Ours Are the Streets

by Sunjeev Sahota

'Genuine, poignant ...A moral work of real intelligence and power' John Burnside, The Times

When Imtiaz Raina leaves England for the first time, to bury his father on his family's land near Lahore, he exchanges his uncertain life in Sheffield for a road that leads to the mountains of Kashmir and Afghanistan. Once back in Yorkshire, he writes through the night to his young wife Becka and baby daughter Noor, and tries to explain, in a story full of affection and yearning, what has happened to him -- and why he has a devastating new sense of home.

'What Sahota creates is not an exploration of the psyche of a suicide bomber, but an exploration of a man' Yorkshire Post 'Startling.
This book successfully humanizes one of the great demons of contemporary society, and for that, Sunjeev Sahota should be given a high five off the Queen or something' Dazed and Confused, 'Book of the Month'
'Imtiaz's journey to Pakistan, and his sense of belonging, gives the novel much of its eloquence. Great literary promise' Independent
'Excruciatingly well-written' Guardian
'The book's great force lies in its voice: that of a young man straining to express instincts, fears and emotional conflicts, lending his writing a distinctive vibrancy' Observer
'An acute debut. What is most chilling, and most successful, is that it all seems so familiar, so close and so easy' Sunday Times

Genres: Fiction, Asia, Pakistan, India, Contemporary, Book Club, British Literature

313 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2011

About the author

Sunjeev Sahota is a British novelist. Sahota was born in 1981 in Derby, and his family moved to Chesterfield when he was seven years old. His paternal grandparents had emigrated to Britain from the Punjab in 1966. After finishing school, Sahota studied mathematics at Imperial College London. As of January 2011, he was working in marketing for the insurance company Aviva.

Sahota had not read a novel until he was 18 years old, when he read Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children while visiting relatives in India before starting university. After Midnight's Children, Sahota went on to read The God of Small Things, A Suitable Boy and The Remains of the Day. In an interview in January 2011, he stated:
It was like I was making up for lost time – not that I had to catch up, but it was as though I couldn't quite believe this world of storytelling I had found and I wanted to get as much of it down me as I possibly could.

In 2013 he was included in the Granta list of 20 best young British writers.

Sahota's first novel, Ours are the Streets, was published in January 2011 by Picador. He wrote the book in the evenings and at weekends because of his day job. The novel tells the story of a British Pakistani youth who becomes a suicide bomber. His second novel, The Year of the Runaways, about the experience of illegal immigrants in Britain, was published in June 2015.

Reviews

[Paul · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not easy to assess this one and not a comfortable read.
Imtiaz is a British born young man of Pakistani origin, Sheffield to be precise. He is not particularly religious and falls in love with Rebecca, marries and has a daughter. Following the death of his father he goes to Pakistan for the funeral. here he meets extended family and friends and he is "radicalised" and spends some time in Afghanistan. One of his friends carries out a suicide bombing and Imtiaz returns to Britain with another family member with the intention of carrying out a suicide bombing himself.
Past and present are inerspersed in the story and this can be confusing. Imtiaz is the narrator and speaks throughout in a Sheffield/Yorkshire accent. Having spent three years at university there (some years ago!) the accent is much as I remember it. I suspect reading it throughout the book could be irritating, though it didn't bother me. The book also has little conventional structure, but it is easy to read.
I wasn't really convinced by Imtiaz's journey, he seemed to drift into planning a bombing with no real moment of revelation or spur. There was also very little religion in the book, it was the backdrop,and the religious motivations seemed to be minimal. In fact it was difficult to work out why Imtiaz was planning to carry out his act. My experience of really hardcore fundamentalists is that there is usually a moment or moments of revelation and there is a hard core of inflexible belief running through it. This seemed to be absent.
Despite this reservation this was a rather scary look at how a young man who is loved by family, has a job and everything to live for is suddenly transformed into the sort of person who might commit a northern equivalent of 7/7. The sheer ordinariness of Imtiaz is what is most disturbing, but he is young alienated and rootless and easy prey: like many of our youth.
I think the current cuts agenda which is leading to significant youth unemployment and alienation and we may be breeding a new generation like Imtiaz. The danger is that as a society we just sit back and watch it happening

[Arushi Sharma · Rating 4 out of 5]

