Praise for The True True Story of Raja the Gullible (and His Mother):
Winner of the National Book Award for Fiction
Longlisted for the Joyce Carol Oates Prize
One of TIME Magazine’s 100 Must Read Books of 2025
One of NPR’s Books We Love of 2025
One of the Washington Post’s 10 Best Audiobooks of 2025
One of Washington Independent Review of Books’ Favorite Books of 2025
One of the Globe and Mail’s 100 Best Books of 2025
One of BookPage’s Best Fiction Books of 2025
One of Shelf Awareness’s Best Books of 2025
One of Apple’s Best Books of 2025
“This sprawling tale centers on Raja, a man in his sixties who lives with his mother in Beirut, a city shaking with political and ecological turmoil. While the duo—both outsized personalities—navigate their cohabitation, Raja must weigh the responsibility he feels as a son against an opportunity to attend a writing residency in America. Raja’s energetic narration is relentlessly funny, even (or especially) when it’s turned to dark or disturbing events from his past. The story jumps back and forth through time and across continents, but Raja’s sensitive and ultimately optimistic point of view is a gripping anchor.”—The New Yorker
“Rabih Alameddine returns to Beirut, Lebanon as the volatile, beloved setting and muse for his new novel, the enticingly titled The True True Story of Raja the Gullible (and His Mother) . . . And though the novel bears witness to the indignities of the city of Beirut and its citizens, there is ebullience throughout this account, a devil-may-care delight in the act of telling . . . The momentum the title creates never lets up, and Alameddine, through Raja, delivers a tragic yet exuberant tale steeped in the experience of living Lebanese.”—Winnipeg Free Press
“This book—winner of the 2025 National Book Award for fiction—feels like sitting down with an old friend who is a brilliant storyteller. It’s an amusing and beautifully written portrait of a mother and her middle-aged son that lingers long after you finish it. Rabih Alameddine’s prose is so warm and vivid that you can almost hear him talking to you as you read. I loved his tender, nuanced portrayal of Raja’s prying mother, Zalfa, and how he captures the complicated bond between mothers and their children.”—Linah Mohammad, producer, All Things Considered
“A tightrope walk, a magic trick . . . magnificently articulated through the instrument of Raja’s voice.”—Alta
“Hilarious, seasoned with history, and utterly brilliant.”—Bay Area Reporter
“Rabih Alameddine’s edgy charm always leaves room for compassion, which readers will find in abundance in this challenging but exceptional book.”—BookPage (starred review)
“I can think of few novelists more skilled in the art of blending deep trauma with irreverent humor than Rabih Alameddine. You’re so damn charmed by the irascible charisma of his narrators—by their wicked bite and breezy self-deprecation and gimlet eyes—that you’ll let them ferry you to the most heartbreaking and harrowing of places. Raja the Gullible is another tragicomic triumph.”—Dan Sheehan, Literary Hub
“A novel as expansive, funny, and poignant as its title promises . . . An especially wry, wise, comic style distinguishes this unforgettable tale of national trauma, community, familial love, and forgiveness.”—Julia Kastner, Shelf Awareness
“Rabih Alameddine is one of my all-time favorite authors and indeed one of my most read authors, so I mean it as no small compliment when I say I think his latest novel is one of his very best. The True True Story is a perfectly witty and tender portrait of the chaos and dogged persistence of one catty Lebanese philosophy teacher and his lovingly annoying mother. Great voice, heavy topics, funny prose, and a rich cast of characters!”—Samia Saliba, Radius of Arab American Writers (RAWI)
“Alameddine chronicles a Lebanese family’s turbulent but happy lives in his ebullient latest . . . Throughout, the author skillfully juxtaposes unflinching depictions of war and deprivation with the narrator’s joie de vivre. It’s a ravishing performance.”—Publishers Weekly
“Alameddine is gifted at finding the humor in what for most writers would be singular traumatic themes, including AIDS, the Lebanese Civil War, and the plight of Middle Eastern migrants. Here, he applies his sardonic wit again to the Civil War as well as the calamities of Covid-19, Lebanon’s banking collapse, and the 2020 Beirut port explosion . . . A peculiar but lively and humane book [and] a sharp exploration of resilience in dark times.”—Kirkus Reviews
“I fell quick for Raja, a queer Lebanese man living with his (very funny) mother, who is offered a (maybe fake?) opportunity to come to the US. Delightful, rich, special.”—Emma Copley Eisenberg
Praise for The Wrong End of the Telescope:
“Spectacular . . . Alameddine’s irreverent prose evokes the old master storytellers from my own Middle Eastern home, their observations toothy and full of wit, returning always to human absurdity.” —New York Times Book Review
“Provocative . . . Alameddine makes an argument for writing even when writing fails. Especially when writing fails. What else is there?” —San Francisco Chronicle
“His books offer a compelling, often jarring, blend of cynicism and hope. They urge readers to contemplate the humanity and suffering of others rather than turn their faces away.”—The Economist
