From Slate staff writer Aymann Ismail comes an exquisite memoir about fatherhood, religion, and the search for identity in an ever-shifting, increasingly divided world.

The son of Egyptian immigrants, Aymann Ismail came of age in the shadow of 9/11, tracking the barrage of predatory headlines pervading the media and influencing the popular consciousness about Muslims. After a series of bomb threats at his Islamic school in Teaneck, New Jersey, just a few miles from downtown Manhattan, his parents—anxious that it is no longer safe to be so explicitly Muslim—enroll him in public school. In the privacy of their home, they turn to their faith for guidance on how to live, adhering to traditional notions about gender roles, and avoiding the putative American dangers of alcohol and sex and rebellion.

And yet, Aymann is undeniably an American teenager, negotiating his place in multiple worlds while chafing against the structures of his upbringing. He eventually embarks on a career in political journalism, in part to establish his own version of things. In time, though, he also gains a deeper understanding and appreciation for his parents' values and sacrifices—his father’s grueling work ethic as a town car driver, and his mother’s adeptness at managing their itinerant family.

When Aymann meets and falls in love with Mira, a woman with her own ideas about the modern Muslim family, his world shifts yet again. After Mira gets pregnant with their first child, Aymann begins to reckon with his past, future, and the beliefs that have shaped his life. What does it mean to be a Muslim man? More still, what does it mean to be any man—and a father to a baby boy and girl?

In lucid, confident prose, Aymann Ismail questions the sturdy frameworks of religion and family, the legacies of his childhood, and what will become his children's ethical and intellectual inheritance. To reckon unflinchingly with these questions offers him a road map for his young Muslim children on how to navigate the singular journey into adulthood.