Saniya
By Zara M
The Book Guild Ltd
ISBN: 978-1-83574-111-5
312pp.

Some novels are light, breezy reads that help you pass the time. And then there are others that sit with you a little longer, quietly asking questions, nudging at old memories, or simply making you pause mid-sentence. Zara M’s debut work of fiction Saniya is one such novel.

At first glance, it feels like a simple coming-of-age story. But peel back the layers and you find a quietly intense tale about memory, loss, emotional honesty and the desire to be understood. The kind of story that doesn’t scream but lingers. Not because it tries too hard, but because it doesn’t.

Zara M is an emerging voice in South Asian literature, especially in the Pakistani fiction landscape. While not yet a household name, her writing leans into themes often left untouched in mainstream storytelling: introspection, trauma and the quiet spaces between relationships. Saniya is a novel that speaks more through what it doesn’t say than what it does, and that reflects the author’s subtle yet emotionally intelligent storytelling style.

The novel opens in a therapeutic setting, a session between a counsellor and a client. The tone is cautious, uncomfortable, almost clinical, until it’s not. We are introduced to Saniya, the therapist, who expresses visible frustration over a misstep, the sharing of something sensitive without clear boundaries. Through her reaction, the power dynamics in therapeutic spaces are explored, subtly hinting at what happens when roles blur and expectations go unmet.

From here, we move to a flashback that sets the emotional tone and roots of the novel. The protagonist, Saniya, is a young girl filled with the excitement that only childhood promises. Her day begins ordinarily: a trip to Liberty Market with her mother, whom she calls Ami. But underneath the playfulness lies a quiet ache.

A quiet, introspective debut novel speaks to the emotional undercurrents many of us carry from childhood

Through a series of seemingly mundane interactions, a desire to be noticed, the disappointment of a dress not being bought, we get the early signs of emotional gaps between Saniya and her mother. There’s a craving for attention, validation, affection. And though nothing outright dramatic happens, the tension is emotional. You can feel it.

Later, we piece together Saniya’s gradual emotional evolution. The story is less about “what happens” and more about “what is felt.” There’s a sharp contrast between Saniya’s external world — shopping, walking through markets, awkward moments with adults — and her internal dialogue, which is far more layered and longing.

The flashbacks suggest that Saniya, now older, is trying to make sense of those formative childhood moments that seemed minor but left long shadows. The structure, slipping between past and present, reality and memory, is deliberate, mirroring the way trauma or emotional disconnection is often remembered in fragments, not timelines.

At its core, Saniya is about emotional neglect. But not the dramatic, headline-making kind. It’s the quieter variety, the kind you can’t name until much later. The book explores various arcs, including the mother-daughter relationship that is full of missed cues and unspoken affection.

The novel also tells us that therapy and healing are not clean, linear journeys, but spaces full of awkward starts, breakdowns and small, personal wins. It also focuses on how important childhood memories are. They are blurry but a powerful way early moments shape who we become. They shape our identities, especially as they relate to womanhood, emotional labour and family roles in South Asian households.

The story is rooted in Pakistan and, more specifically, in the city of Lahore. Liberty Market, a recurring location, is not just a backdrop but a metaphorical space. It represents the chaos, colour and contradictions of urban life and how, within all that noise, individual emotions often get drowned out. The novel feels real because it reflects the culture accurately, right from the casual Urdu phrases to the subtle social hierarchies one notices in markets and family roles.

Speaking of the characters, Saniya is both the protagonist and the lens. Everything we see is filtered through her evolving emotional landscape. As a child, she’s observant, hopeful and hungry for affection. As an adult (or at least as her older version), she is more guarded, cautious and trying to make sense of old wounds. Her arc is less about change and more about awareness, a slow acceptance of her past.

Ami, her mother, is a complex figure. Not intentionally cruel but emotionally unavailable in moments that matter. Through Saniya’s eyes, we get the sense of a woman weighed down by societal roles, possibly unaware of how her actions (or inactions) affect her child. Saniya the therapist represents another kind of emotional tension: professional boundaries, expectations of care and how even healing spaces can be fraught with miscommunication.

Zara M, who is a psychotherapist herself, doesn’t over-explain. She allows moments to breathe, trusting the reader to feel their weight. The novel’s nuances and setting feel real, familiar and layered. Nothing is made to seem overly unusual or explained in too much detail. The book says a lot without saying much: lean prose, sharp dialogue and a good balance of action and introspection. And anyone who’s ever felt emotionally unseen by someone close will find echoes in these pages.

However, the novel can feel slow at times, especially for readers used to plot heavy fiction. The beauty is in the stillness, but it may not be for everyone. Then there are moments of emotional ambiguity, where more clarity would’ve helped, especially around timelines and character roles in the therapeutic setting. While this mirrors memory and trauma, some readers might find it disorienting without clear anchors.

Saniya isn’t trying to impress with plot twists or flashy prose. It’s a quiet, introspective novel that speaks to the emotional undercurrents many of us carry from childhood. Zara M writes with empathy and restraint, offering a mirror for anyone who’s ever felt small in a room they wanted to belong to.

If you’re looking for a novel that sits quietly beside you and makes you reflect, not just read, Saniya might just be what you need.

The reviewer is a content lead at a communications agency.

She can be reached at sara.amj@hotmail.co.uk

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, August 24th, 2025