What the book also does well is not let Nur off the hook for his behaviour. I mentioned that the way it ends is the only logical way, but there’s also this. Nur is repeatedly told that he is treating Yasmina badly, even though he continually shifts the blame on his family instead, and he’s not …babied (for want of another word) when it all goes wrong because of it. He has to take responsibility for it all.

A debut novel that suggests the term "star-crossed romance" may just be a way of pinning on the innocent cosmos the damage we do ourselves, without meaning to. As mentioned, I didn't really like the way the ending was executed but I was satisfied with where Yasmina and Nur's relationship went.

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A frank, moving, and truly compelling tale of the complexities of modern romance, and how family, friendships, society, and our own internalized prejudices can impact upon it. Good Intentions is a beautiful and honest story that I'd defy anyone not to be pulled in by, from a fantastic new talent in contemporary fiction." I related to Nur at some parts but was also so frustrated with him... Because we focus on Nur's pov, I found myself failing to see how self-absorbed he was until he was called out for it by the other characters in the story.

Good Intentions" follows the story of the relationship between Nur, a young British-Pakistani man, and Yasmin, a young British-Sudanese woman. Nur and Yasmina are in love. They've been together for four happy years. But Nur's parents don't know that Yasmina exists. It delves into their relationship, racism in the community and the familial ties. You should have taken some more time off,” his father says. “It’s nice having you home, makes it feel like it used to.” A love story full of hard choices and tensions, family obligations and racial prejudices. Not to be missed by fans of Modern Love’ Vogue IndiaRep: British Pakistani Muslim mc with depression and anxiety, British Sudanese Muslim li, British Sudanese Muslim side character with depression, British Pakistani Muslim gay side character, British Palestinian gay side character, British Pakistani Muslim side characters A heart-wrenching and beautifully told debut novel about love, family obligation and finding your way.

The only outlier to this trend, Brown suggested, is the Irish writer Rob Doyle, whose second novel, Threshold (2020), is by his own description a “gloves-off, messy exploration of my own damaged male psyche and masculinity itself”. But Doyle believes that as a male novelist writing honestly about sex, “You’re kind of despised. It can feel a bit like having some weird contagion, that you ring a bell when you come into town, and people can clear out.” A beautiful and honest story… from a fantastic new talent’ Sareeta Domingo, author of If I Don't Have You The reliance on that as a mode of thinking leads to publishers reproducing what already exists,” says Widyaratna. “It doesn’t allow publishers to innovate.” Since Riz Ahmed delivered that speech in Parliament in 2017, since he created the “Riz test”, a sort-of Bechdel test for Muslims, I have noticed a shift. Recently, I watched Ramy, an American sitcom by Ramy Youssef about a young Muslim in New Jersey. The show depicts Ramy trying to become stronger in his faith, and has honest conversations about how hard that can be.

Talking over the phone from Newcastle—he is visiting from London for a friend’s birthday—he explains how he cried at every episode “because it really moved me” and “that’s the kind of person I am”. This book had drama, and a lot of it. Relationship dynamics are hard, and Kasim Ali emphasized this throughout the book, giving the reader different situations that feel so human and real that just make you want to stay for the ride. Kishani Widyaratna, editorial director of one of the UK’s most important literary imprints, 4th Estate, insists men aren’t being discriminated against. However, she does believe there is “a predominance of white, middle-class cis women at all levels of the publishing industry”. Widyaratna thinks that certain “received ideas” do need to be challenged – not least the reliance on “comp titles”, the system by which publishers consider a submission by comparing it to other similar books. The most obvious example of this has been the Sally Rooney phenomenon – in which every publisher rushed to find young female writers to fill what one called the “Rooney-shaped hole”.