Customer Reviews

Crescent: A Novel

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Diana Abu-Jaber's lush tale of cooking, love, longing, and exile set against the US's ongoing conflict with Iraq stirs the soul and totally fills the senses.

Crescent is a love story between an L.A.-born and -bred, green-eyed, half-Arab blonde chef and an exiled Iraqi intellectual with a mysterious past. Interwoven into the Sirine and Han's love story is the fable of Abdelrahman Salahadin, told by Sirine's uncle, the gently devoted man who raises her after her parents are killed overseas when Sirine is nine years old. Both Abdelrahman's destiny and Sirine and Han's love unfold amid lush surroundings, complete with the heady aromas of Middle Eastern food and the fragrance of the mejnoona tree, which blooms behind the busy café where Sirine works.

Anyone who appreciates either good food or a good love story will find Crescent an absolute delight. Crescent is beautiful and sensual and languid all at the same time, like a perfect Spring day in Oregon.

The scents, scenes and stories from this book will follow me for the rest of my life. I felt somehow changed inside when I finished the last page---enlightened and educated about Middle Eastern people and in awe of their myths, food and lives. I came away changed, enchanted and wanting to visit the Baghdad of Han and Sirine's story. Ms. Abu-Jaber has woven a beautiful, intricate, sweet-scented tale of love, food, families and life. The descriptions of the food made such an impression on me that I went and found some of the recipes from the story to make for myself so I could experience the flavors and make them my own. I highly recommend this book...I wish that all Americans could read this to better understand the culture of the Middle East.

Abu-Jaber's latest novel, Crescent, is a lyrical tale of love, family and tradition, peopled with characters of Arabian descent, who live in an enclave in the heart of Los Angeles, California. Whether Iranian, Lebanese, Iraqi or Jordanian, all have in common the longing to return to the homelands of their youth, impossible given the socio-economic and political changes of the last decades.

The author speaks particularly to the Iraqi exiles, in a poignant portrayal of their memories, folktales and family connections. She does so in poetic phrases that remind this reader of the prolific Alice Hoffman, as page after page is filled with such deeply moving images, sounds and smells that Crescent redefines cultural stereotypes, allowing each individual his/her own identity.

The most important ingredient in this tasty concoction is the Arab-American Sirine, a master cook of ethnic delicacies at Nadia's Café, a Lebanese establishment, where students and other patrons gather to enjoy familiar dishes and discussions of their native countries. While current events swirl around her, Sirine blithely attends to the meals she lovingly prepares, stirring long-buried memories of her childhood longing for absentee parents, who travel to distant lands in an effort at humanitarian aid. When, finally, her parents fail to return home, Sirine quietly closes her heart against further loss.

When an exiled Iraqi professor of literature catches Sirine's eye, she is unable to resist, suddenly vulnerable to the characteristic emotions of incipient romance, the excitement and passion of the moment. The charismatic Hanif Al Eyad introduces reality into the developing love affair; Han has a past as an exile from Iraq in his early twenties, a past that Sirine must acknowledge if they are to progress toward the necessary intimacy of a meaningful relationship. The tender love scenes have subtle touches of eroticism, a heady mix of that wonderful confusion of the first days of love. But Sirine resists asking about Han`s life before her, only begrudgingly admitting the importance of his past on their future.

An Arab-American, Sirine struggles with Han's attachment to the history that defines him, the siren-song of exile that was once irresistible, but has now cut him off from the beating heart of his country. With innate instinct, Sirine treads carefully in this vulnerable place, exquisitely aware of the delicate balance of the relationship. Once Sirine opens her heart to Han's story, the weight of the novel moves from the euphoria of beginning love to the revelation of faults and flaws, the human frailties that allow forgiveness. Her innocence shattered, Sirine learns the import of emotional commitment, the balance between pleasure and pain; through this experience, she becomes a more fully-defined woman.

Many reviews hail Crescent as an erotic, sensual love story, but Abu-Jaber has written more than a simple romance, drawing the reader beneath the surface of the Arab community. With myriad complexities and allegiances, the idiosyncratic characters bring their experience, memories and family stories to Nadia's Café. With passionate longing, they examine life in exile from beloved countries of origin, a universality of experience: "When we walk away from home, we fall in love with our sadness".

Abu-Jaber's prose is transcendent, as rich as the pastries Sirine serves to her customers; with bits of spice and sugar, the phrases meld together, fable and truth creating memory. We struggle to understand cultural and ideological differences in a world made smaller by communications, yet obscured by the barriers of language and tradition. Abu-Jaber welcomes us inside spice-scented, fragrant rooms where families gather for comfort, much the same as early American immigrants from Ireland and Italy, sharing familial traditions and hopes for the future. Crescent offers a rich, exuberant experience, one that leaves this reader as satisfied as an exotic meal topped off with a serving of vanilla ice cream, the perfect combination of the unexpected and the familiar. In a blend of cultural diversity and the banality of daily life in America, this author invites us to the bountiful buffet of humanity, a feast of the best we have to offer. Luan Gaines/ 2004.

