Crescent

by Diana Abu-Jaber

Sirine is 39, half-Iraqi and half-American and working as a cook in a Middle Eastern restaurant in Los Angeles. She falls for Hanif, a dashing professor at the local university, but she feels that she is too American for him.

Genres: Fiction, Food, Middle East, Romance, Contemporary, Book Club, Literary Fiction

352 pages, Paperback

First published April 1, 2003

About the author

Diana Abu-Jaber is the award-winning author of Life Without A Recipe, Origin, Crescent, Arabian Jazz, and The Language of Baklava. Her writing has appeared in Good Housekeeping, Ms., Salon, Vogue, Gourmet, the New York Times, The Nation, the Washington Post, and the Los Angeles Times. She divides her time between Fort Lauderdale, Florida, and Portland, Oregon.

Reviews

[Tim Null · Rating 3 out of 5]

October 15, 2023 Update:

I find it difficult to express myself in an organized and rational way. If you're a regular reader of my reviews, you're probably well aware of that fact. Recently, I've found rational thought to be increasingly difficult. Since October 7th, rational thought has become nigh on impossible.

When I originally wrote this review on 13 October 2023, I wrote the only words that would come to mind. Today, please allow me the opportunity to try again. Here goes:

When I read the reviews written by other Goodreads users, I discovered that about half were positive and half negative. They're all correct. How can this be? The answer can be simply stated. Part One of this book is marvelous. Part Two sucked, but it could have been easily salvaged by a good copy editor.

============================
My original October 13th review:

I lost myself in Part Two. I was hopelessly lost. Fortunately, I found myself at the end.

[Olive Fellows (abookolive) · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a truly singular reading experience, one that's very hard to describe. It's about passion, loss, guilt and forgiveness. Iraq, Los Angeles....and food. All wrapped up in one hazily romantic, yet laced with foreboding package.

I'm a plot-driven kind of reader, but if I'm going to spend time reading a character-driven book, it better deliver in another kind of way. This one overflows with atmosphere and emotional tension.

[Sunshine · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book gets an extra star (its fourth) for telling a story of a fair, blond iraqi-american woman born and bred in L.A., working an Arab kitchen in Tehrangeles.

There are few, very few, pieces of fiction of second-generation arabs/persians/muslims in the states. (lots of memoir, yes, - and some crap, like roth's lovely little take - but very little fiction) So this gets extra points for filling a deep whole on the shelf. Also gets that extra star for repping us halfies! Another deep hole on my shelf. I'm a fair/blond iranian-american second-genner, and I have *NEVER* seen a story about someone like me in that regard. It was like reading candy and gulping water all at once!

Loses a star because the narrative/writing are a little loose; like reading a good draft that still needs a revision or two and a good editor. Kinda weird cuz it's really good in a lot of respects and then it'll lose its way for a few pages or a paragraph of over-description. But it kept bouncing back, and I kept caring more and more about the characters despite the text's flaws. And it had so much love; so much love for these characters and the community and the depths of the pain of exile and family distance and war and horrible geographies. It was all there, with love and a healing touch. So thank you Diana Abu-Jaber, I'll have to check out your earlier novel "Arabian Jazz".

(because of the loose writing, folks who don't have a topical interest may lose interest reading this one. but if you have an interest it'll probably keep you going, like me)

[Serene · Rating 2 out of 5]

At the end of my edition of this book was an interview with the author, and she confesses her model for her novel was the Shakespearian play, Othello. I think that is the key to the problems I had with the book - characters undertaking dramatic actions for no apparent reason and having all the secrets behind their motivations only revealed at the end. Worked for Shakespeare, but I'm not so sure if it works for a modern novel. I wanted to know why, for example, Sirine was so enchanted with Hanif - his allure seems purely physical - or why Hanif all of a sudden feels he needs to risk arrest to go to Iraq, after so many years of exile. Even when I understood the characters' reasons at the end of the book, I didn't feel them.

But let me say this for Abu-Jaber: her prose is lovely, and I loved the bits of fairy tale at the beginning of each chapter. I'll be interested to see what she produces in the future.

