Sofia Khan is Not Obliged, Ayisha Malik's first novel, was hailed as the Muslim Bridget Jones. Entranced by stories of her and her girlfriends' various romantic trials and tribulations, Sofia's colleagues at the large London publishing house where she works as a publicist encouraged her to write a tell-all book on dating and marriage, Muslim-style. As such, and in a nice twist on the traditional rom-com plot, Sofia wasn't so much searching for love but rather inspiration.
I mention this because in Malik's sequel, The Other Half of Happiness, Sofia once again finds herself somewhat torn between her heart and her head.
Spoiler warning for those of you who didn't read Sofia Khan, our heroine did get her happy ending: "Reader, I married him," she writes in a blogpost that introduces The Other Half of Happiness, "But there was no band of Punjabis, jacked up on lassi. We had one imam and two witnesses listen to me and Conall in Tooba Mosque, Karachi, saying 'I do' three times (because by the third time you might've changed your mind)."
Sofia has married Conall, her next-door neighbour, a tattooed Irishman who converted to Islam; and they’re now living in Pakistan while he works on a documentary film exposing the worst parts of the city. As Malik’s title suggests though, there’s a whole other side to the “happily ever after” bit of the romance narrative. And I don’t just mean the fact that Sofia is living in “Karachi squalor” – although this is proof of her feelings for sure: “If I’ve decided to live in this cesspit, it must be love.”
Marriage isn’t the end of the story; in reality it’s only the start, and not always an auspicious one at that. Missing her friends and family back in London (and eager to smooth things over with her mother, who hasn’t spoken to her since she eloped – much more of a black mark against her than marrying a “gora” or white person), and with the launch of her book coming up, and an editor eager to brainstorm ideas for her next, Sofia reluctantly leaves her husband behind and travels home.
Back in London, we’re treated to the familiar world of Malik’s first novel, Sofia’s loving but often overbearing family members, her gaggle of girlfriends – “When you get married in your thirties you’ve formed all these close female friendships and the man ends up being a bonus,” she explains, “Men don’t bond in the same way” – and the politics of publishing: Sofia’s soon teaming up with her editor to start a Black, Asian and ethnic-focused publishing house all of their own (publishers take note!).
The set pieces, aided by the diary format, and the banter, flow thick and fast and Malik keeps her readers entertained by weaving a variety of subplots in among the central story of Sofia and Conall’s flailing marriage. There’s a new suitor for her recently-widowed mother, an old flame from her childhood eager to make up for lost time, which of course throws Sofia and her sister into disarray – “Mum’s life is stitching together while mine is unraveling.”
Then there’s Sofia’s writing, she’s supposed to be working on a book on Muslim marriage, which is fine in principle but not so easy given that this is her first rodeo and she and her husband aren’t living in the same country, let alone the same home – “Note for book: Whatever you do, if writing a guide to marriage, don’t end up penning your very own marital misery memoir.”
With their relationship already fraying at the edges, a revelation on their wedding day – their second wedding day, I should explain, as Sofia’s mother insists on throwing a “small” (that’s 300-odd guests) celebration for the couple, despite her daughter’s protests: “Note for book: When it comes to weddings, human rights can’t trump the rights of fairy lights” – sees the relationship implode at alarming speed.
You don’t have to have read Sofia Khan to enjoy this sequel, although it undoubtedly adds to the enjoyment and indeed, Malik trusts in the intelligence of her readers enough to not hamper the narrative with heavy clumps of backstory, a brave but very welcome move.
She’s maintained the same lightness of touch that made the first book such fun and again, one can’t help but root for Sofia, as she’s both real and relatable.
That her search for fulfillment is swinging more towards her career than her love life really opens up the story, both challenging what we define as “chick lit” along with the stereotypes many of us might hold about Muslim women.
Lucy Scholes is a freelance journalist who lives in London.