Without

by Younis Alakhzami, Younis Al Akhzami, Caline Nasrallah (Translator)

Without tells a story of searching for belonging both in the world and within your own skin. Born in Saudi Arabia to a Yemeni family, the novel’s protagonist has been ill-at-ease since childhood, because she never felt like she was a girl. Alia’s alienation grows as she slowly comes to realise that she is, in fact, a man and begins the transition to live life as Ali.

This is a very important story to tell as it portrays the struggles of gender non-conforming people in society. The novel is sensitive and frank in how it approaches an intersex person’s struggles with the realities of love, friendship, and survival against the backdrop of a life lived between Saudi Arabia and Yemen, and then later the UK. Without navigates complex issues in a very human way, painting an honest portrait of how people come to terms with challenges they never expected they would face. Told in a deceptively simple style, through a tightly woven and skillful narration, Without makes these struggles resonate with us all.

151 pages, Kindle Edition

Published May 28, 2021

Reviews

[Sergio Capetillo · Rating 5 out of 5]

An exemplary work which accomplishes to flourish within the literary device of fragmentation. The different perspectives from different characters as narrators let us dive into interrelationships of the dynamics of gender and sexuality. It is certainly a magnificent piece touching upon delicate topics with a remarkable mastery.

[Shahd Alshammari · Rating 5 out of 5]

It is a great translation from the Arabic. I loved it and would recommend it as reading for anyone interested in Gender studies and the body, especially in the Arab world.

[Asmita · Rating 4 out of 5]

My colleague found this in our office library and I was instantly intrigued. This was the first book I read with an intersex protagonist, a Yemeni one at that. It was a very absorbing read. Once I started, I couldn’t put it down. The translation was beautifully rendered, which I truly appreciated.

Alia’s story is by no means easy. The first half of the book is easier to read than the second half. While Alia deals with anxieties and confusion during her teenage years, miraculously she is mentally stable. It is her life in the second half of the book, after she arrives in the UK, that is more difficult. While she finally understands her condition and finds a way forward, it is a complex, difficult and lengthy process. She is an incredibly brave protagonist, one whose struggles and difficulties are no doubt faced by others.

Perhaps the one thing that may have further enriched this is allowing Alia to meet other intersex individuals who had faced similar issues. As this never happens in the book, the feeling of Alia’s isolation in her condition is intensified. On the other hand, she has a strong support network. A group of compassionate friends, supportive parents and her partner Amira.

The end of the book was very difficult to read, it reminded me of The Danish Girl and a part of me desperately wishes it ended differently.

[Rebecca]

Life loses so much of its value when the soul is tormented, not only by pain but by fixating on its arrival.

I shan’t participate in discourse surrounding what qualifies as “good” representation, whether there is—or ought to be—license to representation (i.e., whose experience has the authority to speak on behalf of others, as “representation”?), etc. so I will suffice to say: neither do I care for insistent British colonialism apologia.