Shubnum Khan’s powerful, hypnotic novel, The Djinn Waits a Hundred Years, floored me. I feel like I climbed into the book and have only just emerged back into the world. This is definitely one of those books that I want all of my friends to read so that I can have someone to talk to about its themes and characters and setting.
Sana moves to Durban, South Africa, with her father after the death of her mother. It’s supposedly a fresh start, although Sana has a good point about how strange it is to make a fresh start in a building that has history oozing out of its walls. The Akbar Manzil was built in the 1920s to, as its owner hoped, blend Eastern and Western architecture together; I can only imagine how wonderfully weird it was. After tragedy struck the Ali Khan family, it was abandoned. Decades later, the building was purchased and transformed into apartments. This goes about as well as one could imagine—odd passageways, temperamental water and electrical fittings, rooms shoved in every which way—but, unlike other conversions, this one has the added bonus of being very, very haunted. Tenants don’t last long here. The ones who do are damaged but stubborn. Perhaps the strangest thing of all is that Sana begins to feel at home in the Akbar Manzil.
The Akbar Manzil is often described as sentient. The place feels deeply wounded, struggling to hold itself together, and the narrative liberally hints at the tragedies that happened there during its heyday in the 1920s and early 1930s. I would say that the djinn who haunts the place embodies the pain of the family who once lived here, except that the djinn doesn’t have a body. Rather, the djinn is a manifestation of memory and grief. Left to her own devices, Sana begins to poke around in the forgotten east wing of Akbar Manzil. She finds keys that unlock a bedroom that has been closed since 1932. And, in a rare helpful moment, the djinn gives Sana a clue to the secrets the house has been holding for so long.
As the story of the Ali Khans unfolds to reveal a miraculous love story and an even greater tragedy, The Djinn Waits a Hundred Years meditates on selfish mothers who fail their children, the ghosts of people who feel left behind, different kinds of love, the power of food to express affection or capture memory, and how disappointment can warp people over the years. This book also shows us how, in spite of all of this human bullshit that we inflict on each other, it’s still possible to find and show unconditional love to others. It reminds us that toxic people might be redeemed, if they can find a way to let go of the hurts of the past and remember to be kind to one another. And The Djinn Waits a Hundred Years does all of this in one of the most incredible, fascinating settings I’ve seen in a very long time.
I can’t praise this book highly enough. This review barely scratches the surface of what’s between the covers of The Djinn Waits a Hundred Years but I hope shows why I want to start badgering people into reading it. I want to share the magic of this book with my fellow bookish folk. If you end up reading this novel, please tell me what you thought!