Good People review by Patmeena Sabit – An addictive mystery meets modern interest | imaginary

TThere has been debate recently about whether novels should cater to our repressed interests. If that means creating narratives in short chunks that can be consumed in five-minute bursts on a phone – which is clever, but with plenty of suspense and well-timed packets of information to keep us coming back – Good People ticks all the boxes.

Patmina Thabet’s feature debut consists of a chorus of short testimonies—no more than a few pages long, some just a few lines—about the death of Zorah Sharaf, an Afghan-American teenager who drowned in the canal while driving the family car. We hear from family, friends and members of the wider community – neighbours, teachers, schoolmates, journalists and the man who found the body – as well as those involved in the investigation (although very little from the police), and media commentary. A picture slowly emerges of a devastated family, but what kind of family was it? The versions are multiple and contradictory. The balconies are perfect, loving and cohesive. They are seriously deranged.

The novel, at its core, is a crime mystery in which a community turns detective and brings to justice a grieving family. It’s also a sharp portrait of the immigrant community in the modern United States, a dissection of toxic gossip, and a commentary on broader societal divisions. Most of all, it is terribly addictive.

We learn, from all these scathing voices and snippets, that Zora’s parents, Rahmat and Maryam, arrived in the United States from Kabul in the late 1990s with nothing. They had four children: Zora, her older brother, and two much younger brothers. Rahmat worked day and night and survived many business failures before launching his cleaning business. He is now a millionaire businessman in international imports and fast food franchises. They are living the American dream in an upscale Virginia neighborhood. But success arouses envy, and money cannot erase cultural tensions. It’s not easy for these devoted, obsessive parents to respect their community, culture, and values ​​while raising modern American teenagers who will be adjusting to high school and, more importantly, Ivy League colleges.

Some narrative voices return repeatedly, but they never fully stand out – that’s not the point. Their weight is collective. They influence us this way and that, presenting us with new information, judgements, contradictions, hints, revelations, questions, and of course judgments. Honest people are kind and supportive parents. No, they are cruel and punitive – basically abusing children. Zora’s older brother was her best friend. No, he was a weirdo, a loner, and her worst enemy. Everyone agrees that Zora was beautiful, smart, and popular. Her friends were always welcomed into Sharaf’s house to spend the night. But Zora was never allowed to sleep over at their house, go to parties, school trips, or spend time with the boys, let alone date them. Cultural dissonance increases, as does pressure. Zora begins skipping high school and faking report cards. Then she meets an unsuitable boy.

We never hear directly from Zora, her parents, or her siblings, but they begin to feel real as we see their love for each other, their courage and resilience, as well as their fears and tensions. The narrative device allows Thabet to manipulate the reader wildly: Contradiction is timed to destabilize, a new perspective brings shock, and we become complicit as we too judge, piece together half-truths, question, criticize, and condemn. But there are also times when the model is overstretched. Do we really need so much as a forensic meteorologist on precipitation in Fulton County, or a road safety professional explaining to us the danger of aquaplaning or a Speedy Stop gas escort?

The most interesting thing about Good People is not its polyphonic structure, but rather the heightened sense of an organizational consciousness that oscillates back and forth between loving loyalty and anger: a love of a complex Afghan community capable of generosity, care, and support; Anger at governance, misogyny, violence and tyranny. This fluctuating energy is compelling because it feels so real.

How did Zora end up in the canal? Did your Mercedes car spin out of control on a wet road at night? Or is this something heinous, so-called “honor killing,” or is it a father or brother – or perhaps a jealous member of Afghan society – punishing a young woman for stepping out of her box? Thabet plays with us, pushing us this way and that until the need for an answer becomes truly urgent. However, satisfaction is elusive. What follows is a moderate contraction.

The Good People structure is both its strength and its greatest limitation. We are fueled by narrative, bite by bite, so we never have to work too hard; Although there is stimulating cultural commentary, the structure prevents any deeper emotional and internal personal journey. I chased good people in two sessions. It kept me stimulated and educated, and I certainly wasn’t bored, despite not really being fed – but that’s of course what we’re living through now. People, good and bad, will love it.