my journey combatting racism starts with collecting saliva and ends with me talking to cups.”
He recounts his life during the time of Saddam Hussain’s rule and the U.S. invasion and the various fundamentalist groups that struggled for control of Iraq and its citizens. He witnessed and was the target of extreme abuse and torture not just for speaking out but for the fact that he is gay. Despite his family’s concern for him, he cannot help himself, putting himself in grave danger.
“This has been one of my longstanding traits – I have caused myself many problems, drawn unfavorable attention to myself and raised questions. I would draw everything that popped into my head, defying my father’s advice to restrain myself. He had seen the corpses of too many young men tossed onto dump heaps for having expressed themselves. I disobeyed my father – I don’t know why – by writing, speaking out and criticizing what I saw, without worrying about the consequences, regardless of being in a particular region or a time period when no one had a right to speak his truth.”
He arrived in Seattle looking for Morise, an American soldier who he loves and spent time with while Morise was deployed in Iraq. He describes the painful events of his life as a gay man in a country with no tolerance for people like him. Not that IMO his new country is all that tolerant despite the face it attempts to put forward. But hopefully it is getting better.
I liked this book because it tells about life in a country half a world away as experienced by someone who tells the story so well. The book I have has samples of some of his beautiful sketches. I also watched a short interview he gave on the release of his book and some short videos he produced.
Translated by William Hutchins
Mortada Gzar is a talented artist and writer who emigrated to the U.S. from Iraq. Rather than tell his story by speaking directly to us, the readers, Mortada tells his story to anyone (and anything) who will listen. “Yes, dear cup, my journey combatting racism starts with collecting saliva and ends with me talking to cups.”
He recounts his life during the time of Saddam Hussain’s rule and the U.S. invasion and the various fundamentalist groups that struggled for control of Iraq and its citizens. He witnessed and was the target of extreme abuse and torture not just for speaking out but for the fact that he is gay. Despite his family’s concern for him, he cannot help himself, putting himself in grave danger.
“This has been one of my longstanding traits – I have caused myself many problems, drawn unfavorable attention to myself and raised questions. I would draw everything that popped into my head, defying my father’s advice to restrain myself. He had seen the corpses of too many young men tossed onto dump heaps for having expressed themselves. I disobeyed my father – I don’t know why – by writing, speaking out and criticizing what I saw, without worrying about the consequences, regardless of being in a particular region or a time period when no one had a right to speak his truth.”
He arrived in Seattle looking for Morise, an American soldier who he loves and spent time with while Morise was deployed in Iraq. He describes the painful events of his life as a gay man in a country with no tolerance for people like him. Not that IMO his new country is all that tolerant despite the face it attempts to put forward. But hopefully it is getting better.
I liked this book because it tells about life in a country half a world away as experienced by someone who tells the story so well. The book I have has samples of some of his beautiful sketches. I also watched a short interview he gave on the release of his book and some short videos he produced.
June 27, 2021
I give this 2.5. It was good, but I didn't enjoy reading it. I don't know if I was supposed to. I struggle with rating memoirs, especially memoirs that tell of horrific things, like political and systematic torture. I don't want to minimize the power of the book by my inability to enjoy it--- This was just hard for me. "I'm in Seattle, Where are You?" is a memoir about an Iraqi engineer and writer who makes it to Seattle, where he is searching for a former lover- a member of the US military- who was from Seattle. Mortada wanders Seattle in search for him, while telling his story. He needs an audience to tell his story---so he tells it in clumps to people, shoes, dogs, vagrants, and the tip of his nose. The narrative wasn't linear, and was a bit confusing to me-- and the characters were all hard to know. I had trouble understanding what was real--then felt bad because I my lack of understanding meant I wasn't a good witness to the very real pain of the tortured-- and wasn't really processing the absolutely vile persecution of homosexuals in Iraq, both before and after the wars. I think this book should be read more slowly. I might have gotten more out of it that way.
