Call Me Zebra, by Azareen Van der Vliet Oloomi

“It occurred to me that the best thing to do, given the circumstances, would be to eat only the sentences I loved and loathed the most, and chuck the neutral ones into the sea.”

I’ve been reading this book, Call Me Zebra, by Azareen Van der Vliet Oloomi, for three years. It’s less than 300 pages.

Not because it’s long, or boring, or anything like that. But because it deserved to not be binged. It required slowness from me and I benefited from following that urging.

I’ve never read anything quite like this. As best as I can give you a sense of it, it’s got the same literal and theoretical sense of adventure and cultivated reality as Don Quixote. It deals with death, family trauma and legacy, exile, personal dedication, the tangible immersion of words and emotions, and the absolute relentless fierceness of passion.

“I needed to look at something more blue than blue or else I would start crying.”

There is a dense exploration of philosophy, life, literature, existence, and humanity and there are entire feasts in mere sentences of this book, some that I read over and over again in awe. Almost as if Zebra was giving me a master instruction on purpose, reasoning, and incredible writing.

This is a book that makes your jaw drop with what 26 letters can accomplish. In many places it is not easy to follow. It, like so much art, draws reaction from you if you’re paying attention, and demands your focus, but doesn’t ask you for it.

“Love, like death and literature and liberty, is everywhere and nowhere at once.”

I’m incredibly impressed by this, and think it is absolutely one of the most incredible literary works I’ve ever consumed.