Saturday, June 19, 2021

End of school year reading

Greetings to my fellow reader! 

I have been out of school for a week now. Alhamdulillah, I had a great school year and I really enjoyed our American literature class. My teacher was super sweet and I will miss being in her class. 

We read three full books in my class but many more short stories, essays, and poems. The three books we read were The Great Gatsby, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, and The Red Badge of Courage.

I enjoyed reading The Great Gatsby most but the other two were okay. 

Anyways, earlier in the year I made myself a small list comprimising thirty titles I wanted to read this year. I'd say the majority are classics but I also have some contemporary ya novels that I want to read. So far, I have read about four of them. Below is a list of books I want to read this summer:

Moby Dick

Frankenstien (re-read)

Life of Pi

Arabian Nights

Layli and Majnun

As I have mentioned before on here, my goal this year is to read at least forty books. I'm on track so far but I fear that I may not be able to finish 9 books in the summer as my goal would require me too. However, I am currently reading two, Bird Summons and Layli and Majnun so hopefully I can finish those before we leave for Morocco, Insha Allah.  

The American Bookslayer xx



Wednesday, June 9, 2021

Cinnamon Pecan Crumble Coffee Cake (a mouthful)

Repost! 

Hey there. I have been making this cake a lot recently for my family. It is extremely easy to make and I always have the greatest time making it. Still trying to figure out how long to exactly bake it for but one day I will get it down, Insha Allah. I like making this cake in the evenings to warm the home up and have it the following day for breakfast with tea. 

Ingredients

Streusel

½ cup packed dark brown sugar

¼ cup all-purpose flour

1 tsp ground cinnamon

3 Tbsp unsalted butter, melted

¾ cup chopped pecans

Cake

2 cup all-purpose flour

1 Tbsp baking powder

1 tsp salt

½ tsp baking soda

¼ tsp cinnamon

½ cup unsalted butter, melted

1 ¼ cup sugar

1 ½ cup sour cream

2 large eggs

2 tsp vanilla extract

Directions

Streusel

1. Preheat the oven to 350 F and grease a 9-inch square pan.

2. For the streusel, combine the brown sugar, flour, and cinnamon and stir in the melted butter until evenly combined. Stir in the pecans and set them aside.

Cake

1. For the cake, sift the flour, baking powder, salt, baking soda, and cinnamon. In a separate bowl, whisk the melted butter, sugar, sour cream, eggs, and vanilla. Stir this into the flour mixture until evenly blended. Spread half of the batter into the prepared pan and sprinkle half of the streusel on top. Use a skewer or paring knife to swirl the streusel in a bit. Top with the remaining batter spread, and then top the cake with the remaining streusel, giving the cake another little swirl.

2. Bake the cake for 45 to 55 minutes, until a tester inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean. Cool the cake in the pan to room temperature before slicing.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my post !

The American Bookslayer (Asma) xx

Sunday, June 6, 2021

Beautiful Boy by David Sheff

"What happened to my beautiful boy?"

Beautiful Boy is a heartbreaking memoir written by father & author David Sheff. 

I first heard about this book in 2017/2018 when it was announced that there was a film adaptation of the book in the works. It was very big news for Steve Carrell to cast as David and Timothee Chalamet as Nic in the film adaptation. (Especially Carrell as most of his roles have always been someone cheery, funny, the life of the party etc. He is the world's greatest boss after all.)

I checked out this book months ago but due to our move and Ramadan, I wasn't able to read it then. In the last week of May, I had finals and my siblings were here so I didn't want to read a depressing memoir. I had to be in the right mood. I had to be compassionate and mindful of a family's struggle. 

And man oh man. 

I tear up when I read books. Sometimes. But this book is not like the others I have cried over. This one is so... real. And it was really weird for me to read because Sheff, being from the Bay Area, wrote about places I grew up visiting. From the Point Reyes station to the little beach towns along the North-of-San Fransisco coast. He recounts his memories and fatherhood with his children in the same places my father used to take me, my sister, and my brother. 

So yeah, it was incredibly emotional and to a personal level too. 

I loved it. When I was younger, as we would drive by those little hippie beach towns north of the city (SF), I always used to wonder at the type of people who chose to live in the country, if you can even call it that. After reading Beautiful Boy I have a better idea. 

Families live there. Sheff, spent his weekends taking his children and wife on hikes down the coast and up north by Lake Tahoe. My family used to do that. In fact, we used to go to the exact same ones that he wrote of. The ones that don't even show up on Google Maps. 

Sheff doesn't just write about his son's addiction. Rather, he tells us the story of his beautiful boy. He tells us of the day Nic was born, the trips to the park they would have, the school events, their surf days, and much more. He is the father of a boy he lost touch with. And that's what breaks me. He becomes codependent on his son but has to stay strong for his two younger children who are traumatized by their brother's behavior. 

