Love is An Ex-Country is a memoir that loosely follows a cross-country road trip, but along the way gives insight to trauma in early life, surviving abuse in relationships, experiences of young motherhood, and claiming sexuality. Once of the most unique aspects of this book is its structure: written in vignettes within each chapter that shifts in time—-a moment on the road connecting to her research, leading to a moment of childhood—-a cyclical style of writing that mimics memory and highlights the often fractured narratives women of color live in the pursuit of their agency. She places the reader at the center of her intersections, Arab/woman/queer, and shows us the ways she is never allowed to forget. She writes: “It is to be reminded in your bones, your muscles, and the twisted strands of your DNA, every moment of every day, of war, of fear, of explosion, of discrimination, of others’ fear, dehumanization, and murder, of you and of people like you.”

As Jarrar turns her care to herself rather than others, she pulls back the curtain so many WOC allow to blind their vision—the burdens that cultural norms, womanhood, motherhood, submissiveness can be. She brings each of these lessons in glaring light, not afraid of brashness in the effort to tell the truth, claim it, and be able to move forward. She refuses to shrink into any prescribed notion of who she should be, in person or in writing, the freedom of which is celebrated in her sexual expression.

Through BDSM and kink, Jarrar reveals the glory in mutual consent, how the articulation of boundaries, desires and fears breaks down the binaries we construct ourselves with. She describes the ownership of her body, the power to “feel every moment and be in the present completely.” This shift in perspective celebrates the joy in physical exploration so many women don’t allow themselves because imposed roles and patriarchal rule.

LOVE IS AN EX-COUNTRY is a powerful memoir by Randa Jarrar. At times funny and moving, this book is set against the backdrop of a cross-country round trip after the 2016 election. She writes about the intersection of her different identities: Muslim, Queer, Fat, Arab-American, Abuse Survivor. She describes her journey to acceptance highlighting important relationships and events in her life. Her father was abusive, both physically and emotionally. Her mother was complacent. Her boyfriend is abusive and controlling, and leaves her once she has the child he did not want her to abort. The two areas which I found most interesting were her journey with her body acceptance and the complexity of her race and how she is perceived. She is a fat woman, and she discusses multiple instances where people are outright hostile to her, including her father. But she also talks about acceptance she has come to as she has gotten older, especially in the kink community, and the importance of consent (which she did not see in past relationships). And as for her ethnicity, she highlights discrepancies when she is identified as white (cop being nice to her after pulling her over for speeding), versus Arab-American (her landlord recommends she put up an American flag in her front yard). Jarrar deals with a lot of heavy topics with candor and wit, and I highly recommend this book.

Thank you to NetGalley and Catapult for providing me with an advance reader copy for review.

This wasn't quite what I expected. The 'cross-country road trip' element of the collection is more a grafted on conceit (though it did obviously happen) to organize a somewhat disparate set of essays, many of which focus on trauma and abuse. Thankfully, the book description mentions the childhood and adult domestic abuse Jarrar recounts, but it's a central focus on at least a few chapters.

Wow, what a powerful memoir. I appreciated her thoughts and experiences as someone at the intersection of faith and queer identity. That's a difficult place to be, and she navigates it with courage and grace.

This was a raw look at the life of a queer Muslim American woman. The stories of her family’s abuse and relationship abuse were harrowing. There is a large emphasis on her sexual awakening, exploring kink and Dom/sub relationships in sex dungeons. It wasn’t totally what I was expecting, but I appreciated her experiences and how her culture shaped her experiences.

LOVE IS AN EX-COUNTRY is an intimate collection of essays and reflections framed around the physical and mental journey of a road trip.

Jarrar writes: "Sexuality, pain, love, obedience, hurt: all are woven together in the loom that is my body, that is my skin and my heart." And this book twines together all these components in a way that was unexpected but deepened my appreciation for Jarrar's self-reflection. She is unabashedly fat, queer, Arab, and sexual in this book, intentionally "heretical" with explicit sex scenes and in-depth understandings of her femme and fat body, simultaneously a fuck-you to the father of her past who feared and punished her for her sexuality as well as a relenting forgiveness for the same father worn down now by Parkinson's.

Road trips typically scream nostalgia and happy endings of driving into the sunset, but Jarrar ends one of her essays admitting, "I had almost crossed the entire country, and I felt nowhere near home"—leading the reader to reflect on the ways Jarrar's identities are marginalized in America and Israel.

