Since the death of their mother and grandmother, Isma has worked at a dry cleaners, putting her own education on hold in order to provide for her much younger twin siblings, Aneeka and Parvaiz. Now that the twins are adults, Isma has decided to relocate to Massachusetts to complete a PhD there. In the states, she meets Eamonn Lone, son of the controversial Home Secretary Karamat Lone who made many enemies amongst the Muslim community as an MP for his endorsement of their greater assimilation into British society. After they get better acquainted, Isma reveals to Eamonn that she is aware of the history between her family and his father. Isma’s father was a jihadi who was captured and held at Bagram Theatre Internment Facility before he died in transit to Guantánamo Bay. After his death, her family sought help from Karamat Lone (a young politician at the time) to find out the location of their father’s body. Karamat Lone brusquely refused, declaring that their family was ‘better off without him.’
Back in London, Eamonn travels to Preston Road to deliver a parcel to Aneeka from Isma. Eamonn and Aneeka begin a romantic relationship soon after.
When Isma left London to go to America, Aneeka continued her studies in Law, leaving Parvaiz at a loose end. As a temporary measure, Parvaiz worked at a greengrocers. His cousin Farooq encouraged him to learn more about his father and sold Parvaiz a vision of Raqqa as a fairer society, a place where migrants are welcomed, and where you can provide for your family and also live an affluent lifestyle. Enticed by these false ideals, Parvaiz travels with Farooq to the Syrian border to join ISIS. However, many of Farooq's promises immediately prove empty; Parvaiz's passport is confiscated on arrival and Farooq departs for the front to fight without helping him locate anyone who knew his father. Parvaiz expresses his desire to return home to his sister Aneeka and she attempts to assist him.
That’s enough plot synopsis, for if I say much more, I’ll end up giving away spoilers (sidenote: I was shocked by how many reviews of this book gave away the ENTIRE plot, although I’m probably not one to talk as that was quite a lengthy summary). Home Fire is divided into five sections, each from the point of view of a different character, written in free indirect discourse. A real strength of this writing style is that it enables the author to present different views of the same character or event. For example, it is really interesting to see how Isma views her relationship with her sister and how this contrasts with her sister’s perspective. I would have appreciated if the book had alternated between the different characters’ perspectives more frequently, for I felt it was a shame that some interesting characters fell almost completely out of the picture after the initial chapters. I often thought, ‘what would X think of this?’ or ‘I wonder what X is up to now?’ so I think an alternative structure would have worked to Shamsie’s advantage. On the whole, Shamsie’s prose is elegant and evocative, with occasionally clunky or overwrought passages. I felt the section set in Raqqa was a little weak and not as vivid as I had expected, but this is probably due to the fact that Shamsie has never visited Raqqa and had to form a picture of the city entirely from secondary research.
As for Eamonn and Aneeka’s whirlwind romance, I wasn’t really convinced that they had the ‘deep connection’ they claimed to have. Personally, I found Eamonn and Isma’s interactions far more interesting and I would have enjoyed seeing those expanded. To me, the relationship between Eamonn and Aneeka was more centred on physicality than ‘deep’ feelings. This is largely because Shamsie doesn’t lay the groundwork for their relationship. They go from their first meeting to the ‘proposed proposal’ in the space of just twenty-two pages, without any indication of how much time has passed. I think a more gradual development of their feelings towards each other would have been more convincing. I was also a little frustrated that Aneeka was portrayed as this stereotypical, infuriatingly wild male-fantasy. On the whole, their conversations never really amounted to much. That being said, there is a compelling section where Eamonn and Aneeka discuss Karamat’s political views. For context, Karamat Lone made a speech exhorting students at his old school in Bradford to not set themselves apart in the way they dress, think, or act, and to accept their Britishness. Aneeka’s opinion on the matter deserves to be quoted in full:
‘What do you say to your father when he makes a speech like that? Do you say, Dad, you’re making it okay to stigmatise people for the way they dress? Do you say, what kind of an idiot stands in front of a group of teenagers and tells them to conform? Do you say, why didn’t you mention that among the things this country will let you achieve if you’re Muslim is torture, rendition, detention without trial, airport interrogations, spies in your mosques, teachers reporting your children to the authorities for wanting a world without British injustice?’
Shamsie deserves commendation for her treatment of such challenging subject matter. Of course, radicalisation affects a very small minority, so I appreciated how Shamsie drew attention to issues that are unfortunately likely to plague Muslims living in contemporary Britain on a more regular basis, such as being judged for the way they dress, being rigorously interrogated by airport security, and fearing state surveillance, and the potential repercussions of ‘Googling while Muslim.' Shamsie stated in an interview that this was a cause of anxiety for her throughout the process of writing Home Fire, and I must confess that my search history whilst I was researching for this review would have been enough to put me on any police watch-list.
One of the greatest strengths of this book is its ending, which is deeply moving and really elevated the entire novel. Without this ending, I would have rated Home Fire three out of five stars, but for that conclusion, I’m happy to give the book a whole other star. In spite of the slightly flat characterisation, I would recommend this book, as it is a brave and thought-provoking read about radicalisation, allegiance, identity, divided loyalties, and politics.
A couple of interesting interviews with Kamila Shamsie:
