Muslim Noir in Wael Abdelgawad’s ‘Zaid Karim: Private Investigator’

A Book Review of Zaid Karim: Private Investigator by Wael Abdelgawad

In recent years, Muslim fiction has begun to grow, facilitating discussions on the function of Islamic storytelling in contemporary society. Previous pieces on Traversing Tradition, such as Ibraheem Ali’s “Faith and Fantasy“, highlight the potential of Islamic fiction as a vehicle for the transmission of deeply-held values and for providing morally-aligned entertainment. The emergence of such narratives is a promising antidote to the diluted portrayals of Islam that typically dominate mainstream, often stripped of spiritual substance to appease a secular, non-Muslim audience, or reframed entirely within a secular-liberal worldview. Against this backdrop, Wael Abdelgawad’s Zaid Karim: Private Investigator arrives as a lucid entry into the mystery-noir genre. It fuses suspenseful investigation, human vulnerability, and overt Islamic themes, offering a story that addresses both the sacred and profane facets of life.

The novel introduces us to Zaid Karim, the titular Palestinian-American detective. Zaid is a struggling private investigator, beleaguered by his failures both personal and professional, in the midst of a marital separation, and largely ostracized from his local Muslim community. Some serendipitous circumstances and calculated schemings later, Zaid finds himself embroiled in a convoluted search for a missing child—one that takes him across borders, into criminal underworlds, red-light districts, and morally grey areas. Little of the setting or gritty elements would be new to fans of the genre. But what sets it apart from other works that attempt to tackle such gritty stories is its spiritual grounding. Despite his flaws and struggles, Zaid never loses sight of Allah as his anchor. Even in his lowest moments, his ruminations, prayers, and internal monologues reflect a steadfastness in faith that is refreshing in its candidness.

Unlike many other recent works by Muslim authors in English, Abdelgawad does not shy away from the very real challenges that contemporary Muslims face in America. Within the narrative, Abdelgawad incorporates unsavory issues such as zina, gang violence, drug addiction, homelessness, and post-War on Terror entrapment and radicalization issues. The characters, too, carry a sense of brokenness and rawness—from those who lack a sense of iman, to those embroiled in their own past mistakes, to those marginalized for their past missteps. Abdelgawad is unafraid to explore themes of estrangement, weakness, repentance, and resilience, and to question what it means to be both righteous and flawed.

Despite the title, it would be inaccurate to place Zaid Karim as strict noir. The settings are elements are there; Abdelgawad’s decision to depict these elements with such intensity is not without risk. The novel is certainly not suited for younger readers, nor for those seeking sanitization of darker human impulses. There is brutality aplenty. Abdelgawad excels in world-building: the immersion of local masajid, community programs, ongoing surveillance and entrapment operations, and the dilemmas faced by young Muslims seeking to resist systemic oppression make the setting realistic, even if the plot occasionally stretches the suspension of disbelief. But while the novel borrows heavily from morally complex characters and an overarching sense of despair, it diverges in significant ways that reflect its Islamic core. Traditional noir protagonists often embody nihilism, rejecting higher moral codes or divine justice, but Zaid Karim stands apart in his unwavering connection to Allah and his persistent struggle to align his actions with his faith. Unlike the cynical antiheroes of classic noir, who may revel in their vices or find no redemption, Zaid’s arc is one of introspection and growth. It is inherently an optimistic tale.

The incorporation of Zaid’s internal spirituality is done in multiple ways. Within the narrative, there are moments of dhikr, dua, and discussions that feel very natural to a Muslim living in the West. In between action-heavy pages, there are conversations between Zaid and other characters on matters of theology and morality that serve to both slow down the pace and highlight Zaid’s interaction with these issues. The unapologetic stances on important concepts, like jihad in its various manifestations, or rejection of sinful earnings out of devotion to Allah, lend depth to Zaid’s character. This is perhaps illustrated best early in the novel when Zaid turns down a lucrative offer involving gambling, despite his dire financial straits. However, the inclusion of intermissions where Zaid recounts anecdotes from the lives of the Sahaba (companions of the Prophet) or the sirah (Prophetic biography) sometimes feels jarring, disrupting the otherwise tight narrative flow.

Structurally, Zaid Karim operates at a brisk pace almost to its detriment. The opening chapters are immersive and engaging, but as the novel progresses, there are instances where the plot appears rushed, especially in the second half, which shifts more explicitly into thriller territory. Violent confrontations come in quick succession, and there is a certain abruptness to some of the key turning points that would have benefited from more detailed elaboration.

The romance arc between Zaid and his estranged wife offers an unexpectedly tender counterpoint to the grit and violence of the main plot. Unlike the often problematic depictions of Muslim love found in mainstream fiction, Abdelgawad’s portrayal is rooted in an Islamic understanding of love and marriage. Zaid’s memories of their initial courtship, the heartbreak of their separation, and his sincere desire to reconcile and earn her trust once more add a poignant layer of emotional depth. There is a point near the end when he no longer wants to reconcile, but she does, a sudden switch that occurs too rapidly to be fully convincing, but the novel provides a satisfying, happy conclusion to this arc as well.

Relatedly, the depiction of female characters in the novel merits praise. Abdelgawad presents a diverse range of women—from Zaid’s cousin Jamila, whose sarcasm and growth in religiosity provide a refreshing balance, to Farah, the neighborhood middle-aged gossip, to a career-oriented non-Muslim woman. The portrayal of these women avoids many of the reductive stereotypes that have plagued portrayals of Muslim women in Western literature. They are neither infantilized nor caricatures. There are moments when Zaid’s internal description of the physicality of women (including one scene with his wife) veer into unnecessary territory. Nevertheless, the relationships between men and women, marked by restraint and struggle, are generally handled with care.

As an independent work, Zaid Karim: Private Investigator lacks the polish that traditional publishing could have provided, including typographical errors and formatting inconsistencies and rough pacing. However, these imperfections can be overlooked in light of the broader accomplishment that this novel represents. Abdelgawad is, in many respects, a pioneer in this niche. Where many authors resort to simplifying Islamic principles to make them palatable, Abdelgawad brings forth nuanced elements of the faith: Islamic financial ethics, marital jurisprudence, stories of the Prophets, and the ethics of activism.

Overall, Zaid Karim: Private Investigator is a bold contribution to the emerging body of Muslim fiction. It is a novel that challenges, entertains, and ultimately inspires. I recommend it to mature readers, particularly those interested in unconventional thrillers.

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Photo by Michelle Ding on Unsplash

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