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Daniyal Mueenuddin's short stories take place in modern-day Pakistan and revolve around several loosely connected characters as they try to make the best of their (sometimes pathetic) situations.

I come away from this book with a strong sense of societal/class divisions, in which the poor stay poor and the well-off continue to feel the influence of the British raj. The stories hint at Islamic culture, with references to veils and calls to prayer. There are no big surprises or unexpected turns; these stories feel like portraits of real life.

My rating of 4 stars reflects well-rounded characterization and deliberate, believable plots. I didn't feel completely "immersed," however; Mueenuddin's style is rather distant.

I first read several of these stories in The New Yorker. I picked up an autographed first edition of the book at Vroman's in Pasadena.

Daniyal Mueenuddin's short stories take place in modern-day Pakistan and revolve around several loosely connected characters as they try to make the best of their (sometimes pathetic) situations.

I come away from this book with a strong sense of societal/class divisions, in which the poor stay poor and the well-off continue to feel the influence of the British raj. The stories hint at Islamic culture, with references to veils and calls to prayer. There are no big surprises or unexpected turns; these stories feel like portraits of real life.

My rating of 4 stars reflects well-rounded characterization and deliberate, believable plots. I didn't feel completely "immersed," however; Mueenuddin's style is rather distant.

I first read several of these stories in The New Yorker. I picked up an autographed first edition of the book at Vroman's in Pasadena.

This book of short stories continues the adventures of Nora Jane (pregnant with twins by two different men!), Traceleen, Rhoda, and others.

My favorite lines, from the title story:

If I enter into this moment, I will be changed forever. If I refuse this moment then I will go about the world as an old man goes, with no hope, no songs to sing, no longing or desire, no miracles of sunlight. So I will allow this to happen to me. As if a man can refuse his destiny. As if the choice were mine. Let it come to me.