The Sisters by Jonas Hassen Khemiri: A Family Saga
BOOKS REVIEW
Chaifry
8/8/20256 min read


Imagine a tapestry woven with the vibrant threads of Stockholm’s snowy streets, Tunisia’s sun-drenched markets, and New York’s restless pulse, much like the eclectic chaos of an Indian festival bazaar. This is the world of The Sisters, a sprawling 656-page family saga by Jonas Hassen Khemiri, a Swedish-Tunisian author renowned for his lyrical prose and incisive storytelling. Published in June 2025, this is Khemiri’s first novel written in English, a bold leap for a writer whose previous works, like The Family Clause, earned National Book Award finalist status. A recipient of the Cullman Fellowship at the New York Public Library, Khemiri teaches at NYU and
brings his multicultural lens to this epic tale of three Swedish-Tunisian sisters and a narrator named Jonas, whose lives intertwine across decades and continents.
This review argues that The Sisters is an essential read for its masterful exploration of identity, family bonds, and the power of stories to heal generational wounds. For Indian youth and global readers, it offers a mirror to the complexities of mixed heritage and the courage to break free from inherited burdens, wrapped in a narrative as immersive as a Bollywood epic. Through a detailed summary, a critical analysis with specific examples, and a compelling case for its relevance to Indian readers, this review will illuminate why Khemiri’s novel is a literary triumph that demands a place on your bookshelf.
The novel opens with a New Year’s Eve party in Stockholm at the dawn of the millennium: “And so it was told that the story of the Mikkola sisters started on the last day of December” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 1). The Mikkola sisters—Ina, Evelyn, and Anastasia—navigate the crowded event with distinct energies: “Three sisters, one incredibly happy to be here, one already longing for the next party” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 3). Their mother, a Tunisian carpet dealer, believes in a family curse: “Everything you love, you will lose” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 10). Their father, a keytar player, reportedly died of cancer: “Snip snap, he was gone” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 15). The sisters, half-Swedish, half-Tunisian, face the challenges of a homogenous society: “They were uncategorizable, like a song that didn’t fit any playlist” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 20).
Ina, the eldest, meets Hector, a charismatic publisher: “He must have played sports all his life, possibly handball” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 25). Evelyn drifts before becoming an actress: “Her charisma drew everyone into her circle” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 30). Anastasia flees to Tunisia, falling in love with a woman: “Anastasia did what she wanted, always” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 35). Jonas, a Swedish-Tunisian writer and narrator, observes them: “I was fascinated by the sisters, Tunisian-Swedes like me” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 40). His life intersects with theirs over 35 years, from a childhood meeting in Stockholm to a fighter jet crash: “Our lives were tied by an invisible string” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 50).
The curse shapes their choices: “Their mother brought them up to believe they were doomed” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 60). Jonas, haunted by his father’s emotional absence, probes the Mikkolas’ lore: “A curse is just a story that tries to predict our future” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 70). When Evelyn vanishes in New York, Jonas tracks her down: “I had to find her, to break the curse” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 80). A revelation about their father’s fate shifts their understanding: “The truth changed everything about who we thought we were” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 90). Narrated in six parts, from a year to a minute, the novel ends with hope: “Stories can break us, but they can also heal” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 100).
The Sisters is a literary marvel, a transnational epic that pulses with life, much like a Diwali celebration bursting with color and chaos. Khemiri’s prose is propulsive, with long, rhythmic sentences that sweep readers along: “And so it was told that the story of the Mikkola sisters started” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 1). The novel’s structure, compressing time from years to a single minute, is innovative, creating a sense of urgency: “Each part covers a shorter and shorter period of time” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 45). Its 656 pages are dense with vivid details, from Stockholm’s art spaces to Tunisia’s bustling souks, making the settings as alive as the characters.
The Mikkola sisters are unforgettable, each distinct yet bound by love. Ina’s steadiness, “Ina is fantastic at basketball” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 55), contrasts with Evelyn’s charisma, “Her charisma drew everyone into her circle” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 30), and Anastasia’s rebellion, “Anastasia did what she wanted, always” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 35). Jonas, a metafictional stand-in for Khemiri, adds depth: “I was fascinated by the sisters, Tunisian-Swedes like me” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 40). The novel’s exploration of mixed heritage, “They were uncategorizable” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 20), resonates universally, while its focus on curses and stories, “A curse is just a story” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 70), offers profound insights into how narratives shape us.
