Literature & Fiction
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All My Rage: A Novel
An INSTANT INDIE BESTSELLER!
"All My Rage is a love story, a tragedy and an infectious teenage fever dream about what home means when you feel you don't fit in." - New York Times Book Review
From #1 New York Times bestselling author Sabaa Tahir comes a brilliant, unforgettable, and heart-wrenching contemporary novel about family and forgiveness, love and loss, in a sweeping story that crosses generations and continents.
Lahore, Pakistan. Then.
Misbah is a dreamer and storyteller, newly married to Toufiq in an arranged match. After their young life is shaken by tragedy, they come to the United States and open the Clouds' Rest Inn Motel, hoping for a new start.
Juniper, California. Now.
Salahudin and Noor are more than best friends; they are family. Growing up as outcasts in the small desert town of Juniper, California, they understand each other the way no one else does. Until The Fight, which destroys their bond with the swift fury of a star exploding.
Now, Sal scrambles to run the family motel as his mother Misbah's health fails and his grieving father loses himself to alcoholism. Noor, meanwhile, walks a harrowing tightrope: working at her wrathful uncle's liquor store while hiding the fact that she's applying to college so she can escape him-and Juniper-forever.
When Sal's attempts to save the motel spiral out of control, he and Noor must ask themselves what friendship is worth-and what it takes to defeat the monsters in their pasts and the ones in their midst.
From one of today's most cherished and bestselling young adult authors comes a breathtaking novel of young love, old regrets, and forgiveness-one that's both tragic and poignant in its tender ferocity.
"All My Rage is a love story, a tragedy and an infectious teenage fever dream about what home means when you feel you don't fit in." - New York Times Book Review
From #1 New York Times bestselling author Sabaa Tahir comes a brilliant, unforgettable, and heart-wrenching contemporary novel about family and forgiveness, love and loss, in a sweeping story that crosses generations and continents.
Lahore, Pakistan. Then.
Misbah is a dreamer and storyteller, newly married to Toufiq in an arranged match. After their young life is shaken by tragedy, they come to the United States and open the Clouds' Rest Inn Motel, hoping for a new start.
Juniper, California. Now.
Salahudin and Noor are more than best friends; they are family. Growing up as outcasts in the small desert town of Juniper, California, they understand each other the way no one else does. Until The Fight, which destroys their bond with the swift fury of a star exploding.
Now, Sal scrambles to run the family motel as his mother Misbah's health fails and his grieving father loses himself to alcoholism. Noor, meanwhile, walks a harrowing tightrope: working at her wrathful uncle's liquor store while hiding the fact that she's applying to college so she can escape him-and Juniper-forever.
When Sal's attempts to save the motel spiral out of control, he and Noor must ask themselves what friendship is worth-and what it takes to defeat the monsters in their pasts and the ones in their midst.
From one of today's most cherished and bestselling young adult authors comes a breathtaking novel of young love, old regrets, and forgiveness-one that's both tragic and poignant in its tender ferocity.
Editorial Reviews
"This is not the Sabaa Tahir you know…but it's the Sabaa Tahir you NEED to know. All My Rage is a gorgeous, star-crossed story about the costs of the American Dream and the way unexpected routes appear when you need them most. I read this in a single day." - Jodi Picoult, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Book of Two Ways
"Searing. Riveting. Beautiful. All My Rage takes the reader on an unforgettable journey into the heart of love. Exploring the painful truths of hidden traumas and the crush of broken dreams, Sabaa Tahir shows us the healing, redemptive power of forgiveness, of hope, of connection in her stunning contemporary debut." -Samira Ahmed, New York Times bestselling author of Internment
"We all know Sabaa Tahir is a master at creating epic fantasy worlds filled with terrifying, imaginary monsters. Here, Sabaa turns her considerable talent and skill to the real-but no less terrifying-monsters that dwell in the human heart. In richly evocative prose and with characters so well crafted I'm sure I know them, All My Rage takes a clear-eyed look at the ways in which we hurt and heal each other. It's a gorgeous meditation on grief and love and the possibilities each of us have for redemption. This book will stay with me for a long time to come." -Nicola Yoon, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Sun Is Also a Star
"All My Rage is an unflinching, profound force that will rattle your heart and toughen your soul. Sabaa Tahir's razor-sharp writing never shies away from the world's harshness while always finding the light in the dark for our special, unforgettable narrators." -Adam Silvera, New York Times bestselling author of They Both Die at the End
"All My Rage is an expert study in all that's tangled within the closest of our relationships-the pain and the love, the ugliness and the beauty, the potential to break and the potential to repair. Painful, powerful, hopeful, and magnificently crafted." -Randy Ribay, author of Patron Saints of Nothing
"Tahir packs an absolutely unforgettable punch in her first contemporary YA. . . .This is the kind of book that positively climbs into your bones and steals your breath in the very best way." -Buzzfeed Books
★ "Tahir's lyrical prose unpacks both the beautiful and the brutal. She deftly captures the layers of grief, rage, family, examination of faith, and forgiveness, while managing to inject levity into dire situations and provide a semblance of hope . . . Put this book at the top of your list." -SLJ, starred review
★ "Tahir brilliantly shows how in...
