The Djinn's Apple

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.

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What’s The Djinn’s Apple About?

Nardeen is a remarkable twelve-year-old. Her father is a physician known for translating medical texts from a variety of languages into Arabic, and Nardeen soaks up his work. She has an astounding memory and ability to understand what she memorizes.

But due to some political intrigue that she doesn’t wholly understand, Nardeen and her family have to flee their home one night. Sadly, she’s the only one who survives.

Nardeen vows revenge on those responsible for her family’s murder—certain that a friend of her father’s is ultimately to blame.

But before then, she finds herself being taken under the wing of a legendary physician and teacher, Muallim Ishaq. He recognizes her gifts and her heritage from her father—he arranges (mostly by the force of his will) to have her learn at The Bimaristan, a hospital of great renown. There, she’s able to hone her skills and knowledge—and sharpen her tools, resolve, and ability to mete out that vengeance.

Father vs. Father

There are a handful of various conflicts in this book (like with any good book), but at the core, this book seems to be a conflict within Nardeen herself. On the one hand, she has her memories of her father and what he taught her—what he showed her by example—about the way to live. She also has to wrestle with what she’s told about her father—by those who profess to have admired him and those who worked against him.

On the other hand, she has her (for all intents and purposes) adoptive father, what he’s trying to teach her—what he shows her by example—about the way to live. She also has to wrestle with what she’s told about him—by those who profess to admire him and those who work against him.

In many ways, these two fathers line up—but in significant ways, they follow and lead her down divergent paths. So much of how the plotlines of this book resolve depends on Nardeen’s acceptance/rejection of what these men stand for.

The Setting

So, this takes place during the “golden age of Baghdad”—Harun al-Rashid’s rule of the Abbasid Caliphate from 786 to 809. Now, everything that I know about this period of time comes from the appendices to this novel “Harun Al-Rashid: The Golden Age of Baghdad” and “The Bimaristan.” As they are appendices, I read them afterward. So I came into this not knowing anything—which is a bit intimidating. And I figure I’m not alone in this (particularly for the intended YA audience, who probably haven’t had much opportunity to study Eigth-Century history).

But honestly? Anyone who reads Fantasy/SFF knows how to approach something like this—sure, this is a representation of actual history, but the same tools and imagination you need to understand Westeros, Panem, or the world of the Shadowhunters equip you to get into this world.

And, like with those worlds, after getting this taste, you’ll likely want to read more about it.

While reading, and since then, I do have to wonder a little bit about how much Morani was stretching things about the opportunities presented to women in this time and place. Not just for Nardeen, either—but all the women she encounters at the Bimaristan (and I’d be saying this if the city was Paris or Rome, not just because it’s Baghdad). But I’m willing to both suspend disbelief for the sake of a good story and to trust that someone who’s as familiar with Arabic literature as Morani is more than my hunches.

So, what did I think about The Djinn’s Apple?

This book hits the ground running—Morani doesn’t give you the opportunity to settle in and get comfortable in this world or anything like that. She thrusts the reader—and poor Nardeen—straight into life-or-death action. Nardeen has a slightly better understanding of what’s going on than the reader does—but not much. This was a great way to start this read—you don’t get the chance to indulge curiosity or get lulled into thinking it’s a different kind of book than it is—you have to rush to catch up and then keep up with Nardeen and only get the luxury of starting to understand the world until she’s (relatively) safe.

There were a couple of times that I wondered about the timelines and how well they worked. I assume I just missed something (and didn’t want to take the time to go back and check). It wasn’t anything that bugged me enough to look into it, but I would’ve appreciated things being a bit clearer.

The characters of Nardeen and Muallim were so well drawn, so vivid, and so compelling that I really wish we had more time with them. Particularly Muallim—this cantankerous genius is the kind of character I really respond to. Now, given the pacing of this book, that’s impossible. And Morani picked the better option for her story. But the eccentric teacher and the stubborn and gifted student is a combination that could’ve made for a lot of fun.

Somehow in the midst of this propulsive pacing, Morani is able to litter the book with some great observations, some drops of wisdom (primarily from the teacher and student), and memorable prose (some of that credit has to be given to Hussain as well).

This is a fast, immersive read that’ll leave you guessing from the beginning right up to the end. You’d be doing yourself a favor if you pick it up.