Mother Mary comes To Me ~ Arundathi Roy 50 of 25

 

"Mother Mary comes To Me", finally.  Not alone, but with tote bag and book mark.

Unstoppable. Engrossing. Introspective. "As a child I loved her irrationally, helplessly, fearfully, completely, as children do. As an adult I tried to love her coolly, rationally, and from a safe distance. I often failed. Sometimes Miserable."

Arundhati Roy’s writing weaves together the intimate and the political and has a capacity to eviscerate while holding space for beauty, humor and tenderness.

Thank God, I got it on a Saturday and it's September.

I can hold two truths about the book. The book is riveting—truly unputdownable. And yet I’m uneasy about turning a mother’s shortcomings ( a very difficult person) into a public story. The author came across as loving and not spiteful; but I wish the story had shown far more protection—call it 99% slack—for the mother who helped shape her. The writing is one sided.

Others may feel differently; this is simply my view. It felt like Arundhati’s autobiography than her mother’s memoir. But she has every right to pen it with the memories she grew up with. She is the writer, she chose the subject. The author wishes about her not being a daughter but a student to Mrs Roy. It felt like the book explored tones of narcissism. I honestly felt like giving her a hug after reading the book.