A book with criss-crossing subplots, each revealing a rawness, vulnerability, selfishness, a want for acceptance. The story is told through the diary of a British Muslim, Imtiaz, who's married to an English woman named Rebekah and has a daughter, Noor, with her. His parents immigrated to Britain back in '66 and his dad works as a taxi driver. The book tries to capture the in-betweenness of a second-generation immigrant, rendered by cues like how he found himself "defending Muslims against whites and whites against Muslims."
He observes, thinks, and probably imagines a lot, his heart outpacing his brain and vice-versa. He takes an extended trip to Pakistan after his father suffers from a heart attack while chasing a fare-dodger and dies. He makes a few friends there and is indignant at being referred to as the valetiya (foreigner). His friendship with Aqil leads him to live in a jihadi camp in Afghanistan for some time and he resolves to become a suicide bomber. He also describes how he wasn't nervous when he first held a rifle, but felt like "I were ripping free, like my skin were tearing apart to reveal a new and stronger man."
He returns to Sheffield, a Deobandi Muslim again, and decides the place he would do it. But he finds himself delaying the plan. The novel ends before we know whether he does it or not.
At the heart of the novel is: What leads to this? He was told that 'the struggle' was preparing him for a better life where he will be rewarded by Him. But was it only a function of what was being fed to him under the garb of religion? Or did he finally feel like he 'belonged' when they called him Apna (one of their own)?
He is clearly at battle with his emotions as he calls his mother, weeping in the middle of the night, asking her to hold him. He's now estranged from his wife, who thinks he has changed since he came back. He constantly addresses his entries to her: "How did it come to this, B?" He tells her about the plan the day before he was going to execute it. She tells him that they could get help and that she wouldn't let him do it. But he just runs while she keeps calling his name from behind him.
Besides being insecure, proud and paranoid, he is also lonely: "Abba, I am so on my own right now. You, Ammi, Becka. There's no one." The plot is strongly written and certainly engrossing. It is a poignant psychological and cultural analysis, a sort of analysis of Imtiaz's mind, and his ostensible mental illness.

[DubaiReader · Rating 4 out of 5]

Falls a bit short of the mark.

This book didn't really gel for me. It was rather disjointed and seemed to lurch its way between being a memoir and a farewell to his family.
In addition, I had a problem with Imtiaz's motivation for becoming a suicide bomber - he seemed more worried about belonging and being a part of something than actually convinced by the ideology of Islam. He preferred to listen to Islamic stories than to study the Koran, although he was very devout about attending the prayers.

Imtiaz was born in Sheffield, of Pakistani parents. He studied in a British school and progressed to university, where he met Becca. When Becca fell pregnant they married and his daughter Noor was born. He seemed on course to live a normal life as husband and father, until his own father died and he travelled back to Pakistan with the body. There, in his desperation to belong, he got into a fundamentalist crowd and committed himself to the ultimate sacrifice.

As my motivation for reading this book was to understand what drives a young man, with a wife and daughter, to kill himself and others for his cause, I was ultimately a bit disappointed. 3 1/2 stars from me and although I would try this author again, I wouldn't particularly recommend this book.

[Anshul Thakur · Rating 1 out of 5]

It is a story about a young man, Imtiaz Raina. He is the only child to a Pakistani family living in England. The life is usual like it often is. He gets his girlfriend (who is English) pregnant. Then, they marry. His parents want her to drop the child, the two don't. Then his father dies, Imtiaz and his mother leave for Pakistan to perform the last rites of his father. There, the 'vilayati' gets his taste of 'his people', 'his homeland' and what it is 'to belong'. It is there where he gets into some dangerous company. He travels to Kashmir, and then to Afghanistan on a 'field trip'. In that one trip, Imtiaz Rana transforms from a simple vilayati into a brainwashed pawn to the 'cause'. There is no looking back.

It is a weak account of what he saw, or what was fed into him, except for the imposing presence of his fellow (and the instigator) Aaqil. A few parts hit you as something real, like the encounter with the Afgan border guards/bandits. The transformation of Imtiaz from a good boy to a person with dangerous intent is artlessly cloaked and elusive. And the language. Does anyone know what 'sempt' means formally?

There are a few real characters with satisfactory portrayals. Quasoomah, Imtiaz's father and his Mother among the few...

The complete review can be read on Aesthetic Blasphemy.

