One of fiction’s greatest possibilities is how it can exist as something both intimate and grand, simultaneously exploring the life of a character and the world they are growing into, until one narrative unfolds into many. Bride of the Sea does just this, as the novel intertwines the dissolution and reconstruction of a single family with the evolving histories of the United States and Saudi Arabia. Eman Quotah deftly spans decades, miles, and cultures—and ultimately tells more stories within her 312 page debut than some authors tell across their entire careers ... The story comes alive in its descriptions, as every page welcomes readers with the sights, scents, and smells of a setting steeped in love and care. Quotah also uses the sensory to enhance every aspect of the novel, from characterization to the plot’s most climatic moments ... As Quotah moves through an extensive period between 1970 and 2018, it’s the narrative spaces, not her scenes, that truly accentuate her strengths as a writer ... Each chapter is an expression of growth, every moment of silence its own story. In its most shining moments, Bride of the Sea displays the breadth and scope of grand family epics such as Min Jin Lee’s Pachinko, as we see a family move in rhythm with a larger history ... Quotah’s writing is beautiful, moving, and well-crafted, but the novel refuses to be tied up perfectly upon completion. Instead, the novel mirrors the messiness of life. Readers are presented with instances of detainment and profiling without justice, unhealed heartbreak, and reunions that can’t fully erase past harm. This is ultimately a story about one family and two nations growing apart and together, forever bound to one another. There can be no simple resolution. And that’s the point. Instead of happy endings, Quotah offers us insight.
Where journalism constrains with word counts and column inches, though, novels offer the capaciousness to reveal a society in its complexity; to raise a headline-flattened people into three dimensions. In her engrossing debut novel, Bride of the Sea, Saudi American writer Eman Quotah does this with aplomb, offering Americans a more nuanced view of the Saudi kingdom through a cast of compelling characters and a sweeping plot that spans continents and decades ... The novel sings [...] when the writing luxuriates in moments of characterization and world-building ... Occasionally, and perhaps in an effort to avoid melodrama, the story feints away from emotional climaxes by leaping great expanses of time, which deflates some of the novel’s tension. Still, the book artfully reveals a Saudi kingdom that is 'not only deserts and camels and oil sheikhs,' as one character wryly states. Quotah’s perspective is an important addition to American fiction.
The novel only gets better...transforming into a family saga that spans from 1970 to 2018 ... Through it all, the secrets, desires and fears of Muneer, Saeedah and their daughter compose a complex picture of how society and the individual shape and inform each other ... Structurally and syntactically, Bride of the Sea is a gem. The shift from the opening in 2018 to the events in 1970 is abrupt, and these moments fuse again as the novel concludes. Quotah structures these connections to maintain the reader’s sense of wonder, to keep you reading through the loop as you learn of each character’s identity and fate, their secrets and stories.
... Saudi Arabia, a place Quotah skillfully depicts in all its contradictions ... As the novel fluidly rotates between each family member's perspective, what emerges is a sensitive portrayal of becoming American—both the shedding of one's culture for the sake of fitting in and the difficult task of finding one's place, especially as an Arab American. While Quotah should be praised for the fleshed-out development of Muneer (a sturdy and sensitive man who always has a plan) and Hanadi (who grows to distrust her mother), Saeedah is the author's most interesting creation, an enigmatic character who's full of quiet and frustrating surprises. One just wishes there was more of her point of view on the page, especially as the story becomes increasingly Hanadi's, whose questions about her mother remain unanswered. Still, in a novel as much about finding one's identity as it is about family—the way they belong to us but at the same time remain unknowable—this sense of secrecy that Quotah imparts on Saeedah makes for a devastatingly honest novel ... a clear-eyed debut from a writer who doesn't shy away from the messiness of family life.
... impressive ... This novel suffers from a gaping hole, however: Saeedah. While pages and pages of often powerful writing are devoted to Hanadi’s and Muneer’s points of view, Saeedah’s voice is as stifled as if she were living in the most rigid, traditional Saudi household ... She is granted just one sentence justifying the kidnapping and no opportunity to explain some of her other wild actions, like walking into a freezing lake in the winter, heavily pregnant and wearing only her bra and underpants. There is little sense of any fear, love, anxiety, annoyance, or triumph she might be feeling as she flees across the U.S. with Hanadi ... The novel’s beautiful conclusion leaves hope that families divided by culture and geography can reunite. Reuniting those torn by emotions and memories isn’t so easy.
... offers a kaleidoscopic perspective on the weight of cultural traditions and obligations at home and abroad ... Would Bride of the Sea hold up as well without the structural backdrop of historical headlines along the way? It’s hard to say. The characters’ reactions to current events ably provide a first-person perspective on history from a non-American point of view, which is valuable in its own right. To comprehend what it means to be a Muslim in America, labeled a dangerous foreigner no matter where you were born, requires an empathy that can only come from putting oneself in another’s shoes (in novels as in life) ... But what rings most true from Eman Quotah’s tale is the way it reveals two equal if contradictory human truths. The first is that a life lived in two worlds inevitably results in a lack of full ownership in either. And second, that one’s family history, no matter how well or ill understood, will contain unexpected connections to those whose language you may not speak, but whose voices and mannerisms elicit memories of the people you come from — including the people your own parents once were ... I suspect Jane Austen would say such revelations are certainly worthy subjects.
... [a] strong debut ... Quotah’s family saga effectively captures the struggles of immigrants straddling two cultures, while reiterating beautifully the imperfections of all families characterized by loss, betrayal, and secrets. Only some slow pacing in the narrative’s middle, and less development of Saeedah’s perspective, compared to that of Muneer and Hanadi, mar an otherwise welcome exploration of Saudi Arabian–American history, culture, and traditions.
... a gripping story ... Quotah’s novel spanning four decades, even as she weaves in the reality of immigrant lives, offers thoughtful observations about religious identity, and provides vignettes of Saudi culture ... captured with emotional urgency ... Quotah’s deft characterization and pacing, combined with an inside look at Saudi Arabian life, make this debut a compelling and worthy read.
... [an] alluring debut ... The narrative’s delicacy belies the weight of its themes, and descriptions are etched with precision ... Quotah’s resonant, neatly plotted outing will be a treat for readers who love fractured family dramas.
... In sections that jump across decades and shift between Muneer’s, Hanadi’s, and Saeedah’s perspectives, debut author Quotah gracefully charts...the three family members’ lives ... Saeedah’s side of the story, in many ways the most intriguing, is also the most shadowy, and one wishes it were more fleshed out. But Quotah, born in Jidda to an American mother and Saudi father, depicts Saudi culture in engrossing detail, from fruit-scented shisha smoke to traditional wedding customs ... A rich, finely rendered novel.