"Searing. Riveting. Beautiful. All My Rage takes the reader on an unforgettable journey into the heart of love. Exploring the painful truths of hidden traumas and the crush of broken dreams, Sabaa Tahir shows us the healing, redemptive power of forgiveness, of hope, of connection in her stunning contemporary debut." -Samira Ahmed, New York Times bestselling author of Internment
"We all know Sabaa Tahir is a master at creating epic fantasy worlds filled with terrifying, imaginary monsters. Here, Sabaa turns her considerable talent and skill to the real-but no less terrifying-monsters that dwell in the human heart. In richly evocative prose and with characters so well crafted I'm sure I know them, All My Rage takes a clear-eyed look at the ways in which we hurt and heal each other. It's a gorgeous meditation on grief and love and the possibilities each of us have for redemption. This book will stay with me for a long time to come." -Nicola Yoon, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Sun Is Also a Star
"All My Rage is an unflinching, profound force that will rattle your heart and toughen your soul. Sabaa Tahir's razor-sharp writing never shies away from the world's harshness while always finding the light in the dark for our special, unforgettable narrators." -Adam Silvera, New York Times bestselling author of They Both Die at the End
"All My Rage is an expert study in all that's tangled within the closest of our relationships-the pain and the love, the ugliness and the beauty, the potential to break and the potential to repair. Painful, powerful, hopeful, and magnificently crafted." -Randy Ribay, author of Patron Saints of Nothing
"Tahir packs an absolutely unforgettable punch in her first contemporary YA. . . .This is the kind of book that positively climbs into your bones and steals your breath in the very best way." -Buzzfeed Books
★ "Tahir's lyrical prose unpacks both the beautiful and the brutal. She deftly captures the layers of grief, rage, family, examination of faith, and forgiveness, while managing to inject levity into dire situations and provide a semblance of hope . . . Put this book at the top of your list." -SLJ, starred review
★ "Tahir brilliantly shows how in...
Readers Top Reviews
Andy @ Forever In
Oh my god! Sabaa what have you done to me!! 😭😭😭 Forever crying over this. All My Rage is a generational contemporary about a family of Pakistani Americans and Noor, a Pakistani refugee. The story centers on Noor, Salahudin and his mother, Misbah. We see Misbah in Pakistan as she starts her married life with Toufiq and they come to the United States. Noor and Salahudin were best friends, until The Fight. Now Sal spends his time trying to save the motel as his mother's health fails and his father is lost in his alcoholism. Noor balances working for her wrathful uncle while also going to school and trying to apply to college where she can finally be free of him and Juniper. But when Sal tries something desperate to save the motel, he and Noor face far reaching consequences than they knew to prepare for. This book was incredible. The way Sabaa has shaped the story of Misbah, Noor and Salahudin was amazing. The emotional journey we go through with these characters has caused maximum emotional damage. I wanted to rage, to cry, to scream, to fight and so much more for these characters. The way trauma is explored in this story is incredible, there's no other word for it truly. There were times I felt so down with these characters I didn't think there was any hope left. But Sabaa weaves a tiny seed of hope throughout this whole story. So much is thrown at the protagonists and while they don't always make the smartest decisions, they persevere through it all. I love that we get to see them all grow and learn through their mistakes. Many times we only see a tiny bit of behavior changes, but All My Rage goes above and beyond that. The ending made me cry. I loved it so much. It's bittersweet yet brimming with hope. This book is amazing. I am so glad I read it. Tahir has established herself as someone who can easily leap genres and craft a compelling story and characters. I cannot wait to see what comes next for her.