Thanks to NetGalley, the author, and the publisher for this advance reading copy, out February 2021, in exchange for an honest review.

Randa Jarrar covers a lot of ground in this book, and she does so in an upfront, humorous, and unashamed way. While I admire her attitude, this really didn’t work for me overall. I went into Love Is an Ex-Country expecting a reflective travel story tackling internal struggles, and maybe that was my misunderstanding, but is definitely not how I would describe this book. The writing is blunt and moves through events at a plodding pace, and the messages she conveys are often delivered as a triumphant single sentence to cap things off. Sexual content is rarely an issue for me in books, but describing Tinker Bell and Thumbelina as “queer, visual representations of clitorises” is a bit much for me. It’s just not for me.

"Love is an Ex-Country" by Randa Jarrar is a memoir about how author's experience with and interrogation of living and traveling in societies that continuously negate her intersecting identities. Even though this novel centers around a road trip, this book covers the entirety of the author's life from growing up in an abusive home to being in an abusive relationships to her path to becoming a writer. Much of what Jarrar experiences in her life in regards to her abusive relationship with various men in her life are really difficult to read, but I think it is important to hear these stories to bring awareness to the trauma that people experience behind closed doors. This is definitely an interesting memoir that is worth reading.

Love is an Ex-Country started off with great purpose and interested me deeply but the further I read the more disjointed it became. The intertwining of deeply personal emotional memories with eccentric sexual acts frustrated me as a reader. Every time I started to connect with the author and her experiences the story veered of into a completely different narrative. I appreciate the opportunity I was given to read this book and know it will resonate with many people.

There were moments of this book that took my breath away with their truth and beauty. I wanted to love it because of those moments, as they spoke to what I had expected: the memoir of an queer, Muslim immigrant woman fighting to forge her identity in the United States on a road trip. Unfortunately, in the long run, Love Is an Ex-Country seemed to me to be more of a chronicle of sexual exploits, graphic abuse, and unhealthy relationships. The darkness and pornographic elements were too much for me to enjoy the book as I thought I would. Jarrar's words can be gorgeous, compelling, and extraordinary; ultimately there weren't enough of those words to get this book where I felt it could have been.

This book was not what I thought it was going to be, and ended up not really being my style. Very raunchy and disturbing at times.

There were things about this book that I really liked, but more that I didn't. Love is an Ex-Country is definitely not for all readers but if it's your thing, then I think you will enjoy it. I have read some of Jarrar's essays and have enjoyed them, and although some of this book's essays are interesting, some are almost too personal and difficult to access on an emotional level.

Jarrar narrates her memoir via a trip that she takes cross country - though she also intersperses her experiences of travel and life in other countries. Born in the US to a Palestinian father and Egyptian mother, Jarrar spent time living in Kuwait, Egypt and the US. Although Muslim, she is as undevout as can be. As is common in many current memoirs, she narrates the harsh physical abuse that she endured at the hands of her father, (they later reconciled), as well the pain that she suffered in her two marriages where the men were abusive as well as cold to her. Another prominent theme in the book is her weight; she unabashedlycalls herself fat and makes no excuses for her choice to be large and is proud of her success in attracting men as a large woman. Her size is something that is held against her by her father, as well as others who she encounters, so it is important to Jarrar to find affirmation in this realm.

Later in the book Jarrar writes about sex -- kinky sex, in particular, that she has with a series of people, and the details are graphic. If that is not to your liking, you may want to either skip the book entirely, or skip the last part.

What I most appreciated about the book is the way that Jarrar grapples with race. She does not consider herself white but is often viewed as such by others because of her skin color and features, and this causes her great consternation, as would be expected. Moreover, her experiences as an Arab both in the US and in the world are poignantly narrated. She tells of being held for questioning in the Tel Aviv airport when trying to visit her sister in the West Bank, and when she is denied entry to the country, this experience, aside from being devastating, allows the reader to see full force the racism that is directed at Arabs by Israelis.

I found some parts of the book to be a little draggy, especially in the second half, although the very last few essays are good.