Throughout the book, Sheff compares the treatment of cancer patients to those addicted to drugs and alcohol. Cancer patients don't choose to have cancer whereas a person addicted to drugs made the mistake of using them... even if just once... and has ruined their (and their families) life due to that. While I am still unsure of where I stand on the argument, nonetheless it has made me feel more deeply for families who have someone in their close circle addicted to drugs. I could have never imagined the horrors of that sort of life. May God protect us all. 

"No matter what we do, no matter how we agonize or obsess, we cannot choose for our children whether they live or die... I finally chose life for myself. I chose the perilous but essential path that allows me to accept that Nic will decide for himself how --and whether-- he will live his life."

As a parent, Sheff reflects on his parenting and blames himself for his son being this way. In Chapter 25, he visits his son for the weekend at an institute in New Mexico. Sheff and his ex-wife Vicki both agree that this would be the last time they try to save Nic. This would be his last chance and if he relapses or runs away, he is to fend for himself. 

A therapist tells them both that this weekend is not for blaming themselves rather "moving beyond lingering resentment." A father there, visiting his child who is also a patient at the institute tells Sheff that, "Resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die." Amazing. 

Though the book covers some very hard topics, it has changed my views on drug addicts. In the end, they are people who need proper treatment and help. They can be parents, children, spouses, etc. They are more than their addiction. The system has failed them and the war on drugs hasn't been victorious. 

May God protect us all and heal those who are suffering. 

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my post ! 

The American Bookslayer (Asma) xx

Monday, May 31, 2021

Forest and River

Forest and River by Zhaleh Esfahani

The forest cried out to the river:
I wish I were like you
Traveling day and night, with such sights to see, 
Down to the limpid, open sea
A riverbed of shining water
A restless eager soul
A surging, turquoise-colored light
Flowing forever, 
And what am I? 
A captive caught in earth
In eternal silence
I'll grow old
I'll turn yellow
I'll dry up
I'll be a handful of cold ashes
Sooner or later
The river shouted: 
Forest, you're half-awake
I wish I was in your place
That I knew such lucid, emerald peace
On glittering moonlit nights,
To be the mirror in which spring sees herself
The spreading shade where lovers meet
Your destiny's to be renewed each year
And mine's to abscond from myself
All I know is to run in confusion
to run 
and run
From all this migrating and journeying
What do I get except 
futility and restlessness?
Ah not for a moment is my soul ever at peace!
No one knows
another's heart
Who can say of a passer-by
who he is or was?
A man walks in shadow, asking himself under his breath,
Who am I?
River?
Forest?
Both together?
Forest and river?
Forest and river. 

Translated by Dick Davis

I came across this poem in a collection of Persian poetry by women called The Mirror of My Heart. I have yet to write and publish my review on the book itself but the poems in there are beautiful. I wonder what I am.... the forest or the river?

The Mirror of My Heart

I recently finished "The Mirror of My Heart: A Thousand Years of Persian Poetry by Women" translated by Dick Davis. I am so happy that I chose to start my poetry journey with this book. 




May I have some apple pie

May... I have some apple pie. :_)

May has always been an interesting month. It's the end of spring and the beginning of summer. It also means exams I haven't prepared for and cleaning... lots of it. 

We had a bit of a "sibling reunion" for Eid-ul-Fitr. I tried my best to live in the moment so that's why I did not post about it. I had a wonderful time and alhamdulillah I am so blessed to have such amazing siblings and a great family. It was refreshing to spend time with my loved ones especially after the hard and long year that has passed.

My family as a whole, for the most part, bonds over food. Whether we cook something hearty at home or drive out to Shalimar (haha....) we always find a way to laugh over some food. Kabobs, cake, ice cream, you name it. 

A couple weeks ago while my sister was still here, she made the most amazing apple pie (Masha Allah). The crust was near perfect and I can't begin to describe the smell of our home while she was making the apple cinnamon filling. I wish I could record that moment but it was too special to whip out a phone for. Plus, you wouldn't be able to smell the goodness from behind a blue light screen so why bother. ;) 

She used this recipe for the crust and I think she came up with the apple filling one but here is one that is similar to how she made it. 

I had a really fun time eating it and let me just say, it pairs amazingly with ice cream. Especially vanilla ice cream. Just so good. Heavenly, almost. 

I really do enjoy cooking and eating so I might consider adding a "cooking" label where I can store recipes and all things food-ish... despite this originally being a book blog haha. I mean, it is my blog after all so I make all the rules. 

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my post ! 

The American Bookslayer (Asma) xx

Friday, May 21, 2021

A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemmingway

A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemmingway is a beautiful memoir written in 1957 though it was published posthumously in 1964. Hemmingway writes about what it is like to live in Paris as an American writer who is young, married, and poor. The memoir is sketched with segments of Hemmingway's life and is shaped by his encounters with fellow authors and artists. 