Sirine is the superb chef at Nadia's Cafe, a Lebanese restaurant in a small Near Eastern community in Los Angeles, near UCLA. The menu proclaims "Real True Arab Food," and the ethnic cuisine, scented with exotic spices and tasting of home, comforts and inspires the Arab and Iranian expatriates who eat here and live, work and study nearby. The food is actually so delicious that non-Middle Easterners frequent the restaurant also.

Sirine is a lovely, intelligent woman, who could have married at many points in her life. However, at age thirty-nine she is still single and not looking to change her civil status. Her father was Iraqi, her mother American. Together they worked for the Red Cross, and together they died in Africa when Sirene was just nine years-old. Her beloved Iraqi uncle, her father's brother, has cared for her ever since. Although she doesn't speak Arabic, is not a Muslim - nor a member of any religion for that matter, and has never been outside the US, she feels connected to Iraq and curious about her cultural and ethnic identity. Her few memories of her parents are painful. They always seemed to be saying good-by to her, or returning as strangers. When they failed to return that last time, she closed her heart against further loss.

Life is good, though. Sirine is independent and works at a job she loves. Her uncle, who provides his niece with enough love to equal a large family's worth, is also a professor and a teller of tales and fables which would put Shaharazad to shame. His "moralless" story, "the story of how to love," runs parallel to the actual narrative. It is about Aunt Camille and son, Abdelrahman Salahadin, who had an "incurable addiction to selling himself as a slave and faking his own drowning." Sirene has a coterie of good friends, including: King Babar, the dog, cafe owner, Um-Nadia, Mireille, Nadia's daughter, Nathan, a brilliant but reclusive photographer - who has spent a good deal of time in Iraq, Aziz Abdo, a Syrian poet, (and somewhat smarmy), and the homesick cafe regulars who believe Sirine is a God send. Um-Nadia understands the loneliness of the immigrants. She says, "The loneliness of the Arab is a terrible thing; it is all-consuming....it threatens to swallow him whole when he leaves his own country, even though he marries and travels and talks to friends twenty-four hours a day."

When Sirine is sought out by exiled Iraqi Arabic literature professor Hanif Al Eyad, she is unable to deny the strong emotional and physical attraction she feels. Although they are well into adulthood, they both experience the wonder, confusion, excitement and passion of first love. He even helps her prepare baklava! Han, as the professor is called, went into exile as a young boy, when Saddam Hussein came into power. He was much too immature at the time to understand the enormity of his decision, and the repercussions if he should want to return to his homeland. He hasn't seen his brother, sister or parents in over twenty years. He had no idea when he left how much he would miss them and his country. He longs for his people - the sights, smells, food, of his native land. With Sirine, Han does not feel like an exile. "You are the place I want to be - you're the opposite of exile." Yet Han's past remains a mystery. Why did he leave Iraq at so young an age? Why does he put-off answering Sirine's questions, telling her he will eventually give her answers, and not doing so?

The pain of exile, and loss, are themes which run through the storyline of this beautiful novel. Sirine's Iraqi uncle asks an Italian waiter in a Los Angeles restaurant, "Wouldn't you say that immigrants are sadder than other people?" To which the waiter responds, "Certo! When we leave our home we fall in love with our sadness." The uncle explains to Sirine why he doesn't like talking about his former home, back in Iraq - the home he shared with Sirine's father and their parents. "It means talking about the differences between then and now, and that's often a sad thing. And immigrants are always a bit sad right from the start anyway..... but the big thing is that you can't go back. For example, the Iraq your father and I came from doesn't exist anymore. It's a new scary place. When your old house doesn't exist anymore, that makes things sadder in general."

Another major theme is the importance of keeping one's native culture and traditions alive through food, memory, language, and storytelling/legends. For this reason, food and its preparation are so important in "Crescent." Sirine is an American but she learned to cook the foods of the Middle East from both her mother and father. Her favorite memory of them is watching them both make baklava. They moved together like in a dance. And then they taught her to take her part in the preparation of this dessert.

And, of course, love and intimacy are important ingredients here also.