“[A] beautiful novel . . . A quiet, character-driven book about cultural identity, what it means to offer help, and a whole lot more. It’s especially refreshing to read a book like this — full of queer characters but not centered on specific queer experiences.”—BookRiot
“A prismatic, sui generis story that’s unafraid of humor while addressing a humanitarian crisis, threading a needle between that urge to witness and the recognition that doing so may be pointless.”—Mark Athitakis, Los Angeles Times
“[The Wrong End of the Telescope] defies expectations, managing the rare feat of approaching the experience of refugees with tenderness, whimsy, and humor… The writing is full of silly jokes, flights of fancy, and memorable images . . . Alameddine dares to show Syrian refugees who are cranky, happy, resigned, dishonest, in love . . . What these stories add up to is a portrayal of the refugee experience, in all its vulnerability and variety, its painful in-betweenness. It is an experience that is more universal than those of us who observe refugees from the supposed safety of our fixed selves, fascinated or repelled or commiserating, might imagine; and that can be honored simply by being told.” —New York Review of Books
“With enormous generosity and knowing humor . . . The Wrong End of the Telescope is an unequivocal masterpiece.” —Dave Wheeler, Shelf Awareness
“A shape-shifting kaleidoscope, a collection of moments—funny, devastating, absurd—that bear witness to the violence of war and displacement without sensationalizing it . . . The Wrong End of the Telescope is a gorgeously written, darkly funny and refreshingly queer witness to that seeking.” —BookPage
“The great strength of this latest novel from National Book Award finalist Alameddine (An Unnecessary Woman) lies in how it deftly combines the biographical with the historical; the small, more personal moments often carry the most weight. A remarkable, surprisingly intimate tale of human connection in the midst of disaster.” —Library Journal (starred review)
“No one writes fiction that is more naturally an extension of lived life than this master storyteller . . . Engaging and unsettling in equal measure.” —Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
“Profound and wonderful . . . A wise, deeply moving story that can still locate humor in the pit of hell . . . A triumph.”—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“The Wrong End of the Telescope is the best kind of prose. Lines break out like poetry and the story muscles on, telling. The setting is real history which I’m hungry for and Rabih Alameddine queers it handsomely with all kinds of love and a feeling that existence is pure experience, not language at all and the shape of this book, right up to the end, is a becoming.” —Eileen Myles
“Rabih Alameddine is a master of both the intimate and the global — and The Wrong End of the Telescope finds him at the top of his craft. A story of rescue, identity, deracination, and connection, this novel is timely and urgent and a lot of fun.” —Rebecca Makkai, author of The Great Believers
“The incomparable Rabih Alameddine’s latest novel shows sly wit, poetic turns of phrase, and the slow-burning outrage at the ongoing Mediterranean refugee crisis—but I particularly love his understated handling of Mina, the novel’s transgender narrator. Her identity is not a battlefield for the culture wars, just a refreshingly unproblematic perspective from which a story unfolds.” —Susan Stryker, author of Transgender History: The Roots of Today’s Revolution
Praise for The Angel of History
“Rabih Alameddine is one of our most daring writers—daring not in the cheap sense of lurid or racy, but as a surgeon, a philosopher, an explorer, or a dancer.”—Michael Chabon
“A remarkable novel, a commentary of love and death, creativity and spirituality, memory and survival . . . brilliant . . . [it] hits an emotional nerve.”—Los Angeles Review of Books
“Alameddine, entrancing and unflinching, is in easy command of his bricolage narrative, and he leavens its tragedy with wit.”—New York Times Book Review
“A sprawling fever dream of a novel, by turns beautiful and horrifying, and impossible to forget. Alameddine is a writer with a boundless imagination . . . [his] writing is so beautiful, so exuberant.”—NPR
Praise for An Unnecessary Woman:
“A meditation on, among other things, aging, politics, literature, loneliness, grief and resilience. If there are flaws to this beautiful and absorbing novel, they are not readily apparent.”—New York Times
“Irresistible . . . [the author] offers winningly unrestricted access to the thoughts of his affectionate, urbane, vulnerable and fractiously opinionated heroine. Mr. Alameddine’s portrayal of a life devoted to the intellect is so candid and human that, for a time, readers can forget that any such barrier exists.”—Wall Street Journal
“Alameddine has conjured a beguiling narrator in his engaging novel, a woman who is, like her city, hard to read, hard to take, hard to know and, ultimately, passionately complex.”—San Francisco Chronicle
“A restlessly intelligent novel built around an unforgettable character . . . A novel full of elegant, poetic sentences.”—Minneapolis Star Tribune
Reading Group Guide by Benedict Nguyễn
1. What work-life boundaries does Raja try to maintain? How are these boundaries crossed earlier in the novel and to what consequences?