[Skip · Rating 3 out of 5]

A forty-year old chef, half American-half Iraqi falls in love with an Iraqi-exiled professor. The book is set in the Arab-American community in Los Angeles, and dances around some very complex family dynamics, love, and Arab culture. I found the book to be very slow at times, but liked the focus on Arab food/recipes and the differences highlighted among various Arab cultures. Chef Sirine and Professor Hanif made some poor decisions. Also, I found the Arab fable at the beginning of each chapter to be more annoying than interesting despite its mysticism.

I preferred Pauls Toutonghi's Evil Knievel Days, which had similar themes.

Favorite irreverent quote: In reality, dogs are only reincarnated monks who didn't say their prayers right."

[Rebecca · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book's description of Arabs, particularly students and academics, who live in the diaspora is heartbreakingly accurate. Abu-Jaber's descriptions are both intense and palpable. Just as you can taste the mujadara, so too can you feel the homesickness of the characters. Most are suffering from the type of homesickness that anyone plucked from their native home and transplanted into a foreign land would suffer. Sirine, the protagonist, suffers from a different kind of homesickness. Hers is a complex one that weaves together loss, love, crisis of identity, and misunderstanding. Beautifully painful to read.

[Kerry (lines i underline) · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.25⭐️ This is an unusual, introspective, quiet, character-driven story that pulls you inside a culture and community and also leaves you thinking about loss and exile and the experience of immigration. Oh, and there is romance. And such evocative, sensuous writing - about food and the LA neighborhood where it is set. I am always pulled in by a story that takes place in a restaurant and this novel is a creation as memorable, complex and beautiful as the dishes we read about throughout the book. It’s lovely and I’m glad I discovered this backlist gem.

CW: grief, kidnapping, death

[Hillary · Rating 1 out of 5]

Argh this book was SO bad I don't even know where to start....In a word, this book is glib. It talks and talks and talks and says NOTHING.

Okay let's start with the main character: Sirine. Somehow she's supposed to be the heroine of the story, but she doesn't do anything. Like, quite literally, she does NOTHING in this book. I don't know what she contributes to the plot (not that there's much of that either). She cooks a bunch, that she does. But she never has anything interesting to say, or even think. And men seem to fall for her, for mysterious reasons that Diana Abu-Jaber doesn't share with her readers. There is absolutely ZERO substance to Sirine. There is not an iota of information in the book that actually gives her some personality (minus the constant references to her hair). The synopsis on the book cover says that Sirine "finds herself questioning...her own torn identity as an Arab-American" - but there is no torn identity in this book. Sirine doesn't speak Arabic, and doesn't give off any airs that she wishes she had learned. She has no desire to travel beyond her small neighbourhood, let alone another country - even one that might help this so-called "torn identity" Abu-Jaber claims her main character suffers from.

We barely even get a physical description of Sirine, beyond "skin so pale is has the bluish cast of skim milk...wild blond head of hair...sea-green eyes." We don't know how tall she is, her body build, nothing descriptive. Not that this is necessary, but it just illustrates how little we know about the protagonist. (But we do know she keeps a spare swimsuit in the trunk of her car...just in case?! Wtf...)

Then there's this silly character, Nathan. He's some kind of photographer who is obsessed with Sirine's boyfriend, Hanif. He's been to the middle East so he possesses a deep knowledge of the world which he carries on his shoulders. I knew SO early on in the book that Nathan's Iraqi love would be Hanif's sister, it was almost painful. Gah, so obvious. Then theres the fact that he's a creepy stalker who follows Sirine around and takes pictures of her with men. And he lives in a derelict "shack"...I mean...seriously?!

And of course we have Hanif, who is supposed to be this kind of demi-god, all "chocolate voice" and "cocoa skin" and "nutmeg scent" and of course there are strands of hair always falling over his forehead. And of course he's broken and wounded inside and can't fully show himself to Sirine. He at least has slightly more substance, and the love for the country that he's been torn away from is actually quite touching!