[Joanna · Rating 3 out of 5]

I thought this was a thought provoking book about a second generation British Muslim boy living in Sheffield, transformed by the death of his father and the following visit "home" to Pakistan into a radical terrorist bomber, planning an attack on Meadowhall shopping centre.

What I found interesting was the struggle Imtiaz has to fit in and belong in his parents' home village. He feels the need to disprove his foreignness and it is this that leads to his radicalisation in a jihadi camp in Afghanistan.

What struck me as unusual is the way in which this radicalisation is portrayed, not as a religious fervour, but as a mental illness. On his return to Sheffield Imtiaz becomes estranged from his wife and daughter and eventually from those he is planning his attack with through paranoia.

The novel is written in the first person in the form of a journal or diary, and by the end of the book, we are unsure whether certain characters are real or imagined by Imtiaz. Ultimately the conclusion is left to the reader; is Imtiaz mentally capable of carrying out the bombing, or has he come too far to back out? Decide for yourself.

[Nidhi Mahajan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Originally published on The Literary Edit.

Sunjeev Sahota rose to fame when his second novel, The Year of the Runaways, was shortlisted for the prestigious Man-Booker Prize in 2015. Blurbed by Salman Rushdie, who calls it a powerful novel, it tells the story of four characters: Tochi, Avtar, Randeep, and Narinder. The novel significantly deals with immigrant lives in England. When I met Sahota at the Jaipur Literature Festival in January last year, post his Man-Booker fame, he came off as surprisingly down to earth and almost awkward about his popularity. The awkwardness, however, does not translate into his novels.

His debut novel, Ours are the Streets, is a powerful monologue of a suicide bomber in Sheffield, England. The novel, written in the form of a journal, proceeds in two parallel narratives. One, where Imtiaz, the protagonist, addresses his wife, his daughter, and sometimes his parents, narrating the events of the present leading upto the day of the sacrifice. Two, where Imtiaz recalls his days of youth, how he met his wife and how they eventually got married, and the trips to Lahore, Kashmir, and Afghanistan.

The voice of the narrator is marked by the use of colloquial phrases such as 'abba' (father), 'ammi' (mother), and 'almari' (cupboard) as well as words like 'sempt' (instead of 'seemed'), 'twicely', 'taxiing', and 'kinda'. The use of such language creates a distance between the protagonist and the reader who is well-versed in language norms. Yet, at times, the reader cannot help but relate to Imtiaz.

To be known
Imtiaz, very early in the novel, announces his reasons for writing the diary. He says,

"Because all this is just a form of du'a [prayer], isn't it? That's what these pages are all about. A form of prayer. Wanting to be found out, which is only another way of wanting to be known."

This knowledge is important for the reader to understand his motives. Imtiaz does not merely want to be labelled as a suicide bomber but wants the reader to know him intimately, to know how it feels when he is alone in his room, when loneliness takes hold of his gut, when he thinks about the horrors experienced by people in Palestine, Kashmir, Iraq, and Afghanistan while the perpetrators sleep contentedly, indifferently. He says,

"Time to open myself out, wound on wound."

Through his journal, Imtiaz appears impossibly human; I say impossibly because there is often a tendency to dehumanise the 'other', to assign the homogeneous label of 'terrorist' to them. As the reader begins to know Imtiaz personally, almost like a voyeur peeping into his diary and his mind, several binaries- including that of criminal and innocent- begin to fall apart and one's ideological assumptions are brought sharply into question.

To belong
Imtiaz' transformation and radicalisation, to an extent, is pivoted on the idea of 'belonging'. He reflects on the efforts of the first generation of immigrants, his parents and relatives, who attempted to make a life in a country that is not their 'home'. He says that his parents wanted to become a part of the streets, to make the streets theirs and their children's. They fail because the country which held the promise of economic stability, only acted against them. The novel presents everyday instances of racial discrimination and violence against these people.

The predicament of the second generation of immigrants, like Imtiaz, is paradoxical owing to a dual sense of 'belonging'. Imtiaz says,

"I wanted to talk about why I found myself defending Muslims against whites and whites against Muslims."

Later when he visits his parents' hometown in Lahore, he begins to nurture a different sense of 'belonging'; he shirks his identity as a 'valetiya' (a foreigner) and obsessively desires that the people consider him an 'apna' (one's own). His desire is fulfilled on an unmarked road in Muzaffarabad, when the group of men that he is travelling with finally accepts him as a part of their community and their mission.

