“LITERATURE,” WRITES AZAREEN Van der Vliet Oloomi, “is a nation without boundaries. It is infinite. There are no stations, no castes, no checkpoints.” This is the promise at the heart of her new novel Call Me Zebra, that the exile who lives through books can acquire a more liberated identity than the one fate has in store. It explores the seductive qualities of this idea but also its ultimate brittleness: it is one thing to be nourished by the words of dead writers, quite another to fall in love with death itself.

The novel’s quixotic heroine is a precocious exile, a restless reader cursed with a prodigious memory and merciless intelligence. Scion of a line of lavishly mustachioed Iranian intellectuals, she learns “languages the way some people pick up viruses.” It is a useful skill for the traumas to come. Her mother dies as the family flees the Iran-Iraq War, her father years later in New York City. Inspired by bands of light and shadow on his casket, she renames herself Zebra, as befits her ambiguous nature. With a gift of cash from a rogue Marxist NYU professor, Zebra heads to Barcelona to work on her grand opus, the Matrix of Literature, “a vast constellation of literary networks” created through spontaneous association and the ravenous consumption of books.

Unsurprisingly, a man gets in the way, or tries to. Ludo Bembo, a dapper Italian philologist with a disappointing lack of immigrant anguish, does his best to make love to Zebra. His reward is to serve as her occasional erotic Rocinante, alternately mounted and insulted. But Call Me Zebra is not really a love story, nor is it driven by plot. The book minutely describes a kind of psychological reality that can only be captured with an absurdist narrative. It is populated by a catalog of preposterous figures: a mysterious Dada fanatic who, in a metatextual twist, provides Van der Vliet Oloomi’s novel with one of its blurbs; a bedraggled cockatoo named Taüt (that’s Catalan for “coffin”); the ghost of Zebra’s father, who manifests from the recesses of her memory to deliver the occasional paternalistic lecture; a sculptor obsessed with carving one face in all its imagined ages; and an alcoholic Romanian drifter possessed by dead Catalan writers. These are not fleshed-out characters so much as ludicrous emanations from Zebra’s febrile mind, facets of the exile’s wandering soul.

Above all, Call Me Zebra is a filthy love note to literature unabashedly luxuriating in its bookishness. Zebra is a copyist, a memorizer who ruminates on multiple literary traditions like a medieval monk. Marked by death and yet in a sense impervious to it, she has little use for her body and is startled by the occasional culinary or sexual pleasure it affords. When she hungers, Zebra eats pages, swallowing torn-out sentences as if they’re slippery oysters: “I was ready to devour the next sentence, to eat Benjamin quoting Hegel, to consume an infinitely receding sequence of quotes.”

Ludo is Zebra’s natural foil, a university-employed lexicographer whose relationship to literature is stubbornly dispassionate and analytical. Her frustration will be understandable to anyone for whom books have provided succor in the face of annihilation, a laissez-passer out of a war zone. No wonder she suspects him, in one of her paranoid moments, of being the reincarnation of Eugene Aram, the 18th-century murderer and philologist. He cares for the dead letter, she for the living spirit of the word. Still, their sporadic but satisfying couplings hint at the closeness of the two approaches, both morbid in their own ways. While the philologist performs autopsies on textual cadavers, the mad writer Frankensteins them into a living monster. “A good book,” Zebra muses, “is cannibalistic. An object that calls up the ghosts of our past in order to reflect the haunting instability of our future world.”

Van der Vliet Oloomi’s unapologetically metatextual romp seems, for a while, intended to flatter readers with an affinity for Borges. There is a pleasure in recognizing her many literary references, an even greater charm in being nonplussed by the occasional allusion to an obscure author or unplaceable quote. At one point, the charismatic Zebra draws together a confused and unkempt group and calls them her Pilgrims of the Void. It is an apt moniker for the self-selected tribe of bookish people separated from the petty superficialities of ordinary folk by a higher sense of order and a deeper recognition of loss.