Moving on, there's Rana - the silliest character in this ridiculous novel. She's an American-Saudi woman who is a student in Hanif's class and who Sirine's thinks is in love with Han. Of course Rana is also unbelievably gorgeous and smart and young. She really serves no purpose except to provoke feelings of unease in Sirine. She invites Sirine to a Women for Islam meeting, which Sirine attends, but then that little plotline fizzles out quicker than it started. Now THAT would have been interesting - Sirine converts to radical Islam!!! Next time we see Rana, she cuts in between Sirine and Han during a dance, and Sirine, overcome with jealousy, thinks Rana stole the scarf Han gave her. So Sirine pulls off Rana's headscarf, only to realize it's not the same scarf...then she runs away. Somehow Rana is cool with this (ummm what?! Last time I checked it was extremely offensive for a veiled woman to have her headscarf ripped off...) and then explains to Sirine her child-marriage which she ran away from and how she likes to chase men down until they sleep with her. And that's the end of Rana's character.

Who's next? Okay, there's Um-Nadia and Mireille, more characters with zero personality who work in the restaurant with Sirine.

How about Aziz, the silly poet. His role is to chase after Sirine, who eventually gives in to him, not once but twice - first kissing outside her house, and then SLEEPING WITH HIM (what?!?!) after a concert. And both of them kind of brush off this incident, even though Aziz claims that Han is one of his best friends, and Sirine claims she loves Han. Right...

Now then there's the annoying stories that begin each chapter. Some silly tale of Abdelrahman Salahadin. What is the purpose of these snippets?!

Finally, there's the prose. Now, don't get me wrong, I like good descriptive language as much as the next person, but honestly there comes a time when it just gets pretentious and annoying. Here are some examples:

"The day is a sunburst of smog and mist; it shines in the straight-arrow streets and brown wandering canyons and azure reflecting pools. It's in the wild-field spindles of lavender and heather. It touches the baking rooftops, scaly chicken-foot streets. The spiked plant growing in ditches and open fields. Yellow things sharp as skeletons and horned devilish plants and hard blue scrub gnarled as knuckles. It rises and crosses a semi-lunar horizon, great open page of sky, faintly salty, traces of fruit, citrus, water in the wind."

"...the sound that contains the scent of berries, chocolate, and mint, that tastes of salt and oil and blood, that sounds like a heart's murmur, the passage of clouds, the call to praters, the beloved's name, and a distant ringing in the ears."

And there are so many more passages that I can't quote right now....but it's especially the ones to do with either describing Han or talking about cooking that are the most annoying. Han always smells like nutmeg or clove or orange blossom or lightly scented jasmine. And in the cooking there's always saffron and sage and pepper and chocolate and roasted herbs and pickled lemons and on and on and on. It just gets a bit much after a while!!

All in all, this book is a waste. The only reason I read it to the end (and that was after skipping over several large chunks) was to confirm my initial suspicions about Nathan and Han's sister.

Also, as soon as I read "Sirine's uncle" for the first time, I knew we would never find out what her uncle's name was. And we never did!

The only reason it gets two stars is because it made my mouth water with all the discussions of delicious middle Eastern food. And because there are a few recipes in the back of the book. A very small redeeming quality to an overall disaster of literary fiction.

[Marne Wilson · Rating 5 out of 5]

I think the last time I was this intoxicated by a novel was with Mortal Love, which I read almost exactly four years ago. Perhaps I was overdue to have all my senses blown out, but this one more than made up for the long wait. The first section is full of so much happiness (or actually, I’d say joy), with many luscious cooking scenes and also some delicious love scenes. I was thrilled, but also wary, because any book that starts out so happily has only one direction to go.

Eventually, the difficult times did come, as secrets from the past bred more secrets in the present and misunderstandings galore. Of course, as always, it was not the secrets themselves that caused the problems, but the power that people gave them. (If I was a novelist, my books would be about 10 pages long, because I’d have everybody tell all their secrets right away, and then all the drama would be gone.) Eventually, of course, all is revealed, and the ending was a satisfying one to me. I recommend this one to anyone who likes great food writing with a side of melodrama. (Bonus points if you’re interested in Middle Eastern culture.)

