Today I dove into Good Intentions by Kasim Ali with the intention of reading a chapter or two and couldn’t put it down. It’s a book about growing up and away from your family and how that differs hugely by culture, mental health, race relations, family, homophobia, friendship and love. About the expectations we put on ourselves and that our families put on us, but how we wear those expectations and how they shape our decisions but also our self worth.
The descriptions of anxiety and panic attacks alone make this worth picking up; but the friendships depicted between Nur and Rahat and Nur and Imran are really where I felt a glimpse of the male psyche that I haven’t read frequently. I inhaled the book and highly recommend it.
Am reading Clover Stroud’s The Red of My Blood, but slowly and in little bursts as it is all a bit too much for me. Real depictions of cancer and grief hit too close to home.
And listening to Mercy Street by Jennifer Haigh, but again the subject matter, centered around an abortion clinic, is too violent whilst I rage about women being treated horrifically by the Metropolitan Police. I may need to dive into some more Cazalet Chronicles for a break.