However, the novel shows that it is impossible for Imtiaz to rid himself of the contradictions of his identity. One of the ways in which this is presented is in the shifting references to 'home'; sometimes 'home' is England, sometimes it is Pakistan.

Personal is political
For Imtiaz, the personal is, no doubt, the political. His mission is mediated through all that he has experienced, all the pain that he has gathered. He says that it is almost as if the lines of his palms are leading him on. Imtiaz' trauma is significantly brought out in the lines,

"I swear down, your abba being made to feel ashamed is a terrifying thing to see. The way the child in him comes to the surface, so that all of a sudden it's like you've been turned inside out. The way all his adult strength is made to crumble by a few well-placed words, and all you can do is gaze helplessly at him with a kind of horror, as if you're watching a tower collapsing."

The reference in these lines is, of course, to 9/11; the attacks are also referred to when Imtiaz' father says that maybe if there were more people like himself who would be brave enough to speak out, their children would not be driving planes into buildings.

To conclude, in Ours are the Streets, Sahota takes the reader into the mind of a suicide bomber, humanizing him and revealing the reasons for his radicalization. The novel ruptures many ideological assumptions and disturbs one's comfortable complacency to all that is happening to our fellow people around the world. There is perhaps no better time to read this novel.

[Anne · Rating 3 out of 5]

The premise for the story behind Ours Are The Streets is an excellent one, and in the right hands this could be a powerful story that could go some way to explain why young men that have been born and brought up in Britain feel the need to turn to extreme fundamentalism.

However, the writing style in this book is so very odd. Imtiaz is a recognisable character, he is young, bored and has found himself married and a father at a young age, but there is nothing in his thoughts to make the reader feel as though he is particularly angry with the world, or that he feels hard done by. Imtiaz and his young white wife live in Sheffield with their toddler daughter, they married against the odds and Becka, his wife has 'reverted' to his relgion.

It is not until Imtiaz's father dies and he returns to Pakistan for a visit that he starts to question his life back in England, and even then when he starts to associate with other young radicals there is no real explanation as to why he decides to become a suicide bomber.
Life in Pakistan is portrayed as idyllic, with family members almost worshipping him, feeding him and bestowing gifts and money on him. Coming home to Sheffield brings him back down to earth with a bang, and he realises that he is just another young man trying to make a living.

The passion and emotion that you would expect from a story such as this is lacking and the language is annoying at times but there is something strangely compelling about the character of Imtiaz that made me read on until the end.

Living very near to Meadowhall, I did find Imtiaz's plans to blow himself up there quite disturbing, his regular visits to check out how busy the place was did bring home to me just credible a plan this could be. "
My copy of this book was sent via the Amazon Vine Programme

[Jake Goretzki · Rating 3 out of 5]

I've had this on the pile for a year or so, but picked it up on seeing that the writer's made it onto the influential Granta Best Young British Writers list.

Hmmm. It's fine, but it's nothing knock out. The semi-articulate first person / diary narrator is pretty well done (and the Sheffield-British-Asian register is all there).

But I'm not sure this is a penetrating insight into very much, beyond that our archetypal radical (7/7 etc, mtffaeithcoh - oh, that's shorthand for 'may they fry for all eternity in the hottest corner of hell') was a bit of a directionless wastrel with the world view of a not very bright teenager.

I kind of knew this. I was expecting more character and empathy. More thought of motive (though I did like the portrait of our hero's stoically put-upon father, actually... one great moment 'standing in the darkened hallway with his hand on his forehead'). Maybe the lack of it is precisely the point.

Apparently his short story in the Granta volume is great - I'm not really convinced so far by this.

[Rebecca · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5 Stars
A disturbing but really interesting book about Jihadism and radicalisation.

My thoughts are a bit all over the place with this one because although I found the subject matter of the book really interesting, I didn’t really care about any of the characters.

In terms of the protagonist, I liked the way the author portrayed his narrative voice, however I didn’t really feel that much sympathy for him (especially during the second half of the book... for obvious reasons).

Despite this, I thought the way the author presented his conflicting emotions during the second half/towards the end was very well done and I could see how perhaps a different kind of reader might develop an odd sense of pity for him.

Also, the novel’s exploration of identity and how it ultimately plays a large part in the radicalisation process was interesting, specifically how it was used by other characters to persuade the protagonist into adopting a transgressive mindset.

