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I hoard books and I cannot lie. This is the one habit that probably helped keep me sane during the lockdown. However, all my life, I’ve had to deal with inquisitive family members and friends who wondered if I actually read all the books I bought or if I was simply showing off. In my defense, I eventually get around to reading at least 70 percent of the books I buy.

But, really, who, no matter how voracious a reader, reads every single book they buy? That doesn’t mean we buy books to fill up our bookshelves or post pictures with them on Instagram. Readers will agree that when we buy books, we have every intention of reading each one of them. It’s just that invariably we will go out and buy more books before we have finished the previous selections. That’s just how it is.

My habit of hoarding books started during childhood. Now, I will conveniently shift the blame on my dad. While he never let me have more than one chocolate or one toy whenever we went out shopping, my dad never set a limit when it came to buying books. He would let me pick as many as I wanted. Sometimes, I wanted a dozen—comics and books both. And I got them. I don’t ever remember a time we went to a bookstore and I walked out with just a book.

Now that I’m married to a voracious reader, the hoarding has gotten worse—there are two of us doing it. We probably spend a major chunk of our salaries on books, when we travel most of our luggage is filled with books, and we gift each other, and our friends, books at almost every occasion.

Both of us also enjoy sharing what we are reading. We post about our vacay book hauls—piles that are at least two- to three-feet high and weekend reads on social media. The response is almost always along the lines of: “How do you find the time to read all this?”, “Do you actually read them all/really fast or are you just posting to make people jealous?” and an indignant, “No one can read this fast. You were reading something else two days ago.”

The thing is when you love to read, you cannot not read. I always need a story in my head. I’ll go crazy otherwise. Every family has its drama and, to make matters worse, I don’t necessarily like people. Thinking of these fun fictional characters gives my brain the break it needs from the theatrics of daily life. So, I read—compulsively, obsessively. I read on the stationary bike. I read during commutes—when the car’s stalled and I can put the vehicle in neutral. I read during tea breaks when my colleagues are busy ‘catching up’. I read whenever I can, even if it’s just for 10 minutes. 

Sometimes, I read a book in a day, other times it takes me a couple of days and some books I finish in a week or a month. And while I definitely buy more books than I could ever possibly read, every book I haven’t gotten around to reading and is gathering dust on the bookshelf is on my to-read list. And no, I’m not posting photos of one book after another just to get on your nerves—just like you aren’t posting food or cocktail hours photos to get on mine.

At bookstores, I’m always thrilled to come across debut novels. Sometimes, I even squeal a bit with joy. Though there haven’t been many debut books I have loved, every time there’s a book by a new author in the market I’m filled with nervous excitement. It’s also amazing how debut novels come with dust jackets filled with over-the-top claims by bestselling authors. ‘Darling Rose’ by Stephanie Wrobel has the likes of Lee Child and Lisa Jewell calling it “sensationally good” and “absolutely brilliant”. And it had a pretty cover too.

But I should have learnt my lesson by now and not judged a book by its cover. Touted as a thriller that explores the relationship between parents and children, more specifically a mother and a daughter, Darling Rose is dull and predictable. It could have been interesting had the author focused on either making the plot more fast-paced or developed the characters a more. With neither engaging plot nor fascinating characters, the book fails to impress.  

I have to say the premise held promise. It was unlike anything I had ever come across. For 18 years, Rose Gold Watts, daughter of Patty Watts, believes that she is sick and needs the feeding tube and surgeries to stay alive. Turns out, Patty has been poisoning her own daughter to make sure Rose Gold can never live without her. All Patty ever wanted was to love someone and be loved in return. Also, she craves the attention she gets as a single mother of a sickly child. Then, she is sent to prison for aggravated child abuse. Rose Gold’s testimony is key in her sentencing.

