That Thing We Call a Heart Hardcover – May 9, 2017

“What do you have to lose? My pride, for one. And that thing we call a heart.”That Thing We Call a Heart is Sheba Karim’s long awaited second YA novel. Her first, Skunk Girl, was the first time I had seen a (sweet spunky) South Asian American girl in print, and reading it was a joyous experience, and that precious thing for browns in America: resonance.TTWCaH follows in those footsteps, tracing Pakistani American teenager Shabnam Quraishi’s senior year at a poncy private high school in New Jersey. Her best friend, Farah, suddenly dons a hijab. Her great uncle comes to town trailing memories of the violent Partition in 1947, between India and Pakistan. And she falls in love with Jamie, a charming pie selling white boy home from college.I found the interactions between Shabnam and Farah most thought provoking, Shabnam’s agnostic Muslim-ness challenged by Farah’s punk version of Islam. They are both trying to find their footing, a difficult enough thing in a white Christian majority world (let alone the hormonal charge of teenagehood), but also defining what it means to be religious. What’s powerful about this is that neither friend rejects the other’s spiritual standing, wherever it lands, and I love that this variability and questioning exists, especially in this new political climate where nuance and complexity are often sacrificed for black and white soundbites.Shabnam’s parents are a far cry from the strict immigrant parents I am familiar with. Her mother is loving and accepting, and Shabnam seems untroubled by the usual teenage-parent conflicts (letting aside the Desi Muslim bits). It felt a little too easy, but that’s probably just jealousy on my part. I did love how Shabnam’s father, a gruff over-rational (but poetic!) academic Desi dad (so many of us have them!) helps her discover Urdu and Sufi poetry, connecting her to her Pakistani heritage, and to her own beating heart.“What is desire without distance? What is love without longing?”What indeed. TTWCaH is written in Ms. Karim’s trademark breezy style, and I’m looking forward to more.

That Thing We Call a Heart is the story of the summer after Shabnam Qureshi's graduation. She struggles with finding her place, shifting friendships, a new appreciation for poetry, and the appearance of a new guy.Shabnam is sharp, flawed, and real. She says and does things that she immediately regrets. She doesn't always appreciate her parents. She is funny and observant and looking to figure out how she fits into the world. She was a completely normal girl trying to juggle all these separate parts of her life sometimes successfully and sometimes not. Even when she wasn't making the best choices, I was right there with her.This is a very different book than the other realistic contemporary (nonproblem) novels with a Muslim teen girl as the main character that I have read before. I appreciated those differences because it starts to scratch the surface of how many different types of lives and experiences Muslims have. No group is a monochrome.This is the first time that I have read a book about a Pakistani-American girl who is not religious. Islam frowns on many of the things that she does; such as making out with a guy and drinking. Her mother is a semi-practicing Muslim while her father is agnostic. If you are looking for a book about a teenage girl who has a secure and personal connection to Islam, this is not the book for you. She is a cultural, secular Muslim. I can't say anything about the representation. Shabnam read to me as well developed like most other characters that I read about.I wish that the Indian Partician had been talked about and explored more. I have done a bit of reading on it, and it was such a seismic event that I would have expected it to play more of a role in the book once it was a part of the narrative.The character that I struggled with the most was Shabnam best friend, Farah. She is much more religious and feminist than Shabnam. I think that Farah was meant to be someone cooler and stronger that Shabnam for her to look up to. Someone to give Shabnam decent advice that she wouldn't follow but should. I didn't like her. It felt as if she didn't have much of a sense of humor and that even when she was trying to be funny, she was kind of mean-spirited. I could understand if there was an undercurrent of anger to her character but it didn't feel intentional. I was also a bit confused by her practice of Islam as it seems as if she was picking an choosing what she did and did not have to follow. Throughout the book, I didn't find myself wanting to be friends with her, and often I actively did not want to be friends with her. Maybe it has to do with my personal biases and what I expect from characters.There were no all good and all evil characters in this book. Like real life everyone was complicated and had their agendas and blind spots. People could have terrible moments and still be good people or say something positive and not be good. There were also backstories and quirks in personality that were only hinted at that enriched the book. I wanted to know more about almost everyone.In the end, I like the writing, and I was mostly willing to "go there" with the characters. It isn't the most memorable book that I have read this year but neither did I want to throw it at something.

I loved this book for the relationships between the two best friends -- Farah is especially awesome and complex, and the parents and a fun sexy portrayal of falling in love/lust for the first time. Love how Muslim identity, Partition and Urdu poetry are woven in so flawlessly too. And all the donut descriptions made me hungry. Highly recommend for teens and older!

A warm, funny and tender look at family, friendship and it's perceived betrayals and solidarity, and the ecstatic world of young love. When your protagonist happens to be of Pakistani Muslim stock, in a largely white small town, there is much that is new and fresh. A delightful read.

Ordered for a frnd. She likes it.