Huma Abedin is an important figure in U.S. politics. The daughter of Indian and Pakistani intellectuals and activists, Ms. Abedin spent her childhood traveling the world, living in Saudi Arabia, Michigan, and with family in Queens. Beginning as a college student, she worked in the Clinton White House as an aide to Mrs. Clinton, then went on to work on her campaign for U.S. Senate, and her 2008 and 2016 runs for President, serving as vice chair in the latter. While she is most often described as “secretive” in articles about her, in her 2021 memoir, Both/And, she comes across as simply an introvert surrounded by pompous politicians.
Unfortunately, because of Anthony Weiner, I think most people will read it both because of the brilliance of Abedin’s career, and for the salaciousness of her ex-husband’s fall from grace.
If it weren’t for Abedin’s marriage to Anthony Weiner, Abedin may have been able to maintain her privacy while applying her international understanding of politics and Muslim communities to the successful campaigns of leaders like Hillary Clinton. Instead, Abedin became known as the wife of the man who tweeted pictures of his genitalia, first, though his blunders became worse, and criminal, as the years stretched on.
I wish we could read Both/And as a compelling story of an intelligent, thoughtful, and humble person who thrived in the 24/7 chaos of politics; a person who got to know leaders as varied as the late John McCain - there is a touching scene in which Abedin helps McCain, who did not have full mobility of his arms because of war injuries, fix his hair before an interview - and Nelson Mandela; a person who worked closely with Hillary Clinton in the toughest moments of her life; a person whose religion and connections to the Middle East were used against her by rightwing pundits and politicians during Clinton’s campaign; a person who was the daughter of luminaries in their fields who taught her how to look out for the disadvantaged and to hold her head high; but this is something else that Weiner took from her. As “the wife,” the memoir must spend time on Weiner’s gaffes and crimes, because that is how Abedin is best known now. I admit that I did this, too, racing to the parts in which Abedin describes Weiner’s lies and mistakes and how she approached them.
Since finishing it, I have widely recommended Both/And because it so well-written and Abedin’s life is so varied and interesting. I wish I did not also add that the information about Weiner makes it, in the parlance, “unputdownable” but that was my reading experience.
Simon & Schuster (2021)