Floodlines by Saleem Haddad
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“Floodlines” by Saleem Haddad

Floodlines by Saleem Haddad is an ambitious and heartfelt novel following an Iraqi-British family of artists from 1950s Baghdad to the summer of 2014 in London, Dubai, and along the Tigris River.

In the summer of 2014, three estranged sisters, Ishtar, Zainab, and Mediha, are forced together when their late father’s artworks are rediscovered. Unable to agree on how to handle their father’s legacy, the sisters must examine their past and the lasting effects of exile and betrayal.

Zainab’s son, a war correspondent, has returned to London from a Yemen refugee camp and is dealing with his trauma and the breakup with his boyfriend, Alfie.  Forced into the drama with his grandmother, mother, and aunts, he, too, must reckon with the family’s past, the importance of art, and what it means to belong.

Haddad’s newest novel is for anyone interested in Iraq, the lasting effects of war and exile, complex relationships, and the making and preservation of identity. An intimate family saga touching on the personal, political, and cultural, it is the depth of the human story that makes this novel so unforgettable.

Thank you to NetGalley and Europa Editions for an advanced copy of this novel for review consideration. All opinions are my own.

A Writer’s Craft Takeaway

Saleem Haddad’s novel is immense. It covers decades, multiple characters with differing and complex perspectives, various locations, addresses the historical, political, and cultural aspects of a war-torn area, and the ramifications of violence, betrayal, and devastation. I struggled and labored to put together a summary of the novel due to its vastness, and yet, when I read Floodlines, I was engrossed in the story and the characters. I was never lost or untethered. Haddad’s ability to structure and pull a reader through such a complex storyline is impressive. As an exercise, I recommend making a reverse outline of the novel to see how he so artfully mastered the near-impossible.

Jozzie Stuchell Velesig
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Jozzie Stuchell Velesig

Growing up in Appalachia, I was surrounded by natural storytellers. The air around me permeated with their tales while I read every book I could find. Stories became essential to my identity. I was lucky to have parents who encouraged reading. Our home was too rural to use the closest public library, so my mother would take me every year to a charity book sale where you could fill up a Walmart bag for a dollar. We would leave with the bed of her red Silverado loaded down with books. I would then lay them all on the living room floor, showing my dad every book I had picked. Undiagnosed dyslexia left my dad barely able to read into adulthood. He would beam at me and my piles of books, proud to foster a love of story for his daughter. Moments like these formed me.

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