3.5 Stars
This book
brings back Esa Khattak and Rachel Getty, the police duo who handle minority
sensitive cases. This time they are
asked to investigate the murder of Mohsin Dar, Esa’s estranged friend who had
infiltrated a Muslim terrorist cell planning an attack on Toronto. One of their problems is that greater value
is “ascribed to the façade of Khattak’s investigation than to the actual truth
it might uncover.” Another problem is
that the man in charge of unravelling the terrorist plot bears a grudge against
Khattak and so withholds information.
Complications also arise when Rachel goes undercover as a potential
Islam convert at a local mosque and when Khattak’s sister Ruksh becomes engaged
to Hassan Ashkouri, the leader of the terrorist cell. Can the murderer be identified and arrested
and the terrorist attack prevented?
As in the
first novel in this series, it is the characterization of Khattak and Rachel
that stands out. They behave
consistently with the traits outlined in The
Unquiet Dead. Their relationship
develops further; the partnership is “expanding, deepening.” In this second book, Khattak’s divided
loyalties are emphasized: he is torn
between his Muslim faith and his role as a detective investigating members of
his community. His actions are constantly
being scrutinized and suspected by both his faith community and the police
force.
The motives
of the various members of the mosque are thoughtfully dissected. Readers will find themselves not agreeing
with the actions of some of these people, but they will have a good
understanding of their sometimes complex motivations. The author insists that the reader not equate
Islam with terrorism by contrasting Khattak’s moderate views with those of
Ashkouri: “It wasn’t enough to say that
the same faith that had produced Hassan Ashkouri had also produced Esa Khattak,
good and evil sketched out in broad strokes.
It wasn’t easy and two-dimensional like that. It was nuanced, complex, difficult . . .
Ashkouri had chosen a different path, a different means of addressing his anger
and grievances, his choices vindicated by his reading of history. Something could be beautiful, humane,
encompassing. Or it could be made ugly. And maybe that was the lesson. We bring to a tradition what is already
within ourselves, however our moral compass is designed, whatever our ethical
training is.”
The author
also addresses the issue of moderate Muslims having to speak up. She has Khattak regretting that he didn’t
always do so: “Times he should have
spoken up, questions he should have asked, challenging others to an ethical
reading of scripture in lieu of the tropes of dogma. It had seemed like a burden that someone else
should carry, yet he realized it belonged to him, just as it belonged to each
of his coreligionists, this personal quest for an ethical life – and it
couldn’t be put down by choice, not without abandoning the field to the
hardened and hidebound, whose rigid conservatism and eschewal of modernity
contained with it the seeds of jihadist ideology.”
My reservations
about the book revolve around the plot.
There are some unrealistic elements.
For example, Rachel admits that she is not really prepared for her
undercover role: Choosing an undercover
surname “was as far as she had gone in establishing her cover. Rachel possessed little previous undercover
experience.” Why then would Khattak be “authorized
to send [Rachel]” to the mosque in such a role?
Wouldn’t the agency charged with gathering intelligence and ensuring
national security be wary of sending in an amateur who could unwittingly make a
terrorist cell aware of its being under surveillance? And perhaps I’m naïve but would a man in
charge of bringing down a terrorist cell purposely withhold information because
of his personal animosity towards Khattak, a tactic that could risk national
security and the safety of innocent people?
The secrets within policing are almost as dangerous as the secrets of
the terrorist cell.
I
appreciated the insight offered into Arabic poetry. For example, readers are told about the
“well-established tradition of Arabic poetry, conflating the personal with the
political.” Agha Shahid Ali, a Kashmiri
poet, and Faiz Ahmad Faiz, a Pakistani poet, are mentioned more than once so I
was inspired to do some research. Faiz,
I discovered, was nominated four times for the Nobel Prize for literature.
Apparently
a third book in the series is already being written. In an interview with Maclean’s magazine, the author said the following: “In my third book I send him to Iran, where
Khattak, who’s from the same majority Sunni tradition as me, will be in the
minority in a Shia country. I wanted him
to examine the privilege of membership in a majority tradition, where you never
have to think about the feelings or the traditions of the other and see what
that feels like. I like to put him in
situations where he’s uncomfortable, and has to examine his perspective and
assumptions much more critically” (http://www.macleans.ca/culture/books/the-interview-crime-author-ausma-zehanat-khans-unique-lens-on-islam/).
The first
two books of this series have sufficient strengths that I look forward to the
third one.
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