[Ron Charles · Rating 4 out of 5]

Diana Abu-Jaber couldn't have imagined that we'd be reading her lush romance about lonely Iraqis by the light of Baghdad burning. Her publisher must be nervous about the political climate, but it's refreshing to see Iraqis outside "the axis of evil." In Crescent, they're struck by Cupid's arrows instead of Tomahawk missiles.

The story takes place in Los Angeles, but like the rest of us at the moment, every character is fixated on the Middle East. Arab students and professors congregate at Nadia's Caf�, a Lebanese restaurant where they can linger over foreign newspapers, argue about poetry, and drink coffee without being cautioned, "This Beverage Is Extremely Hot!"

"Everything about these young men seemed infinitely vulnerable and tender," Abu-Jaber writes, in one of many passages rendered more poignant by the current crisis. They're all consumed with loneliness, and they're all bashfully in love with the chef, Sirine. "She is so kind and gentle-voiced and her food is so good that the students cannot help themselves — they sit at the tables, leaning toward her."

She hasn't left West Hollywood for years, but from her Iraqi father, she learned how to conjure up the aromas of their lost desert home. Cookbooks have been her only travel guides. At 39, she knows far more about spices than politics. Orphaned as a little girl, she's been living with a kindly uncle who teaches in the Near Eastern Studies department at the university.

In his own gentle way, he encourages her to get married, and her distressingly slow progress in that direction is the subject of considerable discussion and analysis by the cafe staff. "She's always had more men in her life than she's known what to do with," the narrator explains, but somehow nothing ever comes of it. "She's never broken up with anyone, she just loses track of them."

Then, as must always happen when we've established that the woman is beyond reach, in walks The One. In this case, he's Han, a strikingly good-looking, moderately famous Near East scholar. But as soon as Sirine spots him, she "thinks spinster and hugs her elbows." This modest cafe chef would never dream of attracting the attention of a world-renowned intellectual who leaves devoted followers in his wake. But he's captivated by her, and before long, they're cooking together.

That's not a Monitoresque euphemism: They're actually cooking together. But one of the great pleasures of this sensitive novel is the way Abu-Jaber stirs these culinary metaphors. "The ingredients inside Han and herself called to each other," she writes, "like the way ingredients in a dish speak to each other, a taste of ginger vibrates with something like desire beside a bit of garlic, or the way a sip of wine might call to the olive oil in a dish." Indeed, when Abu-Jaber describes them making baklava together, it's a lot more erotic than what passes for love scenes in most modern novels.

With a little more zaniness, this could have been My Big Fat Iraqi Wedding, but Abu-Jaber prepares a more complex dish that's equal parts romantic comedy, political protest, fairy tale, and cultural analysis. As one of the cafe patrons notes, in Iraq "everything's sort of folded up and layered."

Indeed, the sweet humor that Crescent delivers so deftly is richly complemented by its exploration of loneliness.

With her characteristic melodrama, the cafe owner says, "The loneliness of the Arab is a terrible thing; it is all-consuming. It is already present like a little shadow under the heart when he lays his head on his mother's lap; it threatens to swallow him whole when he leaves his own country, even though he marries and travels and talks to friends 24 hours a day."

Abu-Jaber whips up a troubling argument about the way American efficiency aggravates that despair.

Sirine's uncle complains that in the US, "people just talk all day long on their phone, their computer, and no one ever lays eyes on each other."A patron in the cafe asks, "Why does no one in America recite poetry? They go to the coffeehouse and they just drink the coffee."

As Sirine gets closer to Han, she comes to realize how starved he is for the sustenance of his homeland. "I miss everything," he tells her in a moment of anguish, "absolutely everything. The fact of exile is bigger than everything else in my life. Leaving my country was like — I don't know — like part of my body was torn away. I have phantom pains from the loss of that part — I'm haunted by myself."

Slowly, she gathers pieces of his tragic history, his escape from Iraq and his family's ghastly fate under Saddam Hussein. Even knowing she can't fill that void, she makes an attempt, grasping after pieces of her father's Iraqi past, investigating Islam, and struggling to immerse herself in the political news she's always ignored.

