Ausma Zehanat Khan cannot write compelling mysteries.
Alternate title: Why does Ausma Zehanat Khan hate women?
Other alternate title: Stop telling us things, and start showing us instead.
When I first heard of this book, I was excited to read it. A mystery novel about a Muslim lead in Canada written by a woman of colour? Hell yes, sign me up! I was looking forward to learning more about the Bosnian War, which Khan clearly has immense expertise in, as well as a good mystery novel with nuance and thrill.
I got none of that.
Instead, what I did get, was a poorly executed mystery novel, hastily written scenes stuffed to the brim with exposition, so much telling and not enough showing, and pages and pages and PAGES of misogyny. I am rarely uncomfortable while reading a book, but the misogyny - and how casually it is portrayed - truly unsettled me.
The mystery was honestly completely useless. It was clearly not the author's center focus. It was merely a framing device for her true intent: to discuss the atrocities that occurred to Muslims during the Bosnian War. In my opinion, she could've better done that by either releasing a historical fiction - possibly starring any of the numerous unnamed or partially named characters in the vignettes before chapters - or by releasing an anthology containing each of the vignettes she had written at the beginning of each chapter, fleshed out and given the respect it deserved. They were the more compelling parts of the book, and I found myself bored as we were transported back to the present time and back to the mystery of the book. The ending – the answer to the mystery – also lacks the impact that it should’ve had. Quick note for beginner writers: if you feel the need to reference another more famous mystery novel when solving the mystery, you aren’t a good mystery writer. You shouldn’t have to point out the similarities yourself. Yet another way the author tells us things instead of doing the work to show them instead.
The decision to make Rachel the main pov character (in third person, of course) was a poor writing decision. I understand that Khan's intent was to make her the audience proxy, so we could learn with her about the war. This decision ended with just pages and pages of exposition from characters who knew more than her. Rachel's personal backstory is also completely pointless and uninteresting. I found her more unlikable the more we learned about her. Her women-hating tendencies (immediately hating Audrey Clare for being a beautiful woman in tight clothing, despite Audrey being one of the kindest characters in the cast; her hatred and jealousy of Mink Norman for being beautiful and catching Khattak's eyes), put a sour taste in my mouth. Rachel hates every single woman in this book - the only two female characters she allows positive thought towards are the children Cassidy and baby misogynist Hadley, who echoes just as much vitriol towards women as Rachel does. Hell, Rachel even views her mother - an abused woman married to an alcohol - in a negative light. She sees her as pathetic, weak, quiet. And when she discovers her mother has known all along where her brother was, she immediately begins to view her as shrewd and cruel.
I knew something fishy was up the moment Khan decided to write the father, an abusive alcoholic who beat his son so violently that he ran away as a teenager, as a gruff man with some semblance of a heart once he stopped drinking. Rachel is so willing to accept this new attention from her father, but views her mother as cruel and mean. She even tells him where her brother is - what a stupid move! Your brother ran away to get away from his abuser and the moment your dad showers some sort of positive attention to you, you tell him about your brother??? You reveal this information to his abuser? What kinda cop are you?!
Which leads me to my next point: does Khan even know how detectives work? Time and time again. neither Khattak nor Rachel do any real policing or detective work. They talk to a bunch of Khattak's friends - who are bizarrely entangled in this mystery too (for no good reason) - and that's it. The only real thing they did was collect evidence. Khan tries her best to tell us that Rachel is empathetic and kind-hearted, but I see none of it in her interactions with suspects. She treats Melanie Blessant like she is the scum of the earth and she harasses a mentally disabled man until she upsets him, leaving the brother (who never consented to her interrogation) to calm him down. Khattak is no great detective either - he stands passively to the side, never divulges relevant information, lets Rachel clumsily ask question after question with each suspect, and immediately biases himself by falling in love with one of the main suspects (going as far as to deny her role in the victim’s death). CPS (as fake as it sounds) sounds super corrupt, considering both of them are willing to bad mouth a suspect to her face and are willing to even blackmail her into giving custody to her kids. Melanie is written to be a terrible character but honestly, after all the slut shaming/body shaming comments every character made about her, I felt no vindication or rejoice when Khattak calls her appalling. I just felt sick.
Every single woman in this story is 1 dimensional and shamed for being either beautiful or sexual. Rachel is "not like the other girls" because she's not a stone-cold fox and has an athletic stocky body. She's obsessed with her boss and seems to seek the approval and admiration of many of the men in this book. Rachel hates women and wants men to think she's capable. She's a boring character and a terrible misogynist. Khan writes like a male author, constantly reminding us how beautiful or buxom every woman is. I wanted to roll my eyes every single time Melanie Blessant’s large breasts were brought up in the scene. We get it lady, you hate women who get plastic surgery!! Enough of it already!!!
My final point will be on diversity. This book takes place primarily in Scarborough - a district of Toronto, Ontario, Canada. I know that area. I have family that lives in that area. Scarborough is basically my second home at this point. I have never ever seen as many white people in Scarborough as I did in this book. Scarborough is bursting at the seams with ethnic diversity and yet the sole person of colour is Khattak, who is sparsely written and honestly didn't need to be a MOC. He could've been Bosnian-Muslim and his ties to the mystery would've actually made sense, instead of the flimsy "he's upset because he's also Muslim" excuse Khan uses. Frankly, what a goddamn disappointment. A book written by a woman of colour about a man of colour in one of the most diverse cities in Ontario ends up being a story about a misogynistic white woman learning about war for the first time. How ridiculous it is, too, when Mink accuses Khattak of never being able to understand how hard it would be to be Muslim in a world that did not accept them. Mink is a white woman who can easily hide her religious affiliations. KHATTAK IS A BROWN SKINNED PAKISTANI MAN. What do you MEAN, he wouldn’t understand??? How can you understand Bosnian history so well but choose to neglect Pakistani history like that? Or Canadian history regarding minorities. Ridiculous, stupid, and such a dumb choice.
I feel, going through all of these reviews and knowing the accolades this book received, like I'm going crazy. Is the bar really that low for a mystery novel? Are we really that okay with the poorly fleshed out, stereotypically sexualized/villanized/shamed female characters, and flimsy plots? Is that all it takes to win awards? Shit, I should've sent my high school fiction to a publisher years ago - I could have 60 awards by now and I actually know how to write women in a positive light! I learned in high school that you should show the reader information, not tell them like a college lecture! I better go find those old stories and send them to a publisher – my accolades await me!
Don't waste your time on this book. Or do, and you can come complain with me about how awful this book is. I think I'll go read some Agatha Christie now, to wash my eyes/ears of this poor excuse of a mystery and read some actual quality again.