Gayatri SethiAndy
It’s a stunning story. Note: Content warnings upfront!
Gail SparksGayatr
What a beautiful, heart wrenching story. Tahir paints such a description that I felt like I'm sitting at the motel eating the traditional Pakistani dishes with them. I love the wisdom of Ama. The beautiful relationship between Noor and Sal. She covers tough topics that we all need to read and understand more about. Thank you for sharing your story. Much love.
Shannon CGail Spa
As the title suggests, this is not an easy book. It explores disaster and despair, addiction and abuse, racism and regret. But then Sabas Tahir weaves in threads faith, hope, beauty and forgiveness making it into a beautiful work.
Short Excerpt Teaser
chapter 1
Misbah
June, then
Lahore, Pakistan
The clouds over Lahore were purple as a gossip's tongue the day my mother told me I would wed.
After she delivered the news, I found my father on the veranda. He sipped a cup of tea and surveyed the storm looming above the kite-spattered skyline.
Change her mind! I wanted to scream. Tell her I'm not ready.
Instead, I stood at his side, a child again, waiting for him to take care of me. I did not have to speak. My father looked at me, and he knew.
"Come now, little butterfly." He turned his moth-brown eyes to mine and patted my shoulder. "You are strong like me. You will make the best of it. And at last, you'll be free of your mother." He smiled, only half joking.
The monsoon rain swept over Lahore a few minutes later, sending chickens and children squawking for cover, drenching the cement floor of our home. I bent my head to the ground in prayer regardless.
Let my future husband be gentle, I thought, remembering the bruises on my cousin Amna, who married a light-haired English businessman against her parents' wishes.Let him be a good man.
I was eighteen. Full of fear. I should have prayed instead for a man unbroken.
chapter 2
Sal
February, now
Juniper, California
It's 6:37 a.m. and my father doesn't want me to know how drunk he is.
"Sal? Are you listening?"
He calls me Sal instead of Salahudin so I don't hear the slur in his words. Hangs on to our Civic's steering wheel like it's going to steal his wallet and bolt.
In the ink-black morning, all I see of Abu's eyes are his glasses. The taillights of traffic going into school reflect off the thick square lenses. He's had them so long that they're hipster now. A Mojave Desert howler shakes the car-one of those three-day winds that rampage through your skin and colonize your ventricles. I hunch deep in my fleece, breath clouding.
"I will be there," Abu says. "Don't worry. Okay, Sal?"
My nickname on his lips is all wrong. It's like by saying it, he's trying to make me feel like he's a friend, instead of a mess masquerading as my father.
If Ama were here, she would clear her throat and enunciate "Sa-lah-ud-din," the precise pronunciation a gentle reminder that she named me for the famous Muslim general, and I better not forget it.
"You said you'd go to the last appointment, too," I tell Abu.
"Dr. Rothman called last night to remind me," Abu says. "You don't have to come, if you have the-the writing club, or soccer."
"Soccer season's over. And I quit the newspaper last semester. I'll be at the appointment. Ama's not taking care of herself and someone needs to tell Dr. Rothman-preferably in a coherent sentence." I watch the words hit him, sharp little stones.
Abu guides the car to the curb in front of Juniper High. A bleached-blond head buried in a parka materializes from the shadows of C-hall. Ashlee. She saunters past the flagpole, through the crowds of students, and toward the Civic. The pale stretch of her legs is courageous for the twenty-degree weather.
Also distracting.
Ashlee is close enough to the car that I can see her purple nail polish. Abu hasn't spotted her. He and Ama never said I can't have a girlfriend. But in the same way that giraffes are born knowing how to run, I was born with the innate understanding that having a girlfriend while still living with my parents is verboten.
Abu digs his fingers into his eyes. His glasses have carved a shiny red dent on his nose. He slept in them last night on the recliner. Ama was too tired to notice.
Or she didn't want to notice.
"Putar-" Son.
Ashlee knocks on the window. Her parka is unzipped enough to show the insubstantial welcome to tatooine shirt beneath. She must be freezing.
Two years ago Abu's eyebrows would have been in his hair. He'd have said"Who is this, Putar?" His silence feels more brutal, like glass shattering in my head.
"How will you get to the hospital?" Abu asks. "Should I pick you up?"
"Just get Ama there," I say. "I'll find a ride."