Han assures her, "You are the place I want to be — you're the opposite of exile," but her uncle warns her that the cure for such loneliness is not so easy. "When we leave our home,"he says, "we fall in love with our sadness." Indeed, the demons pulling at Han are stronger than she feared, and the novel begins to veer away from its comic tone toward the horror of Saddam's rule and the ferocity of America's response.

At the same time, Abu-Jaber broadens her exploration of exile to include all the various ways we're bereft of home — by the death of parents, the separation from lovers, the hunger for lost childhood. Gradually, we come to see that every character in this story — Iraqi, American, and Arab-American — is banished by guilt, exiled to sadness by a sentence that can't be lifted by imperial decree or regime change.

Abu-Jaber captures this despair with exquisite care, but her heart belongs to romance, not tragedy. The allusions to Othello that waft through the story eventually give way to the uncle's outlandish fairy tale. This is a tough time to consider the artistic and culinary beauty of Iraq, but as one of the cafe patrons says, "Americans need to know about the big, dark, romantic soul of the Arab." Readers stuffed on headlines but still hungering for something relevant will enjoy this rich meal.

[Mbgirl · Rating 3 out of 5]

Medley story, centering around Sirine and Hanif— one an Iraqi-Am, the other an exile of Iraq itself.

Set in Westwood CA, where I’ve walked a million times in Little Tehran bc that’s where some kin live. Exciting to see the Village highlighted, etc

I wasn’t enthralled by the way the plot went—-the Aziz byline— Nathan.. meh. And the ending—- as exciting as the last 5% of the book, wasn’t a fan of Abu-Jaber’s plan.

Love all the cooking food bits!

[Jenny (Reading Envy) · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sirine, almost 40, tries to come to terms with her cultural background (her father was Iraqi), and also tries to understand an Iraqi expatriate professor that she starts to fall in love with. With many references to the cooking of the Middle East (I love foodie lit!).

[Gizmology · Rating 5 out of 5]

Magnificent. Absolutely divine -- subtle, multilayered, nuanced, politically-set, lyrical, bewitching, compelling and *delicious* fiction from an author who teaches down the road from me at PSU. I've seen her name for years, probably passed her in the halls of the lit dept., but somehow never gave her a try until just this week -- thank you, Annie Bloom's, for your "Northwest Writers" shelf! All I can say in the thirty seconds I have left is: it's got mystery, family, politics, tragedy, romance, larger-than-life characters alongside very real, lifesize ones, ironic uncles, love of all kinds, a dog, a jinn or two, food fragrant food tantalizing FOOD, AND recipes in the back when you're done.

This is a perfect book to take you out of your sweaty seat on the Tri-Met #15 on your way to work or home after, to transport you to a place where you can smell the jasmine and taste the ocean and float on clouds of cumin through the window of Sirine's kitchen in Um-Nadia's Lebanese cafe in Teherangeles... Ok, i'm off to the market and then I think I'll read it again while I soak the lentils.

[Saleh MoonWalker · Rating 3 out of 5]

Onvan : Crescent - Nevisande : Diana Abu-Jaber - ISBN : 393325547 - ISBN13 : 9780393325546 - Dar 416 Safhe - Saal e Chap : 2003

[Cherise Wolas · Rating 5 out of 5]

Read pre being on Goodreads. I remember loving it.

[Cheryl]

I loved the flavor of this and the feel, but after setting it aside for months, I realized I'd gotten the gist and there wasn't enough there to help me pick it back up. (DNF)

[fatma]

DNF at 30%

sorry but when i read books about arab characters "orientalism" is not generally the vibe i go for 😬😬😬😬

[Ronya · Rating 3 out of 5]

I really enjoyed this one. Abu-Jaber did a great job infusing Arab culture (language, art, food, poetry) into a story set in LA. The love story, too, was refreshing--the characters were much older. It was interesting to me because an unmarried Arab woman in her late 30s is not generally someone who is looked upon with as much awe and respect as was Sirine. Like others, I was not a fan of Abu-Jaber's structure and thought that the fable that continued from the beginning of one chapter to another (but was not part of the first chapter of part 2 for some reason) was a distraction. I wish, though, that I had not skimmed through it and paid more attention, as it somewhat brought together the end of the story.



