The Submission

How is this for an opening chapter: a jury of various important people, including politicians, artists, historians, and one representative of the victims' families, have finalized their choice for the memorial to be built at Ground Zero for the dead of 9/11. There are some arguments, but finally, at the insistence of Claire Burwell, whose husband died in the attacks, a peaceful garden is chosen. The submissions were anonymous. All seems well until the winner is disclosed. He is a Muslim.

So begins Amy Waldman's wise and sardonic novel The Submission, which includes just about every facet of American life, from government to the media. At the center is Mohammed Kahn, the American-born and secular Muslim who becomes the center of a firestorm, defended by the intellectual left, but pilloried by various groups, including the right-wing media, victim's family groups, and even some who he would have thought would have supported him. Even The New Yorker, who cites his rights to win the contest, also believes he should withdraw. "Mo set down the magazine and flipped through his stack of unread New Yorkers. To be written about this way in its pages was like being called shifty by a roomful of people he had thought were his friends."

Kahn enlists the help of  Muslim advocacy organizations, who use him as a political football. Burwell supports his design, angering other victims' families, including the Gallaghers, the family of a fireman who died. His brother Sean leads the charge against the design, which is deemed to be an Islamic martyr's paradise, rubbing the noses of everyone who died in extremist gloating. He also starts a wave of hate-mongering by purposely tugging the headscarf off of a Muslim women.

Waldman also includes a wide kaleidoscope of other characters, including Debbie Dawson, the head of America Against Islam, which has a very real counterpart in real life. I got a kick out of the discord in her own family of three daughters: "All three had signs saying NO ISLAM ZONE on their doors: Debbie wasn't allowed to talk about 'the cause,' as they disdainfully referred to it, in their rooms. When they didn't get their way, they threatened to marry Muslims."

Other parts of the caravan are an ambitious governor of New York, who baits the public anathema to Islam, a morally bankrupt reporter for the New York Post (is there any other kind?), a vitriolic radio host who is actually something of a gentleman in real life, and, most intriguingly, a Bangladeshi Muslim woman whose own husband died in the attack, but because of her background and citizenship status, is not included in the many events for the families of the dead.

This book has been compared to The Bonfire of the Vanities, and to be sure it sprawls across the tapestry of New York City and America, feeding on petty fears and insecurities of the public. This book is sharper, though, and less smug than Wolfe's. At times the book is a little too Jerry-rigged: Kahn is in the right, but his prickly personality and stubborness get in his way. Burwell is a forward thinker, but is prayed upon by voices on the right who undo her, Sean Gallagher is basically a lout, but has moments of personal doubt, etc. These characterizations are fine etched, but at times seem too convenient.

But nonetheless, the book is an outstanding read. I still haven't seen the memorial at Ground Zero that was built--was there any controversy over that?