Publication Date: 28th Feb 2023
Genre: Contemporary Fiction, Dual Timeline, Drama
*Outliner Opinion*
2 Stars
One Liner: A book with an important topic, but the below-par execution ruins the impact
1992, Madurai
Janani is a poor and young mother ordered to bear a son. She can keep her first daughter, but the others are taken away and killed. What happens when she decides to take control of her life?
2019, Sydney
Nila has little knowledge of her parents’ past lives in India. When the news of her dying grandfather reaches them, they decide to come to Madurai for the final visit. Nila is excited and dreads the trip in equal measure. Does she want to know the past? And how does she intend to reveal her secret to her parents?
The story comes in Nila’s first-person POV in the 2019 track, and third-person POV in the 1993 track.
What I Like:
I requested the book for its premise. Female infanticide has been a cause of concern in the country, and a book dealing with it while also presenting the bond between a mother and daughter intrigued me.
The past track is comparatively better-etched characters like Subha, Kamala Amma, Priya Ammai, etc., Even though some of it reads like a boring TV drama, it does tackle the core issue.
Kamala Amma is a midwife and my favorite character in the book. Midwives have since long held a subtly powerful position in our society while being victims in some instances. I like how the character handles different issues with grace.
There are a lot of mentions of food. Idli, dosa, sambar, pongal, chutney, etc., are recurring and some of my favorite parts of the book.
What Didn’t Work for Me:
The issue with dual timelines is that it is very easy to lose interest in one track, especially if it is not executed properly. Here, the present track is set in 2019, and Nila is the narrator. My biggest issue was the lack of connection with her throughout. There wasn’t a single instance I could feel for her. Despite the 1993 timeline having a limited third-person POV, Janani stands out and controls the plot. Reading Nila’s whiny POV when Janani went through so many hardships in the other timeline was annoying, to say the least.
Nila’s secret and the big reveal were lazy. Iphigenia deserved better. Heck, the entire rep deserved more than being a badly used plot device.
I understand the need for descriptions in non-Western books. Readers alien to the culture will need this information for authentic feeling. However, this one was overly descriptive. A few bits of poetic prose felt odd, given the setting and backdrop.
The second half has a little too much drama. Some of it seems more like a way to justify Janani’s decision (which was easy enough to guess). It’s not like we don’t know what happened.
And here is another big issue. The part that connects the past and present isn’t even explored! Most of it is left to the readers’ assumptions. Come on! When you talk about caste differences, family dynamics, and stuff, how come all of it is brushed off when needed the most?
And then the prologue… I love prologues and epilogues because they enrich the plot. But what use is a prologue that’s just one of the chapters from later on? It just shocks the reader and tries to introduce the core topic with zero subtlety.
I am all for highlighting issues in society. However, I don’t appreciate bias presented as facts. What does it mean to say when Indians haven’t seen women joggers or runners on the roads? And what does it mean when a character says India is not like the US or UK, where a girl can go for a run without being teased or assaulted? It’s set in 2019, for god sake! I go to supermarkets, bookstores, and bakeries in my PJs and no one bats an eyelid.
Also, can someone please tell me which country is absolutely safe for women? Shall we look at the stats in the countries mentioned in the book? Here’s what the reports say about violence against women in the US, UK, and Australia (where the MC lives).
Andhra is spelled with an ‘h’. It is not Andra. I hope this gets corrected in the final copy. I hate to see my native state’s name misspelled.
And please… thank Bhagavan is NOT the desi version of ‘thank god’. It sounds so cringe! I literally winced each time this phrase appeared in the book.
Personally, I haven’t heard Indian women comparing themselves to cows, especially someone from a village (pig, bandicoot, donkey, monkey; yes). I’ve only read Western books where women joke about looking fat and unappealing like a cow.
IMO, the book would have worked a lot better if the entire story focused on Janani. A first-person or third-person POV where Janani’s past and present are shown in alternate chapters. This would also help us see Nila through Janani’s eyes.
Her overprotectiveness, the desire to hide the truth and its consequences on her daughter’s attitude, the pain she feels seeing her daughter pull away due to miscommunication, etc., will compel the readers to cry for her. Most importantly, it would have shown what Janani felt when she finally has a son. What was her first thought? How did this affect the upbringing of her children (because it clearly did)?
This could have been spaced out with a few chapters from Sanjay’s POV (which are already present in the book). There is such potential in the premise, and most of it is left unexplored.
To summarize, The Daughters of Madurai has its moments but fails to impress as a package. It might appeal to readers who know little or nothing about the setting and like books that claim to deal with social issues.
Thank you, NetGalley and Union Square & Co. - A subsidiary of Sterling Publishing, for the eARC.
#NetGalley
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