HarperAvenue, January 2020
Shifting viewpoints reveal the lives of several South Asian Canadian women, linked through adoption.
I am always up for stories about women's lives, especially those that describe lives different from mine. I am also fond of narratives told from more than one perspective, so The Secret Lives of Mothers and Daughters seemed perfect for my tastes. The epigraph is from Jane Eyre, however, which raised a red flag. Jane Eyre is too gothic and too romantic for me. Many of you adore Jane Eyre, so keep your own tastes in mind as you read this review. The aspects that didn't work for me might be perfect for you.
Nandini and Prem Shukla adopt Asha when she is eight months old. They were given a letter for Asha that was written by her birth mother, but Nandini has an underlying jealousy of the birth mother and a fear of maternal inadequacy that prevents her from telling her daughter she was adopted. Asha is told the truth and given the letter on her 18th birthday. She doesn't take the news well.
The awful sound of their daughter's weeping overtook the room. Nandini stared at Prem, bewildered, wondering how their close little family could have split into so many jagged, ill-fitting pieces.
Asha's birth mother is Mala Sharma. Mala is a PhD student and she's attracted to a white guy. Mala's mother Veena, meanwhile, is busy arranging for her to meet a suitable (i.e. South Asian) husband. The choices that immigrants make from day to day are well portrayed. Which traditions to keep or discard. How to balance fitting in to the larger settler Canadian society with family values and expectations. When one of Mala's friends asks what's troubling her, she considers how best to explain.
Mala paused. She often encountered confusion, if not disdain, from her non-Indian friends -- although less so if they were also children of immigrants -- when she tried to explain to them certain realities of hr life, which many deemed insupportable. She tended to fail at impressing the importance of respect over rebellion. The group over the individual. Responsibility over want.
Mala starts keeping secrets from the people she loves. It doesn't go well.
Like a strip of tape being slowly pulled away from a wall, Mala felt herself split in two, the way she always felt whenever she told lies, her true self sinking below to safety while her other self pushed through her pores like a numb second skin.
Anita Kushwaha's writing relies heavily on metaphor and simile. "A monster of grief tried to scratch its way out through her skin." Here's a passage from newly-widowed Veena Sharma's point of view:
She woke as sprawled as a starfish. Sunken by a leaden feeling, she pictured her husband, Pavan, frowning down on her, clothed in white shrouds and wreathed in pale light. She heard his deep voice, whispering in her ear like a waft through the feathery leaves of a tamarind tree: "You've forgotten me already, champakali." A sudden chill ran through her like a trickle of melting ice along her spine.
There are three white characters in the novel, all named for trees: Willow, Rowan and Ash. I kind of like that: it gives me the idea that white Canadians are like a forest. The brown characters shine as they take turns on centre stage. While the melodramatic style is too theatrical for my taste, I enjoyed getting to know Asha, Nandini, Mala and Veena.
Giller chances: LOW
This post is part of a series. I'm on the Shadow Giller jury this year, so I'm reading as many qualifying Canadian titles as possible in order to come up with my own longlist prediction before the official one that will be announced on September 8, 2020. To see my other reviews that are a part of this project, click on the Shadow Giller tag. Also, please visit our Shadowing the Best of CanLit website to see what the rest of the Shadow Giller jury are up to. Thanks for visiting my blog.
No comments:
Post a Comment