As much as I absolutely adored the lyrical prose and concept of this novel there were some aspects that I felt almost ruined the experience for me. This was namely the unprecedented violence against women, whose characters weren’t given enough depth for the reader to even empathise with. I feel like the casual depiction of the rape of the young boy came out of nowhere and was used as almost shock appeal and a reason for the boy to turn to religion. I definitely think this book should have had trigger warnings AS WELL AS translation notes because I’m useless and nowadays only speak one language after losing my ability to speak in my second one, so context would have been absolutely lovely. As someone who grew up very religious there were certainly parts that hit close to home and truly resonated with me, although I don’t really feel as if the author was able to fully understand and thus accurately describe the inside of a young girl’s mind. At times I was left confused but in a slut for pretty prose so a lot can be forgiven if you present me with enough metaphors.

It's difficult to have a simple opinion of a book that holds so many stories and different tones between it's covers. I'll start with what I didn't like. The violence and acts of aggression that were often dropped without warning, like a sudden ripple on the surface of a quiet pond. I understand that the matter-of-fact way these events were often described might represent a place where they are so normal that no one bats an eye, but often it felt that some (not all) where added just for shock value. There was also a great deal of genitals being shown or talked about. I wonder if some of the social "realism" is accurate or whether it was exaggerated for effect. There was a lot of violence against women and it was described as just another thing that happens, not really worthy of much emotion: even though the narrator was a woman herself, we are never lead to empathise with these women or made to feel for them. I get that maybe the society represented might not feel much for these women, but if we're seeing these acts from the point of view of a woman, who was a girl at the time, and a supposedly western girl too (though I didn't understand what her cultural background was exactly), then surely some sort of commentary wouldn't have been out of place. More emotion, depth and empathy was shown to the Overleaf Society and their love and devotion to calligraphy than to the fates of the brutalised women.
But this leads me to something else that bothered me about this book: it often only scratches the surface of the stories it tells before moving on to the next one. Much like the river it revolves around, it flows smoothly and continually between tales, without plunging into any depths about any of them. This often left me with more questions about what might perhaps be just cultural differences, than with a better understanding of the world of the story. Perhaps something was lost in translation? I don't know. I feel like I met a lot of people but got to know no one. Even the main characters. We learn that Charlotte is gay, but only in passing. We know that she yearns to escape, but what exactly? Her loving father? Nothing seems to be backed by some sort of more-in-depth context. One is left to guess from the morsels of information left here and there. Is that the goal? Perhaps. Nothing seems to be too defined either way.
Now that's out of the way, I can move on to the things I liked. The writing is beautiful. The author is skilled at painting beautiful pictures with words. His prose, though not being employed as much as it could be in the description of emotional states, shines when employed in the description of events, actions, small details, anecdotes. The observations he makes are often original, interesting and amusing. There's a dry humour to his writing which is pleasant.
I know I complained about being given morsels of information that I had to use to help me see the full picture, like putting together a puzzle where the pieces where hidden in the middle of other puzzle pieces (and the box does not come with all the pieces). However, there is also a side to it that I enjoyed. You get to know certain characters as you would perhaps get to know a person: you arrive in the middle of their story, only know a few things about them (which might not make sense at first) and then gradually get to know them better, bit by bit. A lot of the story (or should I say, stories) is told like that and I found it interesting. If only the box came with all the pieces! Then I would have been content in making this journey morsel by morsel.
Overall it's an interesting book. I enjoy the way he conveys the dynamic interactions of the different realities in town, quite often through his writing.
Some of my issues with this book might come from my own personal taste and a lack of understanding of the culture where the story unfolds. I would honestly have welcomed translation notes where appropriate.

"The River Knows My Name" by Mortada Gzar is a profoundly moving and beautifully crafted novel that delves into the complexities of identity, belonging, and the enduring power of memory. Set against the backdrop of war-torn Iraq, this lyrical and poignant narrative follows the lives of its characters as they grapple with the realities of displacement and the search for meaning in a world marked by turmoil.

At the heart of the story is the protagonist, Hadi, a young man who embarks on a journey of self-discovery after being forced to flee his homeland. As he navigates the unfamiliar terrain of exile, Hadi finds solace and connection in the stories and memories that bind him to his past. Through evocative prose and vivid imagery, Gzar paints a vivid portrait of a land scarred by conflict yet brimming with resilience and beauty.

One of the novel's greatest strengths lies in its exploration of the human spirit's capacity for hope and resilience in the face of adversity. Despite the hardships and loss that Hadi and his fellow characters endure, there is a palpable sense of resilience and defiance that shines through, illuminating the depths of the human soul.

Gzar's writing is both lyrical and haunting, capturing the essence of the Iraqi landscape and the profound impact of displacement on the individual psyche. The novel is imbued with a sense of longing and nostalgia for a homeland that exists only in memory, yet it also offers glimpses of hope and redemption amidst the chaos.

"The River Knows My Name" is a testament to the power of storytelling to bridge the divides between cultures and generations, offering a poignant reminder of the universality of human experience. It is a novel that resonates long after the final page is turned, inviting readers to reflect on the true meaning of home and the bonds that connect us all. Mortada Gzar has crafted a masterpiece that is both timely and timeless, deserving of a place among the great works of contemporary literature.