I jumped head first into this fantasy novella and was not at all disappointing. Following a “nonbinary refugee practitioner of blood magic,” we join Firuz as they attempt to parse through the deadly disease ravaging their new home. With excellent pacing, an intriguing magic system, and carefully layered world-building, THE BRUISING OF QILWA is, quite simply, impossible to put down once you start reading it. I wanted to know what would happen to these characters, how it all connected, and what the end result of the slight mystery would be. Plus, it’s a daring exploration of the complexities of immigration and the pinpricks of xenophobia. I’m looking forward to more work from this author!

I am all the way here for a Persian storyverse-inspired QUILTBAG-inclusive secondary world with a not-silly science-cum-majgickq system based on blood. This idea has me all excited, with the nigh-on irresistible urge to send the author CARE packages of food and crowdsourcing their laundry so they will not have to leave their writing desk unless answering the call of nature.

What keeps me from offering the story all five stars is the first-publication longueurs that are so very common as to feel universal. The storyverse is astonishingly successful in compelling my attention, given how brief the story here told is. There is a depth to Firuz's native Sassanians, a minority group not beloved in their world, and named by the author after the last pre-Muslim Persian empire in our world...echoes of the religious monopoly being enforced in many parts of the world, the intolerance that entails and encourages. The blood-magic system, with its science-tinged presentation, was presented as a source of fear and persecution; yet, during the plague that strikes Qilwa, it is urgently needed to help fix the problems this plague presents. The tables are turned and those so recently deemed outcast are needed to fix what the many are suffering. Always a great direction to aim a story!

So you can see that the story possesses many layers just from the little I've said; there are other normative things (eg, introducing one's self with pronoun and name, like I'd be "him–Richard" then just Richard after that...a lot like royalty gets to explain how they're addressed to us mere commoners on those rare occasions we're presented to them) that can unpack over the course of a long series of stories set in this place while instantly adding a lush richness to the present reading experience. What doesn't work so well is Firuz's social anxiety/awkwardness being borne down on narratively at every turn. I get it...they're very awkward, it's not necessary to repeat this every other page. There are points where their trans brother could've taken the stage more completely and thus enriched the read's texture; seeing him only from the outside is fine, like all inclusion, but his transition is so very much a driver of the story that allowing him to take center stage could've given me so much more. Satisfying my curiosity about how he sees this world would've given the plague, the clinic where Firuz practices healing, and what it is that Firuz and Kofi share that makes the clinic so real-feeling, needed dimensionality.

The surprisingly secondary character Afsoneh is a wild child, we're told; we're never really shown this facet of her character. Firoz mentors her and so should've had more of a struggle with her acting out if she's such a chaotic person. Instead it's brushed past. I know it's a function of the novella format. I'm even willing to go along with the clipping of storylines that this format requires uncomplainingly...IF I can trust that the characters are going to get more stage time later. Not too much later.

I bestow on this deeply involving read my most difficult-to-earn accolade: More, please.

That’s … it?
Naseem Jamnia can write. The way they use words is powerful and their Persian-Americanness shines through their syntax. After reading Jamnia’s author’s note at the end of The Bruising of Qilwa, the entire novel — novella, really — made sense in retrospect. They intended to write a fantasy book that utilized their background in science, but it morphed into an examination of being an oppressed person whose people were once oppressors. Sounds gripping, right?

Unfortunately, these ideas are woefully underdeveloped and just don’t shine through the way they should. Concepts that deep deserve room to breathe. At only about 40,000 words, I’m not sure The Bruising of Qilwa ever had room to let them.

As it is, the plot and the pacing fall flat. Jamnia spends the first three-quarters of the book on world-building, only to rush through the actual plot in the last quarter. That said, it is a cool world — a queernormative, magical society with Persian inspiration. I mean, it’s also got genocide, refugees and poverty, so there’s that. But it’s an important reminder that lack of queerphobia is not equal to utopia.

I’m happy to learn that this is only the first book set in this world. Hopefully, next go around Jamnia can spend more time developing the story. I do plan on reading the next book, whenever it comes out.

Should you read it?
This is a book I so badly wanted to love — Jamnia seems like a wonderful human — and we have a lot in common. Unfortunately, this book just didn’t do enough for me. What I can recommend, however, is hopping over to Jamnia’s website and checking out their other writing. Their articles truly are fantastic. I mean, even though The Bruising of Qilwa didn’t leave me with a grand impression, I can’t stop thinking about Jamnia’s author’s note.