After five years, Patty is ready to put old grievances behind and Rose Gold, who didn’t talk to her mother for a few years of her jail term, also wants to mend their relationship. She even agrees to let Patty live with her and her son, Adam. But nothing is as it seems. Patty still seems to seek control, if not of Rose Gold, then of Adam. And Rose Gold isn’t as meek as she once used to be and she might not have forgiven Patty.

Wrobel came up with an intriguing idea but couldn’t do it justice. Darling Rose Gold is a colossal waste of a good plot as Wrobel fails to evoke drama and tension in her writing. There is absolutely no suspense. Things are exactly how they appear to be. Even the twist in the end—which you see coming—does nothing to salvage the story. It’s good writing, in bits and pieces, but that’s about it.

Fiction

Darling Rose Gold

Stephanie Wrobel

Published: 2020

Publisher: Michael Joseph (an imprint of Penguin Books)

Language: English

Pages: 345, Hardcover

‘A Little Life’ by Hanya Yanagihara will break your heart into a million pieces and, as theatrical and clichéd as it may sound, you will feel like life will never be the same again. There is no way these characters are leaving you. They will inhabit every possible space in your head and whenever someone says you look a little lost, it will be probably because you are thinking of them, wistfully, and brimming with love.

Ever since I finished it a few days ago, I’ve recommended it to most of my friends, asked my husband to read it at least twice a day, and picked it up numerous times just to hold it and stroke the pages. This, I know, makes me sound like a lunatic, but Yanagihara has really messed with my head.

The book had been on my bookshelf for over four years. Meanwhile, I read everything there was being written about it, watched booktubers bawling their eyes out while reading it (check out paperbackdreams on YouTube), and low-key stalked Yanagihara on social media to try and find out just how her brain functions. Recently, a friend/reader/writer I admire (find her @15n3quarters on Instagram) mentioned Hanya Yanagihara as her favorite author and I finally dusted the book—shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize 2015—off my bookshelf.

A Little Life is about four friends—Jude, Willem, Malcolm, and JB—who move to New York after college. They are broke and clueless but all are ambitious and have one another for support. The story revolves around how their lives and friendships change over the years. However, for the most part, it’s about Jude who goes on to become a successful lawyer but is traumatized by his abusive past.

There are also other characters like Harold and Julia, Andy, and Richard whose backstories we never get to know much. Though the book isn’t essentially about them, Yanagihara hasn’t crafted characters without making them imperative to the narrative. So they too end up taking up considerable mind-space once you finish the book. It’s not often that a book has had this kind of effect on me. But A Little Life had me thinking about its villains as well and contemplating why they did what they did.

At 700-odd pages, the masterpiece is a long read. But the character-driven book, typeset in a font that’s not really friendly to the eyes, will consume you, and when you get to the end, you will want to hug the book and sob your heart out. Then, randomly flipping the pages, you will hunt for clues you might have missed, and wish you could have saved at least one character, and wonder how that might have changed things for all of them. This is where I am at. And this is where I will probably be for the rest of eternity.

If all that I have said here sounds melodramatic then read A Little Life and I’m sure you’ll see where I’m coming from.

Fiction

A Little Life

Hanya Yanagihara

Published: 2015

Publisher: Picador

Language: English

Pages: 720, Paperback

My earliest memory of the “Bhagavad Gita” is a worn-from-use, spine-twisted, hardcover copy of the epic my grandmother kept on a dressing table—which would later go on to become a family heirloom. She was always quoting verses and it seemed no matter what we did, there was something in the Bhagavad Gita to either justify or condemn our actions.

My grandmother was forever thumbing through her much-revered copy. She would even run her hands over the words as she watched TV or talked to us. As a kid, I was fascinated by that particular slightly oily copy of the Bhagavad Gita that seemed to hold the universe’s secrets within its pages. Also, that it was a conversation between the avatar of Vishnu, Lord Krishna, and a prince named Arjuna had me wanting to know exactly who said what.

