Matin Sleiman 32

Sumaiya Matin Interviews Zeina Sleiman

(Fernwood Publishing, 2025)

Zeina Sleiman

Sumaiya Matin: Thank you for sitting down with me for this interview. I appreciate Where the Jasmine Blooms for many reasons, and I’m thrilled to chat about both the author and craft behind this book. For readers unfamiliar with the novel, this is the description from Fernwood Publishing:

Yasmine enters Lebanon escaping a messy divorce and seeking the family, culture, and connection that her Palestinian mother hid during their life in Toronto. It’s 2006, and she’s meeting her cousin Reem for the first time after connecting over social media. Reem teaches Arabic and lives in a refugee camp with her mother and sister. Her brother Ahmed lived there too until he went to Syria for work and then disappeared. When Yasmine receives a package of mysterious letters suggesting her father might still be alive, the cousins embark on a discovery of political secrets no one in the family wants them to know.

Complicating her questions about identity, belonging, and healing even further, Yasmine runs into Ziyad—an old flame who’s incidentally taking Reem’s class. Though the cousins' lives could not be more different, Yasmine and Reem must learn from each other as they navigate abusive relationships, grief, displacement, and war.

Set amid the arid glamour of Lebanon’s beaches and urban landscapes, Where the Jasmine Blooms is at once a political historical thriller and a Muslim feminist love story. Turn-of-the-century Arab politics feature prominently, echoing loudly even twenty years later.

SM: In Where the Jasmine Blooms, both Yasmine and Reem are connected to a place (Lebanon) that has mistreated their own Palestinian community (and there is a lot of historical and political context that I won't get into here but is weaved into the narrative). You, yourself, have previously described that this is a complicated experience. Would you be able to speak to this some more? How did you set out to capture the dissonance between what Reem and Yasmine longed for and their realities?

Zeina Sleiman: I think that we all want to live in places where we feel safe, like we belong and have the opportunities to live a comfortable life. There are distinct factors that make all these things possible, like our surroundings, the language spoken, availability of opportunities, government policies, etc. For people in the diaspora, especially in places like Canada, we might find one thing, like political stability and opportunities for our children, but we lose the sense of belonging and the connection that we might have with people who are familiar, people who look like us, who speak like us, who understand cultural references, etc.

For Yasmine, she grows up longing for this connection, always feeling like an outsider, no matter how much she tries, and I think when she goes to Lebanon, she finds that familiarity, even though she didn’t know she was looking for it. She glorifies this in her mind, the idea of living in the place where her ancestors came from. For a historian, that feels very powerful. For Reem, the opposite. She understands the familiarity of being in a country where people speak your language, and that’s not enough for her. To add the layer of her precariousness as a Palestinian refugee, Reem also never fully feels at home in Lebanon. She mimics the Lebanese accent when outside of the camp and tries to hide this about her, so she’s constantly having to shift between pretend identities, without thinking much about it, because to her, it’s about survival.

You know, I think both characters at the beginning of the novel are glorifying the other’s experience. Each think that what the other has will solve all their problems and fill in the gaps in their life, but of course we know that’s not always how things play out.

SM: The redefining of ‘home’ is a common theme that often appears in literature capturing the migrant experience. While home may be a physical place, it can also be psychological, spiritual, or emotional belonging or connection. How would your protagonists Yasmine and Reem define what is ‘home’ to them, through their point-of-view?

ZS: For them, home is in the people who love and care for them. Lebanon wouldn’t feel like home to Yasmine if Reem and her aunt and other relatives didn’t live there, if Ziyad didn’t give her the companionship she needed. Same for Reem, her ideal is to end up in Canada, yes, but she desires to be with her cousin there. There’s a significant, yet subtle thread of community in the book and that hints at this. With everything that happens in the novel, the characters are able to move forward because they have the community, the connection to each other and the mercy that flows through these types of relationships.

SM: There is a lot of pain in your novel. Many of the characters are grieving. In your interview with All Lit Up, you share your thoughts on writing about grief and loss. I'd like to expand on that. What was most challenging to you about writing characters experiencing multiple layers of pain—from losses related to migration, displacement, relationships, sense of identity, belonging, death?