The Bruising of Qilwa is out August 9. Pick this up after Jamnia releases other books set in the world.

Content warnings provided by the author: “Medical racism, ethnically motivated violence, former colonization/empire, descriptions of a refugee/migration crisis, mentions of genocide, discussions/handling of a plague, child death, disordered eating behavior, mostly mild self-harm (for magic reasons), body dysmorphia from gender dysphoria (and related medical transitions), discussions of trauma, including past (childhood) physical abuse (for magic reasons), implied child neglect and body horror, including graphic descriptions of corpses.”

It's amazing how much world building can fit in such a short book. I loved learning about the society, the history of colonization, the different types of magic, and the different religions that went along with that. The author did a great job telling me about the world without being very obviously infodumping, just by inserting small details and explanations that never disturbed the flow of the story.

The plot is probably where this novella is at its weakest, simply because it tried to do too much. There's a new, mysterious disease, and our main character is trying to find out where it comes from and how it's spreading, but they are also busy with training someone to use a secret type of magic. Both of these storylines could've been their own novella, and combining them means that neither really reached its full potential. The reveal about the disease and its cause came out of nowhere for me, and I would've liked this to be more of a mystery book than it ended up being.

I didn't like this one as much as I planned but I enjoyed the fact that it was a non-binary main character in a fantasy which you don't see all that often.

This book didn't have a driving force, and I think that made me lose interest. Novellas are not often pulled in so many directions; they tend to be direct and focused, forging ahead with singular purpose. This felt more like a highlight reel for a much bigger story. And like most highlight reels, it doesn't quite stand on its own and the choices of which things to highlight and in what order are very subjective.

The timeline was wonky and kind of hard to follow (yes, there are section breaks for the years, but the intervening parts could be hours, days, or even months apart with little to no continuity between them). There are so many threads to keep track of that most get dropped completely before being suddenly picked up again.

I will say that I loved the sibling dynamic and the approach to gender and body dysmorphia. Parvaz's story is heartbreaking.

Overall. I think this would have made a great full-length novel if there was a clearer focus/goal, but as a novella, it didn't work for me.

The independent city-state of Qilwa has seen better days. Beset by plague, the city is fracturing along ethnic and class lines, with the wealthy hiding in their homes while the poor and disempowered fight for what very few resources are available for treatment. No, this book isn’t set in 2020, and no, I don’t think it’s too soon for Naseem Jamnia’s debut The Bruising of Qilwa to hit the shelves. This book isn’t about mournful reflection but about ceaseless action, the kind of book that never gives up.

That’s mostly because its amazing protagonist never gives up. Firuz is a healer to their core, dedicated to helping all people at all times. They are ethnic Sassanian, a persecuted minority in the nation of Dilmun, and have fled with their family to Qilwa in search of safety. Though magic is by no means forbidden, their own kind of magic, which manipulates the blood and thereby the human body, is held in such immense suspicion that they must hide their training even during a plague. They pretend to be a simple healer, and they get a job at the last free clinic in the city in order to support their mother and brother.

But what they find, along with immense need and limited treatment options, is even more trouble than they bargained for. There’s another Sassanian refugee with their blood-working talents, untrained and alone, who Firuz cannot ignore despite their own limited means. And there’s a second plague, a secret plague, that’s leaving eerie corpses in its wake. Bodies that seem to be the product of too much life, barely decomposed but definitely dead. What exactly is going on in Qilwa, and can Firuz figure it out without losing their family, their safety, or their own life?

I loved Firuz’s magic. It takes some standard fantasy tropes of elemental manipulation and elevates it with advanced knowledge of medical principles. Firuz understands how marrow produced blood, how bodies fight infection, and so much more. We know that Iran and the Middle East were miles and miles ahead of Europe in medical science in roughly the medieval period, and it’s so nice to see the whole “medieval fantasy” trope given this viewpoint—not swords, but science!

Of course, medical insight doesn’t fix societal issues, or even Firuz’s own life. Firuz is so attuned to others’ needs that their boundaries become very porous, and they repeatedly give of themselves even beyond the point of exhaustion. Because of this, their relationship with their brother begins to suffer. Parviz is struggling because his body does not currently match his gender. In a Sassanian community in Dilmun he could have gotten expert treatment from experienced elders just as Firuz did, but in Qilwa there is no one skilled enough to perform the surgical interventions. He does what he can with a binder and other interventions, but it’s not enough.