It was only years later, when I was in high school, that it occurred to me that my grandmother was using the Bhagavad Gita as an excuse to get us to behave how she saw fit. Afterall, how could she know for sure what was written in it when she couldn’t read? Everything she said was derived from someone else’s words, interpretations, or whatever she thought was right.

I used to tell my mother that I would one day read the entire epic, in Sanskrit, and thus be able to challenge my grandmother when she would, invariably, quote it wrong. I couldn’t wait to squash her ‘can’t-eat-what-she-touches-because-she-belongs-to-a-lower-caste-family’ and ‘daughters-need-to-be-demure-because-the-gods-created-us-that-way’ mindset.

As the years passed, I returned to and abandoned my promise (to myself) of reading the English translation of the Bhagavad Gita countless times. I’d start reading, intent on finishing, but it would either be too heavy and thus kind of morbid or I wouldn’t understand the point a verse was trying to make and I’d put it aside. It wasn’t well until my 30s that I actually picked up the Bhagavad Gita and stuck to it.

The first time I simply read the verses. The second time I delved deeper, trying to understand the message of each verse and its applicability in daily life. I don’t remember how many times I’ve read it thereafter. Now, I dig into it randomly, choosing to read a few pages every now and then. I like the Penguin editions (and there are many) because they are reader friendly. Recently, I also got a copy of the ‘Saral Gita’ by the Gitapress—this is the Nepali version.

I primarily read the Bhagavad Gita because I wanted to be knowledgeable enough to contest ideas, especially when people got all gung ho in the name of God. “That’s not what’s said in the Bhagavad Gita,” I wanted to be able to say. However, having read it quite a few times now, that need has been sidelined. I’ve started to like what I learn from it. Every time I pick it up, it inspires a new idea, a new thought.

Earlier everything was either black or white for me, but now I realize nothing is that obvious. The Bhagavad Gita does not prescribe one particular path or solution for life. What you take away from each of the 700 verses is entirely up to you. The wisdom of the Gita isn’t only for the devout seeking to guarantee a place for themselves in heaven (which is actually what a close friend seems to think I’m doing). It’s for those of us who are trying to change, be a little better every day, but desperately need help in doing that.

I still hope I’m able to impress (or offend) people with my knowledge of the Bhagavad Gita someday. But I would like to think I’m now wise and mellow enough to not be upset if that never happens.

No garment is perhaps as controversial as the headscarf. Many women choose to wear it—it signifies who they are and what their culture means to them. In an interview, Pakistani writer Sabyn Javeri said that women wear the hijab for different reasons—some to be able to move around freely, without scrutiny, and others to assert religious identity. There are also women who actually feel sheltered by the headscarf. But a large part of the society sees it as a patriarchal conditioning of women.

It is this idea of the headscarf and what it stands for—which is unique to each woman—that Javeri explores in her collection of short stories, ‘Hijabistan’.  The 16 short stories also delve into what it means to be a woman—more specifically a Muslim woman searching for identity—and the hijab is used as a metaphor. Set across Pakistan and London, the stories aren’t only about a piece of clothing. They are about the desires and dreams of women in different circumstances and of what they are capable of doing.

‘The Adulteress’ is about a woman torn between her sense of duty and desires. ‘Under the Flyover’ is about a married couple sneaking in some private moments before heading home to their crowded flat. In ‘The Hijab and Her’, a Pakistani exchange student in America gets picked on by her professor during a discussion on post-colonialism which leads to her choosing a different path in life. In another story, a British Muslim girl is on her way to Syria, contemplating the jihad.

Some stories are also about the struggles an immigrant faces while trying to fit in and staying true to one’s roots. For instance, in ‘The Good Wife’ the protagonist tries to assert her identity by wearing a hijab and ‘Only in London’ is about reinvention of the self by not dressing as the Muslim religion mandates. 

Javeri’s prose is smooth and her writing empathetic. None of the stories feel unnecessarily drawn out or pretentious. You will be able to relate with the many characters in the anthology whose age range from 13 to 50. Some stories might feel a little off but you are never bored or disappointed.

