Book Review: Fatma Aydemir’s Djinns. Migration, Identity, and generational memory

 

A friend recommended and lent me her copy of Fatma Aydemir’s Djinns . Once I started, I was struck by how powerfully the novel was capturing the inner struggles of Kurdish-Turkish immigrant who was at the end of his migration journey in Germany towards permanent return to his home country in Turkey. Djinns presents multi-generational family novel that pulls readers into the intimate lives of an immigrant family in Germany, weaving together themes of displacement, identity, belonging, and generational memory.

The story begins with Hüseyin, the father, whose sudden death in their adopted home city forces his family to reckon not only with loss but also with buried histories and unspoken tensions. Each chapter shifts perspective to a different family member—first Hüseyin and Emine, the mother, and then their four children: Ümit, Sevda, Peri, and Hakan—before circling back to Emine, where a long-suppressed family secret is revealed. The structure allows Aydemir to paint a layered picture of how immigration, cultural hybridity, and personal trauma ripple through lives in distinct yet interconnected ways.

Characterisation and Voice

Aydemir’s narrative strength lies in her richly textured characterisation. Hüseyin embodies the older migrant generation, torn between the sacrifices of factory labor in Germany and nostalgia for a homeland that, politically and socially, never truly welcomed him. Emine, resilient yet weary, is the silent anchor of the family, balancing tradition with survival. Each of the children embodies a facet of the immigrant experience: Sevda clings to the conventional expectations of respectability, Hakan resents and mismanages his marginalization, Peri grapples with intellectual independence and estrangement from family, while Ümit explores his homosexuality in a community where such identity carries both danger and shame. By giving each child their distinct inner voice, Aydemir underscores how a single migratory journey splinters into diverging individual paths across a new cultural landscape.

Pop Culture and Everyday Life

German and Turkish pop culture weave in continuously across narratives, grounding the characters’ inner struggles with markers of their social setting. The recurrent references to music, television, fashion, and youth culture show how second-generation immigrants carve out identity by choosing—or resisting—the dominant cultural codes around them. These details enrich the story, situating questions of belonging not only at the level of language or religion but also in the banalities of what one watches, wears, or listens to. They provide an atmospheric counterpoint to the weightier reflections, revealing how cultural hybridity is lived day by day.

Themes of Freedom, Identity, and Belonging

At its heart, Djinns examines the negotiation between tradition and personal freedom. The novel humanizes dilemmas immigrants and their children often face—torn between collectivist family expectations and the promise of individualism offered by Western culture. Issues of gendered expectations, sexual identity, and generational misunderstanding recur, highlighting the invisible but palpable presence of “djinns,” or unspoken burdens, in the family’s shared life. The revelation of the lost child—invisible yet always shaping family dynamics—mirrors the suppressed traumas of displacement itself, suggesting that every migrant family carries similar hidden wounds.

Through elegant prose and shifting perspectives, Aydemir avoids reducing her characters to stereotypes of assimilation or alienation. Instead, she presents them as complex, flawed, and painfully real individuals negotiating survival and selfhood in a Germany that offers both opportunity and exclusion.

Djinns is both intimate family drama and sharp social commentary. It is a novel about silence and secrets, about pop music and political trauma, about the private costs of migration and the resilience of those who live it. For readers interested in immigrant narratives, intergenerational struggles, and the intersections of culture and identity, Aydemir’s work offers a poignant, intelligent portrait that lingers long after its final page.

 

Keywords: Fatma Aydemir, Djinns, book review, Kurdish-Turkish immigrants, Germany, immigrant family, intergenerational trauma, pop culture, identity, homosexuality, belonging, personal freedom, cultural hybridity, migrant literature. 

The Importance of Hiring Cultural Consultants in Film: Lessons from Controversies in Netflix’s Arab Character Portrayals

Hiring cultural consultants in film production is more important than ever. These experts help ensure that different cultures and identities are represented accurately, respectfully, and authentically. By involving cultural consultants early in the process—be it in script development, casting, or production design—filmmakers can avoid common pitfalls such as stereotypes, cultural inaccuracies, and portrayals that could offend or alienate audiences.

