Tag Archives: reading

The Things We Never Say by Elizabeth Strout

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Title: The Things We Never Say
Author: Elizabeth Strout
Publisher: Penguin Viking
ISBN: 9780241814307
Genre: Literary Fiction
Pages: 201
Source: Publisher
Rating: 4/5

There are some writers who just write about anything, and chances are you will read all of it. Take it all in, make their words a part of you, and for me Strout is one such writer. Whatever she writes, it seems so casual at first glance, at first reading, till you go back to it, and let the words sink in.

As one of the characters in her latest, “The Things We Never Say” says to her father-in-law about the music she plays, “I’m just trying to get inside the music” – we as readers feel exactly the same about Strout’s writing – we want to get inside it, soak it all in, and she ensures that we do that.

With Artie Dam, she has given us yet again a character who we love, sometimes get mad at (rarely), adore, admire, and love the simplicity (deceptive sometimes) with which he maneuvers life. Artie is a schoolteacher who is worried about the world – the state his country America is in, with someone becoming The President. He worries about life, ponders over the past, has a secret (which sometimes he wants to share and sometimes he doesn’t), and then eventually perhaps realizes how much we do not share, how much we do not say what we want to, and what we take to our graves.

“The Things We Never Say” is a quiet book – there is anger at Trump, there is despair at the state of the world, and in all this there is hope as well. Strout creates characters that are so real, so conflicted, so flawed in tiny ways, and some in big ways – and yet there is no judgement at all – neither from her and nor from her characters toward one another.

Strout with her very sublime writing makes the reader go through so much – American and World politics, free will, friendship, alienation, friends and what becomes of friendships when politics is involved, of how much grace and kindness we are capable of showing and how much we actually show, but above all this book is also about slowness. It is about the multitudes within us and how we can never be one-dimensional. No human being can.

Strout’s writing if you are familiar with, is like a cozy blanket on days when the world is too much to bear. “The Things We Never Say” for me felt like the perfect homecoming – the softness, the tenderness, the tumultuous nature as well of her writing – of how love is so complex, and relationships more so. I thought when I started that maybe this time it wasn’t for me, given the reviews I was reading elsewhere, but I am so glad I was proved wrong.

How to Commit a Postcolonial Murder by Nina McConigley

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Title: How to Commit a Postcolonial Murder
Author: Nina McConigley
Publisher: Pantheon Books
ISBN: 9780593702246
Genre: Literary Fiction
Pages: 224
Source: Publisher
Rating: 4/5

I wanted to love this book the minute I heard its title: it’s just the kind of weird, genre-defying novel that makes me gasp, laugh, and think. At its heart, it’s a tale told from the perspective of Georgie Ayyar, one of two mixed-heritage pre-teen sisters living in rural Wyoming in 1986, who confesses to the reader that she and her sister killed their uncle, and then goes on to explain exactly how and why that occurred. It’s a brave move: none of this is particularly polite.

What impressed me most was the way that McConigley has managed to make the book feel like a friend talking: direct, quirky, sometimes playful, even when it’s talking about the pain. The book shifts from boy-girl magazine quizzes to 80s pop culture to thoughtful asides about colonisation and identity to the creeping horror of abuse. The employment of these seemingly random elements: quizzes, lists, and nostalgic references—isn’t just a stylistic choice. It is Georgie trying to make sense of a world that has dislocated her: culturally, racially, and emotionally. It is through these that we come to understand the sisters, Georgie and Agatha. This book is also about what it means to be of mixed heritage in a land that doesn’t belong to you, and yet it does. The Americanness of the 80s was a totally different affair than what it is now, or maybe not.

McConigley tries to uncover so much on every page – well almost, and that works most of the time. It is also sometimes a touch and go situation on page – paragraphs jump at you, incidents appear suddenly, and it all works best for the reading.

As a queer person who lives identity on every page of my life, it sometimes felt like it was trying to do a little too much. And yet: that chaotic layering is what the messy, fractured way we actually remember our own lives looks like. McConigley isn’t giving you clean answers or easy solace, she’s giving you texture. The laughter that bubbles up alongside the sorrow, the comic relief that sits right alongside the trauma, the inexplicable draw of belonging and not belonging at the same time.

There’s been some mention of the novel’s loose structure, and I understand that. It meanders, it digresses, it’s an experiment. But for me, that’s what living as a marginalized person sometimes looks like: taking meaning from the scraps.

How to Commit a Postcolonial Murder is a taut, funny, tragic and fresh approach to how lives are lead – the messiness of it all, how families are all over the world, the guilt we live with, the redemption we seek, the wounds we hide, and how we ultimately heal. A great read! Highly recommend it.

Reservoir Bitches by Dahlia de la Cerda. Translated from the Spanish by Heather Cleary and Julia Sanches

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Title: Reservoir Bitches
Author: Dahlia de la Cerda
Translated from the Spanish by Heather Cleary and Julia Sanches
Publisher: Scribe Books
ISBN: 9781915590435
Genre: Short Stories
Pages: 192
Source: Publisher
Rating: 4/5

Dahlia de la Cerda’s Reservoir Bitches is a visceral collection of thirteen stories that plunge readers into the gritty realities of Mexican women navigating violence, poverty, and societal neglect. The opening story, “Parsley and Coca-Cola,” follows Diana, a university student who discovers she’s pregnant after a fleeting encounter. Lacking support and resources, she embarks on a solitary journey to terminate the pregnancy using misoprostol.

