Genre Fiction
![Syed M Masood - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B088P6YFC4.jpg)
The Bad Muslim Discount: A Novel
Following two families from Pakistan and Iraq in the 1990s to San Francisco in 2016, The Bad Muslim Discount is an inclusive, comic novel about Muslim immigrants finding their way in modern America.
"Masood's novel presents a stereoscopic, three-dimensional view of contemporary Muslim America: the way historical conflict in the Middle East lingers in individual lives, the way gossip travels in a close-knit immigrant community." -The New York Times Book Review
It is 1995, and Anvar Faris is a restless, rebellious, and sharp-tongued boy doing his best to grow up in Karachi, Pakistan. As fundamentalism takes root within the social order and the zealots next door attempt to make Islam great again, his family decides, not quite unanimously, to start life over in California. Ironically, Anvar's deeply devout mother and his model-Muslim brother adjust easily to life in America, while his fun-loving father can't find anyone he relates to. For his part, Anvar fully commits to being a bad Muslim.
At the same time, thousands of miles away, Safwa, a young girl living in war-torn Baghdad with her grief-stricken, conservative father will find a very different and far more dangerous path to America. When Anvar and Safwa's worlds collide as two remarkable, strong-willed adults, their contradictory, intertwined fates will rock their community, and families, to their core.
The Bad Muslim Discount is an irreverent, poignant, and often hysterically funny debut novel by an amazing new voice. With deep insight, warmth, and an irreverent sense of humor, Syed M. Masood examines universal questions of identity, faith (or lack thereof), and belonging through the lens of Muslim Americans.
"Masood's novel presents a stereoscopic, three-dimensional view of contemporary Muslim America: the way historical conflict in the Middle East lingers in individual lives, the way gossip travels in a close-knit immigrant community." -The New York Times Book Review
It is 1995, and Anvar Faris is a restless, rebellious, and sharp-tongued boy doing his best to grow up in Karachi, Pakistan. As fundamentalism takes root within the social order and the zealots next door attempt to make Islam great again, his family decides, not quite unanimously, to start life over in California. Ironically, Anvar's deeply devout mother and his model-Muslim brother adjust easily to life in America, while his fun-loving father can't find anyone he relates to. For his part, Anvar fully commits to being a bad Muslim.
At the same time, thousands of miles away, Safwa, a young girl living in war-torn Baghdad with her grief-stricken, conservative father will find a very different and far more dangerous path to America. When Anvar and Safwa's worlds collide as two remarkable, strong-willed adults, their contradictory, intertwined fates will rock their community, and families, to their core.
The Bad Muslim Discount is an irreverent, poignant, and often hysterically funny debut novel by an amazing new voice. With deep insight, warmth, and an irreverent sense of humor, Syed M. Masood examines universal questions of identity, faith (or lack thereof), and belonging through the lens of Muslim Americans.