"Okay, but text me if-"
"My cell's not working." Because you actually have to pay the phone company, Abu. The one thing he's in charge of and still can't do. It's usually Ama hunched over stacks of bills, asking the electric company, the hospital, the cable company if we can pay in installments. Muttering "ullu de pathay"-sons of owls-when they say no.
I lean toward him, take a shallow sniff, and almost gag. It's like he took a bath in Old Crow and then threw on some more as aftershave.
...
Misbah
June, then
Lahore, Pakistan
The clouds over Lahore were purple as a gossip's tongue the day my mother told me I would wed.
After she delivered the news, I found my father on the veranda. He sipped a cup of tea and surveyed the storm looming above the kite-spattered skyline.
Change her mind! I wanted to scream. Tell her I'm not ready.
Instead, I stood at his side, a child again, waiting for him to take care of me. I did not have to speak. My father looked at me, and he knew.
"Come now, little butterfly." He turned his moth-brown eyes to mine and patted my shoulder. "You are strong like me. You will make the best of it. And at last, you'll be free of your mother." He smiled, only half joking.
The monsoon rain swept over Lahore a few minutes later, sending chickens and children squawking for cover, drenching the cement floor of our home. I bent my head to the ground in prayer regardless.
Let my future husband be gentle, I thought, remembering the bruises on my cousin Amna, who married a light-haired English businessman against her parents' wishes.Let him be a good man.
I was eighteen. Full of fear. I should have prayed instead for a man unbroken.
chapter 2
Sal
February, now
Juniper, California
It's 6:37 a.m. and my father doesn't want me to know how drunk he is.
"Sal? Are you listening?"
He calls me Sal instead of Salahudin so I don't hear the slur in his words. Hangs on to our Civic's steering wheel like it's going to steal his wallet and bolt.
In the ink-black morning, all I see of Abu's eyes are his glasses. The taillights of traffic going into school reflect off the thick square lenses. He's had them so long that they're hipster now. A Mojave Desert howler shakes the car-one of those three-day winds that rampage through your skin and colonize your ventricles. I hunch deep in my fleece, breath clouding.
"I will be there," Abu says. "Don't worry. Okay, Sal?"
My nickname on his lips is all wrong. It's like by saying it, he's trying to make me feel like he's a friend, instead of a mess masquerading as my father.
If Ama were here, she would clear her throat and enunciate "Sa-lah-ud-din," the precise pronunciation a gentle reminder that she named me for the famous Muslim general, and I better not forget it.
"You said you'd go to the last appointment, too," I tell Abu.
"Dr. Rothman called last night to remind me," Abu says. "You don't have to come, if you have the-the writing club, or soccer."
"Soccer season's over. And I quit the newspaper last semester. I'll be at the appointment. Ama's not taking care of herself and someone needs to tell Dr. Rothman-preferably in a coherent sentence." I watch the words hit him, sharp little stones.
Abu guides the car to the curb in front of Juniper High. A bleached-blond head buried in a parka materializes from the shadows of C-hall. Ashlee. She saunters past the flagpole, through the crowds of students, and toward the Civic. The pale stretch of her legs is courageous for the twenty-degree weather.
Also distracting.
Ashlee is close enough to the car that I can see her purple nail polish. Abu hasn't spotted her. He and Ama never said I can't have a girlfriend. But in the same way that giraffes are born knowing how to run, I was born with the innate understanding that having a girlfriend while still living with my parents is verboten.
Abu digs his fingers into his eyes. His glasses have carved a shiny red dent on his nose. He slept in them last night on the recliner. Ama was too tired to notice.
Or she didn't want to notice.
"Putar-" Son.
Ashlee knocks on the window. Her parka is unzipped enough to show the insubstantial welcome to tatooine shirt beneath. She must be freezing.
Two years ago Abu's eyebrows would have been in his hair. He'd have said"Who is this, Putar?" His silence feels more brutal, like glass shattering in my head.
"How will you get to the hospital?" Abu asks. "Should I pick you up?"
"Just get Ama there," I say. "I'll find a ride."
"Okay, but text me if-"
"My cell's not working." Because you actually have to pay the phone company, Abu. The one thing he's in charge of and still can't do. It's usually Ama hunched over stacks of bills, asking the electric company, the hospital, the cable company if we can pay in installments. Muttering "ullu de pathay"-sons of owls-when they say no.
I lean toward him, take a shallow sniff, and almost gag. It's like he took a bath in Old Crow and then threw on some more as aftershave.
...