Van der Vliet Oloomi captures the shattered identity of the refugee and the immigrant, the way that literature becomes a lifeline in exile: a movable home, a network of dissent, a genealogy beyond national borders. But Call Me Zebra also steadily pushes us to see beyond Zebra’s self-congratulatory identification as one of the literary elect. Irrevocably marked by the loss of her family and native land, Zebra winds herself in a cocoon of her own narcissism.

This is the shadow side of the exiled intellectual. The world according to Zebra is divided into those complacent, delusional people who believe “in a coherent and linear reality,” and those who know how easily such a reality is shattered. Invisible hands draw lines on maps, press buttons, drop bombs, and — poof — home is a pile of rubble and the old language dries on the tongue. The exile understands the ephemerality of everyday life, but her enlightenment comes at a price: an inability to connect, to be vulnerable, to love what may be lost again.

Instead, Zebra develops a fetish for her objects of mourning, stubbornly dragging around the suitcase that still smells of her father’s corpse. Hers is a museum psychology that preserves traces of the dead past instead of creating a present. And as much as Zebra mocks philologists such as Ludo — academics for whom literature is merely a tool rather than a mode of radical survival — literature is ultimately a tool for her as well. In Zebra’s hands, book knowledge is a savage weapon, a truncheon with which to club anyone whispering dangerous words of affection.

Call Me Zebra does not invite its readers to feel — or fall — for its heroine. Much like Zebra herself, the novel demands intellectual engagement rather than emotional connection. Despite its lively prose, the story occasionally drags, as Zebra keeps traveling while never seeming to reach her goal. But in denying readers some common pleasures of reading — absorption, escapism, empathy — Van der Vliet Oloomi conveys the cold loneliness of Zebra’s grief all the better. What Zebra must learn over the course of her romantic quest through the Catalan countryside is that if suffering is an eternal constant, so, in the end, is love.

This character is pretentious. The main character could have been presented as a nice woman, but she talks. And she talks about so much stuff I don't follow nor care about. It could have been a nice one, but nope.

I requested this book based on an interview I heard with the author on NPR. Boy, it was NOT what I expected. When I got to the end, I felt like I needed to re-read it so I could see the main character through a different lens. I still am not sure if I like her or not but I also feel like I couldn’t get to know her very well. She hides behind this uberintellectual facade and she’s completely traumatized by her refugee experience. I recommend this book with some pause—it’s not a light book and you may find yourself saying “what the hell” a lot.

This is an interesting look at an Iranian refugee who is interested in literature, comes to NYC, falls in love, and explores her history. There’s a lot going on in this book which keeps you thinking. Thank you NetGalley for the ARC

What did I just read? Why did I read it? What in me convinced me that I should persist and keep turning virtual pages and read on? I have no answers to any of those questions. I think I wasted my time reading this book and trying to figure it out. 

It's a book about immigrant girl and her father, they both left their home country and after hardships and troubles arrive in the New World. But it's not a 'normal' story. Main character is coming from a family of self-proclaimed anarchists, atheists, and autodidacts, who are feeding on literature, who live to transcribe words of writes before them. .1 percent is mentioned few times, that Zebra and her family belong to the .1 percent of people that accessed the higher world of literature, the Matrix of Literature as Zebra starts to call it. Zebra's sens of superiority and how judgmental she is was so annoying for me. She treats everyone she doesn't believe to be part of Pyramid of Exile and who doesn't have access to Matrix to Literature as a worse and pitiful human being. At one point she leaves New York to start her Pilgrimage of Exile. She goes to Barcelona, meets a guy there and have some kind of love-hate relationship with him. She moves in with him after some time and starts some pitiful group that she drags on some pointless pilgrimages. She's neurotic, disrespectful and weird in a way that I cannot appreciate.

Call me Zebra is probably a book with a deeper profound meaning, that I didn't found. I'm not part of the .1 percent as Zebra is, and I'm just not capable of understanding or enjoying this book. It didn't make me feel anything. I was tirelessly checking how many pages of this book is left, it was a painful experience to read it to the end. But I did it, and now I'm left with question - why, oh why did I persevere? What did I hope will happen?