2. How does Alameddine convey the complex geopolitics of the novel through his characters? What patterns emerge in how they engage with and respond to a changing Beirut over the course of sixty years?
3. From heated speech to charged silence, the conversations and arguments between Raja and his mother span many tones. How does Alameddine reveal such rich subtext in even the earliest interactions between them? How did your understanding of these dynamics develop throughout the novel?
4. What is the significance of the family dinner table? What do Raja’s and his mother’s differing attitudes toward the object reveal about their characters?
5. What is the role of deception in the story, both between Raja, his fleeting roommate N, and Mansour, and between Raja and the reader? How does the invocation of Hades echo the developments happening outside the apartment and the lasting impact of Mansour’s stay?
6. Throughout the novel, Raja’s mother forms new relationships with great ease. She ingratiates herself with a bank worker, Madame Taweel, Raja’s students, and many more. What do you notice about her character’s sociability and why does it continually irk Raja?
7. How do Raja’s and Nahed’s experiences of queerness differ? Why does Raja keep Nahed at a distance and how does their dynamic evolve later in the novel?
8. From learning to dance with Micheline to recreating that choreography with Boodie, how does Raja approach each duet differently? What sentiments does the artform facilitate?
9. How does the development of Raja and Boodie’s relationship over two months underground compare to Raja’s assessment of it at the end of the chapter (p. 215)? How is this response further complicated later in the novel?
10. While walking through Beirut after the port explosion, Raja recalls his long walk after emerging from underground decades earlier. Through these echoing journeys, what associations emerge for Raja? What other patterns do you notice?
11. Consider Raja’s retelling of an interaction with Aunt Yasmine that concludes, “She lived in a fantasy” (p. 256). Why does this interpretation make sense for Raja? What do you make of the dynamic between them?
12. Raja characterizes his reaction to seeing Boodie again as an overreaction, but a justified one (p. 299). Nahed is curious about forgiveness. What does Raja’s stance reveal about his character, character development, and the complex afterlives of trauma that he experienced? How might you have approached or felt about the situation in his position?
13. Both the title and Raja’s own frequent self-characterizations present him as gullible. Why do you think Alameddine chose gullibility as a central affect of the book? How is the trait affirmed by Raja’s actions and how is it complicated by some of his more resolute stances?
14. In the conclusion, how does Raja frame the complexities of forgiveness and reconciliation with certain members of his family? What do his evolving relationships reveal about formative and painful moments he experienced with different characters?
15. Insults and curses garner love and affection from their recipients (as reiterated on p. 307). How does this mode of communication endear characters to each other in the novel? Specifically, the retort “Fuck your mother” recurs throughout the novel. How does its usage, as well as its variations, evolve from the opening scenes to the ending?
16. What original context for Raja’s relationship to professionalism is revealed later in the novel? How is that commitment challenged in the concluding section of the novel?
17. How does this latest novel, Alameddine’s seventh, echo themes or motifs from any previous works you’ve read by the author? How did it surprise you?
Suggestions for further reading:
The Stone of Laughter by Hoda Barakat
An Unnecessary Woman by Rabih Alameddine
Salvation Army by Abdellah Taïa
The Foghorn Echoes by Danny Ramadan
A Minor Chorus by Billy-Ray Belcourt
The Four Humors by Mina Seçkin
Blackouts by Justin Torres
To the Friend Who Did Not Save My Life by Hervé Guibert
Memorial by Bryan Washington
Mothers and Sons by Adam Haslett
On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong
The Map of Salt and Stars by Zeyn Joukhadar