In , Yasmin Zaher’s novel about a young Palestinian woman doing her best to build a life that works for her in New York City, cleanliness is, indeed, close to godliness. Zaher’s narrator becomes obsessed with spotlessness and purity even as she gets sucked further and further into chaos while balancing her job teaching at a school for underprivileged boys with her side hustle, illegally reselling feels like a distinctly Palestinian novel—concerning itself, as it does, with its narrator’s statelessness and increasing sense of isolation—but as the just keeps getting worse, Zaher’s book also does the vital work of reminding the reader that there is no single story to be told about any group of people in any part of the world. Zaher’s protagonist struggles under the weight of immense trauma, yes, but she’s also a fashionista, an obsessor, an educator doing her (sometimes-flawed) best to impart wisdom; in other words, she’s a human being full of complexities and contradictions, and spending time in her world is both dizzying and delightful.
recently spoke to Zaher about drawing inspiration from Clarice Lispector, building out the world of her narrator’s preoccupation with fashion, resisting the notion of “pure” identity, and more. I was initially interested in cleanliness because it’s a good entry point into describing New York City. The city itself is very dirty, and while living there, I felt like my body too was becoming dirtier than usual.
As I contin.
