Reading American Taliban by Pearl Abraham confirmed suspicions that entered my mind as I grabbed it from the shelf. While her writing style was engaging, the content of this novel left me disappointed. Spoilers probably follow in the rest of my review, so be wary should you choose to read further.
The main character, John Jude Parish rides waves, skateboards, and lives off of his parents, who he refers to as Barbara and Bill. This last characteristic makes it hard for me to connect or sympathize with him. After an injury, he devotes himself to the studies had put off for his boarding interests. Almost instantly, he feels pulled toward the beliefs of some Muslims who befriend him. From there, he launches into a different world from the one in which he was raised, even traveling to Pakistan to immerse himself in the culture.
That's when the book took a couple turns that made me even less interested. Some characters in the book rationalized certain physical actions by saying that they are not forbidden by religious texts. While I have not studied the Muslim culture or read the Qu'ran, the events in question seemed out of context with everything I was ever told by Muslim friends. (I should point out that those who share my values about premarital romance may not want to read this book. I skimmed past the paragraphs that went into more detail--at least three that I recall. Was that cryptic enough? *blushes*)
Toward the end of the book, the author managed to lure me back into the story. She focused more on the heartache of Barbara and Bill. A mother's love can almost make you like an unlikable character but not quite. I did feel for Barbara though as she struggled with questions about who her son had become and where that had led him.
As far as structure of the book goes, I found the lack of quotes around pieces of dialogue a little off-putting. I am sure she meant to make a statement about how we train ourselves to expect certain things, but I do find dialogue easier to follow when each speaker's words are accented for me.
(This is where I should end it before I mistake myself for a guest lecturer on writing.)
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