One thing--and this is just a personal pet peeve--I thought the description on the back cover of my particular book was HORRIBLY written. It spelled characters' names wrong and was just not indicative of what the story was actually about. But that's just me...

[Phantasmagoric · Rating 1 out of 5]

DNF // 129 pages out of 339.
Humdrum is the word to describe this.

I feel sorry to say this but the author failed tremendously to keep me hooked! It was so hard to go through the first chapter.

The characters are merely described physically, the author gave them no personality! Just a bunch of men and one woman that are busy flipping their hair.

The setting is mostly Um-Nadia's café, which the author waited till page 60 to describe! I don't remember if the time this was set is mentioned.

I wasn't able to see a plot! Up to page 129 they were just talking and sometimes reminesceing without making a clear point! I don't even think there would be a climax and dénuement to this!

Almost no events, monotonous!! And la petite histoire d'amour seemed so childish compared to the characters ages!!

The author's writing style wasn't consistent. As far as I read she couldn't focus on one thing and made it all over the place, that's why she failed to keep me interested.

[Maya · Rating 3 out of 5]

It’s been a good bit since I read this and I’m typing this on my phone, so please excuse the poor quality of this review...
Part one: the noice
I’ll admit - there were some patches of writing in this book that were serene(get it? [deep apologies for my dad humor]) and almost made this book worthwhile.
For example, there was a passage where Sirine(main character, victim of my dad joke above) makes wara3 3neb(grape leaves) (or filo for baklava, can’t remember)in the late evening and thinks. Abu Jaber(author) describes the deep night’s light and the peace Sirine derives from it. She adds some thoughts of the protagonist, done in a way that reminds me of those old Syrian dramas and soap operas I grew up with. Something about it did something to me. I can’t really explain it - it was just one of those things. I remembered that soft calm feeling that can only come on a slightly chilly evening when you’re left alone with your thoughts to become an amateur philosopher.
Also, Hanif was an extremely well-developed character in my opinion. He had depth, backstory, culture, etc.
Part two: the not so noice
The reason behind the 3 star rating is the extremely poor plot development. Aka known as THERE WAS NO REAL PLOT. At the the end, a conflict is introduced, but other than that, for the rest of the book - Abu Jaber just gives painfully slow details on every last feature that could be described. This is not a police report, ma’am. Please spare us.
It was ruined by the aforementioned descriptions and a half-baked, unrealistic relationship. Also, I understand she’s an Arab American and disconnected from her culture… but I was shocked she didn’t know Fairouz(an EXTREMELY famous Lebanese singer).
It just dragged and dragged and midway through the book I just wanted to sleep. Like I do now, goodnight!

PS: pray for Afghanistan, please.

[Lee · Rating 3 out of 5]

Diana Abu-Jabner’s second novel, Crescent, explores the tensions, dynamics, and relationships among the people whose lives circulate around a café in Los Angeles’s Iranian community (often referred to as “Tehrangeles”). The novel’s primary narrative stems from the experiences of chef Sirine, who works at the café cooking food based on her own childhood and family memories and recipes. She lost her parents young; they were Iraqi nationals who immigrated to the United States, but pursued numerous humanitarian missions throughout the world and died in Africa during a raid. Sirine was raised by her uncle and still lives him. Her life seems rather uneventful, until she starts to become involved with Han, an apparently sculpted Iraqi professor at the local community college. From there, the story unfolds around her romantic relationship with Han, with many dramatic twists and turns liken to an afternoon soap opera. Han seems to harbor a dark and mysterious past (with unidentified women), leaving Sirine to wonder whether she should trust him to be reliable and loyal to her. It is also worth mentioning that each chapter begins with a parallel narrative (as told to Sirine by her uncle, despite her boredom with the story and annoyance at his efforts) about Auntie Camille on her journey to find her rebellious son—akin to epic Arab poems.
I first picked up this title because I learned that Abu-Jabner is a fellow graduate of Binghamton University and native of Syracuse, and it seemed fun to read the work of a published fiction writer who found her beginnings locally. I was nearly finished with the novel before I started to check out some reviews online. Until that point, I felt that there was something I didn't like about the plot of this book and that really bothered me. The decisions the characters were making were too impulsive and irrational and they did not seem to fit with reality; I did not understand why they were making the choices they were.

