Shazaf Fatima Haider’s latest novel, A Woman on a Suitcase, like her first novel How it Happened, deals with marriage and the family dynamics of an upper middle class family in Karachi. While the first was hilarious and memorable for how relatable it was, the latest deals with heavier themes of marital abuse, parental neglect and divorce. Whereas both novels were satirical with a strong narrative voice and skillfully executed with beautiful prose, here the humour was darker.

The novel opens with a dramatic scene. After her husband, Momin, evicts her for the third time in their ten-month marriage, Seema finds herself sitting on her Samsonite suitcase in front of the gate of her in-laws’ house biding her time until she will be allowed back inside. “The suitcase didn’t have clothes in it, but it was always on hand for the symbolic value it possessed – like it, she could be thrown out with ease and efficiency.” But this time, Seema feels indignant and angry because her husband had really crossed the limit by revealing intimate details of their marital life to his parents to which she had reacted by throwing a slipper at him, yet she was the one being punished. She decides to go to her own home rather than sit outside and wait to be let back in. This one decision sets her on a course of self discovery and a rollercoaster ride of dealing with her family and society’s expectations of her.

One wonders why this educated strong-willed young woman from a good family would allow herself to be subjugated by her in-laws in this way, until we meet her parents. Raised in a loveless household, with a father slipping into dementia and a mother battling her own traumas, Seema had seen marriage as an escape. Unfortunately, her arranged marriage, facilitated by a traditional matchmaker with regressive views, had become another prison.

The book, overall, is a fantastic satire on the misogyny existing in Pakistan, especially when it comes to women’s roles in marriage. Early in the book Seema’s mother-in-law says to her, “Hyderi women must be obedient, even when our men are making an example out of us. We must be like brocade curtains, shielding everything from the world outside. Come what tumult there may, we hang silently, not letting anything show” and that “with silence a woman can tame a raging tiger”. However, sometimes this same satire becomes too heavy-handed and feels a little unpalatable. There are Seema’s in-laws’ views on domestic abuse – “Bruises fade. Reputations are forever”; the matchmaker saying to her “it would have been better if you had killed yourself than come home and put your mother through this”; and her own mother forcing her to go back to her abusive and loveless marriage. In these sections perhaps the intention was humour that shocked. But even though these things actually happen, with most of the characters expressing extremely regressive views about marriage felt, it was all a little too much to stomach at times, and that took away from the power of the narrative.

Thankfully there are characters like her cousin Maliha and her Uncle Fauzi in London who are supportive and cut across the darkness of the narrative like rays of sunshine.

In the second part of the book, when Seema accepts Uncle Fauzi’s invitation to come to London for a break, trusty suitcase in tow, she comes into her own. After the first section, where the despair was almost claustrophobic, this part feels like a breath of fresh air. We go on a pleasurable journey of discovery and adventure as Seema follows her heart, rediscovering her love of art and painting. The prose here is beautiful and indulgent with moments of levity and beauty. In her adventures, Seema is told by a shop assistant, “[…] there is nothing more powerful than a woman unafraid to pursue her own pleasure”, marking a turning point in Seema’s journey.

The most intriguing relationship dynamic in the book is that between Seema and her mother-in-law. The reader is exposed to moments of genuine compassion and tenderness, and one pities Seema for trying so hard to find love with a manipulative mother-in-law because she had never experienced the unconditional love of her own mother. No wonder Shazaf Fatima Haider dedicated this book to her mother. For so many women trying to escape abusive or unhappy marriages, it is the support of their parents that gives them the safe haven and safety net to fall back on. In its absence they will continue to suffer and put up with abuse, as does Seema’s sister-in law Muneera. Muneera’s story serves as a poignant and heartbreaking counterpoint to Seema’s, as well as a cautionary tale. It is here that the storyline really gains heft and momentum and forces Seema to see the truth of her own marriage.

The metaphor of the journey, with the suitcase as a vehicle, is present throughout and the last chapter is one of the most satisfying endings to a novel I’ve read. The prose takes you back and forth in time without letting you get lost. We find Seema once again with her trusty suitcase, about to embark on another journey. The worst that could happen has already happened, what she feared most is behind her and now the world is her oyster, or rather her airport.