Editorial Reviews
"Masood offers sharp observations on religion, violence, and politics, and his clever choice to place the characters' disparate experiences in parallel challenges Islamophobic stereotypes." The New Yorker
"Take it from a bad Jew, this is one of the bravest and most eye-opening novels of the year. Masood is a whiz at characters and knows the way the world works inside out. A future classic." Gary Shteyngart, New York Times bestselling author of Lake Success
"Masood's novel presents a stereoscopic, three-dimensional view of contemporary Muslim America: the way historical conflict in the Middle East lingers in individual lives, the way gossip travels in a close-knit immigrant community." The New York Times Book Review
"The Bad Muslim Discount reads like a bingeable TV series - fast-paced and surprising at every turn. As the characters rebel, we root for them, eagerly hoping that they are able to build a life that's true to them without losing everything they love." San Francisco Chronicle
"Perfect. . .I was torn between wanting to take my time to savor it, or just blazing through. This is a book that I didn't know I deeply needed." Buzzfeed
"Syed M. Masood brings something new and necessary to the immigrant story: a sense of humor. Surprising, provocative, and damn funny, The Bad Muslim Discount is the story we always needed but never had." Neel Patel, author of If You See Me, Don't Say Hi: Stories
"Masood's compelling, provocative and hugely enjoyable tragicomedy explores crises of faith and issues of identity, and throws a new light on the immigrant experience." The National
"Masood's purpose throughout the novel is to draw you deep into Anvar's family world, not simply lampoon it - or, in Safwa's case, righteously condemn it….By its end, "The Bad Muslim Discount" delivers a quintessentially American tale about what immigrants gain or lose when they assimilate - or refuse to do so." The Seattle Times
"Set in the '90s, this engaging novel about identity and belonging is compelling from cover to cover." HelloGiggles, "10 Best New Books to Read in February"
"Masood adeptly balances humor with pathos in this unforgettable, twisting tale. . .A moving, comic take on the immigrant experience." Booklist, starred review
"A born storyteller, Masood has crafted a fast-paced page-turner with plenty of insightful commentary on religion, family, love, and national politics in this debut novel that is expertly written and a joy to read; highly recommended." Library Journal
"Take it from a bad Jew, this is one of the bravest and most eye-opening novels of the year. Masood is a whiz at characters and knows the way the world works inside out. A future classic." Gary Shteyngart, New York Times bestselling author of Lake Success
"Masood's novel presents a stereoscopic, three-dimensional view of contemporary Muslim America: the way historical conflict in the Middle East lingers in individual lives, the way gossip travels in a close-knit immigrant community." The New York Times Book Review
"The Bad Muslim Discount reads like a bingeable TV series - fast-paced and surprising at every turn. As the characters rebel, we root for them, eagerly hoping that they are able to build a life that's true to them without losing everything they love." San Francisco Chronicle
"Perfect. . .I was torn between wanting to take my time to savor it, or just blazing through. This is a book that I didn't know I deeply needed." Buzzfeed
"Syed M. Masood brings something new and necessary to the immigrant story: a sense of humor. Surprising, provocative, and damn funny, The Bad Muslim Discount is the story we always needed but never had." Neel Patel, author of If You See Me, Don't Say Hi: Stories
"Masood's compelling, provocative and hugely enjoyable tragicomedy explores crises of faith and issues of identity, and throws a new light on the immigrant experience." The National
"Masood's purpose throughout the novel is to draw you deep into Anvar's family world, not simply lampoon it - or, in Safwa's case, righteously condemn it….By its end, "The Bad Muslim Discount" delivers a quintessentially American tale about what immigrants gain or lose when they assimilate - or refuse to do so." The Seattle Times
"Set in the '90s, this engaging novel about identity and belonging is compelling from cover to cover." HelloGiggles, "10 Best New Books to Read in February"
"Masood adeptly balances humor with pathos in this unforgettable, twisting tale. . .A moving, comic take on the immigrant experience." Booklist, starred review
"A born storyteller, Masood has crafted a fast-paced page-turner with plenty of insightful commentary on religion, family, love, and national politics in this debut novel that is expertly written and a joy to read; highly recommended." Library Journal
Readers Top Reviews
teriwuShruti Mish
And it's a long book. I thought it would take me days to read but I read it in basically one sitting. The prose is so intelligent and at the same time it reads like a thriller-I couldn't read fast enough to see what happens next. This story has everything. Social and political relevance, family love, warmth, humor and drama, a love story, a story of a boy who immigrates to America with his crazy yet loving family and their family drama, a girl who immigrates to America with her abusive father and an evil fiancé. It really gave me an up close perspective on the immigration experience and reminded me that people are more the same than different. I would absolutely recommend this excellent read and look forward to more by this author.
Joan B., NYteriwu
Hard to put down. The book is somehow both serious and irreverent simultaneously. It is hard to categorize, but the writing is adept and sometimes inspired, and the author’s world view is kind and thought provoking/optimistic in the end. The description of family would be relatable to any generation of immigrants- the characters are recognizably human, and also funny. And there is a spiritual overlay as well. Altogether one of the best books I have read in a while.
