Reviewed by: Take What You Can Carry: A Novel by Gian Sardar Alan Ali Saeed (bio) Gian Sardar. Take What You Can Carry: A Novel. Lake Union Publishing. Take What You Can Carry is the second novel by Gian Sardar, a young Kurdish American writer, and is a cross-cultural love story that explores historical events. Olivia is an American and Delan is a migrant from Iraqi Kurdistan who is working as a Hollywood actor. They meet and fall in love in California in the late 1970s. An invitation to a family wedding in Iraqi Kurdistan in 1979 leads to an unforgettable visit, during which Olivia is plunged into the horror of the Ba’athist Iraqi regime’s war with the Kurds. The novel is seen through Olivia’s rather naïve, if genuine, viewpoint, and the level of shock felt depends on the reader’s awareness of what happened in Iraqi Kurdistan during the campaign of Arabisation. However, such is the level of careful detail provided by Sardar that the frightening world that Olivia encounters is compelling and visceral, even if the reader knows already what she should have expected. Although the dynamics of the plot are straightforward, there are many refreshing and unusual aspects to both the characters and the way the story and situations unfold. Olivia is an aspiring photojournalist, struggling against explicit sexism to get the break to show her skills in the man’s world of 1970s California. Her bosses are patronising. They like her but consider her to be, at best, secretarial material, lacking the sangfroid requisite for success. Sardar thus revises the common stereotype of narcissistic, ego-centred photojournalists working in troubled countries that is found in such books as Lucy Kirkwood’s Chimerica. Sardar also challenges the conventional stereotypes of Muslim men in American fiction, as Delan is portrayed as more liberal, caring, and progressive than many of the American men in Olivia’s workplace. This is not to say that feminist values are uncontested in Iraqi Kurdish society. Alesa Lightbourne’s The Kurdish Bike, for example, shows a very different—rural and patriarchal—Kurdistan. For Kurds, progressive, secular liberals like Delan are part of a complex Kurdish political lineage, and Delan’s sympathy for feminism is not evidence of Westernisation but rather related to long traditions of Kurdish feminism. It is invigorating to see a portrayal of a cross-cultural marriage that did not turn into the typical, well-worn story of culture clash in which a repressive [End Page 154] Muslim husband tries to stifle and inhibit his independent American wife. This is a love story in which both the principal characters are engaged in a process of self-discovery and transformation. While the relationship is not without its problems, these are very sensitively handled and deftly portrayed, shown to stem from the extreme pressures caused by the alarming situation in Iraqi Kurdistan. Olivia discovers that Delan’s reticence about his homeland when he is in the US hides not only the difficulty of explaining it to someone he feels cannot understand but also his “survivor guilt” at having escaped to California while his family and friends have not. The narrative successfully evokes an atmosphere of distrust and danger in Kurdistan. A powerful moment comes when Delan and his friend play good Samaritan and help a drunk Arab man they see in the street return home. To their horror, they discover he is a member of the security forces. Any wrong mannerism seen or Kurdish accent to their Arabic heard could have all of them, including Olivia, facing death or worse. Another example of careful detail is found in the rich, lyrical descriptions of the otherwise austere Kurdish countryside and the ever-present mountains as well as the kindness and generosity that determine Kurdish social relations. Sardar’s lyricism feels like part of the Kurdish literary tradition and culture, in which poetry is held in extremely high regard. The novel relies on the contrast between two worlds to delineate a binary opposition between the US and Iraqi Kurdistan, even as it challenges and de-constructs the logic of that opposition. California appears evanescent compared to the reality of Kurdistan. A...
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