Why it got 2 ⭐:

⭐ For moments like this.

"What path leads to freedom? I asked. Any vein in your body, I answered..."

⭐ For the sheer bliss that came over me when I got to read the protagonist expound on powerhouse literary greats. The first third of the book was less awkward.

Why it doesn't matter if you read this book:

1. (Protagonist) Zebra = insane...and not in the cool, edgy, life affirming learn-to-face-your-demons sort of way.

2. ‎Zebra is unlikeable. I'm tired of reading women who have incredible and fascinating niches, but who are essentially garbage humans. Cue everything after the beginning, when apparently it becomes difficult to not be an asshole.

3. Call Me Zebra = WTF?

The moral of this story is that you can be an erratic, arrogant, psychopath, stalk him after continuously upbraiding him, and he'll still have sex with you?

Umm....noooo? Maybe? I'm not so sure suddenly. Maybe things are different in Europe...

I wish it was empowering. I wish it did offer some insight. Something that wasn't an eloquent bag of crazy. Something I could utilize. Metabolize. Call into my life by learning how to call it in my own way, with Zebra as my guide through the gamut of male belletristic greats.

And yes. I did read the whole thing. Unlike Zebra, I have it within myself to be an asshole after contemptuous, not-so-cool you is presented in your entirety.

Thank you to NetGalley and Houghton Mifflin Harcourt for providing me with this ARC in exchange for an honest review.

I'm afraid I simply did not get this book at all. I was intrigued by the idea of a woman connecting to her dead parents and her heritage through literature, but I was just left confused the entire time. The references went way over my head, and the MC was just way too eccentric for my taste. I found myself sort of skimming most of it (which I NEVER do!). Also, I hate relationships in fiction where it's super clear the characters hate each other but still remain together. This might be a good read for others but definitely not for me.

This was highly original and bizarre in the best way. I really enjoyed this book and have not read anything else like it. Thank you so much to Netgalley and HMH Books for providing me with an arc.

Call Me Zebra by Azareen Van der Vliet Oloomi is a beautiful, heartbreaking story of exile, loss, love, and ultimately self. Zebra comes from a long line of scholars whose lives are literally literature. They are born and raised with literature, eat and sleep literature, and speak in literature. Zebra and her parents set off on a tragic journey fleeing the government in Tehran, and her father and her end up in NYC a while later. After her father passes Zebra sets off on a trip to retrace their footsteps back home, her first stop being Barcelona where she meets a man names Ludo and embarks on a twisty turny love affair. (I realize that this is a very simplified summary, Zebra’s story is so much deeper than that).

The novel is so beautiful, and so, so, SO smart. Zebra makes you laugh and cry, infuriates you, drives you bonkers, and makes you want to hug her tight and never let go. I personally related to many of the emotions and deep feelings that Zebra evokes, having been an immigrant in different countries for most of my life. And also because of her love of bringing literature into literally every thought. I loved how the story was written, in a stream of consciousness style. Instead of providing the reader with a set background of imagery, we get to imagine our own through Zebra’s often cluttered mind. It sometimes works as a puzzle or a maze, and you get frustrated, and then laugh because you know your own mind works in a similar fashion.

I now need to go and read Azareen Van der Vliet Oloomi’s first book because I absolutely loved this one!
Call Me Zebra was published by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt on February 6th, 2018. Thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for the opportunity to read this book!

Sometimes you read a novel and you're left with more questions than answers or satisfaction. I think that's what the author intended here. I still don't understand why Zebra chose that name for herself. What was wrong with her given name? Did she really have no other family? Why had they not reached out to other members of the Iranian American community upon arrival to the U.S.? Did her father get the burial he deserved? My goodness. At times I couldn't tell if she was extraordinarily arrogant or a bit unhinged. Was there a bit of psychosis at play here? Ah! So many questions. This was a riveting read.