Mal WarwickJoan B
As a Peace Corps Volunteer in the 1960s, I learned about culture shock. First, working with Quechua-speaking indigenous people in Ecuador, whose lives were unfathomable to me. And again when I returned to the states after nearly four years abroad, paralyzed by the unimaginable variety of choices in an American supermarket. But my experience was immeasurably milder by comparison with that of my father’s parents, who fled to the United States in 1901 from a pogrom in the Russian Empire. And so must be the case of today’s immigrants who arrive here from Central American countries in the thrall of drug traffickers or the teeming cities and war zones of the Middle East. In the stories he tells about two young Muslim immigrants in San Francisco, Syed M. Masood brings that shock back to mind in The Bad Muslim Discount. The black sheep and the dutiful daughter Anvar Faris and Safwa lead very different lives growing up. In Karachi, Pakistan, now the world’s seventh largest city, Anvar lives a life sheltered from violence and poverty with his parents and older brother. He’s the black sheep in the family, the bane of his mother’s existence because he fails to follow the strict Muslim rules she imposes on everyone else. By contrast, living in Baghdad with her brother Fahd and her stern father, Safwa experiences the American invasion as a child. Then her father, who years earlier had answered the call to jihad in Afghanistan, is captured and tortured by US troops. Abu Fahd (“father of Fahd”) turns cruel after his release and forces her to live under the veil and devote her life to caring for her dying older brother. In Masood’s fast-moving account, we follow these two engaging Muslim immigrant teenagers as they establish shaky new lives in San Francisco. Eventually, the two families both end up as tenants in a rundown old apartment building owned and run by an Indian Muslim immigrant. There, Anvar and Safwa’s lives intersect in tragedy. From Karachi and Baghdad to San Francisco The author, himself a Pakistani immigrant to the United States, deftly conveys a sense of life at the turn of the century in Karachi and Baghdad and later in San Francisco. The sights and sounds and smells of the two Middle Eastern cities come through clearly. The story is laid out chronologically, with sections labeled “The Opening, 1995-2005,” “The Zugzwang, 2005-2010,” “The Crowning, 2011-2016,” “The Trap, 2016,” “The Blitz, 2016,” and “The Endgame” shortly after the election of Donald Trump as President. The section titles represent the stages in a winning game of checkers, which Anvar learns from his beloved grandmother, Naani Jaan. And Naani Jaan never loses. Each of the principal characters in The Bad Muslim Discount rises from the page fully formed. The two Muslim immigrant teenagers themselves, Anvar and Safwa. Their parents, Bariah a...
sqallenMal Warwic
I loved this book from the first sentence, which is a killer first sentence. Anwar’s world is hardly anything like mine and yet it’s the same. Family, frustrations, fear, his faith and lack of , are universal experiences. Safwa’s heartbreaking story is the best and hardest part of this book. It was through her eyes that I faced so many of my short-comings and America’s. I hated finishing it, but as the author said, life doesn’t always allow us to know everyone’s entire story. I look forward to the authors next book.
Book BabeAlexis N
I enjoyed parts of the book - learning about the Muslim faith and life in Pakistan. The story really drags in places though, especially at the end. So much pontificating about religion and life and on and on about how much he loves Zula. His take on politics and Trump in general were interesting and enlightening but ridiculously one sided. At no point does the author make an attempt to understand or explain why our country would consider a "Muslim ban". Or why half of the country might vote for a Republican "nationalist". Parts of the book were down right insulting to me and my country and our President. The author leaves no room for the perspective of anyone other than an immigrant. You are blessed to be in the U.S. and I felt talked down to.