Author Diana Abu-Jabar's prose is lush and lyrical. It awakens the senses, evoking exotic imagery, sounds, tastes, smells - even textures. For political and cultural reasons, this is a good book for Americans to read. We all know what an evil person Saddam Hussein is. However, the novel gives a realistic idea of how the Iraqis suffered under the Post Gulf War embargo, and continue to suffer in the current situation - without blaming any one person, government or country. The rich Iraqi culture is also discussed, which many of us are not as informed about as we should be. I don't think there is a part of this novel that I didn't thoroughly enjoy. Although nothing is perfect, I am still too immersed in the whole gestalt of "Crescent" to come up with any flaws at the moment. And isn't that the best feeling to be left with when finishing a book? Highly recommended!

Ms. Abu-Jabar lives in Florida and teaches at the University of Miami. She is also the author of "Arabian Jazz."
JANA

I loved this book. I was not sure if I would or not at the end of the first chapter. By the end of the second chapter, I was hooked. This book had everything-interesting characters that were fairly well developed (some could have been a little better developed background wise), great cooking sequences (a recipe appendix would have made this even better), an interesting myth that ran throughout and climaxed with a big surprise, good descriptions of what some Arab Americans are feeling and how some are acting-even this is diversified to some extent. The author explores the spirituality of the Islamic faith to some extent especially the personal interpretations some have. Thoughts of the characters on the specific events of 9/11 were missing, but one could pretty well get a reading to this from the characters' other comments. I must confess that I do not usually like romance in novels, but the romances in this book (the main character and her lover as well as her Uncle and her friend) were just perfectly poignant. Some slight fault in the ending for some, others will love the ending. I would highly recommend this book. It will give you some things to think about long after the last page is read and may suggest further readings. Isn't that what reading should do?

I was intrigued by a newspaper review of Crescent while preoccupied with events happening in the Middle-East, and so I thought I'd try this book out for some insight. Crescent is very much akin to sitting down day after day in a local Middle-Eastern cafe and eavesdropping on a different culture and world. Through Sirine, a cook at Um Nadia's cafe in her late 30's, we smell, taste, and experience her daily life in Los Angeles. Sirine isn't all that in touch with her Iraqi heritage, but throughout the novel she develops a love interest with a university graduate student named Han who tells her all about modern day Iraq. Other characters in Sirine's life, especially her lovable Uncle who creates a fantastic fairy-tale straight out of Arabian Nights which mysteriously echo's Sirine's life, contribute to her burgeoning interest in her heritage. All the while, she cooks up wonderfully aromatic, delicious food that brings everyone together. There is a unique level of passionate discussion and debate about poetry, politics, and daily life among these people which creates an intimate atmosphere and sense of pride in their cultural heritage. One of Abu-Jaber's characters at one point mentions Mafouz, an Egyptian writer, and so I was encouraged to find a copy of his "Cairo Triology", which I plan on reading. Sirine's search for love and identity amidst the backdrop of modern day Los Angeles is at times difficult, sad and lonely, but often humerous and always passionate. Surely, while reading Crescent you will find yourself sipping hot coffee and dining at your favorite local Middle-Eastern cafe, and rooting for Sirine to find fulfillment in the end.

I loved this book. I didn't want it to end, which for me is a sure sign that it's a great book. I enjoyed the culinary references, but the real pleasure of it was the description of the Arab American culture and the thought-provoking description of an individual in exile. Her writing is wonderful.

This is a must-read for anyone who revels in sensual descriptions: the smell of the garlic and onion frekeh sauteeing, the wild curls of bougainvillea climbing the walls behind Sirine's kitchen, the sounds of drizzling rain running down her bedroom window. Abu-Jaber weaves together a spellbinding story about love, loss and heartache, using detailed descriptions to transport the reader. I highly recommend "Crescent."

This is a deliciously sensual little work that warrants far more attention then it has received.

Excellently written, wonderfully evocative and divinely paced, Abu-Jaber beautifully creates the sights, smells and emotions of an Iraqi-American cook navigating love and Arabic food in California. Nadia's Cafe and its host of delightful characters are utterly realistic and enchanting, and the temptation for garlic-y lamb and rose-y panna cotta will quickly set in.

A beautiful example of the food-lit genre, and an all-round consuming and satisfying read.

I would describe this book as a little gem not because it is short or a quick read (it's neither) but because you come to appreciate and love the characters based on their relationships day-to-day - the narrative takes its time drawing you in, finally making you really feel like a member of the crowd at Um-Nadia's cafe - you come to feel the passion between the two main characters through the richness of the author's descriptions of gatherings, meals (food is used often as a means of truly magical imagery), time together (not always intimate times) - by the time I got to the surprising turn of events toward the end, I was utterly won over by this pair and I wept at the end - not once but twice - I was so taken aback by my reaction to this book that I just re-read the last 3-4 pages and wept again - the years in Iraq under Hussein are a somber undertone and are used to move the storyline along but this tragic period of history does not defeat the characters - this book is an absolute wonder