Rather, these are stories that make you think—about women who have kept quiet for far too long and all the sacrifices they are forced to make, for their families, in the name of religion, and simply because they are women.

Hijabistan is Javeri’s second book. Her first, ‘Nobody Killed Her’, published in 2017, was a fictionalized tale of a female prime minister’s assassination.  

Short Stories

Hijabistan

Sabyn Javeri

Published: 2019

Publisher: Harper Collins

Language: English

Pages: 216, Paperback

Depression and, by extension, mental illnesses have been discussed quite a lot in recent years, with many Bollywood celebrities (cue in Deepika Padukone) talking about their experiences and/or supporting different causes related to it. In Nepal too, it wouldn’t be wrong to say there is a lot more awareness about mental health and the importance of a healthy mind now than ever before, though we are still far from normalizing mental health issues. Shaheen Bhatt’s ‘I’ve Never Been (Un)Happier’ could help us do just that by giving us a clear insight into the mind of someone living with anxiety and depression. 

I’ve Never Been (Un)Happier is a candid account of the author’s traumatic emotional experiences and battles with a mental condition that feels debilitating. Shaheen was diagnosed with depression when she was 18 when she had already been living with it for five years. Till then, she didn’t have a name for why she felt so sad and hollow most of the time, despite not having any reason for it.

As filmmaker Mahesh Bhatt’s daughter, one would think her fairly privileged lifestyle would warrant a happy life. But Shaheen says her pain doesn’t come to her because of her lifestyle and neither is it taken away because of it.

Yes, growing up, she had a comfortable life (though not a lavish one as most would believe because “filmmakers in the 90s didn’t exactly break the bank”). Financial security meant she could seek the support she needed. But her family background came with its own pressures. She was surrounded by famous, successful, and ambitious people but on some days her ambition would simply be to get herself to leave her bedroom.

Shaheen hasn’t sugarcoated or downplayed anything and the brutal honesty with which she writes makes the book unputdownable. What I especially liked about the book is how easy it is to read, and thus grasp. Shaheen doesn’t beat about the bush or make excuses for her behavior. Her “it is what it is” attitude helps you connect with the author and feel for her, even if you haven’t been through similar experiences.

Time and again, Shaheen shows you other vulnerable sides to her—being unable to attend classes, her relationship with food and the subsequent weight gain, and comparing herself to her older half-sibling Pooja—who was working in films when Shaheen was growing up—as well as her younger sister, Alia—who, she says, was effortlessly charming even as a child. There are also instances when you feel she is having an intimate conversation with you. You can relate to many of her experiences and Shaheen becomes a friend you have always secretly wished for.

I would highly recommend this slim book because it has the power to bring about some much-needed change in perspective on depression and mental health.

Non-fiction

I’ve Never Been (Un)Happier

Shaheen Bhatt

Published: 2019

Publisher: Penguin Random House India

Language: English

Pages: 165, Paperback

Recently, on a cold weekday afternoon, I was browsing through the children’s section at Ekta Books in Thapathali, Kathmandu. I wanted a pick-me-up as the weather had been dreary for a while, leaving me lethargic and a little upset. A good book ought to solve the problem, I thought. Only this time I wanted something fun and heartwarming, and where better to look than children’s literature!

I picked up ‘The One and Only Ivan’ by Katherine Applegate on a staff’s recommendation. She said it’s been selling well and is also apparently on a school syllabus in Nepal.

The One and Only Ivan is a tale of love and friendship that revolves around a silverback gorilla named Ivan. He has been living in a cage, which he calls domain, for years at the Big Top Circus Mall and knows nothing of the real world. His world is all that he can see through his cage-bars.

However, Ivan, not knowing another way of life, is content. He eats all he wants, and enjoys painting, which sells at the gift store for “$20, $25 with a frame’. He loves Stella, a rescued circus elephant, and Bob, the dog, who sleeps on his tummy. Then Mack, the mall operator, brings in Ruby, a baby elephant. She was taken from her family and isn’t used to a confined life. It is Ruby who makes Ivan realize there’s an entirely different world out there and they aren’t meant to be where they are.