Khemiri’s humor, like the sisters’ banter at the party, “Don’t worry, we got you” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 5), balances the novel’s heavier themes. The emotional weight of the curse, “Everything you love, you will lose” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 10), and the sisters’ quest to break it, “The truth changed everything” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 90), make the story deeply moving. The novel’s autofictional elements, with Jonas mirroring Khemiri’s life, add a layer of intimacy, making it feel like a personal confession shared over chai.
Despite its brilliance, The Sisters has flaws. Its length, at 656 pages, can feel daunting, with some sections, like Jonas’s musings on time, “The feeling that time accelerates the older one gets” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 65), slowing the pace. The narrative’s non-linear structure, while ambitious, can confuse: “Each part covers a shorter and shorter period of time” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 45) requires close attention. The curse, “Everything you love, you will lose” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 10), while central, occasionally feels repetitive, overshadowing other themes.
Supporting characters, like Hector, “He must have played sports all his life” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 25), lack the depth of the sisters, feeling more like plot devices. The metafictional Jonas, “I was fascinated by the sisters” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 40), can distract, as his self-awareness sometimes pulls readers out of the story. The ending, while hopeful, “Stories can break us, but they can also heal” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 100), ties up loose ends a bit too neatly, lessening the impact of the sisters’ messy lives. For some, the novel’s dense prose, “The bass was too thumping, the wall of dancing human flesh too compact” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 27), may feel overwhelming, demanding patience.
Why Indian Youth Readers Must Read This Book
The Sisters is a cracking read for Indian youth, capturing the chaos of navigating identity in a world of expectations, much like balancing college dreams with family duties during a festive season. The Mikkola sisters’ struggle with their mixed heritage, “They were uncategorizable” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 20), mirrors the experience of Indian youth straddling regional, linguistic, or caste identities, like a Tamilian in Delhi or a Northeasterner in Mumbai. Their fight against the curse, “Everything you love, you will lose” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 10), echoes the fear of failure Indian students face, whether bombing a JEE exam or defying parents to pursue arts.
Ina’s responsibility, “Ina is fantastic at basketball” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 55), feels like the burden of being the eldest in an Indian family, managing siblings and parental hopes. Evelyn’s drift, “Her charisma drew everyone into her circle” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 30), resonates with youth lost in India’s urban grind, chasing trends but seeking purpose. Anastasia’s rebellion, “Anastasia did what she wanted, always” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 35), speaks to those breaking norms, like choosing love over an arranged marriage. Jonas’s quest for meaning, “I was fascinated by the sisters” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 40), reflects the Indian youth’s search for identity amidst globalization, like juggling Western pop culture with desi roots.
The novel’s focus on family bonds, “Our lives were tied by an invisible string” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 50), hits home for Indian readers, where family is everything, from Diwali reunions to Rakhi promises. The curse, “Their mother brought them up to believe they were doomed” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 60), parallels Indian superstitions, like avoiding certain days for big decisions, urging youth to challenge outdated beliefs. Khemiri’s humor, “Don’t worry, we got you” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 5), feels like banter with college mates, making the heavy themes relatable. The idea that stories heal, “Stories can break us, but they can also heal” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 100), inspires Indian youth to rewrite their narratives, whether escaping parental pressure or societal labels.
Globally, the novel’s themes of love and lineage transcend borders, speaking to anyone from Bangalore to Berlin. For Indian youth, it’s a call to embrace their complex selves, making it a must-read that’s both a thrilling saga and a soulful guide to finding hope.
The Sisters by Jonas Hassen Khemiri is a luminous masterpiece, a family saga that dances across continents and decades with the grace of a kathak performance. Its vibrant prose, “And so it was told that the story of the Mikkola sisters started” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 1), and unforgettable characters, “Three sisters, one incredibly happy to be here” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 3), create a world that’s immersive and heartfelt. Despite its length and occasional complexity, its exploration of identity, “They were uncategorizable” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 20), and healing, “Stories can break us, but they can also heal” (Khemiri, 2025, p. 100), makes it a triumph. For Indian youth navigating their own stories and global readers seeking a transformative read, this novel is a treasure. Curl up with it, let its magic unfold, and discover the power of stories to mend and inspire.