ZS: I think for Palestinians, and potentially other folks who have generational experience with oppression, we are to some extent always grieving. There are times where we can set that grief aside and go on about our days. Other times, it resurfaces and we’re forced to sit with it. At times, it was hard to write my characters, Reem more than others, because it required tapping into that grief intentionally. I even cried a few times when I was editing Reem’s portion, but the thing that is so beautiful about fiction is that we can control the narrative. It’s a place where we can play with the outcomes and create worlds that don’t exist in real life. I can create characters that go through unimaginable trauma that is familiar to me, but I can also give them an opportunity to recover and find beauty and stability and happiness. We can imagine what the world might be like if these systems of oppression didn’t exist or give each other hope for different endings. There’s something really freeing and empowering to me about this and the ability to imagine a different life. This is why I’ve committed to making sure my stories have a relatively happy ending. I think we, as a community, need more opportunities to imagine our lives differently.

SM: I often think about the role of literature and arts as a space for reflection, expression, and maybe even awareness-building. Access to experiences and places not in the immediate vicinity (despite portrayals or lack thereof in media). What opportunities are there for books like Where the Jasmine Blooms to spread awareness about the struggles of people and parts of the world that aren't known or addressed?

ZS: Fiction, for me, has always brought opportunities to share and experience the lives of others intimately. I love reading literature set in other places, within other cultures, and I think when done well, it provides readers an experience that is unmatched anywhere else. To be able to step into the shoes and live through the eyes of someone else is so powerful and I can’t think of anywhere else that people are able to do that. That being said, I hope that my novel brings comfort and relatability to people with experiences similar to those of Reem and Yasmine. For those outside of the culture, I hope that it gives them an opportunity to get a sense of what life is like for Palestinians in the diaspora, and a sense of living in Lebanon.

SM: I find it refreshing that one of your protagonists, Yasmine, is recently divorced. She bumps into an old schoolmate, Ziyad, who is a revert to Islam, and the attraction between them simmers on the page. The journeys of female Muslim protagonists are sometimes grouped into ‘halal/acceptable’ Muslim romantic courtship or courtship outside of the religious paradigm (depending on who the audience is). Yasmine being a divorcee and Ziyad being a revert is refreshing to me because they are not necessarily typical characters. There is complexity. How did you navigate craft and story decisions related to romance, particularly of two characters who happen to be Muslim?

ZS: I was mindful of some of these things when I started writing this novel, but I was really intentional in not letting it co-opt the narrative. What I mean by that is that I wasn’t thinking ‘how should a good Muslim behave in these situations etc.,’ but rather, how would Yasmine, being who she is, act in different situations? Same with Ziyad. For a character like him, he’s still learning and adapting to certain cultural norms. Their story unfolded in the most natural way to me, based on my own experience and the experience of those around me. My husband is a convert and so I had a little bit of context to Ziyad, but the rest is really just imagination. Most of the characters in my novels are Muslims and it will probably always be that way, but they vary in their practice and experiences and that’s because I like to craft characters in their unique way, with their own histories and experiences and challenges. That’s the essence of what drives them to do the things that they do. I think that makes for more authentic stories, in my experience.

SM: There is no real resolution at the end of the novel, which I found effective. The novel feels like a snippet of the lives of the two main protagonists, Reem and Yasmine, at a point in their overall journey. I feel that both characters got some of the answers they were looking for, but not all. A lot of their journeys feel very much ‘in-progress,’ so much so that there can probably be a sequel (in my opinion). How did you approach writing the end of this story?

ZS: Without going into spoilers, I’ll just say that the story ended where it ended because to me, that’s what the characters needed and that’s as far as the circumstances of their story would let them go. There was another chapter at the end that my editor and I decided to remove and we felt like the story ended where it should end. We also discussed adding an epilogue, but ultimately, we decided not to, and I’m happy with where the story ends because it feels real. The thing is, our lives are filled with unanswered mysteries and questions, and the reality of Palestinians is that we’re still suffering the consequences of actions taken more than 75 years ago.

On another note, I’ve been asked about this quite often now and I sort of started writing the sequel, so we’ll see.

SM: The forward momentum of the plot kept me engaged. You kept the story in the present. There was a sense of real time that created suspense. In a story like this, where there is a lot of historical, political context and character backstory, what was your approach to crafting a narrative arc?

ZS: Similar to character development and their decisions, the story to me unfolds the way that in my head, it would naturally unfold. I’m not really a plotter and will just write a story and see where it goes, chapter by chapter. I prefer fast-paced storytelling as well, so my writing is driven by this need to move things forward to the moments that matter the most. I then go back and revise and move things around to make sure the pacing is even throughout the story. With this one, I think the first half is probably a little slower than the second, but that was because I needed to bring the reader into the setting, experience life in Lebanon and really get familiar with the characters. I will say, though, that I typically know where the story starts and where it ends and then I just fill it with the actions that will lead to the end point, bit by bit.