I’d definitely recommend giving this a read although it’s not a book that everyone will like.

[Rowena · Rating 2 out of 5]

2.5
I don't know about this one, interesting and sensitive topic that has left me thinking on the book now that I've finished it, but there was something about it I just didn't like. The main character is self-centred and paranoid both before and after his trip to afghanistan so his radicalisation doesn't seem to make much difference, he 'finds' religion but it doesn't affect the way he acts at all. This is such a complex and important subject, but I feel like this book doesn't explore it with enough depth. Living in Sheffield myself, the constant references to places I know did jolt me and draw me in, making it more real, but I doubt this would have the same effect on non-sheffield people.

[Beth (bibliobeth) · Rating 2 out of 5]

I first heard an interview with this author on the Guardian books podcast and the book sounded so intriguing that I felt I had to read it. However, I was a bit disappointed! Okay - its quite uncomfortable reading about a suicide bomber but I felt the story lacked depth and vitality. To be honest, I was glad to finish it.

[Bec · Rating 3 out of 5]

Was not in the right mood for this at all. Like I KNEW the writing was good but I just wasn't feeling it. I think it was meant to be suspenseful, but the fact that it took me nearly two weeks to read ruined that for me. Also the main character's wife is a redhead named Rebekah and he's a giant asshole to her, which put me off a bit.

[Airidas · Rating 1 out of 5]

The worst book I've ever read.

[Tushar Pai · Rating 3 out of 5]

I got introduced to the work of the author and specifically to an excerpt from this very book as part of an exercise I had to do during my Creative Writing course. I was quite hooked to the story and decided to get this book.

Imtiaz Raina, born in Sheffield to parents of Pakistani origin is an everyday lad who meets Bekka during the course of his studies and gets married. Life is as normal as it gets for him with the arrival of his daughter Noor. The death of his father takes him back to Pakistan for his burial where he ends up spending a few months amongst his cousins and acquaintances that he makes. The journey takes him across the border into Afghanistan and when he returns back to England, his visible transformation shocks his wife and her family.

The book deals with radicalisation and the effect that it has on a family. It is a distressing read as you see the progression of an individual from normalcy to a frenzy, misguided by religion. What didn’t work for me in the book was the lack of reasoning behind Imz’ move towards his faith. It seemed very abrupt and forced.

With his life falling apart and the stress brought upon by the expectations of his handler to carry out a suicide attack, Imz descends into throes of psychosis, with the book eventually ending on a sad cliffhanger where Imz is unable to distinguish between reality and illusion.

Interestingly Sunjeev Sahota had never read a novel until he was 18. Although having sone Shakespeare and Milton as part of his GCSE in Literature, there wasn’t a requirement to read a novel. His first novel was Salman Rushdie’s Midnights Children that he bought at the airport on a trip to India. He got so hooked that he felt he had to make up for all the lost time and ended up reading A Suitable Boy, God of Small Things and many such books in quick succession afterwards. As a writer he has earned many accolades and even a Booker nomination. Amazingly he is now an Assistant Professor at Durham University teaching the subject of Creative Writing.

I found Sunjeev’s ability to draw you into the story quite commendable and he brought the central character of Imtiaz with his Yorkshire accent, his mannerisms as a velatiya in his native village and his struggles with hallucinations, to life as he narrated the entire story in first person from Imtiaz’s eyes, alternating all the while between past and present.

I have got two more books of his to read but I am sufficiently impressed with his writing skill for someone to discovered books a bit later in his life.

[Safdar · Rating 2 out of 5]

i read sahota's second novel first and it is such a good one. i wanted to see what his debut novel was like. clearly sahota has grown into a good writer with his second one because the first one did not leave an impact on me at all. it was the heavy subject which undid the novel, the plot or writing did not do justice to the subject.

his second novel, the year of the runaways is one of my favs though.

[Eleanor Fieldson · Rating 3 out of 5]

It was interesting to read something different and definitely made me think, but I struggled with the writing style (all first person, jumping round timeframes, no chapters)

[Dan Sihota · Rating 1 out of 5]

It pains me to award any book one star, as I feel the need to justify such a response, I decided to wait a few days after finishing the book to compose my thoughts fully before posting my review here.

