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, by Ayser Salman

Ebook Free , by Ayser Salman

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Product details

File Size: 2108 KB

Print Length: 288 pages

Publisher: Skyhorse (March 5, 2019)

Publication Date: March 5, 2019

Sold by: Simon & Schuster Digital Sales Inc.

Language: English

ASIN: B07DRQ19LK

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I enjoyed reading of Ayser’s struggles to become an Arab Muslim in America. She approaches the subject with humor and candor.When Ayser was only three years old her family moved from Baghdad, Iraq to Columbus, Ohio. So Ayser went along with them since as she said “legal emancipation from your parents isn’t an option in Iraq until the age of seventy-four, and even then only if you’re married.” At the age of three culture shock is not such a major event. Two years later they moved to Lexington, Kentucky where Ayser was frequently called “Ayser Eraser”. (Hey, a kid I knew was named “Horace Lanier” – Need I tell you what he was called?) Her family continued to move around for several years, with each locale providing further adaptation challenges.Ayser writes of what it means to be an Arab and what it means to be an American. The transition from Iraqi Arab to American-Iraqi Arab often resulted in the feeling of being at the wrong end of the table. “You know that feeling of being at the wrong end of the table? Like you’re at a party but all the good stuff is happening out of earshot?” Always trying to fit in yet always feeling left out.And if life wasn’t hard enough, along came 9/11. She now feels isolated in her own country, wondering why people can’t recognize the difference between a terrorist and a practicing believer of Islam.The chapter titles should be enough to get you to take a look – “Land of the Free, Home of the McMuffin”, “Sibling Rivalry, or: How to Stop Your Sister from Getting the Western Name”, “Iraqis Take Forever to Say Goodbye”, and “You Can’t Blame Everything on Your Period; Sometimes You’re Going to Be a Crazy Bitch: and Other Advice from Mom”.As an adult she asks herself what she would tell her younger self. I loved her comment that “I would also tell her not to discount her time spent at the wrong end of the table, because sometimes you have to spend time at the wrong end in order to appreciate being at the right end.’Do be sure to read her footnotes as they provide much of the candor – and are quite funny.

In the mix of all the thrillers that I have been reading lately, this book came at the perfect time to read something different with a eye-opening look at a woman's story of what it means to be an immigrant in the land of America!Ayser Salman came to America with her family at age three, she soon experiences things that some kids shouldn't have to see like the incident at the Ohio daycare to growing up Muslim in America and abroad. It's not until after the 9/11 attacks that she sees a different America due to her being Muslim. But even through all she had experienced in her short life, she finally came to a place that she can embrace her Arab American self without judgement.I will warn you though before reading this book yourself, it will make you laugh out loud so hard during certain points and have tears for what happens during other parts. My only problem with this book, I loved the whole concept of having the end of each chapter with a deeper look at certain parts but I also got lost for not keeping up with the numbers for what had happened during those chapters that it got frustrating to the point that I just stopped reading the very end of the chapter. Good concept but it should have been in the chapter rather at the end!Overall, this was a good read that will make everyone realize that not all Muslims are alike, like the chapter when the family moved overseas to a highly strict Muslim country that not even Ayser was prepared for. It's a comic relief about a real family with real problems while trying to live life, the best way they know how too.Thank You to Ayser Salman for sharing your memoir with the world!!I voluntarily reviewed a complimentary copy of this book from Edelweiss!