My mother is a liberal arts graduate from the University of Fes in Morocco. She studied English and so naturally, the two of us talk a lot about the books we have read. My mother said that she always had the best time reading American classics, her favorite authors being Hemmingway and Henry James. She's read most of Hemmingway (if not all) and has always encouraged me to read his books. 

However, it wasn't until a couple weeks ago in my English class that I read a portion of A Farewell to Arms which introduced me to Hemmingway. I didn't really like the story itself but I really enjoyed reading his style of writing. 

I decided to read A Moveable Feast because it sounded like a very sweet memoir and I was curious myself as to what Paris was like in the 1950s. (I also wanted to read something that involved some traveling since I haven't done that in a while due to the pandemic). I used to follow a book account on Instagram and the admin would always recommend to her followers that one book so I said... why not? 

And I absolutely loved reading it! I love how Hemmingway writes, as I have mentioned a little earlier. He writes simple sentences and keeps his words clear. You don't have to read a sentence twice to understand it. You only read a sentence written by Hemmingway twice in an attempt to decipher his genius. 

Hemmingway is very honest when he tells us about his life in Paris as a struggling young man. He writes about his adventures in the city and about the trips he takes with his wife. I can't begin to say how much I enjoyed reading about his encounters and adventures in the great city of Paris. Reading this memoir made me want to move to a great city like Paris and work towards my dream of becoming an author. I could work small odd jobs to afford me the necessities and the cost of keeping a room. But it would only have to be me. I cannot imagine living that sort of life while taking care of a family too. 

Here are some quotes that I absolutely fell in love with:

"You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold"

One winter morning, my mother and I were sitting on the balcony looking at the trees. This past year has greatly strengthened the relationship between my mother and me, especially as I grow into a young lady. Before the pandemic, we did not really have "deep" conversations about life and what it means to be alive. However, with the death of my uncle (my mother's younger brother - Allah yarhamo), we have had more conversations relating to the topics of life and death and has therefore brought us closer due to our understanding of life. 

I mention this because this quote in particular reminds me of a conversation we (my mother and I) have shared. As we were sitting on the balcony, she quietly remarked, only louder than a whisper, "The trees are naked now and we can see everything that they conceal throughout the rest of the year." I remember looking at her and saying, "It's funny to think that the trees have an awrah." 

To imagine how the trees must feel with "their branches... bare against the wind and the cold" made me appreciate the clothes I had to protect me from going bare against the wind and the cold. It made me appreciate the hayyaa or shyness that we as humans are able to observe, even if only against the cold. But really, this portion of the quote made me think deeper about how the bare trees were still able to make it, standing against the wind and the cold. How their resilience allows them to live to the next season where they may clothes with leaves once more. 

(This comparison reminded me of Esperanza from the House on Mango Street and how she sympathizes with the four skinny trees in her yard. She looks at them for comfort as they have grown, despite being planted in an undesirable, undeserving place for trees. The trees continue to grow upwards despite the concrete that they are rooted in.) 

"But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen." 

Hemmingway uses a river that would flow again after being frozen to symbolize hope. Often we may view our struggles as something obstructing our path to success but not as often do we imagine how the passing of a particular struggle may greatly benefit us later on.  

"People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself."

After spending about a full year indoors due to the pandemic, I have come to appreciate all the seasons as they come by.... yes.... even summer. In California, we are currently living in spring and oh I cannot begin to describe to you how much I adore the season! It is not too cold nor too hot. I wake up to the chirping of birds and the buzzing of bees. I feel the wind rustle my wild hair as I stand in the backyard and the shivers the cold sends down my spine. In spring, I am a paper in the wind waiting for her ink to arrive so that she may start writing her own story.

"I've been wondering about Dostoyevsky. How can a man write so badly, so unbelievably badly, and make you feel so deeply?" 

Haha... I felt the same when trying to read Crime and Punishment. Perhaps I am too young to even understand his choice of words. 

Well, we have reached the end of this post! I hope you enjoyed reading my thoughts on A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemmingway. I had such an amazing time reading this and I would highly recommend it to anyone wanting to start with Hemmingway, wanting to read a memoir, or someone who just wants to know what life is like for a struggling author living away from his home country in a city as grand as Paris. It gives one hope for a life they cannot claim as their own. 

I wish for you the very best as always and goodbye. 

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my post !

The American Bookslayer (Asma) xx

Copy from the library that I loaned. 

Picture from when we were moving. 
Copy rests on my naked mattress. 
Shed a couple of tears, not going to lie. 


In the aged pillars of the riad, I see myself.

Like the aged pillars of this riad, I embody my past and stand tall like a castle. One may look at me and trace the lines etched into my wea...