Misrepresentations not only perpetuate harmful biases but also deepen misunderstandings about the communities depicted. Cultural consultants enrich storytelling by offering nuanced perspectives and helping films resonate with diverse viewers. Moreover, their involvement prevents costly backlash and damage to a production’s reputation by identifying sensitive issues before they reach the screen.

Recent controversies in Netflix films featuring Arab characters highlight why cultural consultancy is essential. Over the past five years, several productions have drawn criticism, illustrating how important it is to approach cultural representation with care:

1. Mary (2024) – This film about the Virgin Mary caused upset for casting mainly Israeli actors, while not including Palestinian representation. Many criticised the film for “Palestinian erasure” and questioned its historical accuracy regarding Arab Christian heritage. Given the ongoing political tensions in the region, this casting decision was viewed as insensitive, underscoring the need for filmmakers to be acutely aware of cultural and political contexts.

2. Perfect Strangers اصحاب ولا اعز(2022) – An Arabic-language Netflix film that sparked controversy in the Arab world for tackling themes such as homosexuality and extramarital relationships. Many viewers felt these topics clashed with prevailing conservative social norms, leading to strong backlash. This case shows how cultural consultants can help navigate delicate subjects respectfully, fostering dialogues that consider the values and sensibilities of the affected communities.

3. King the Land (2023) – Although this is a South Korean drama available on Netflix, it featured an Arab character whose portrayal drew criticism for reinforcing stereotypes. The character appeared as a partygoer wearing traditional Arab clothing while drinking alcohol, which many audiences deemed an offensive cliché. This example emphasises that even productions from outside the Arab world benefit greatly from informed cultural input when including diverse characters.

These examples demonstrate clearly that without cultural consultants, films risk misrepresenting peoples and cultures, alienating audiences, and inviting public criticism. Cultural consultants support filmmakers in crafting stories that are not only more truthful but also more meaningful and respectful, helping to break down simplistic stereotypes and foster inclusion.

Cultural consultants play a vital role in the filmmaking process, especially in portraying complex and often misunderstood cultural identities such as those of Arab communities. The controversies involving Netflix’s Arab characters over recent years serve as a powerful reminder that thoughtful, informed cultural guidance is essential to creating films that honour the richness of real-life experiences and contribute positively to cultural dialogue.

Book Review: There Are Rivers in the Sky by Elif Shafak

Elif Shafak’s There Are Rivers in the Sky is impressively researched, connecting the lives of three characters—Arthur from the 19th century and Zaleekha and Narine from today—through the recurring theme of water. The story moves between the deciphering of cuneiform and the recent Yazidi massacre, aiming to tackle two major moments that have changed our world.

Shafak’s writing is often poetic, sometimes beautifully so, though the constant focus on water as a symbol can feel a bit forced. The plot can be slow and, at times, a little tedious, much like a river that winds its way forward with no hurry, which some readers may find frustrating.

The novel seems to favour Arthur’s story, probably because there’s so much information available about him and the whole idea of Western explorers in the Middle East has a certain romantic pull. Zaleekha’s character, on the other hand, doesn’t sit easily alongside Arthur and Narine; she feels out of place, neither fully connected nor as well-developed.

It’s also hard to ignore the confusing handling of Zaleekha's background. Her name, supposedly given by her Iraqi mother from Nineveh, actually isn't Iraqi or common in the region, which feels off for anyone who knows the culture. Her personal story is murky, too: her separation from her husband is meant to be about her loving another man, but the book skirts any mention of queerness, leaving questions about her true self.

The sudden romance between Zaleekha and Nen comes from nowhere and feels unnecessary—it wouldn’t matter if Nen were a man or a woman, and it doesn’t affect the plot. The moment where Zaleekha blames her aunt for organ harvesting, and accuses her uncle of ‘dirty work’, is also confusing; we’re told there was more involved, but never find out what. That lack of clarity is frustrating.

It also feels clichéd that the British character is made out to be the main villain behind these terrible acts, which seems like an easy way to appeal to anti-Western readers rather than exploring the real complexity behind these events.

All that said, Shafak deserves credit for the serious research and for wanting to keep Mesopotamian stories alive. While the novel doesn’t always succeed in bringing everything together, it’s a passionate effort to remind us of the layers of history and the importance of not letting them fade away.