I thank Catapult for this ARC via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

This is a bracing, upfront book. Jarrar maintains her sense of humor, a firm grasp of irony, and a deeply observant eye. I admire her strength and her clear-eyed gaze despite and/or because of her harrowing experiences. Importantly, she kept a sense of joy and nurtured out-of-the-box quirkiness and creativity.

Her memoir recounts her hunger for life and for liberation beyond various oppressors and naysayers. The writing here is also poetic and keenly crafted in equal measure. She is fearless and unapologetic.

I enjoyed her two previous fiction titles and her wry and on-point tweets. She has written some of the most imaginative stories I've ever read. With her memoir, I can further appreciate Jarrar's creative voice.

I read this book during the 2020 elections and its aftermath. And this book helped me have a sense of hope. Her last chapter had an ending that was forgiving and loving; it touched me beyond description because Jarrar could have been righteously depressed and worn down but she wasn't. She chose her own path and made her own light. I will read more of her works.

Randa Jarrar’s memoir explores her sexual identity, her cultural identity, and her role in her family.

Jarrar’s writing is fragmented. The way that she skips and slides into new topics is reminiscent of stream of consciousness, but her transitions (or lack thereof) feel more intentional. She isn’t jumping from topic to topic without purpose, but to a purpose. This style is disconcerting at first. The reader isn’t able to settle in and enjoy her story, but as the memoir continues, the abrupt pivots become more familiar.

From the very beginning, Jarrar easily dives into uncomfortable subject matter, sparing no details of her traumas, identity search, or her sex life. She mashes all of these pieces together and the outcome is similar to how we experience memories and current events and future plans all at the same time.

I wasn’t sure what to expect with this book, and I’m not entirely sure I know what I experienced while reading it, but I’m glad to have learned from her and stretched with her unique writing style.

3.5 stars

This book was super disappointing. I anticipated loving this book but it was too eccentric for me and I didn't feel like it had any flow.

Though Jarrar's work is brief, as far as memoirs go, each word feels perfectly crafted to tell her story and send the messages she desires. Love Is an Ex-Country had me laughing, visualizing Jarrar's experiences, and feeling the weight of life all in one. I'm going to be recommending this to pretty much everyone.

[Note to publisher - THANK YOU for letting me read and review this book! I appreciate it very much.]

OK. I'm not sure what to write here. I was SUPER-EXCITED for this book! Why?

First: "Queer. Muslim. Arab American. A proudly Fat woman." YES to all of these. I'm in.

Second: "provocative memoir of a cross-country road trip" I love memoir! Love cross-country road trips! Sign. Me. Up.

But. I think my definition of "provocative memoir of a cross-country road trip" is different than the author's (or her publishers) and my expectations were wildly different than what this book is actually about.

I do want to say... Jarrar is an amazing writer. That's the reason I stuck with this book. Her writing is fresh, compelling, extraordinary.

But the content... I was not into it. I love memoir, but, I don't enjoy trauma porn which is what I feel this is. Jarrar has had some horrible and tragic life experiences. And her accomplishments despite that tragedy are truly inspiring. But I feel the book wallows in that tragedy and I didn't find anything particularly redeeming in the end.

So, how do you even rate a book like this? If you like this kind of memoir, this is a great book to read. I'd give it a solid 4 to 5 stars.

But if you're like me, and were expecting some sharp, pithy and funny observations about being queer Muslim, Arab-American and fat as you crossed the US... you will not get them. From that perspective I'd give it 1-2 stars.

So I'm wimping out and giving it 3. I wouldn't make a blanket recommendation of it to my friends. But, if I knew that they were specifically wanting to read a book like this, I would recommend it enthusiastically because her writing is so very good.

Many thanks to the publisher and to NetGalley for giving me access to an ARC.

I received a copy of this book through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

This book is brutally honest and captivating.

Jarrar opens up about her experience as an Arab woman, facing abuse, sex, her relationships, and so much more in this book. Through sharing her traumatic experiences of growing up and being a self-described fat woman these essays are raw and moving.

While some of the content is a little repetitive Jarrar tackles her complicated relationship with her father and how it shaped her view of love and her body as well as sex. It's open and hard to look away from.

Beautiful and tragic this is an incredible and eye opening read.