Firuz is working to support the entire family, and does not have the luxury of focusing solely on their brother; Firuz does not prioritize their beloved brother enough or set aside the time and energy to be brave enough for difficult conversations. Both are true. At every level, The Bruising of Qilwa is about full and complex human beings in terribly difficult situations, and the imperfect choices they make with only imperfect information to work from.

It was a little frustrating to see how Firuz could have repaired a lot of the situation with some forthright conversations, but their reluctance is mostly justified by their situation and character. They don’t want to harm their brother—the one person they really connect to from their old home, their inspiration to keep going—by giving him false hope, and they really don’t want to risk performing a surgery on him that might go awry. Firuz is very cautious and protective of what little they have left, a natural response to such devastating loss and trauma. They are trying to build a new life and hold to the old life they didn’t willingly give up, and they naturally make missteps in navigating the two poles in such a perpetually worn-out state.

Firuz’s exhaustion is palpable, which I found surprisingly cathartic: as we limp beyond the Covid-19 pandemic, seeing someone really insist on portraying the toll of a pandemic was almost a relief. You didn’t imagine it. It really was bad, Jamnia confirms. Bad—and worse for the underprivileged, who the Qilwan government refuses to help and instead scapegoats as instigators of the plague. (No, you didn’t imagine that either.)

But beats of the story come out of order, with details about Firuz’s escape from oppression in Dilmun getting dropped with little context at incongruous moments. Sudden mentions of huge, deadly birds felt a little out of left field when already 2/3rds through the book, and we never learn exactly what their role was in Firuz’s own story. What finally convinced them to leave, and what was their journey like?

I wonder if Jamnia made the deliberate choice not to provide this information; were they making a philosophical point about not needing to exploit a refugee’s anguished backstory in order to generate sympathy? If so I can appreciate the approach, since Firuz is plenty interesting and sympathetic. However, this is a book about Firuz from Firuz’s own perspective, and I needed more context just to situate them in the political and historical landscape.

I get the impression that the author doesn’t have full confidence in their prose because they fills in many scenes with the bare minimum of description, or sometimes even a little less than that. It’s as if they don’t want to go overboard with detail, and therefore goes too far in the opposite direction, robbing us of Firuz’s impressions, their feelings, and details about the world. This leaves some of the action disjointed and some scenes a bit head-scratching, like when Firuz encounters a government official unexpectedly wearing clothing that their mother and brother had worked on. That’s a huge coincidence for one person to be wearing a specific outfit on a random day in a huge bureaucratic complex, but Jamnia never explains or remarks on it, only uses the opportunity to show the difference between the haves and have-nots. It’s natural for Firuz and for Jamnia to reflect on that, but with only a line or two about how it is a coincidence, I might not have been thrown out of the story.

Quibbles aside, the story is a really good one, both from the individual level and the theoretical. Jamnia is making a lot of complex, wise points not just about the wealth gap, but also about the fine line between use and abuse of power, the pervasiveness of prejudice, and the way no one can opt out of empire. Everyone’s history is suffused with mistakes; everyone’s culture has troubling aspects. Fixing it is not about assigning blame, but rather about accepting responsibility—some responsibility, but not all. It is not one person’s job to fix the world or the past.

The big reveal isn’t so surprising, given the lack of alternative suspects, but Jamnia does a good job of trying to throw us off. I appreciated that the confrontation, though appropriately dramatic for a climax, stayed true to the spirit of all that came before. Firuz must grapple with their new reality and their past traumas all in one, and the dangers are only partially from the outside. Their elders and allies also imperil them, and they can’t fall back on any kind of good/evil dichotomy. Qilwa and Firuz are much too complex for that. Jamnia has given us a world of challenges and complications, not easy solutions, and I am so grateful to have been able to read about it.

I really enjoyed this novella. My only complaint is that it’s too short. Some things just felt too rushed. However, I thought the writing was impeccable, which makes up for the rushing. Also, how the author handled the main character’s pronouns was terrific.

Jamnia created quite an imaginative world that was complex and intriguing. The world consisted of non-binary, transgender and asexual beings, which was great to see. The characters are fantastic, and you’ll want to immerse yourself in their world. Although this was a full, complete story, I wanted more. I know… call me greedy.

