Dear Librarian,
I have spent an absurd proportion of my life in the library. My mother used to take me and my four siblings to the library every week – religiously. She did everything religiously. Especially religion. At the library we would each pick out four or five books, and mum would inspect them to ensure we hadn’t selected anything scandalous, before letting us check them out. Because of my mum’s piety regime, I mostly read old classics, but occasionally, when she was being sloppy, I’d manage to secretly check out a copy of Sweet Valley High.
At school, my Muslim headscarf and floor-length skirt made me extremely uncool, and when no one would hang out with me, I’d retreat to the school library. I’d read the daily newspapers and browse popular history books, before delving into ever more esoteric literature. All that reading paid off. I won a place at Oxford University.
Going to university was so thrilling, I found it nearly impossible to focus on my studies. I was finally free from my mother’s rules and had a ton of new friends, and when I sat in my bedroom with my books, I couldn’t concentrate. Then I remembered libraries. As soon as I got my butt back into a library, I felt a wonderful sense of calm, and it was a sanctuary from hectic student life.
When I did a postdoctoral fellowship at Harvard University, I got the chance to experience an American library for the first time. I was astonished by how generous Harvard’s libraries were, I could borrow so many books and keep them for months at a time. It felt so decadent walking back to my office with a dozen books balanced precariously in my arms.
Given my adoration of books, it’s not surprising that I ended up writing a novel. What’s weird is that I waited until my late thirties to write it. But I spent most of my career up to then trying to prove myself, getting all the academic and professional accolades that I could. Working in think tanks in Washington DC, speaking on TV about international politics, I felt validated and important. Inside, I was still the strange little immigrant girl from Northern England who wanted to feel accepted. But over time, I grew in confidence and got in touch with my creative voice.
I realized that, although I was interested in political issues, I was tired of writing turgid, serious, and inaccessible policy pieces. I wanted to write something fun and enjoyable, something that would reach a wider audience. I wanted to write a book that my religious mother would’ve plucked out of my stack and returned to the shelves. It was finally time to sit down and write my novel.
And so, I wrote Fundamentally, a witty and big-hearted novel about a heartbroken academic who goes to Iraq to run a deradicalization program for ISIS women. It’s a funny and empathic exploration of family, faith and relationships, and of everything that can go wrong in our search for meaning. And I’d never have been able to write it without all the many libraries in my life that have nurtured me and kept me safe and taught me so much of what I know.
With all my love for libraries and the people that keep them alive,
Nussaibah