I stumbled upon a Goodreads review in which the reader noted that her edition included an interview with the author during which she identified Shakespeare’s Othello as her model for this novel. This helped me to understand a lot about the novel. It made much more sense to me (and also helped me understand a little more the point of the parallel narrative that opened every chapter, which otherwise seemed disconnected—and still does to an extent). Reflecting on Othello as a model explains the theatrical-like dramatization of the characters and their impulsive, irrational behavior—yeah, I tend to read novels as if I were spying on someone’s real life, unless I have reason to do otherwise. After reading the Goodreads review, I read the novel not so much as a novel, per se (whatever that means), but instead a mystical, theatrical dramatization in novel form, and from that point on I didn’t seem to judge the characters as harshly. A change in perspective by changing the lens of which genre one expects to be reading can influence dramatically influence the way one reads and appreciates a text.

Aside from the overly dramatic and impulsive behavior of the characters, the writing is overburdened with somewhat clichéd metaphors, similes, and analogies that strike me as characteristic of an emerging fiction writer’s style. Or maybe the experience of having just come out of reading a John Irving novel (whose writing is packed with plot to develop characters and sparse with descriptive narrative—a practitioner of the “show, don’t tell” strategy) influenced my expectations for reading fiction. Clichés also abounded with what I found to be stereotypical portrayals of women and Middle Eastern or Arab people. Sirine as the main character seems obsessed with her love interest as it consumes her life, and when she begins to question his loyalty she starts to follow him around and imagines she sees him kissing one of his students—the imagined arch-enemy who threatens to steal Han’s love. Cat fight over a man? Come on! This arch-enemy conveys a strange choice in character development as well, as she is a woman who wears a hijab and seems to portray a eccentric sense of suspicion and militancy.

The most enjoyable experience in reading this novel for me was how it weaved a space where multiple worlds and sensory experiences merge: multi-cultural community of Middle-eastern people and people interested in middle-Eastern cultures, academics (students and professors), working class, etc. converged at Nadia’s Café—also a space through which the novel intermingled food, music, dance, literature, and conversation (often contentious). There were also parts of the novel that successfully built tension and kept me engaged to continue reading and want to learn what happened. I did not feel any connection with the characters and their experiences, though I note that through the reviews I read it seems that many other readers did, and that they especially enjoyed the exploration of the transnational experience.

For the reasons I already mentioned above, this wasn’t an excellent read, but a good summer romance with a global socio-political slant. It did seem strange, though, that the novel did not offer more in terms of the reality of an Iraqi’s (or any Middle Eastern’s) experience in a post-9/11 America. The novel was published in 2003, so maybe it was written before then—but the lacking in this area still remains noteworthy.) Even though the novel failed to leave a great impression on me, I know that many would enjoy Abu-Jaber’s novel for all of the reasons I didn’t. If you like theatrical and romantic melodrama in your novels with impulsive and irrational characters, this one’s for you. Maybe if I went back and reread it through the lens of Shakespeare’s Othello, I might appreciate it more, but I’m ready to move onto my next read.

[Chandni · Rating 1 out of 5]

I didn't connect with this book at all. I could have powered through and finished it, but it wouldn't have ended up being more than a 2 star novel.

[Elstirling · Rating 5 out of 5]

Reading books that share food always makes me hungry for that type of food! Well written, almost poetic at times and the characters seem so real. I usually enjoy this author’s books.