Short Excerpt Teaser
9780385545259|excerpt
Masood / BAD MUSLIM DISCOUNT
THE OPENING
1995–2005
How you begin things is important. This is true in checkers and in life, because at the beginning of things you are freer than you will ever be again. Once the game starts, every move you make is influenced by what someone else has done. The longer the game goes, the messier the board becomes, the more that influence grows. But the opening, Anvar, belongs to you.
-Naani Jaan
ANVAR
I killed Mikey.
It sounds worse than it actually was. You have to understand that I didn't kill Mikey because I wanted to do it. I killed him because God told me to do it.
I don't suppose that sounds much better.
It helps, I think, to know that Mikey was a goat. He had bored brown eyes with rectangular pupils that made him seem a little creepy. Loud and obnoxious, he shat tiny round pellets all over the cramped garage he shared with three of his brethren. He was probably the only one of them who had a name. I know my parents didn't name their goats, and my brother, Aamir, said that naming animals was stupid.
Mikey was the only pet I ever had. He was mine for about a week. I fed him dry straw, brought him buckets of water and asked him if he really wanted to be slaughtered for the sake of Allah at the upcoming Eid because, quite frankly, that seemed like a poor career choice. He remained stoic in the face of his grim fate, at least so far as I could tell.
Eid al-Adha marks the end of the Hajj pilgrimage in Mecca. The name of the celebration translates to "the Festival of Sacrifice."
Yes, Islam has a marketing problem.
The festival commemorates Prophet Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son, either Isaac or Ishmael depending on what you believe or disbelieve, to God. Muslims all over the world purchase and slaughter rams, goats, cows or camels in memory of the moment when God saved Abraham's son from God's own command.
Mikey was my sacrifice to Allah. Since I was only ten, his purchase was financed by my parents.
I remember that Eid well. I was forced to wake up a little after dawn and shower. My parents gave me a brand-new, bright white shalwar kameez and a matching woven skullcap. Then they took me to a mosque to pray.
When we got home, butchers my father had hired were waiting for us, carrying the sinister tools of their trade. Eventually, these men would skin the animals, gut them and chop their carcasses up into manageable bits to be cooked, frozen or given away as gifts or charity.
Mikey was the first one they led out of the garage. He didn't resist.
My father handed me a long, sharp knife and instructed me to be careful. He said that the butchers would hold the goat and expose its neck. All I had to do was slice open the carotid artery and Mikey's blood would flow out. One clean motion would be enough. He clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder.
"Be brave," he said.
I did not feel the need to be brave. I wasn't scared. I felt something else entirely. I didn't say anything to my father. I could've told him I didn't want to do this. I don't know what he would have said. Instead of speaking, however, I gripped the knife. I held on tight because the plastic handle felt slick and slippery in my hand.
The men tripped Mikey to bring him to the ground. Now he resisted. He kicked, trying to struggle to his feet, but was restrained.
I walked up to him. I think he saw me, recognized me, because he seemed to relax a little. I heard my brother say, "Allah hu Akbar."
God is Great.
Aamir told me later that he'd said those words, necessary for the ritual to be properly completed, out loud because he knew I would forget to say them. Aamir had almost forgotten them himself when he had done this for the first time a few years ago.
What I haven't forgotten are Mikey's unattractive eyes full of unshed tears once the deed was done.
I haven't forgotten his blood. It was everywhere.
I didn't move away from him in time and his blood, it didn't seep out. It gushed out in a wild torrent, a flood, a fountain that soaked my hands and my clothes with all the force of a panicked, dying, still beating heart, and I stepped back and there was so much red and I was the cause of it.
I ran. I showered. I wept.
Once I'd changed, my father came to speak to me.
"You know, Anvar, people don't understand these days," he told me, "the real sacrifice. They think their offering is the money they spend on the animal. Or they think it is the life of the animal. But it isn't. You are the sacrifice. What you are feeling now? That is your sacrifice. The lives of other creatures are not yours to take. Life is precious and to end...