I was unable to access this title due to its file format. Since it was not Kindle accessible I was unable to download or read it.

I loved this story. The writing was phenomenal, every word right where it should be. It impressed me with the tone and spirit of Don Quixote and was a total delight, even when it broke my heart. I loved it and am going to buy myself at least one copy to re-read and annotate. Beautiful book.

Stylistically, this writing was not for me and I couldn't get into it.

Since this was not available as a Kindle download, i was not able to complete this assignment. My apologies for the waste of a galley copy but thank you for the opportunity to try. I look forward to finding a copy of this in paper or Kindle format.

Zebra is so specific, infuriating, tormented and brilliant that she will either engage or alienate you. Raised in exile after fleeing Iran on foot, Zebra's only home is literature. Stick with this book past the first few claustrophobic chapters and it will reward your patience with humor, honesty and literary magic.

I had so many reactions while reading Call Me Zebra by Azareen Van der Vliet Oloomi. I was so excited to read a book about the love of literature. Then I quickly became frustrated, confused at times, and often found myself saying “this character is crazy!” In the end I came to really feel for the characters in this story and it became a book I enjoyed.

Call Me Zebra is the story of a young woman named Zebra, a name she gives herself, born into a family of anarchists, atheists and autodidacts. Her families first commandment is Love Nothing Except Literature. They believe they are designed to receive and transmit literary signals. In other words they take the love of literature to a whole other level! After the death of her father Zebra becomes the only living Hosseini and so embarks on many journeys, both literal and figurative, to discover her purpose. Along the way she meets Ludo who complicates that mission in ways that are not typical.

Zebra was such a complicated character for me. At first I thought she was crazy, then I felt sorry for her. I was often so frustrated with her and I thought she was extremely hypocritical. At times she was offensive, but in the end I felt hopeful for her. Zebra is just trying to figure out who she is and her place in the world. She tries to figure this out through literature but life and her interactions with other people make it difficult for her. The only love she has felt is from literature and really I think her whole journey is a search for love. Zebra, and what I felt about her correlated with how I felt about the book. When I was frustrated with her I was frustrated with the book. When she offended me the book offended me. When I finally came to an understanding of Zebra I felt like I understood the book.

The story has a stream of consciousness narrative feel to it and there were many times it was hard to keep up with the mind of Zebra making it not a light read. But if you are looking for a great journey story and a book that will cause you to think then I think you should read this. I think it would make a great book club book with many interesting things to discuss.

My copy of Call Me Zebra was provided by the publisher via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review. Thank You!

Sorry, this one just wasn't for me. I won't review it on Goodreads as I gave up at the 30% mark.

Review published on Booklover Book Reviews: http://bookloverbookreviews.com/2018/02/call-me-zebra-by-azareen-van-der-vliet-oloomi-book-review.html

At the heart of "Call Me Zebra" is a heart-breaking story of a young Iranian girl, who flees her war-torn country with her parents, losing her mother en route. She settles in New York with her father, but when he also passes, she decides to head on a reverse pilgrimage, retracing the path via which she and her father escaped to their new life all those years ago. She returns to Barcelona, and gets involved in a pretty toxic relationship with a guy called Ludo.
Her luggage consists mostly of her family treasures, but she carries with her the spirits of her parents and a family love of literature. Oh, and a 100mph stream of consciousness way of telling her story. It's this final point that makes this a challenging read. While Zebra's story is the fascinating tale of a young refugee seeking sanctuary from the horrors of war, the writing style of this novel detracts from the tale at its heart.
Zebra's love of literature means her voice often borders on the extremely pretentious, which can be alienating as you try to keep up with her. And while she may couch the horrors of reality in overly verbose and florid descriptions to lessen their impact on her psyche, as a reading experience it's not the most user-friendly.
An interesting book with a truly unique style, sadly it wasn't one that gelled with me.

I find myself going back to this book and reading several passages over and over. A thought provoking read! Zebra has staying power! Thank you for the opportunity to read for a fair review, four solid stars!