Chronicling the nineteenth-century journey from Russia into Uzbekistan undertaken by German-speaking Mennonites, educator and writer Samatar (Monster Portraits, 2018) weaves together memoir and stream of consciousness. She sets out on her own pilgrimage to retrace the steps of that remarkable journey and, reflecting on it, discovers parts of her identity as she learns her people's history. The daughter of a Swiss Mennonite mother and Somali Muslim father, Samatar grapples with both inherited identities and with her experience of growing up in the U.S. as a Mennonite of color. She excels in inviting readers to experience life through others' eyes: placing readers alongside her for the journey, with highly descriptive writing Samatar details everything from food preparations, to the next stop on her trip, to a vision of what life was like long ago in their village. Past and present are almost interchangeable here, and while it can seem disconcerting when the author suddenly leaps between them, it is ultimately an effective illustration of how the past shapes the present and why history matters.

An exploration of religious and cultural identity through the lens of an ill-fated pilgrimage into Central Asia in the late 19th century. In the 1880s, a group of German-speaking Mennonites known as the Bride Community followed the charismatic visionary Claas Epp on a harrowing journey into pre-Soviet Uzbekistan, where Epp predicted Christ would return. Despite losing many followers to death or disillusionment, the core group reached the Muslim khanate of Khiva and founded the Christian community known as Ak Metchet--the White Mosque--a village that survived 50 years before its dissolution by the Bolsheviks. Embarking on a Mennonite heritage tour through Uzbekistan, Samatar--fantasy novelist, professor of African and Arabic literature, and daughter of Swiss Mennonite and Somali Muslim parents--chronicles her journey through the century-old footsteps of the Bride Community in an attempt to see this beautiful, alien region through their eyes. In addition to the community's path, the author traces their intersections with the Muslim people of the region, whose generosity carried the Christian pilgrims to their destination. Samatar interweaves this historical narrative with her own personal history and a litany of religious, literary, and philosophical texts, stitching together a multifaceted account of faith, identity, and acceptance. "It's the contrast, the incongruity, that delights," she writes. "Beyond the initial shock of the story of reckless prophecy, this story that makes my listen-ers shake their heads, recoil, or laugh, there's the reverberation of Menno-nites in Uzbekistan. Rendered in the author's vivid prose, Uzbekistan--a place unknown to most Western readers--feels like a fantastic land of deep history, stunning architecture, and uniquely diverse culture. The author devotes the same careful attention to Mennonite theology and society, depicting the complicated international religious and ethnic community with a caring but critical eye. Reaching beyond all state and religious boundaries, Samatar is "always saying we," incorporating more and more of humanity into a growing inner circle. Complex and gorgeously written, this memoir invites readers on a journey to the ever expanding borders of human compassion. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Voluptuous with imagery and lush with language, this gorgeous memoir of travel and discovery is a perfect summer read. Award-winning fantasy novelist Samatar (The Winged Histories) explores the even more magical and mysterious world of memory and history. Taking readers along on her trip to Uzbekistan in search of a particularly prophetic piece of her family's Mennonite past, she comes to see herself, her family, and her world in a new light. Her mother, a Mennonite missionary from North Dakota, and her father, a Somali shepherd who taught Somali to missionaries, remind readers that no one is as simple as they seem. Filled with lyrical meditations on faith and community, plus beautiful descriptions of Uzbekistan, Samatar has created something almost transcendent. On her journey, she reveals the mystery of the Mennonite minister Claas Epp Jr., who convinced a group of Russian Mennonites to follow him into the deserts of Central Asia to await the second coming of Christ. Samatar's writing is engaging, enticing, and a gift. This is not only a great book but also an important one. Not to be missed. VERDICT Essential for public, academic, and school libraries.--Herman Sutter

Sci-fi writer Samatar (The Winged Histories) strays from her imagined worlds to excavate a very real past in this fascinating look at her religious heritage. In the summer of 2016, the author--a descendant of Swiss-German Mennonites and Somali Muslims--traveled to Khiva, Uzbekistan, in a reconstruction of an 1880s pilgrimage wherein Mennonite minister Claas Epp Jr. led his followers from Russia into Central Asia, predicting that Christ would soon return. Over two weeks, Samatar, with a group of other Mennonites, traversed great distances and histories before arriving at their destination, Ak Metchet, a Mennonite church built to resemble a white mosque. What Samatar discovered within the walled garden of Ak Metchet was the story of a small but strong Christian community whose culture, traditions, and stories outlived their 50 years residing in the predominantly Muslim area. In evocative prose, Samatar captures the Odyssean sojourn and awakens the stories of the past--painting in harrowing detail the unspeakable horrors that befell the first settlers--while reckoning with her own identity, an "electrical storm" created by two religions perceived "as violently opposed... amplifying one another in a sizzling sibling rivalry." Emerging from this is a vivid mosaic that interrogates the spirit of the faithful while celebrating the beauty of storytelling. This riveting meditation on the "great tides of history" yields a wondrous take on the ways the past and present intertwine. (Sept.)