I first heard of this author, Sunjeev Sahota (no relation), when his second book "The Year of the Runaways" was shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize. So when I came across his first book "Ours are the Streets", I decided to give it a go. However, no matter hard I tried, there was something about this book I didn't like, something which I couldn't quite figure out at first. The main storyline isn't all that new, a British Muslim who becomes radicalised, but that in itself is no reason to dislike the book. I notice a number of other reviews of this book criticised the narrative which made the story hard to follow at times, however, this was not a problem for me. So what was it about this book that I didn't like?

The more I thought about the author's style of writing the clearer it became to me as to why I didn't like this book - it all seems so contrived. As a result, many aspects of the story don't make sense, it seems forced. For example, it's a little hard to believe that a British Muslim would change so quickly that he would want to become a suicide bomber, such a transformation needs a little more explaining for it to be convincing. I do think this is a shame as there were some good ideas in the story which could have been expanded on, however, I don't think the author was prepared to invest any time going down this route.

Also, I'm not sure if anyone unfamiliar with the north of England or Pakistani culture would understand some of the local phrases or cultural norms to be able to fully understand the story, but given many of the positive reviews for this book, maybe I'm wrong in my assessment, or maybe many readers will simply agree with a popular opinion just to fit in.

[Meecha Grace · Rating 4 out of 5]

At first I didn't feel much for this book. It took me awhile to get settled into the skin of the main character. However, as with all things worth the wait this story slowly and steadily began to get under my skin. Although I think the story is more about belonging than it is about religion, it's truly a fresh breeze of air and a new cultural perspective on belief and trying to find your identity. The ending left me longing but shouldn't all good endings? Some things are best when left to our own imagination, where the reader gets to write the conclusion. If like me, you like a different point of view this book is one for you.

[Laura Elisabeth · Rating 3 out of 5]

Read this book for couch book club, its a real eye opener of a book, very interesting. I like the writing style, however the actual storyline is just one mans thoughts, it would have benefited from another point of view, to give it more substance.

Overall Its a good book, good plot and unexpected ending.

[Molly · Rating 2 out of 5]

Great idea, badly executed. The perspective changes were confusing and gimmicky and the ending was predictable but still infuriating.

[Aleksandra · Rating 3 out of 5]

Rating: clear 3. In my opinion, a bit too much of cursing and overly explicit sexual scenes ruined some parts. Also, language could be in general more expressive, and story bit more deep.

[Caitlin Jebakumar-Corbett · Rating 4 out of 5]

***SPOILERS***

This was a really hard book to read. Ironically, I argued strongly the day before opening this that it's important to read books with principal characters who are unlikeable. I still stand by that position, but this was a tough challenger. The main character, you realize a few pages in, has every intention in becoming a suicide bomber.

Imtiaz isn't a good person. At best, he is entitled, rude, and lazy. At worst, he is emotionally and psychologically abusive. He has led a very privileged life, with a hard-working father who drives a taxi to pay his family's bills. His lovely wife Rebekah falls in love with him for who knows what reason (daddy issues of her own, perhaps?). They get pregnant at a very young age, and their daughter Noor holds them together.

When Imtiaz travels to Pakistan to bury his father, he falls in with a bad crowd. His friend Aaquil is selfish and lazy, and spends far too much time consuming jihadi propoganda. The rest of Imtiaz' family are peaceful Muslims, more concerned with getting their daughter married than with the war being waged in a different part of the country.

Eventually, Imtiaz and Aaquil take lessons from a radical teacher, who instills in them the "calling" that is becoming a suicide bomber. In fact, one of their friends makes this sacrifice while Imtiaz watches (which is perhaps the most horrifying scene I've ever read, for sheer violence).

In the final third of the book, we journey with Imtiaz as his decision leads him to insanity. He becomes paranoid and actively seeks to isolate everyone who cares about him.

We don't actually get to find out what happens on the fateful day when Imtiaz intends on living out his calling, because the whole book consists of his journal entries. My hope is, since on the night before he tells Becka his plan, that she stopped him. I hope that she called the police, informed the shopping centre of the threat, and had her husband arrested (or committed to a mental institution, since at this point he is delusional and paranoid). But we don't know that. He may have gone through with his plan, ending many innocent lives.

Overall, this book raises a lot of questions for me. Do terrorists deserve sympathy? Are they trying to correct a wrong, or fight the good fight, just like young soldiers from Western countries? How can a person from such a privileged life become so radicalized, so disconnected, that he actively plans to kill people? How does being raised away from one's extended family and country/culture of origin affect their identity?