May 23, 2021
As indicated by the 1 star, I did not like this book. Other reviewers have hazarded a guess that something gets missed in translation, and maybe that's the case, but to me it seemed like the author's writing style was just too pretentious for my tastes. It's a memoir, but nothing he describes sounds like anything I've seen or heard in real life - not the way people act, the things they say, etc etc. For instance, no way do I believe that he was not ready to talk to his housemates, so instead spoke out loud to relate his history to a dog, a cup, a shoe, or the tip of his nose. Nor do I believe he never noticed a dog in the house where he lived even though he could recall the spot on its face. The translation may have been an issue, too, because there were scenes where I literally just did could not comprehend what was going on (like a bunch of grunting and the sound of sirens from behind a closed door while he is being introduced to a new acquaintance).
I gave 2 stars instead of 1 because this book did at least give me a glimpse of what it was like to live in Iraq during the American occupation. (Although, if I was already familiar with life in Iraq during that time period and then read this book, maybe I would be just as confused by it as I was by his writing of life in the U.S.)
I applaud the author for putting his story out here like this, but I'm afraid his style of writing was just a major turn off for me personally.
I gave 2 stars instead of 1 because this book did at least give me a glimpse of what it was like to live in Iraq during the American occupation. (Although, if I was already familiar with life in Iraq during that time period and then read this book, maybe I would be just as confused by it as I was by his writing of life in the U.S.)
I applaud the author for putting his story out here like this, but I'm afraid his style of writing was just a major turn off for me personally.
May 22, 2021
I picked this book primarily because I love Seattle and miss living there. Thus I tend to read anything that has this lovely city as its setting. While Seattle definitely was an integral part of the plot, it was a minor character at best. This memoir centers around Mortada, a gay man from Iraq, who faces the violence of war in his country. He focuses specifically on the torture and de-humanization that gay men suffer at the hands of religious extremism and homophobia. Eventually, he makes it to the US (Seattle specifically) and attempts to reunite with Morise, a US soldier that he had a romantic relationship with in Iraq.
This is a well written book that provides tremendous insight into the atrocities visited on Iraqi civilians by the hands of US soldiers, religious extremists, and terrorists. The stories that Gzar shares feel unimaginable and are tough to read; however, they are important. I can't say that this was one of my favorite books, but I do think that it's recommended reading.
This is a well written book that provides tremendous insight into the atrocities visited on Iraqi civilians by the hands of US soldiers, religious extremists, and terrorists. The stories that Gzar shares feel unimaginable and are tough to read; however, they are important. I can't say that this was one of my favorite books, but I do think that it's recommended reading.
March 16, 2021
I started off enjoying this author's writing style, the choices he made with words...
"These insalubrious matters took place in insalubrious moments and would make my coming days problematic. It was that one moment out of a lifetime when the protective coating is stripped off our spirits, forcing us to spend the rest of our lives in a state of chronic inflammation. Put another way, we become emotionally vulnerable and may fall in love with all of creation."
That's a lot to unpack. What an intelligent author. What a story!
Mortada Gzar's story about his life in Iran is very hard to hear but we must because there are people suffering and being killed because they are homosexual. A very harsh reality. How does anyone survive that? Mortada tells his story with cleaver phrasing. He used his intellect. He did find love and survive his persecutors. He described the characters whose paths he crossed were very entertaining.
"These insalubrious matters took place in insalubrious moments and would make my coming days problematic. It was that one moment out of a lifetime when the protective coating is stripped off our spirits, forcing us to spend the rest of our lives in a state of chronic inflammation. Put another way, we become emotionally vulnerable and may fall in love with all of creation."
That's a lot to unpack. What an intelligent author. What a story!
Mortada Gzar's story about his life in Iran is very hard to hear but we must because there are people suffering and being killed because they are homosexual. A very harsh reality. How does anyone survive that? Mortada tells his story with cleaver phrasing. He used his intellect. He did find love and survive his persecutors. He described the characters whose paths he crossed were very entertaining.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 116 reviews