Reading The Forty Rules of Love: What Stayed, What Stung

 

I had heard about The 40 Rules of Love many times—through whispers from readers, glowing Instagram quotes, and friends who told me, “This one stays with you.” But I never picked it up until now.

When I finally did, I was a little shocked. So many pages, two stories in one, and a lot of names I couldn’t pronounce at first. I wondered if I’d finish it.

But I did—and faster than I expected.

Some parts flowed like poetry. Others slowed me down with questions I couldn’t easily answer. But that was part of the beauty: it didn’t just tell a story, it made me feel, think, and pause.

It gave me insights about love, not the filmy kind, but something deeper. Love that breaks you open, makes you uncomfortable, yet gently teaches you who you are. And though I had moments of confusion, I also had moments of stillness, like the kind that comes from sitting beside someone wiser than you.

This is not just a book review. This is how The 40 Rules of Love spoke to me, rule by rule, page by page, and also what I felt while reading❤️.

Before reading this book, I honestly didn’t know much about Rumi or Sufism. I had seen his quotes floating around on social media, often talking about love, longing, or the soul, but I never knew the spiritual depth behind them.

As I read, I found myself drawn to the story of Ella and Aziz. Their connection felt human, raw, and emotionally believable. I could feel Ella’s restlessness, her loneliness inside a stable but silent life, and how Aziz’s words made her look inward for the first time in years. Their bond felt like a slow unfolding — two souls meeting when they needed each other most.

But on the other side — the story of Shams and Rumi left me... conflicted😅.

Yes, their spiritual journey is powerful and profound. But I couldn’t ignore the pain of the women in their lives — wives, sons, people who loved them and felt abandoned. It disturbed me deeply how spiritual awakening seemed to demand such loneliness from others.

As a woman and a reader, I kept wondering — what about the wives, the children, the lives they stepped away from?

Why didn’t they leave their homes and free the women too? Why did their path ask so much silence from those around them? While I could feel the depth of Shams and Rumi’s spiritual journey, I found myself struggling with how their awakening seemed to leave their families behind.  And that stayed with me — as a question, not an answer.

This doesn’t mean the story didn’t move me — it did. But it also stirred discomfort, and I think that’s part of what makes the book powerful. It doesn't hand you answers. It makes you sit with the questions.

What stayed with me?

The rules—many of them. I won’t list them here. Read them for yourself. Let them find you in your own time. They’re so beautiful, and worth discovering slowly.

But one story within the book stayed longer than I expected — the tale of LAILA and MAJNU.

There’s a moment where a Sultan or king asks,

"What is so special about Laila? She isn’t even that beautiful."

When he is finally in front of Laila, he is surprised by her ordinary beauty. But Laila replies:

“You must look at me through Majnu’s eyes.”❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

That line stilled me.

It reminded me that real love is not about what the world sees — it’s about how someone sees you when their heart truly understands yours.

That kind of love transforms the ordinary into the unforgettable.

This story, tucked within a story, felt like a rule of love all on its own!!!

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And you?

What stayed with you after reading The 40 Rules of Love?

A line, a thought, a question? Let’s talk in the comments.

Want to read this beautiful novel? 

Buy The Forty Rules of Love on Amazon