The Forty Rules of Love by Elif Shafak - Thoughtful and deeply layered fiction / Books Teacup and Reviews

The Forty Rules of Love is thoughtful, poetic, and deeply layered fiction. It may not bring everyone closer to spirituality, but it almost certainly invites reflection, and that alone makes it a powerful reading experience.

The Forty Rules of Love

The Forty Rules of Love by Elif Shafak

Publication Date :

Read Date : January 27, 2026

Genre : Fiction

Pages : 358

Source : Own

Synopsis

Discover the forty rules of love…

Ella Rubinstein has a husband, three teenage children, and a pleasant home. Everything that should make her confident and fulfilled. Yet there is an emptiness at the heart of Ella’s life – an emptiness once filled by love.

So when Ella reads a manuscript about the thirteenth-century Sufi poet Rumi and Shams of Tabriz, and his forty rules of life and love, her world is turned upside down. She embarks on a journey to meet the mysterious author of this work.

It is a quest infused with Sufi mysticism and verse, taking Ella and us into an exotic world where faith and love are heartbreakingly explored. . .

Review

The Forty Rules of Love is luminous, soul-soaked fiction about an ordinary life quietly cracking open. It follows Ella, a woman settled into routine and predictability. Her life is controlled, contained, and quietly loveless. She avoids conflict, avoids desire, and avoids questioning the life she has built. That changes when a manuscript enters her world and gently but relentlessly disrupts everything she thought was stable.

That manuscript, Sweet Blasphemy, tells the story of Rumi and Shams of Tabriz, and introduces Shams’s Forty Rules of Love. These rules are not about romance or relationships in the ordinary sense. They are about Sufi wisdom, spirituality, and falling in love with God, life, and humanity.

I admit I didn’t get into the book the first time. I started it at the wrong time and walked away after a few chapters. Picking it up again felt like meeting it when I was finally ready. With just this one book, Elif Shafak earned a permanent place on my list of writers whose words linger long after the last page.

The writing is mystic and deeply beautiful, perfectly suited to the subject. It draws you in quietly and holds both mind and soul. I lost count of how many times I paused to sit with a line or a passage, letting it sink in. The blending of contemporary and historical timelines feels seamless and intentional.

The book is divided into five stages of spiritual growth: Earth, Water, Wind, Fire, and The Void. Through these stages, the narrative moves between Ella’s life and the lives of Rumi, Shams, and those around them, along with Aziz, the mysterious author of the manuscript. In these stages we witness transformation on multiple levels. Ella slowly steps out of her dissatisfaction and fear. Rumi evolves from a revered scholar into someone who understands love through loss, devotion, and heartbreak. His journey shows how spiritual awakening is rarely gentle and never comfortable.

This is not a book about love as romance. The Forty Rules are not instructions on how to love correctly. They explore divine love versus worldly love, inner transformation, breaking norms, and learning to live fully in the present. Every character, even those from the historical narrative, feels relatable in their flaws and longing. The Sufi wisdom scattered throughout gives the book some truly unforgettable quotes.

Although Rumi appears later, it is Shams who captures attention from the beginning. He questions everything, refuses surface-level faith, and challenges scholars, rulers, and ordinary people alike. His understanding of humanity and spirituality runs deep, and his fearlessness leaves a lasting impact on everyone he encounters.

I admired his courage and honesty, even when his actions unsettled me. He was not interested in pleasing anyone, only in speaking what he believed to be true. He changed lives, sometimes gently, sometimes painfully, and gathered both devotion and resentment along the way.

Although Rumi enters the narrative later, it is Shams who captures attention from the beginning. He is unconventional, fearless, and deeply unsettling. He refuses surface-level faith and challenges scholars, rulers, and ordinary people alike. He questions everything until he reaches the core of humanity and spirituality. It is easy to see how someone like him could change so many lives.

I was struck by how unapologetically he lived, never fearing consequences or even death. His debates and actions force people to stop and think, including those in positions of power. He speaks truth without caring whom it pleases. Along his path, he changes the lives of many people, both the broken and the respected. With as many enemies as he gathers, he also gathers devotion.

While he serves as a powerful spiritual mirror for Rumi, stripping away his ego, status, and comfort, there were moments when I struggled with Shams’s choices. His ability to see deeply into others made some of his decisions difficult to accept. Whether those choices were acts of liberation or inevitability remains open to interpretation, but the discomfort they create feels intentional.

As for Rumi, I understand why he could not have become the poet we know without Shams. Raised in privilege and admiration, his understanding of suffering was limited. Intelligence and scholarship made him revered, but they did not make him complete. Through Shams, he begins to see life beyond comfort, to recognize the pain of those stripped of wealth, health, and respect. Only then does his compassion deepen.

His transformation also extends to his views on learning and inclusion. Before Shams, his world is narrow in ways he does not fully recognize. After Shams, he begins to open doors, especially for women, and to see knowledge as something meant to be shared rather than guarded.

I particularly enjoyed reading about Rumi’s relationships with his family. His companionship with Shams deeply affects his household, especially his children. One son’s inability to accept the changes highlights how spiritual transformation can feel like abandonment to those left behind. It made me wonder whether his pain came from jealousy, fear, or simply resistance to change.

Several characters in the book refuse to evolve at all. Their arrogance, rigid thinking, and deep-rooted patriarchy make them dangerous, not just to others but to themselves. They feel uncomfortably familiar, reminding us that such people still exist, often shaping conflict and unrest even today.

The stories of the women in the novel, across different eras, quietly mirror one another. They carry emotional burden, sacrifice, and loss of self. Each of them struggles against expectations placed upon them, and each finds some form of return to herself through courage and letting go. Their journeys are subtle, restrained, and deeply affecting.

Ella’s story resonated deeply. Her gradual realization of her own worth and her decision to choose happiness, even without certainty, felt brave. Not everyone around her supports that change, which makes her choice even more meaningful.

Aziz, the writer of the manuscript adds another emotional layer. What begins as mystery slowly reveals its own story of loss, love, and transformation. His journey does not feel separate from Ella’s but intricately tied to it.

The ending is not traditionally happy, in either timeline. Yet it feels honest. Both Ella and Rumi emerge changed, more aware, and closer to their true selves.

The novel closes with the fortieth rule, a reminder that love cannot be divided or labeled. Love simply exists, and when it does, everything else shifts.

Overall, The Forty Rules of Love is thoughtful, poetic, and deeply layered fiction. It may not bring everyone closer to spirituality, but it almost certainly invites reflection, and that alone makes it a powerful reading experience.