Six months since the year began, 21 books in and I am incredibly thankful to everyone that has been reading my monthly book journals since I started end of 2024.
My rationale for writing these views is simply to challenge myself every month by talking about the books I read in detail. It’s a routine at this point, and I can’t go a single month without writing these.
17. Talking at Night by Claire Daverley
This month, I wanted to read something different and I picked this novel at the library because of how vibrant the cover was.
Talking at Night is about Will and Rosie, and their more than a decade’s long, on and off coming together and breaking apart. It’s infuriating at times, it’s marvellous at other times, and it’s heartbreaking. Multiple times, i stood up and took a walk, usually a lap before coming back to read it again.
I enjoyed reading this book, and just the same, I was annoyed by this book. The first half of the book was rooted in them being children, and later, on the precipice of adulthood and so their choices and fears were justified. Over time, they got older and grief and life’s curveballs broke expected patterns of communication that would’ve allowed them to love each other very early on in their lives. Grief haunted the narrative and you can see how it cripples the characters. The most simple and obvious choice and action to take is buried underneath this grief and self punishment.
Much of this book’s charm lies in how it makes the reader feel. By the end of the book, i was in cacophony of feelings, a bundle of nerves, frustration, and reluctant understanding. After some point, I expected it to get tedious but i didn’t labour through it. out of my own sheer volition, I found myself wanting to remain wrapped in this atmospheric book that was brimming with tangible fear and tentative gestures.
Talking at Night is a beautiful book. It’s one of those books that makes you ponder on whether you want to get angry and criticise at an author for their artistic and narrative choices or try to understand why they did it.
18. The house on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros
It took me about two hours to read this book and what a marvellous two hours it was. Books written from the perspective of children is something i have a soft spot for. Children have such pure insights about the world and they often possess an unadulterated understanding of the world.
The house on Mango street is a collection of vignettes about a neighbourhood told by a little girl named Esparanza. It’s full of a child’s spirit, curiosities and naiveness.
The main thing I thought about while reading this book was the lack of protection for children. We may lie to ourselves about how much children are protected in this world but they really aren’t. They’re expected to process things like adults while being treated like half beings. Their goodness is exploited. No one has the time to nurture them anymore.
If i read this as a kid, i would have related. But reading this as an adult, i only worry about these children and think about how we have created such a horrible, inconceivable world for children. No where is safe for them. Not school, nor home. They’re exposed to too much.
This isn’t a world for children.
19. The loneliness of Sonia and Sunny by Kiran Desai
This is the biggest and longest book i have read in about 3 years. The synopsis sounded appealed to me and I checked it out of the library. For about a week, i lugged around this hardcover 667 page book. I felt like a proper scholar of the past.
‘The loneliness of Sonia and Sunny’ is about two characters sunny and Sonia and their struggles as trying to figure out their identities after many years abroad. Sonia comes back, and Sunny stays in the US and they try to create lives for themselves whilst dealing with expectations from their parents and community.
The backdrop of the narrative is the impacts of colonisation, the social order of India and the infringing identity that comes from being a child raised to thrive away from their homes. Sunny, one of the main characters, doesn’t even speak Hindi properly despite having lived in India until he left for university.
Identity is central to this book and over 600 plus pages, you get to see Sonia and sunny try to create their own identities. The whole saga hinges entirely on the identities they carve out after all they have experienced. Different types of families are shown throughout the book and one thing is damningly obvious: children aren’t considered their own people and are just offshoots of their parents.
You also get to see how a fractured society like India produces very fragile people. People who require very little to break because they were only big due to the oppression of those around them. Class differences and social differences are also central to the identities being formed. How malleable these identities are depending on what the different classes value.
The prose in this book is excellent and the pacing never once felt tedious. It speaks to talent when in lengthy works, an author can write so descriptively. I don’t believe there’s such a thing as ‘too descriptive.’ The book quite literally floats you through the story and carries you to places you’ve never been to so vividly.
In the last hundred pages or so, there were three separate mentions of Isnotreal/Tel a bin that confused me. At first, it genuinely confused me because they seemed to add no value to the narrative and the tone felt neutral. But now, I have no idea what the authors intents were with these mentions but they do serve as a relevant backdrop in the wider, international news snippet that are scattered all over the book. I do think that with such a neutral tone (maybe i am misunderstanding it), it will leave a bad taste in a reader’s mouth.
20. African Psycho by Alain Mabanckou
So far, including this book, it has only been African writers whose books have made me laugh out loud several times. African psycho is without a doubt the most morbid, the second funniest, and most unsettling book i have ever read in my life. postcards from koko was kind enough to lend me her copy of the book when i wanted to read something different.
African Psycho is about a disturbed man who decides to become a serial killer in an effort to copy his idol, the most famous killer in their town. However, unlike his idol, he is bad at it and startlingly incompetent.
The main character was dealt all the worst cards in life from the beginning; poverty and abandoned by his parents. His whole life is just one shit show. And he takes it out on the world. He is a self absorbed, misogynistic, hateful and just every bad adjective. He is so out of touch with reality that his actions, within that lens, make sense. In short, only a mad man can do this. Between the lines though, you can see how the world fails children and particularly children without families. You also see class differences woven into his rants. There’s truth and madness in what he says, and it’s easy to overlook the madness in favour of focusing on the madness.
This book is incredibly hilarious and swaying. Why am i rooting for such a horrible person? The most unlikeable person on earth is the one you are vehemently supporting and looking out for.
21. Mother Mary comes to me by Arundhati Roy
If I am ever curious about an author, and they have a memoir, i like to start with their memoir before anything else. And i was gad to see that Arundhati Roy had one.
‘Mother Mary comes to me’ is mostly about Arundhati’s relationship with her mother Mary Roy. Other parts of the memoir is a recollection or rather a timeline of her life up until 2025. The memoir was beautiful to read and checked everything anyone looks for in an empty; relatability, humour, and the writer’s attitude towards what they went through in their lives.
Arundhati Roy’s relationship with her mother was so heavy and the way she talks about her sometimes felt like she was in love with her oppressor. There’s something Paulo Freire mentions in ‘The Pedagogy of the Oppressed’ in his descriptions of the oppressed. Within them, is their own self, and the voice of their oppress with. I couldn’t stop relating that to Arundhati’s relationship with her mother. It is her mother after all. Seeing how Mary Roy treated her children versus how she treated her students was borderline heartbreaking. I found myself wondering why some parents are like that and it all boiled down to reward. Because you’re expected to raise your children, the rewards aren’t nearly as concrete and thrilling as the rewards born out of say being a teacher or a doctor.
The memoir made me think of an age old question that i have always found myself wondering about; can you be a good person and a bad parent? I think you can. One may think the opposite simply because it feels like false generosity but it isn’t. For some people, parenting is equal to having a leech attached you constantly. Why have children at all then?
Many things and people that have shaped her views and influenced her writing are also mentioned within the book. It is one of those books that remind you that human beings aren’t these one dimensional beings. There was so much insight into the sort of person she is and honestly, she’s just human after all. Im glad she told her story and i hope it brought her at peace with her past.
I look forward to reading more of her books. As soon as i finished, i checked out ‘The God of Small Thing’ at the library and i cant wait to read it.
I keep opening books and starting new ones, ahhh this is inspiring me to try and finish one soon 🥹🤭