Overall, this was a fantastic way to be inclusive and tell a unique story. However, I think authors should note how to handle pronouns from book. This was fantastic, and I would love to read more from Naseem Jamnia!

This novella was a quick, very interesting read. It fit a lot of themes into a small number of pages, and had a lot of things going for it. I thought the ending was a bit rushed, and that not enough time was spent developing the mystery aspect of the story to make the resolution of said mystery very satisfying. The immigration, fantasy cultural conflicts, and familial and other relationship aspects of the story were all much better.

In a fantasy world of global conflict and oppression, Firuz has fortunately escaped their homeland to their new home, Qilwa, but soon finds that they have moved from one state of oppression to another. Hiding their blood magic out of fear of persecution, Firuz works with their new mentor, Kofi, who runs a healing clinic for the poor. Things only get worse in the city as a plague is blamed on immigrants, and soon after another mysterious disease crops up, one that Firuz calls “the bruising.” This new illness rampages through the poor areas around Kofi’s clinic and Firuz must solve the mystery of where the illness came from, find a cure, and continue to balance their own magical ability with the unrelenting sociopolitical constraints that come from their new home.

While I found The Bruising of Qilwa to be a little short and would have loved to soak up more of Naseem Jamnia’s very rich world in the form of a longer novel, all in all the worldbuilding alone was enough to keep me turning the pages. Jamnia has crafted a queer-normative world where pronouns are a must when introducing yourself, and to have a book that centers not only a non-binary but also asexual and aromantic main character is a treat. This work also features a prominent trans-masc sibling as well, and his story in particular really hit home with me as a trans-masc reader.

On top of the queer inclusivity, the deep richness of religion and politics in this work shines through. This is one of the main reasons I would have loved a longer book, simply to explore these aspects more deeply. I find religion fascinating, and there are so few Persian-inspired works out there by authors of color that exploring cultures beyond stereotypical western fantasy was definitely refreshing. It is clear that Jamnia delights in immersing their readers in a world that is familiar to them but still utterly fantastical, and their prose walked me through the streets of Qilwa with ease.

I do feel that, because of the short length, some of the plot points seemed quite predictable and rushed. The story, as explained by the author, evolved from a short story into a novella, so the length is appropriate for its category, but I would have loved to see a longer book in order to fully enjoy the world.

All in all, while short, this work was immersive and a very fun and entertaining read. We absolutely need more books like this, stories that feature queer characters and are centralized in worlds that divert away from typical western fantasy. If you have the time and aren’t afraid of a little blood, The Bruising of Qilwa is a book that will have you savoring every word.

trigger warning
<spoiler> torture, gore, grief, trauma, dysphoria, genocide, racism, plague </spoiler>

Faruz is new in the city, and a healer, so they are one of the few immigrants lucky enough to find a job in a world where nobody wants them. And their work is badly needed.

I love fantasy novellas, if there are queer elements to it, all the better. But in this case, I am very, very intrigued by the setting that is persian-inspired. So many cultures in one place, constant unrest, people trying to find their place. It felt real, like I could just hop on a plane and go there.

I liked the plot as such, of which I don't want to say too much because discovering what's going on is an important part of the experience. And Faruz is similiarly just thrown in.

The only regret I have is that I first picked it up in the middle of the night, and only managed a few pages. If you can, dear reader, read this in one sitting. It's the perfect length for that.

Will read more by the author, full recommendations, but please look at trigger warnings if you need them.
The arc was provided by the publisher.

I need a full length epic novel series after reading this novella. I love Firuz as a character and their struggle to balance their family, being a healer, and being an adept. The characters are fully fleshed out even given the brevity of the book. Each character is three dimensional and there is something readily identifiable in each. The author did an amazing job highlighting delicate issues of occupation, refugees, disease, and body autonomy. So many complicated issues well defined and handled for the world we were given. I would like to see more from this world and I would love to see how Afsoneh grows in her power. Looking forward to more works from this author in the future.

—interesting magic system and the work of healers during the widespread plague
—loved the queer inclusive world and the characters who play main roles
—i was really intrigued with how the novella covered healthcare, the plight of immigrants along with the Persian inspired world and themes of found family
—but i think there was quite a *lot* happening in this story for a novella and ultimately the backstories and the political themes were only touched on the surface level. it was honestly confusing to keep up with the rifts and the plot of the disease and use of magic. if this story were to be continued with more depth into the situations of the countries i would definitely like to read it!

