Review of 'Hypocrite' by Jo Hamya - Exposing Elite Hypocrisy

Jo Hamya, a British writer with Palestinian and Egyptian roots, has quickly made her mark with sharp, modern stories. Her debut Groupie (2022) turned heads for its take on young people’s lives. With an English degree from Cambridge and an MFA from Columbia, plus time in publishing, Hamya knows how to unpack society’s messy side. Her second novel, The Hypocrite, published in 2024 by Harvill Secker, takes a witty jab at Oxford’s elite world. It follows Samira, a young lecturer tangled in the university’s politics and personal dramas.

The book’s big idea is that fancy places like Oxford hide unfairness and double standards, pushing people to face their own role in keeping those systems going. It is a wake-up call to see the ground reality of how power plays out, making it a must-read for its smart take on class and ambition. For Indian youngsters dealing with society’s expectations, it is like a friend over chai, nudging them to question the rules they are forced to follow. This story pulls you in to think about what it costs to fit into an unfair world.

The Hypocrite starts with Samira, a young lecturer at Oxford, trying to fit into its grand but heavy world: “Oxford was a place where the past weighed heavier than the present” (Hamya, 2024, p. 1). The novel argues that elite institutions thrive on hypocrisy, which eats away at who you are, using Samira’s struggles to prove it. “We all pretend to be something we’re not to survive here” (p. 15) sets the vibe for a book that rips off the university’s shiny mask.

Samira’s job is delicate: “My lectures were packed, but the faculty saw me as an outsider” (p. 25). She faces sly digs from colleagues: “‘You are so articulate for someone from your background,’ he said, like it was a pat on the back” (p. 40). Her messy romance with Edmund, a senior professor, complicates things: “Edmund’s charm was a mask for his ambition” (p. 55). “Hypocrisy is the currency of academia” (p. 70) nails the game. Samira’s work on postcolonial books butts’ heads with Oxford’s old ways: “They praised my work in theory, but wouldn’t change a thing” (p. 85).

The students are no better: “The students were brilliant, but trapped in privilege’s echo chamber” (p. 100). Things spiral when rumors of her affair with Edmund spread: “The whispers turned into shouts, and I was the villain” (p. 115). “Power in Oxford is invisible, but it crushes you all the same” (p. 130). Samira starts seeing her own part in it: “I played the game to get ahead, but lost myself in the process” (p. 145).

Class divides sting: “The colleges were playgrounds for the rich, and I was the intruder” (p. 160). A colleague’s plagiarism gets brushed off: “He got a pass because of his name; I would have been fired” (p. 175). “The university’s mercy is reserved for its own” (p. 190). Samira’s background marks her: “My accent marked me as ‘other’ from day one” (p. 205).

The story peaks with Samira calling out the hypocrisy: “I spoke up, and the room fell silent” (p. 220). The way out is seeing things clearly: “To survive, you must see the hypocrisy for what it is” (p. 235). By the end, Samira chooses her path: “I left Oxford, but took its lessons with me” (p. 250). “Authenticity is the only rebellion that matters” (p. 265). Hamya uses sharp wit and Samira’s journey to show that owning your truth beats playing a rigged game. “The real victory is walking away whole” (p. 270) wraps it up with hope.

The Hypocrite shines with its clever humor and precise take on elite spaces. Hamya’s writing is crisp: “Oxford was a place where the past weighed heavier than the present” (p. 1) paints a picture of a place stuck in time, like a friend describing a tough spot. The book’s strength is how it nails the double standards of posh institutions: “Hypocrisy is the currency of academia” (p. 70) lands with a punch, drawing from Hamya’s own time in those circles. Samira’s story feels real: “I played the game to get ahead, but lost myself in the process” (p. 145) shows what it is like to try fitting in.

The take on class and race is sharp: “The colleges were playgrounds for the rich, and I was the intruder” (p. 160) calls out who gets to belong. The dialogue is witty: “‘You’re so articulate for someone from your background,’ he said, like it was a pat on the back” (p. 40) catches those sneaky insults perfectly. The book’s warmth comes through in Samira’s thoughts: “Authenticity is the only rebellion that matters” (p. 265), like a friend saying, “Just be you, no matter what.” It speaks to anyone who’s felt out of place, anywhere.

On the other side, the story sticks mostly to Oxford’s bubble: “Power in Oxford is invisible, but it crushes you all the same” (p. 130) hits academia hard but misses bigger societal stuff. It touches race, “My accent marked me as ‘other’ from day one” (p. 205) but skips things like caste or women’s struggles outside the West, which matter in India. The humor, while fun, can get repetitive: “The university’s mercy is reserved for its own” (p. 190) hammers the same point a bit much. Compared to White Teeth, which mixes humor with a broader cultural view, The Hypocrite feels a bit narrow.

Overall, The Hypocrite is a smart, funny read, great for anyone who loves stories that poke at society’s flaws. It is not for those wanting a big, sprawling plot, but it is spot-on for its sharp take on power and staying true to yourself.

Why Indian Youth Readers Must Read This Book

For Indian youngsters stuck in the grind of board exams, college applications, and family pressures, The Hypocrite is like a friend pointing out the cracks in the system over a cup of chai. The race for 95% marks or top college seats feels like Oxford’s elite game: “The colleges were playgrounds for the rich, and I was the intruder” (p. 160). Mugging up textbooks is like Samira’s struggle to fit in: “I played the game to get ahead, but lost myself in the process” (p. 145). This book’s a wake-up call to question what “success” really looks like.

The job market, with lakhs fighting for big roles, mirrors the faculty politics: “Hypocrisy is the currency of academia” (p. 70). For kids from smaller towns or lower castes, “My accent marked me as ‘other’ from day one” (p. 205) hits home, echoing the bias they face in fancy institutes. The book’s push for realness, “Authenticity is the only rebellion that matters” (p. 265), cheers them on to chase paths like writing or design, even if everyone’s shouting “medicine” or “engineering.”

For girls, under extra pressure to marry over building careers, “Power in Oxford is invisible, but it crushes you all the same” (p. 130) captures how society quietly boxes you in. Those snide comments, “‘You’re so articulate for someone from your background,’ he said, like it was a pat on the back” (p. 40), echo the “good for a girl” remarks some hear. The ground reality is that India’s schools often care more about marks than being true to yourself, leaving kids playing catch-up with their real dreams. “To survive, you must see the hypocrisy for what it is” (p. 235) pushes for thinking hard about the system.

The book’s cheeky humor, “The university’s mercy is reserved for its own” (p. 190), is like youth sharing memes to laugh off unfair rules. “The real victory is walking away whole” (p. 270) is a nudge to stand tall. The Hypocrite tells Indian youth to call out the nonsense and own their truth, making it a guide for navigating a world full of unfair expectations.

The Hypocrite is a clever, warm story that pulls back the curtain on fancy institutions and their hidden flaws. For Indian youth, it is a look at the pressures of exams, jobs, and society’s rules, cheering them to be real. This book’s a push to question and find your voice, perfect for anyone who loves a story that makes you think and smile.