SM: You have shared in the past that your academic/research background aids you in creating characters such as Reem. How do you switch into the mindset of a fiction writer and/or fictional character while also drawing inspiration from your academic/research work? This is something that I'm personally navigating and would love any tips!

ZS: This goes back to character development and when I’m making decisions about how a character will act or the choices they make. I draw on some of my academic background to create the person and their motivation and then I just spend a lot of time with them in my head. It also helps with context. I’ve spent some time in the refugee camps in Lebanon, so I have some context as to what that’s like, and similarly with regards to the socio-political environment of Lebanon and its history, a lot of that is knowledge acquired through my work. I want to say though, that for me at the end of the day, fiction is fiction and some of the best stories are those where the characters do unpredictable things and the story goes in strange ways, so I also take a lot of creative liberties and have fun with it.

SM: How would you describe your own writing style? Are there other authors whose work inspire you?

ZS: I’m really grateful that to me writing is a place where I find a lot of joy and calm. I used to have this motto when I wrote my first book: Write when you want to write and don’t write when you don’t want to. It’s a bit different now because I have another book to edit and I’m working on a third, so I have deadlines. But I still write what I want to write. There are usually themes I want to explore and places I want to visit. That sort of triggers the other pieces. With this first novel, I wanted to write something that explored the things that are lost through migration and the broken family ties that are so familiar to victims of colonization.

My second novel was inspired by Tayari Jones’ An American Marriage and her writing has been very inspirational to me. For my second book, I wanted to explore how love and relationships are impacted by racism and institutions that drive this racism. All that being said, this second novel is more of a love story and set in the mid-2010s during the height of anti-terrorism legislation in Canada and intense islamophobia.

As for other authors who inspire me, I’m a big fan of Elif Shafak, Celeste Ng and Katherena Vermette.

SM: More recently, there have been more stories reflecting diverse backgrounds and experiences in the Canadian literary landscape. Many writers are still navigating their debut. What has your overall writing and publishing journey been like? Any advice or suggestions for those looking to pursue publication?

ZS: I’m really grateful because I think I had a bit of an easier journey to publishing. When I finished writing my first novel, I tried to find an agent to represent my work, but unfortunately that didn’t pan out and I was okay with it. And then I met my editor, Fazeela, at a conference and she expressed interest in something I said at the event. We connected afterwards and she asked me to send her my novel. It took me I think four months to gain the courage to send her my book, because I was terrified of sending it to an actual editor (what if she thought it was trash?), but she loved it and the Roseway team decided to publish it. A part of me back then was a little disappointed that I hadn’t found an agent and ended up going with a small press, but in hindsight, knowing more about the publishing industry now, that was the best decision I made. Fazeela is an editor who totally understood the book and our vision for it was aligned. She had the tools as an editor to help me amplify that and that is so important, especially for writers from equity-seeking groups. We need to be able to tell our stories authentically and the way we want to tell them, so finding a publishing house that gets that and will support authors is really important. My publisher has been amazing and I’m happy to have my debut published with Fernwood. Fazeela is also an amazing editor, she’s so good at her job. Aside from that, I continued to attend workshops and events and that’s the other advice I’d give to other writers, is just build community with like-minded writers, even if it’s just to workshop your work and keep writing.

SM: Thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts today. I am eager to read your next work and wish you all the best on it. Where the Jasmine Blooms is a suspenseful, effectual, eye-opening read and I'm grateful I came across it. I’m certain your next novel will have more for us to learn from and experience.

Zeina Sleiman is a Palestinian Canadian writer who lives in amiskwacîwâskahikan (Edmonton). She is a Tin House workshop alum and is the recipient of grants from the Silk Road Institute, the Canada Council for the Arts, the Alberta Foundation for the Arts and the Edmonton Arts Council. Her short story “My Father’s Soil” was shortlisted for the CBC Short Story Prize in 2025. Where the Jasmine Blooms is her debut novel.

Zeina holds a PhD in political science and works in post-secondary education, where she has taught courses in politics, specialized in research on newcomer and citizenship-related issues, and works with businesses to create barrier-free spaces.

Sumaiya Matin wears many hats as a writer, social worker, educator and public policy professional. She holds a Master of Social Work and is currently working toward her Master of Fine Arts (in Creative Writing) at the University of British Columbia. In 2021, she released a literary memoir titled The Shaytan Bride: A Bangladeshi Canadian Memoir of Desire and Faith (Toronto: Dundurn Press, 2021). She lives in amiskwacîwâskahikan (Edmonton), but you can also find her online at @sumaiya.matin on Instagram or www.sumaiyamatin.com