The Mis-Arrangement of Sana Saeed is one of those books that has a determined and imperfect heroine – and one hell of a groanworthy plot choice. Reading yet another book with a manipulative Desi mom forcing her daughter to get married by holding something major over her head is just dismaying, but parts of the book are very worthwhile, including its explorations of racism faced by Desi people.

Sana Saeed has given up on the idea of true love. At thirty-three, she’s turned down proposals and had a myriad number of unsuccessful arranged dates. The only fellow she’s ever been fond of was her teen crush, Shahri, whom she was ripped away from due to the feud between their families. Willing to settle for an arranged marriage so she can gain custody of her autistic younger brother, Zia, when Ammi passes away, Sana agrees to see a man named Adam. Having been selected for her by her mother, it seems likely that this might be the guy for her.

Daniel Malik defends Sana and Zia from some racist bullies in a McDonalds, but she never actually catches sight of him, only seeing his actions through Zia’s worshipful eyes. When the guy turns out to be her new boss at the Department of Environmental Conservation, she’s astonished. What Sana doesn’t realize is that he is in fact Shahri, all grown up into a handsome man, unrecognizable to her thanks to his growth and name change. But Daniel knows who she is – and is still attracted to his old friend.

Sana tries to commit to Adam, who proves to be gentle and kind, but she’s still drawn to Daniel, whom she now must see regularly due to their shared workspace. Will she put two and two together? Will she risk disinheritance to follow her heart?

There’s a lot going on in this book, which also includes paternity drama, estranged best friends, and an environmental project. But its central figure – Zia – gets way less page time than he ought to. He is Sana’s whole motive for living but he only appears a few times and feels less like a person than a symbol. It’s a shame, because I mostly liked Sana as a character, and I like how very honestly fearless the book is in portraying racism and its effects on the autistic community. Sana’s meekness can sometimes grate, but she learns to stand up for herself. Far too often it felt like she allowed people to walk all over her.

Daniel keeps blowing hot and cold – in Sana’s PoV chapters, he behaves coldly toward her at times; in his mind he is tender, caring, adoring of her. This might be a clever exploration of the difference between conception of self and the way others see us, but Mughees does not delve into this complexity. There’s no real transition between these two different sides of his personality, and yet Sana grows closer to him.

It’s hard to ignore the manipulation going on here between Sana and her mother, which escalates, is appalling and is ultimately forgiven because, as Sana’s unhelpful best friend says, “all desi mothers and mothers-in law are like this.” She does something truly horrifying near the end of the book, yet it all resolves in reconciliations, tears and forgiveness. After reading books like Dating Doctor Dil, where a father cheerfully manipulates his daughter into marrying by holding the deed to their childhood home over their head, I yearn for more books where children defy their traditional upbringing (should it not suit them) much earlier.

The Mis-Arrangement of Sana Saeed improves on the previous book thanks to its fraught-but-loving relationship between its leads and wonderfully growing heroine. But it’s still hard going, and ultimately just average.

Note: your reviewer is on the spectrum herself.