I enjoyed this story. It was an easy and quick read. I liked the magical elements and honestly wouldn't mind seeing more from the author in this world. I enjoyed the relationship between Firuz and Parvis and Anfonseh. I will say that the mystery element could have used a bit more fleshing out because it was pretty obvious and a little too convenient.

All in all, this was an interesting read and I would recommend it if you are in the mood for something short.

3.5 ....... 3.75 stars? This was good, but gosh, do I wish this was a full-blown novel instead of a novella.

Firuz arrives as a refugee/immigrant in Qilwa, a city that in the past has been ravaged by plague, and starts working at a free clinic run by a healer named Kofi. As they work there, a new disease emerges, which Firuz calls the blood-bruising.

Ultimately, the story felt too big for it's low page count. There is the underlying mystery of the blood-bruising, the immigration politics and analogies to the real-world occupation of Iran, the oppression of different peoples who then also become oppressed by something else, the feeling of being a stranger to one's own body, gender identities in general, body dysmorphia, transitioning, chosen family and its makings, a whole magic system, and the interconnection of all those issues with the magic system. It actually all feels organic and well-developed, but the page count is far too low for the potential of this exploration. Add to that the obscene amount of medical scenes (maybe I'm just way too stupid for the whole balancing-of-the-humors and blood-clotting aspects of medicine), but it ends up being fragmented, even a bit shallow, because nothing can be handled in the depth it deserves.

Not to say that this little book doesn't raise important questions - because it does. It definitely makes you think. However, I think it just needed a little bit more room to breathe.

This was an excellent novella, and so much was packed into it that it left me impressed!

Set in a world inspired by Persian mythology, and the worldbuilding is lush and easy to get lost in. I especially liked how the story discussed the complexities around being from an oppressor culture that is now the oppressed - and the addition of the taboo blood magic really added a layer to this that I very much enjoyed.

It is also wonderfully queer, and I loved the nonbinary main character. Their relationship to the other characters of the story was also complex in a way that shows how difficult it can be to build a new family, but that it is ultimately worth it in the end if there is love.

Highly recommend, and I'm excited to see what else the author will come up with in the future!

If I could give “The Bruising of Qilwa” more than 5 stars I would! An extraordinary debut fantasy by Nadeem Jamnia this a book you will read in one sitting and be left thinking of the characters, world, and how it weaves with our own history.
Inspired by the authors Persian roots this queernormative fantasy weaves the complicated layers of the immigrant experience, imperialism, gender, class and race in a nuanced story.
Firuz-e Jafari has escaped the slaughter of their native Sassanian people and immigrated their family to the free state of Qilwa. In this world magic is everywhere but blood magic, the cultural magic practice of the Sassanian people, is feared and outlawed. Firuz, trying to hide their affinity for blood magic while still supporting and protecting their family comes to know the city of Qilwa is not as free as they once believed and that the subjugation of people runs deep in many histories.
A stark look at the fears and reality immigrants face while showing the fear countries have for “the Other”.
Naseem Jamnia has written a beautiful and heartbreaking story of immigration and the socio-political issues that divide and create fear among the people of a land.
Gorgeously written and intricate world building leaves you thinking of these characters long after you’ve finished the book.

Content warnings: blood, surgery, bigotry, xenophobia, hate crime (aftermath depicted), plague, medical racism, corpses

Qilwa is a city-state which is the new home of our healer protagonist, Firuz-e Jafari, who lives with their trans brother, Parviz. A plague sweeps the city, but takes on a more menacing tone when new symptoms appear and the body count increases at the clinic. All the while, their younger sibling wants to transition and the siblings bring a fellow blood magic user into their fold.

This novella has a bit of everything: medical fantasy, slice-of-life, and a mystery, all presented in some of the tightest, most layered writing I’ve had the joy and privilege of reading.

Despite being less than 150 pages, this novella has the worldbuilding density of a much longer epic. The primary perspective is that of Firuz, who remembers their life before Qilwa. There is a level of reflection and self-awareness here that lends itself well to readers who want layers and nuance in their fantasies. But Firuz also exudes a charming awkwardness, always trying to balance their responsibilities and what deem is objectively good. This manifests not only in their interactions between the other characters, but also in their reflections on the circumstances and greater political machinations around them. It’s fascinating, and Jamnia creates a world I want to spend more time in.