[HєllyBєlly · Rating 3 out of 5]

OK. So. This is the blurb on Amazon:

"Sirine is thirty-nine and a breathtaking golden-haired beauty. Half-Iraqi and half-American, she was raised in Los Angeles by her Iraqi-born uncle -- a professor at the local university and an endless source of fabulous tales of jinns, sheiks and Bedouins -- after her aid-worker parents were killed in Africa. An exquisitely gifted cook at Cafe Nadia, where homesick Middle Eastern ex-pats collect to drink coffee and savour her perfectly spiced food, Sirine is loved by all. She has, however, never been in love herself, and it is her uncle's dearest wish that she will fall for dashing new college professor, Hanif Al Eyad, a political exile from Baghdad. The two meet at Cafe Nadia and from the start their relationship is steeped in the scents, flavours and textures of Sirine's cooking. But Sirine is not convinced that they have the right ingredients for a life of happy-ever-after; in particular, she worries that she is too American for Hanif."

My comments:
Sirine is not ever described as a breathtaking beauty in the book. She is incredibly pale, with a large mop of unruly blond hair.
The story about djinns and bedouins that her uncle is telling Sirine in this book is interspersed with the story of Sirine and a bit of a disturbance in the beginning, but the more I got into the book, the more I appreciated it breaking up the main storyline a bit.
Sirine is a chef first and foremost. And the descriptions of her dishes, the scents and spices, her cooking and recipes along with the Swedish narrator's excellence made me stick it out to the end.
Because, secondly: Sirine is an idiot. She has no concept of any place outside Los Angeles or any idea of what is happening in the world and her father's and uncle's and Hanif's native Iraq. She just seems to float along and let things happen to her. Also the fact that she goes off kissing and sleeping with a friend of Hanif's just because she was a bit unsure of where they were in their relationship is incredibly wrong and dumb. Further, I cannot stand the character of Nathan. I understand his tragic experience, as you learn about it bit by bit, but towards the end his defence of taking pictures that he should not be taking simply because "he can't help himself" is extremely annoying.

I think the description of how Sirine reacted to and came to terms, somewhat, with her parents' death was done really well. What I take away from this book is a longing for Lebanese and Iraqi food and a better understanding of the Arab in exile. (S)he, as all other refugees around the world who can never go back, always long for something they will never have.

[Candice · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the most enjoyable books I've ever read. Now I would like to read other books by this author. Loved the characters - some were quirky, some mysterious, all believable. Sirene is in her late 30s, the daughter of an Iraqi father and American mother. She works as a cook in an Arab restaurant in Los Angeles. Following the death of her parents, she was raised by her uncle, a wonderful man who likes to tell stories. So intertwined with the story of Sirene is a fable made up by her uncle about some of their ancestors. Sirene falls in love with Hanif, an Iraqi man who teaches at the same college as her uncle. The language and descriptions are absolutely beautiful. I often stopped to reread something because of the way it was written. Foodies will love the descriptions of Sirene's cooking. Those of us who like to read about other cultures will like the book because it portrays Iraqis, indeed all Middle Easterners as real people. Those who like stories about love and relationships will like the relationship Sirene has with her uncle, and of course the love story with Han. A terrific book.

[Zeyn Joukhadar · Rating 5 out of 5]

CRESCENT is one of the best books I've read in a long, long time. It has everything I love: gorgeous, vivid prose, a world you can get lost in, and a story where nothing is what it appears to be. An incredible, can't-put-it-down read that I cannot recommend highly enough. Brava, Diana Abu-Jaber! A beautiful story flawlessly told. I can't wait to read more of her work!

[Debbie · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved LOVED this book. There was so much in it, from history to forgiveness, to love and death and cooking and wonderful story-telling. This author has such a beautiful way with words and she uses every sense to tell the story, every single one, including the sixth sense. I fell in love with every single one of the characters, but my favorite is the uncle. A beautiful, sensual, haunting novel.

[Laura]

To be fair, I won't rate this. Perhaps it's the most wonderful book in the world. But when I can't get past Page 50 after 5 tries, I have to give up on it. I couldn't connect to this book at all.

On to the next one.

[Renata · Rating 4 out of 5]

Mostly this made me super hungry. I wish Nadia's Cafe delievered!! But also it was an enjoyable romance (that didn't end with a baby, yayyy) with some social commentary, myth, and history. And recipes!

[Anna · Rating 4 out of 5]

Beyond the DELICIOUS food stuff, this book really changed the way I thought about what it means to live in exile. Compelling all the way through, which is rare.