Tough, tough read. Not for the faint of heart.

[Kalpita Bhosale · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ours Are the Streets by Sunjeev Sahota is an intriguing read. It is a story of Imtiaz Raina, who was born and brought up in England. n the quest to fulfil his fathers burial wish, he sets on a journey to Lahore, Pakistan with his mother. Little does Imtiaz know that this journey is the turning point of his life. He stays back in the village to discover that he is going to set out on another journey to Afghanistan where he has turned into a local only to be radicalised like any other.

On his final day before the big leap, he spends the night writing to his daughter and beloved wife - who he misses immensely especially after his return as a changed husband and father, from his homeland. In this letter he introduces them to the man he became while he was away for his father’s burial. His emotional journey and affectionate response to his instead life is eloquent, vibrant and so close to common human traits.

Imtiaz is a character that is neatly woven by Sunjeev Sahota with motivations that are unfathomable. His journey from Sheffield to Lahore, Kashmir of Pakistan to Afghanistan and back to Sheffield is not a story of religion or radicalism but about a man that is made into someone that he is not but chooses to be. Though the book may lack a ‘wow’ moment but I think this makes it even more interesting because the book is not sensationalised for the sake of a spur in the book. The spur in this book is very timely and will leave you short of breathe because Imtiaz is highly motivated towards his goal.

Imtiaz Raina is created with intricate details of emotions, which we seldom acknowledge or even take any cognisance of. He is an avenger of the radical world, but a perspective into him as a man and the human side to scariest reality in today’s world is formidable. For this alone, Sunjeev Sahota deserves my money!

When I read the book I was amazed that Imtiaz remained with me always. I still feel close to him and feel his senses for his actions like looking into a window. Ours Are the Streets is well fitted and does justices to the book back because it delivers on every word and more.

[Phill Lister · Rating 5 out of 5]

Writer Sunjeen Sahota was dazed after the summer bombings of 7/7 in London to find that the four men who carried out the attacks had lived about a mile away from his house in Leeds.

This book, written in the form of a first-person journal left behind by an imagined suicidal jihadist for his family, is his attempt to make some sort of sense of this.

We feel a connection and some sympathy for the author, Imtiaz Raina, the eventual suicide bomber. He has his doubts about the authenticity of the capitalist consumerist world. And he struggles with issues of friendship and love, marrying an English girl but coming to reject her/his confusing culture even though they beget a daughter.

His heartfelt but confused criticisms of shallow consumerism/capitalism and his feelings of ennui are no different in many ways from any Goth or Hippy or whatever. But even hippies had respect for others and stopped short of massacring everyone. On the whole.

When Imtiazs father dies and he accompanies the body to be buried at their original family home in a remote Pakistan village, his doubts about the world are intensified. He feels like he doesn't belong anywhere. He's a foreigner in England, but he's also a foreigner in his Fathers village, always the Outsider.

But being in the landscape of his forefathers has a profound effect on him. He feels connected. There are a couple of passages that convey the numinous effect of the landscape, the spiritual experience it engenders. Of a people struggling on the land, connected to and at the mercy of nature. But part of it.

But it is a sense of connection he'd never felt before, never in Leeds.

When he returns to England, he's not the same. Everything seems Fake. Fake people, fake politics. Fake lives. No one around and nothing is real. It doesn't matter. No one matters.

Imtiaz, as imagined by Sahota, is a disturbed and conflicted human being and maybe even very confused and possibly paranoid. Even Intiaz doubts his own experiences and memories at times, keeping us engaged and wondering.

But the ending is inevitable. A very sad book, but speaking of our times.

[Jennifer Westcott · Rating 3 out of 5]

A wholly disjointed novel that left much to be desired. Whilst Sahota lays the foundation for an insightful and important text, I found myself ultimately disappointed in its execution.

Despite the narrator, Imtiaz, being a multi-faceted and gripping character, the other characters felt like props, two-dimensional and unfortunately lacking in identity. Rebekah, for example, is a nothing more than a wife disconnected from her marriage, appearing once every few chapters to remind readers of Imtiaz's broken marriage. We learn little of the relationship's breakdown until the final stretch of the novel, which left me confused and ultimately unsympathetic to their situation.