I also love the presentation of blood magic. Much like everything else in the worldbuilding, nothing is black and white. It can heal as easily as it can harm. There are rules, but I’d classify this one as a soft magic system, as there are regulations and guidelines, but part of the intrigue and moral complexity is about who gets to do what with the power within them and everyone else.

The relationships between Firuz, Parviz, and Afsoneh have all the tenderness and thorniness of a found family. There are disagreements, arguments, and misunderstandings among the three of them, but it’s all driven by love and wanting to keep each other safe. Again, this book is short, and Jamnia injects it with so much depth and character development.

Dense, nuanced, with characters who are trying their best in a complex cultural and political framework that ponders what trying one’s best on behalf of themselves and those around them.

This iBook is an interesting blend of fantasy blood magic and the politics of migration with refugees trying to find their footing in a new land. The interesting twist is the most of the charcaaters are either Trans, non-binary, asexual without it being a thing to call out or for people to deal with.

Firuz is a blood magic healer who has escaped a potential genocide in her country. They join Kofi’s clinic as a healer and are dedicated to helping the poor mostly migrant community who need them. However there is a strange disease sweeping through the community that indicates an untrained blood magic user is experimenting with people, putting Firuz and their family at risk.

The concept of the book is interesting. I like the idea of the blood magic and the other magic systems. The world building is adept if narrow. Character development could be better but to be expected with the size of the book. The pace is a little slow and things only really begin to pick up from the Year 2 section.

All in all it was an interesting read but it didn’t do that much for me. 3.25/5

There are a set of questions that students often ask me. How long does this paper need to be? How many sources do I need? What’s a good length for a paragraph? After the first couple of years of college, professors tend to take off the training wheels and just give students a target range to aim for. I can’t do much better than to tell students “as many sources and as many pages as you need to get your point across.” It’s an aggravating response because, without experience, it’s hard to know how to pace yourself. Authors, of course, don’t even have target ranges to aim for. The divisions between novel, novella, and short story are notoriously subjective. The reason I bring all this up is because I think Naseem Jamnia shorted themselves with The Bruising of Qilwa. They have invented such a fascinating world and such interesting characters that I was left wanting a lot more after a scant 176 pages.

Due to supernatural and political violence, the city-state of Qilwa has become the uneasy home of thousands of refugees. Firuz-e Jafari and their family are among them. Firuz is a half-trained blood adept (a magically-powered physician) who manages to support their family by finding work at the last independent clinic in the city. All of the others are under orders from the city government and medical academy to extract payment from patients and, even worse, turn away refugees. From the perspective of Firuz and their boss, Kofi, this is not only inhumane but also incredibly stupid because there is a plague making its way through the population.

For most of The Bruising of Qilwa, Firuz keeps their light under a bushel. Firuz has the ability to use their blood and the blood of patients to diagnose and heal. But blood adepts are poorly understood in the city and, like so many other poorly understood things, they are feared. Not only does it mean that they have to do their job with a metaphorical hand tied behind their back, it also means that they can’t openly research how to help their brother align his body with his gender identity. Interestingly, while Firuz has to hide their magical abilities, Qilwans are so accepting of transgender and nonbinary identities that the only hiccups Firuz and her brother seem to experience are linguistic ones as the characters share their preferred pronouns. No one bats an eye at LGBTQ+ relationships. I love this trend in fantasy and science fiction literature.

My major complaint about this engrossing story is that it’s much too short. Firuz and their family’s past hints at a fascinating history, one that I very much want to know more about. I also wanted to know more about, well, everything. How did Qilwa, Dilmun, and other countries come to be? What does the larger world look like? More specifically, why does the medical academy have so much power in Qilwa? Why is the government so involved in the running of Kofi and Firuz’s clinic? How does blood magic work and what can it do? I really enjoyed the touches of Zoroastrianism and other real-world faiths and cultures that appears in The Bruising of Qilwa. I just wanted a lot more of it. At not even 200 pages, this book is shockingly short. I really hope Jamnia picks up their keyboard and gives us more of this world. They could have easily taken a couple hundred more pages for their assignment of telling Firuz et al.’s story.