In a post-9/11 and Al-Qaeda world, and especially of late in a post-ISIS world, a possible reality where Muslim Americans are corralled into prison camps a la the Japanese Internment camps of World War II is not unimaginable, if (thankfully) very unlikely. A reality in which the American public exhibits open hostility and violence towards Muslims, however, has been our own for a long time. With hateful commenters such as Pamela Geller of the American Freedom Defense Initiative regularly making headlines, as well as a certain presidential candidate feeling comfortable enough to say he opposes there ever being a Muslim President, the reality of national Islamophobia is not science fiction. With every violent incident incurred in the name of radicalized Islam both overseas and nationally, the distinction between such radicals and the millions of peaceful practitioners erodes in the public eye.
This is the face of America author Greg Hrbek chooses to examine in his latest novel, Not on Fire, But Burning, a book that examines a world continuously shaped by hatred on both sides of the War on Terror, and short of options because of it.
The novel tells the story of a future America in which another, 9/11-type event has shaken the United States in 2020, this time happening on 8/11 with the bombing of San Francisco. Ten years later, Muslim Americans are finally being legally released from prison camps as a national war continues against Islamic Fundamentalism. One of those released is Karim, a young boy who has lost his family in the war, and since then has fallen under the influence of radical terrorists who have convinced him of his sacred duty towards violence.
Adopted from the camp by an elderly veteran of the war, Karim is brought to the comforts of middle class suburbia. Here, he encounters the novel’s other protagonists, the Wakefield family, including their Islamophobic son, Dorian. As Karim’s radical impressions and Dorian’s prejudice boil to a point, the two come into conflict, ultimately leading to a scuffle that will affect and even endanger the entire community.
Not on Fire, But Burning is a difficult novel to categorize, but it might be deemed speculative fiction, as the story’s narrative is a collision of several possible narratives. One of the arcs of the novel involves the Wakefield family’s visions of a daughter, Skyler, who all can somehow remember, but who has never technically existed, as she was aborted by the mother, Katheryn years ago. And yet, evidence of her existence continues to accumulate, including in the family’s recurring dreams, memories, and finally, in a photograph.
The explanation for this supernatural occurrence is that multiple timelines are converging and bleeding into one another, resulting in memories of events that could have happened, but didn’t. The story deviates between timelines in which Styler exists and doesn’t, with characters within multiple timelines dreaming of the others. This effect happens within other characters as well, such as Karim, who has visions of a reality in which his family is still alive.
This sci-fi vibe often feels out of place in a novel seemingly meant to be a grounded Atwood-esque dystopian commentary, but is ultimately meant to highlight the novel’s overarching theme: choice. With every choice made by a character, an alternate reality is created, as an unspecified narrator in certain sections describes a giant mathematical “grid” that represents every possible outcome of every choice made by every person on Earth. Throughout the novel, each character not only contemplates the consequences of certain choices, but experiences an emotional and spiritual connection with the realities they create with their choice, as well as those created by others’ choices.
These experiences tie back to the novel’s other major theme: hatred. The hatred and anger that certain characters experience become deterrents to choice, as their feelings of resentment narrow their view of the spectrum of options giving them illimitable power and influence over history and reality, leaving only the worst of those realities to be born.
In one reality, while Karim is strapped with a bomb vest and driven to the a hospital he is meant to destroy, he considers detonating the vest in the car, sparing hundreds of lives. Meanwhile, in a parallel reality, the car is his mother’s, and he’s on the way to school. In this reality, it seems 8-11, and hence the war, never happened, or it did but his parents escaped death. Maybe the perpetrators of those events thought differently, too, and made a different choice.
n the novel, as in life, the chance of a better reality for a perpetually amorphous future is always one choice away: the hardest part is seeing through one’s contempt enough to make it. This engrossing approach to narrative manages to uniquely address the short-sightedness of hate, both in radical terrorism and public prejudice.
For a story trying to address the experience of American Muslims, however, one perspective it lacks is that of non-radical Muslims. Instead, the story largely focuses on the Wakefields, a white suburban American family, and the reluctantly radicalized Karim. While providing an insightful look into what ultimately inspires and drives religious fanaticism, such as Karim’s superiors guilt-tripping and brainwashing him, the novel’s narratives don’t provide the viewpoint of the typical American Muslims so often victimized by prejudice in the wake of Islamic Terrorist action. For such a politically relevant undertaking, to leave out this vital side of the story makes for a missed opportunity.
Not on Fire, But Burning doesn’t succeed in what it sets out to do concerning the Muslim American experience, but it does thoughtfully and prosaically illustrate the emotional journey of radicalized thought and feeling. In converging a multitude of possible realities, Hrbek beautifully depicts the very human longing for a better reality. In analyzing the burning angst and strife within a single human decision, Hrbek highlights the responsibility of emotion and thought in determining those decisions. We only have our very future dangling over the fire.