De la Cerda spares no detail, immersing readers in Diana’s physical agony and emotional turmoil as she navigates this harrowing experience alone. This portrayal underscores the systemic barriers Mexican women face regarding reproductive rights and healthcare access.

In “Yuliana,” the narrative shifts to a cartel heiress grappling with the weight of her family’s legacy and the expectations placed upon her. “La China” introduces Karla, a woman who transforms from a victim of domestic abuse into a formidable assassin, challenging traditional gender roles and societal expectations. These narratives highlight the multifaceted nature of female agency, illustrating how women navigate and resist the structures that seek to confine them.

De la Cerda’s characters are not mere victims; they are agents of their own narratives. Their stories echo themes found in Indian feminist literature. Mahasweta Devi’s “Draupadi” presents Dopdi Mehjen, a tribal woman who, after enduring state-sanctioned violence, defiantly confronts her oppressors, reclaiming her agency in the face of systemic subjugation. Similarly, Bama’s Karukku and Sangati offer poignant insights into the lives of Dalit women, highlighting their resilience amidst caste and gender oppression. Ismat Chughtai’s “Lihaaf” challenges societal norms by exploring female sexuality and the complexities of women’s relationships within patriarchal structures. K. Saraswathi Amma’s works, such as “Ponnumkudam” and “SthreeJanmam,” critique traditional gender roles and advocate for women’s autonomy.

In the realm of cinema, de la Cerda’s characters evoke the strength and complexity of Mexican female figures like Rosario in El Norte and Sayra in Sin Nombre, who navigate treacherous landscapes with resilience and determination.

Reservoir Bitches is not just a collection of stories; it is a clarion call that amplifies voices often silenced, demanding recognition and justice. De la Cerda’s unflinching prose and profound empathy render this work a pivotal contribution to contemporary feminist literature.

The Easter Parade by Richard Yates

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Title: The Easter Parade
Author: Richard Yates
Publisher: Picador USA
ISBN: 978-0312278281
Genre: Dysfunctional Families, Literary Fiction
Pages: 240
Source: Publisher
Rating: 5/5

Richard Yates’ The Easter Parade is a profound and unflinching exploration of two sisters whose lives unfold against the quiet despair of American suburbia. Through Emily and Sarah Grimes, Yates unravels the delicate threads of hope and disillusionment that define their paths, offering a stark meditation on the cost of unmet dreams and the aching solitude of ordinary lives.

The novel opens with the fateful line, “Neither of the Grimes sisters would have a happy life,” a blunt declaration that sets the tone for the story to come. Sarah, the elder sister, seems to embody the ideal of suburban bliss. She marries Tony Wilson, moves to Long Island, and becomes a mother of three. But beneath the surface, her life is a fragile construct, shadowed by an abusive marriage and the slow erosion of her spirit. Her home, meant to be a sanctuary, becomes a silent witness to her suffering, emblematic of the illusion of happiness that suburbia so often promises but rarely delivers.

Emily, by contrast, rejects the conventional path. She pursues higher education, moves to New York City, and embarks on a career in publishing. Her life is defined by transience, moving from one relationship to the next, searching for purpose and connection in a world that often feels indifferent. Despite her determination to forge a different path from her sister, Emily’s independence brings its own form of isolation. Her relationships are fleeting, her career ambitions unfulfilled, and the companionship she seeks remains just out of reach.

Yates’ prose is piercing in its simplicity, stripping away any pretense to reveal the raw truths of his characters’ lives. His depiction of American suburbia is stark and unromantic, a landscape where dreams quietly wither behind the neat facades of family homes. The Easter Parade itself, an event meant to symbolise renewal and celebration becomes a cruel irony, reflecting the hollow rituals that mask deeper suffering.

The Easter Parade is not merely the story of two sisters; it is an elegy for lost dreams and the quiet desperation that often lingers behind closed doors. Yates crafts a narrative that is both specific and universal, inviting readers to confront the unsettling truths of suburban life and the fragile nature of human connection.

Save Me, Stranger: Stories by Erika Krouse

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Title: Save Me, Stranger: Stories
Author: Erika Krouse
Publisher: Flatiron Books
ISBN: 978-1250240330
Genre: Short Stories
Pages: 224
Source: Publisher
Rating: 4/5

You know that feeling when you finish a short story and just sit there for a second, quietly stunned? That’s how I felt over and over again reading Save Me, Stranger. This collection is full of moments like that, stories that sneak up on you, make you laugh, make you ache a little, and leave you feeling like you just brushed up against something true.

Krouse writes with such clarity and compassion. Her characters are flawed, complicated, often lonely and yet somehow still reaching for something, or someone, to hold onto. What I loved most was how these stories don’t shout. They don’t need to. Instead, they lean in close and whisper something real in your ear.

One of the stories that stuck with me was The Pole of Cold, set in a frozen Siberian town where the young mayor is wondering if she should leave everything she knows behind. It’s about isolation and change, but also about how a single encounter can shift your whole perspective.

In North of Dodge, a girl flees her violent, white supremacist uncle and finds herself in a Black neighborhood in Omaha, grappling with the question of who she really is and who she wants to be. It’s raw, and unsettling in the best way.

And then there’s Fear Me as You Fear God, which somehow manages to be a ghost story, a tale of escape, and a meditation on healing all at once. It’s haunting, but deeply human.

This book reminded me how strangers can save us, sometimes just by showing up. It’s about second chances, unexpected kindness, and the strange ways life cracks open when we least expect it.

Quietly brilliant, tender, and full of soul, Save Me, Stranger is one of those collections I’ll keep close for a long time.