Masood / BAD MUSLIM DISCOUNT
THE OPENING
1995–2005
How you begin things is important. This is true in checkers and in life, because at the beginning of things you are freer than you will ever be again. Once the game starts, every move you make is influenced by what someone else has done. The longer the game goes, the messier the board becomes, the more that influence grows. But the opening, Anvar, belongs to you.
-Naani Jaan
ANVAR
I killed Mikey.
It sounds worse than it actually was. You have to understand that I didn't kill Mikey because I wanted to do it. I killed him because God told me to do it.
I don't suppose that sounds much better.
It helps, I think, to know that Mikey was a goat. He had bored brown eyes with rectangular pupils that made him seem a little creepy. Loud and obnoxious, he shat tiny round pellets all over the cramped garage he shared with three of his brethren. He was probably the only one of them who had a name. I know my parents didn't name their goats, and my brother, Aamir, said that naming animals was stupid.
Mikey was the only pet I ever had. He was mine for about a week. I fed him dry straw, brought him buckets of water and asked him if he really wanted to be slaughtered for the sake of Allah at the upcoming Eid because, quite frankly, that seemed like a poor career choice. He remained stoic in the face of his grim fate, at least so far as I could tell.
Eid al-Adha marks the end of the Hajj pilgrimage in Mecca. The name of the celebration translates to "the Festival of Sacrifice."
Yes, Islam has a marketing problem.
The festival commemorates Prophet Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son, either Isaac or Ishmael depending on what you believe or disbelieve, to God. Muslims all over the world purchase and slaughter rams, goats, cows or camels in memory of the moment when God saved Abraham's son from God's own command.
Mikey was my sacrifice to Allah. Since I was only ten, his purchase was financed by my parents.
I remember that Eid well. I was forced to wake up a little after dawn and shower. My parents gave me a brand-new, bright white shalwar kameez and a matching woven skullcap. Then they took me to a mosque to pray.
When we got home, butchers my father had hired were waiting for us, carrying the sinister tools of their trade. Eventually, these men would skin the animals, gut them and chop their carcasses up into manageable bits to be cooked, frozen or given away as gifts or charity.
Mikey was the first one they led out of the garage. He didn't resist.
My father handed me a long, sharp knife and instructed me to be careful. He said that the butchers would hold the goat and expose its neck. All I had to do was slice open the carotid artery and Mikey's blood would flow out. One clean motion would be enough. He clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder.
"Be brave," he said.
I did not feel the need to be brave. I wasn't scared. I felt something else entirely. I didn't say anything to my father. I could've told him I didn't want to do this. I don't know what he would have said. Instead of speaking, however, I gripped the knife. I held on tight because the plastic handle felt slick and slippery in my hand.
The men tripped Mikey to bring him to the ground. Now he resisted. He kicked, trying to struggle to his feet, but was restrained.
I walked up to him. I think he saw me, recognized me, because he seemed to relax a little. I heard my brother say, "Allah hu Akbar."
God is Great.
Aamir told me later that he'd said those words, necessary for the ritual to be properly completed, out loud because he knew I would forget to say them. Aamir had almost forgotten them himself when he had done this for the first time a few years ago.
What I haven't forgotten are Mikey's unattractive eyes full of unshed tears once the deed was done.
I haven't forgotten his blood. It was everywhere.
I didn't move away from him in time and his blood, it didn't seep out. It gushed out in a wild torrent, a flood, a fountain that soaked my hands and my clothes with all the force of a panicked, dying, still beating heart, and I stepped back and there was so much red and I was the cause of it.
I ran. I showered. I wept.
Once I'd changed, my father came to speak to me.
"You know, Anvar, people don't understand these days," he told me, "the real sacrifice. They think their offering is the money they spend on the animal. Or they think it is the life of the animal. But it isn't. You are the sacrifice. What you are feeling now? That is your sacrifice. The lives of other creatures are not yours to take. Life is precious and to end...