However, Sahota's discussions regarding immigration were incredibly insightful, providing a unique and humanising perspective towards radicalisation. Imtiaz's shame towards his father felt palpable, understandable, and yet tragic, too. The alienation of Imtiaz and his family was explored in-depth and effectively.

Regardless of its faults, Ours Are the Streets is an impressive debut novel, compelling me to further explore Sahota's later works. I look forward to delving into his other works in the future.

[Bethy’s_Books · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was recommended this by one of our Bookgroup who described it as quite extraordinary, gritty and raw, and I was intrigued by the premise that it was the story of a possible suicide bomber, set in our nearby Sheffield.

It is told from the viewpoint of Imtiaz, and written as a type of confession and account of his experiences as he prepares for his mission. At times he is speaking to his wife Becca, his baby daughter Noor, but also his parents. We follow his journey through early marriage and across to Pakistan where he travels for a family funeral, and becomes introduced to ‘the struggle’.

The writing has such a propelling immediacy, and Imtiaz is a convincing, sensitive narrator, caught between conflicting feelings for his parents and his life as the son of migrants, and the sense of belonging that he feels in Pakistan. As his story progresses, and his involvement becomes deeper, his narrative becomes more splintered, reflecting his confusion and possible depression and isolation.

This is fascinating, page turning writing, offering a glimpse into the desperation that might be felt by someone in these circumstances. A very thought provoking and different read.

[Adelle van Zyl · Rating 3 out of 5]

Unfortunately it falls short, it had so much potential and the author is a talented writer. I enjoyed the descriptions and the interactions between the characters came across with authenticity. I just find it unrealistic for such an intelligent young man, with great potential and opportunities in life, wonderful parents and a lovely wife and daughter to become religiously radicalized- or perhaps just the fast pace of the process. I guess there were signs and issues and he was highly disturbed in his emotional thought process, but it escalated REAL quickly and there was no justification- I also feel like so many around him turned a blind eye? He just felt really ungrateful and resentful towards everyone and always shifting blame, never accepting responsibility; a huge sense of entitlement- everyone owes him. He had zero respect for his loving parents and wife. It was just a bit disappointing and I expected more.

[Anjali Ved · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book offers you a completely new read. Something out of the ordinary. It explores the mind of a suicide bomber. The language and the writing style can be a bit confusing in the first few pages. But, as the story deepens further, you get used to it. Infact, the way the past and the present are merged, it is interesting to see how the main character (Imtiaz) changes his preferences and viewpoints, at the same time reflecting on things that happened. Imtiaz gives a self-analysis of his changed behavior. The author doesn't give us a reason for Imtiaz's decision but then that's how today's generation gets influenced in the name of religion. They just jump into it without thinking about the consequences or giving it a radical thought. I just felt if it had chapters or headings it would have been a more intriguing read or even heading for the letters. But overall, you shouldn't miss this one.

[Anna Hepworth · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ostensibly a story of radicalisation of a young Muslim man, this covers a lot of emotional ground.

This was a difficult book to read on many levels -- the young man who doesn't fit in in either country that he might consider home, the process of radicalisation, the dysfunctional relationships, and in the end the slow destruction of the young man's sanity. Plus, the writing style -- diary entries ostensibly for his ex-wife and young daughter to read after his death -- managed to be weirdly distancing.

I was intrigued enough by the blurb to pick this up cheaply second hand. And it was certainly worth reading. But I don't think I'm going to want to read it again, and I'm certainly not going to recommend it to people.

[Seppe Gillis · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ik ga eerlijk zijn. Voor ik aan dit boek begon, hoopte ik in stilte dat Sahota mij zou overtuigen om ook een zelfmoordterrorist te worden. Het gebrek aan degelijke argumentatie voorkwam dit echter. Imtiaz komt door groepsdruk in een opleidingskamp terecht en wordt uiteindelijk zo gehersenspoeld dat hij ervan overtuigd is dat zichzelf opblazen de juiste keuze is. Misschien een beetje goedkoop, maar volgens mij wel een realistisch scenario. Toch heb ik het boek graag gelezen. Het verhaal speelt zich hoofdzakelijk net voor de grote finale af, maar a.d.h.v. brieven wordt er telkens naar vroeger verwezen. Hoewel er nooit grote cliffhangers zijn, blijft het verhaal zo toch spannend genoeg om verder te lezen.