This was something of a misunderstanding and probably my fault. The description led me to believe it was more of a road trip sort of travelogue with personal reminiscences thrown in. But no, this is very much a memoir and a nonlinear one at that, than any sort of travelogue. It owes its nonlinear nature due to being comprises of a variety of previously published essays. I’ve actually recently read and loved a book done in that format, so that wasn’t the main detractor here. The detractor was…the memoir or really its subject. And here’s the thing with memoirs…to review one is to, essentially, review someone’s life, something this reader personally is considerably less comfortable with than reviewing other genres. This is one of the reasons I stay away from memoirs, the other one being…general dislike for the oversharing self important nature of the genre. If I’m interested in someone’s life (and for this they had to have led a really interesting and accomplished life), I’ll read a bio. Preferably, a posthumous one, something with a proper perspective. Memoirs are like personal blogs in their essential look at me, look at me nature. And because it’s generally difficult to attract attention of the attention deficit audience, the memoirs have to be fairly outlandish and, especially these days, check as many diversity boxes as possible. And the Jarrar checks a lot of boxes (Muslim, Arab American, queer, kinky, abuse survivor, fat) and isn’t shy to talk about any of them. So let’s talk about those…Jarrar self admittedly is Muslim conceptually and not in practice, so essentially she talks the walk without walking the walk. She is Arab American of a mixed Palestinian and Egyptian family, but she (her words) passes for white, so she gets a lot of mileage out of that too. Some of the discrimination arising from that is bewildering (ways of the world bewildering), like her being unable to enter Palestine for a family visit, she got turned away by Israelis and out on a plane back to the US, despite being an American citizen. Queer, that’s a popular one these days, such a generous blanket definition, yes, occasionally it seems Jarrar sleeps with women, though every relationship mentioned in the book is with a man. Kinky…definitely, a relatively late in life found passion that she talks about with great, great detail and advocates for avidly. Abuse survivor…now that’s a heavy one. And possibly causal for some of the other ones, mainly kink. Apparently, Jarrar has been brutally abused (both physically and psychologically) by her father, to the extent that at 16 she had to call the cops on him. She doesn’t much get into whether his abusive nature stems from coming from a culture where women are systemically treated as lesser than and/or property or if he’s just a terrible person, but apparently comes to forgive him in later years, somehow. After leaving her family, she found herself repeating the cycle of abuse, this time with a man who essentially forced her to go through with an unwanted pregnancy at 18, resulting in her only son…and boy, I’m sure he loves to hear that origin story. And yet, somehow, Jarrar managed to overcome all that abuse, to go on, get an education, raise a child and become an author and a professor. Ok, that right there, that’s impressive, like memoir worthy, but does she talk about that? No. Because it isn’t as wild and attention grabbing as kinky sex. Or fatness. Oh wow, does Jarrar get a lot of mileage out of her fatness. She calls herself proudly fat and that’s just…stupid. Yes, there goes judgement and I’m sure it’s an incendiary thing to say in a country as fat as America, but what the f is there to be proud of? When someone says they are proud of being fat, they are saying they are proud of terrible choices, horrible diets, lack of self discipline, lack of personal fitness, etc. Fat/obesity is a very real thing, with many causes, but it can be managed and it should be managed and fought, for a myriad of valid reasons. Just because there’s so much of it around, doesn’t make it ok. It certainly doesn’t make it something to be proud of. It’s just wrong, so wrong, on so many levels. But Jarrar loves her fat body and seems to easily find people to love her fat body and talks about it in endless minute detail with a sort of desperate conviction that personal affirmations seem to have. Like if you say it enough, it might become real. So yeah…that just about covers the size 22 body and the 240 page body of work the author presents on display here. I believe in the importance of different diverse perspectives, but this one didn’t really engage me. When we review memoirs, we review people writing them and the person writing this one was someone I wouldn’t necessarily want to know or have a lot of interest in. Dangerous thing to say in a PC obsessed day and age, but there’s nothing really incendiary about this opinion and it had nothing to do with her race, faith, sexual orientation, gender, etc. This was just more along the lines of a reaction of a morbidly obese person sitting next to you and oversharing obscenely, TMI style, all the while expecting to be somehow admired for this. And many do, this book first 4% (I checked), a not insignificant amount for a relatively slim book, is taken up by praise for this and other works from respectable diverse sources. So maybe it just wasn’t for me. Anyway, it at least read very quickly, I’d hate for it to have been proudly fat book. Thanks Netgalley.