Applegate’s incredible story is inspired by a real-life gorilla named Ivan who lives in Zoo Atlanta. He spent almost three decades at a circus-themed mall in Washington state after being captured as an infant in the Democratic Republic of Congo. He enjoys a celebrity status at the zoo where he is known for his paintings that are “signed” with his thumbprint.

The book is airy, comprised of short sentences, paragraphs, and chapters. The prose is often poetry-like with Ivan making fun observations about human nature. “Humans speak too much. They chatter like chimps, crowding the world with their noise even when they have nothing to say.” The story is a bit slow and sad at times but you feel an instant connection with Ivan and thus don’t want to put the book down.

The One and Only Ivan is a good book to introduce young adults to animal rights. It can also make them empathetic towards others. But above all, it will lift their spirits and make them smile.

About the author

Katherine Applegate is an American young adult and children’s fiction writer who mostly writes science fiction, fantasy, and adventure novels. She is known for her book series namely Animorphs, Remnants, and Everworld. She also wrote the acclaimed chapter book series called Roscoe Riley Rules. The One and Only Ivan won the 2013 Newbery Medal.

Children’s literature

The One and Only Ivan

Katherine Applegate

Published: 2012

Publisher: Harper Collins Children’s Books

Language: English

Pages: 256, Paperback

The bestselling author of ‘The Joy Luck Club’ and ‘The Valley of Amazement’, Amy Tan, recounts her turbulent relationship with her mother, Daisy Li, and revisits traumatic childhood memories—her mother’s mood swings and frequent breakdowns, the death of her older brother, Peter, followed by the death of her father—in her memoir ‘Where the Past Begins’.

I love Amy Tan. I feel she’s one of the finest writers we have today. Her prose is smooth and reading is thus effortless. Even though I might not have liked where a certain story was headed, I’ve always been in love with her writing. ‘The Kitchen God’s Wife’ and ‘The Bonesetter’s Daughter’ are two of my all-time favorite books. (Here, I must confess I have quite a long list of favorites.)

I always found myself wondering about Tan and her upbringing and conditioning while reading her books. What experiences enable her to write so extensively and imaginatively about women? How does she set a scene? And, most importantly, why does she feel the need to write? I was hoping I would find these answers when I came across her memoir. I wasn’t disappointed.

The book starts with a series of exchanges between Tan and her editor, Daniel Halpern, and moves on to her family’s immigrant story, with mentions of her half-sisters in China and her grandmother, before she takes up imagination and how she finally took the writer’s path. Though hers wasn’t a conventional career choice for a child of immigrants (her parents, who migrated to the United States from China, wanted her to be a neurosurgeon), she is glad she was able to fulfil her parent’s dream—she bought her mother her own house.

Besides insights about the writing process, Tan gives you glimpses into the life of a professional writer. You would be surprised to know that even for a successful author like Tan “each successive book is increasingly difficult to write”. She also writes about the inspiration for her characters and stories of The Joy Luck Club and The Valley of Amazement. These bits give you a deeper understanding of how a writer’s mind works and leave you inspired.

At the beginning of the book, Tan confesses she did not want to write a memoir but Halpern thought it would be a good idea. So he urged her to write non-fiction pieces on her creative process. They made a deal—Tan was to send him a minimum of 15 pages a week. Tan started digging through old photos and documents and this unleashed something in her. She began writing about her childhood experiences and of those recurring moments of self-doubt while working on a novel. The memoir is a compilation of the pages Tan sent to Halpern, which is why there are occasional glitches. But the writing is raw and candid and you can’t help fall in love with Tan once again.

Memoir

Where the Past Begins

Amy Tan

Published: 2017

Publisher: 4th Estate

Language: English

Pages: 357, Paperback