** Trigger warning for xenophobia, Islamophobia, and violence against women.)Ayser Salman spent the first three years of her life in Baghdad, Iraq – until her parents, both pharmacists, fled the “dictatorial regime of what was about to become Saddam Hussein’s Iraq” for the frigid climes of Columbus, Ohio. This would be the first of many moves: Along with her younger brother Zaid and a new sister, Lameace, Ayser and her family moved again when she was eight (Lexington, Kentucky), and again a year and a half later – this time to Saudi Arabia, where Ayser would attend an all-girls’ school. The Salmans found their way back to Lexington in time for Ayser’s junior year of high school: “a time of proms, underage drinking, and lots of teenage hormones.” Upon graduation, Ayser attended the University of Kentucky and, after a brief stint as a local news producer, the graduate film program at Loyola Marymount University in Los Angeles. Now in her 40s, Ayser is a comedy writer, editor, and producer.All this moving around – not to mention rotating schools even when the family stayed put – could be enough to make anyone feel alienated. An outsider. A fish out of water. Or, in Ayser’s words, at wrong end of the table. Add to this the fact that Ayser was a brown Muslim girl in predominantly white Christian spaces. (Or, during her time in Saudi Arabia – the one period in her childhood when Ayser felt like she belonged – a somewhat liberal Westerner in a conservative Arab country.) After years of trying to blend in, disappear even, it wasn’t until her 30s and 40s that Ayser embraced her differences.THE WRONG END OF THE TABLE is a series of short essays and vignettes about Ayser’s experiences: being an immigrant (usually the only immigrant) trying to navigate the treacherous waters of elementary and high school; maintaining a social life (especially with boys) under the watchful eyes of her parents; grappling with depression and anxiety in adulthood; embracing her Muslim identity and becoming more politically active in the wake of 9/11 (and, later, during a Drumpf presidency); and dating in her 40s.I think I most enjoyed Ayser’s stories about her childhood in Columbus and Lexington, particularly as her Western sensibilities collided with her parents’ old school ways. For example, there’s the time a well-meaning boy at school gave Ayser a quarter:My father walks in and Mom shoves the quarter in his face.MOM: Talk to your daughter. A boy gave her this!Dad takes a moment to put on his bifocals and studies the offending item.DAD: Does he think you’re cheap?My mother looks at me, satisfied.DAD: He should have given you a silver dollar!Now, Mom is disgusted with me, the quarter, and Dad.The accounts of the Salmans’ time in Saudi Arabia are a little more harrowing; for instance, Ayser recounts the story of a classmate who tried for three years to escape her father’s custody and return to her mother in the States. That’s not to say that Ayser doesn’t mine these reservoirs for humor, either; to wit: Ayser’s very first time setting foot on Saudi Arabian soil:###We put our bags through the x-ray machine, and they were transported to a separate table where airport officials opened and searched them. This was before the age of prohibited liquids, so I couldn’t imagine what they would find that the x-ray hadn’t detected. A man wearing the traditional thawb and an official airport worker jacket eached into my bag, grabbed my Teen Beat magazine, and began combing through. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he tossed it in the trash behind him.“Wait!” I protested as my mother nudged me to be quiet. The man shook his head and said, “Haram.”Next, he found the loose magazine photos I had saved of Valerie Bertinelli lounging by a pool—I liked her hair in that picture and wanted to get mine styled in the same way. Nope. “Haram,” he said as he crumpled it up and tossed it aside.Finally, he got to my prized diary, a small pink book with a lock secured on it to hide all my nine-year-old secrets. On the cover was a picture of a cartoon boy and girl smooching, similar to what you’d find on a Hallmark card. Mr. Haram studied it for a few minutes as if he were debating asking me to unlock it.In Arabic, my mother said, “For children. She’s just a child.” That seemed to appease him. He put my diary back into my bag, but not before taking a sharpie and scribbling out the image of the boy and girl kissing on the cover.###I can only imagine my ten-year-old horror at having my diary manhandled and then defaced by a strange man.As someone who’s found herself newly single in her (early) 40s, I also enjoyed Ayser’s many (many) anecdotes about disastrous dates and failed relationships. (Can you even with that Charlie!?)In the forward, Reza Aslan discusses the importance of memoirs written by Muslim Americans to help shape the narrative about what it means to be “Americans who happen to come from Muslim backgrounds”; to combat the stereotypes and misinformation that have blossomed after 9/11 and the red hats’ hate-fueled Islamophobia. With increased visibility comes the potential to get it so very, tragically wrong; books like THE WRONG END OF THE TABLE help push back. The value in this cannot be understated.Yet, like so many humorous memories (Tiffany Haddish’s THE LAST BLACK UNICORN; Jenn Kirkman’s I KNOW WHAT I’M DOING AND OTHER LIES I TELL MYSELF; Tina Fey’s BOSSYPANTS; Amy Poehler’s YES PLEASE), THE WRONG END OF THE TABLE seems like it’s better suited for the audiobook format. Like, I only chuckled a handful of times while reading TWEOTB, but I’m pretty certain I would have been guffawing had I been listening to Ayser tell these stories out loud. And that’s usually the case: the narrator-slash-comedian’s inflections, embellishments, emphases, verbal quirks – all add a certain something to the retelling that you just can’t get from the written word. I would’ve loved to have heard Ayser’s impressions of her parents, as just one for instance.So if you have the opportunity to read the audiobook, take it! Trust me, they make commutes/dog walks/house cleaning/yard work go so much faster.

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