Echo 2: Quiet Praise—Reflecting on My First Review (BookLife Editor’s Pick)
Length: 746 words • 4 min read
Themes: First Review, Complexity, Fatherhood, Personal Reflection, BookLife by Publishers Weekly
Heartbeat: Reflecting on my first professional review, unexpected subtle praise, and embracing complexity in The Gales of Alexandria.
The first review arrived suddenly—not through an email notification, but while I was casually refreshing the BookLife by Publishers Weekly website during the week it was expected. One moment there was nothing, and the next, it appeared with the "Editor’s Pick" badge beside it. I read through it quickly, and my immediate reaction was quiet disappointment.
The review stirred complicated emotions within me. Here was someone completely outside my circle—not a friend, editor, or collaborator—someone entirely impartial, genuinely recognizing the novel’s strengths. Yet, it lacked the enthusiastic praise I imagined would accompany such a badge. I had envisioned grand statements—words like “amazing,” “unforgettable,” or “masterpiece,” the kind often splashed across book covers.
Misunderstanding the nature of professional reviews, I immediately emailed BookLife, questioning the restrained tone and subtle praise. But I was mistaken. It took time—and additional reviews—to recognize my error. Three or four weeks later, after careful reflection, I wrote again to acknowledge my misjudgment. What I initially perceived as subdued language was, in fact, thoughtful, meaningful engagement remarkable for its depth.
A key theme highlighted in this first review—and echoed in subsequent feedback—was complexity. The takeaway was concise: "Richly complex story of faith, politics, and justice." I'm not certain I consciously set out to emphasize complexity, but I knew I didn't want to shy away from exploring these intertwined themes. Another line deeply resonated with me: “Elgammal offers an intricate look at the precarious relationship between faith, politics, and their potent effects on people, shifting between characters and timelines while handling divisive themes with graceful nuance.”
My goal was always to approach topics like radicalization and history sensitively, informed by my experiences growing up in Alexandria, Egypt, and observing the broader dynamics of the Middle East. I vividly recall my childhood neighborhood, defined by striking contrasts.
There was a prominent conservative mosque, two minutes from where I lived, famous across the city for its strict teachings, situated at the heart of a middle-class community yet attracting worshippers from elsewhere. Just ten minutes away stood a private social and sports club frequented by affluent and some middle-class families—a privilege I enjoyed, spending long summer days there with close friends.
These worlds coexisted, often visibly distinct: women in niqab crossing paths with young girls in shorts heading to the private club, distinct yet inseparable. Through multiple perspectives, I wanted readers to sense these layered emotional realities the characters navigate. This is not a story of clear-cut answers; these themes demand deeper engagement and empathy.
The review also illuminated a core emotional theme of the novel: “At its heart, this debut is a dialogue between father and son, each victims of political circumstances, as they wrestle with their separate paths towards justice.” This father-son dynamic deserves its own reflection in another post—there’s a lot to unpack. As a father myself, I'm constantly reflecting on the lessons, values, and yes, the mistakes I'm inevitably passing on to my daughter. And by mistakes, I don't just mean my habit of loudly shouting questionable soccer advice from the sidelines (sorry!). Parenthood is never straightforward; it's a messy mix of hope, uncertainty, and endless responsibility.
Finally, BookLife compared the novel to Hala Alyan’s Salt Houses and Alaa al Aswany’s Chicago. Seeing my work placed alongside Alaa al Aswany, one of Egypt’s foremost contemporary authors, who vividly captures the zeitgeist of modern Egypt, was deeply humbling. As for Salt Houses—I haven't read it yet, though I'm familiar with Alyan’s strong reputation. It now occupies a prominent spot on my reading list.
In the current political landscape, approaching complexity sensitively is crucial. Absolutist answers might be appealing but rarely solve complicated problems. We all shy away sometimes—I certainly find myself tempted to change topics when conversations become uncomfortable, yet I continually remind myself of the value in facing complexity openly and honestly.
In my professional experience, understanding complexity and leading with nuance is essential. For example, in change management, I've noticed overly formulaic and standardized approaches often overlook crucial narratives and contexts. Real solutions typically aren't complicated despite their flashy presentation slides; it’s recognizing and empathizing with complexity—what I've tentatively called "empathy to complexity"—though perhaps that's not quite right yet. It's something I'm still thinking through—perhaps it could become part of the framework I regularly use to approach challenges. I'll let it settle a bit more.
There’s more to say, but that's for another time. See you soon.
P.S. Curious about the full BookLife review? You can read it here.
A layered novel, told through voices rarely heard. Stories like this travel because of readers like you.
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