While they don’t belong to the same genre or have the same primary focus, to a reader they may feel “kin” in terms of emotional weight.
On the surface, Mother Mary Comes to Me (Arundhati Roy’s upcoming memoir) and Em and the Big Hoom (Jerry Pinto) seem quite different in genre and style — but there are some overlapping themes and emotional resonances.
Mother Mary Comes to Me is a memoir, Roy’s first, in which she reflects on her complex relationship with her mother, Mary Roy.
It covers her life from childhood (in Kerala) through adulthood, tracing how her mother shaped her identity, her writing, and her worldview.
The tone is intimate, reflective, emotionally raw, and sometimes surprising in humor or candor.
It’s about motherhood, memory, loss, love, and what it means to carry someone else’s legacy.
Em and the Big Hoom is a novel (fiction) by Jerry Pinto, though it draws heavily from autobiographical material (his mother’s mental illness)
The story is narrated by a son (unnamed) about his mother “Em,” who suffers from bipolar disorder (mania, depression, suicidal episodes), and about the father “The Big Hoom” who tries to hold the family together.
It deals with how mental illness affects relationships, family dynamics, memory, identity, guilt, understanding, and love.
The structure is non-linear, with shifts in time, blending recollections, letters, flashbacks, and interior reflections.
Both books have:
Mother-child relationships under strain
Both works center on complicated, emotionally intense relationships between a mother and her children (or the child narrator).
In Roy’s memoir, the tension, love, conflict, and legacy of her mother is central. In Pinto’s novel, the narrator wrestles with his mother’s unpredictable moods, the impact on his family, and his own feelings toward her.
Emotional complexity & ambiguous love
Neither story is a simple, idealizing portrait of a mother. Each deals with contradictions: love and resentment, admiration and pain, dependence and escape.
The mother figures in both are not just one-dimensional; they provoke discomfort, reflection, empathy, and conflict.
Memory, narration, and perspective
Both works are deeply introspective. They rely on memory, selective recollection, and shifts in how the past is viewed in light of the present.
The narrators (Roy herself in her memoir; the son in Em and the Big Hoom) attempt to reconstruct, understand, and come to terms with their mother’s life and their relationships.
Cultural / Indian setting & identity
Both are rooted in Indian (or Indian-subcontinent) lives. Roy’s is set in Kerala, later in her wanderings; Pinto’s is in Bombay with a Goan-Catholic family.
They reflect social, familial, religious, and cultural expectations, even if not overtly political in the same way.
Key differences & limits to similarity
Genre: memoir vs novel
Mother Mary Comes to Me is non-fiction, a personal essay / life story. It is anchored in Roy’s real life.
Em and the Big Hoom is a fictionalized narrative, though with autobiographical echoes. The author shapes and rearranges memory for literary effect.
Focus on mental illness
Em and the Big Hoom is very much about mental illness — the mother’s bipolar disorder and the family’s experience of it. That is a central structural and thematic engine of the novel.
In Roy’s memoir, the struggle is less about mental illness per se (at least based on the present descriptions) and more about personality, authority, conflict, influence, and the emotional weight of motherhood and legacy. There is no indication that Mary Roy was mentally ill in the same dramatic way as “Em.” (At least, that is not part of public summaries so far.)
Scope and ambition
Roy’s memoir spans her entire life arc, her intellectual development, her writing career, and multiple places and times.
Em and the Big Hoom is more circumscribed in terms of family life, episodic events, and interior struggle.
Narrative structure
Pinto’s work embraces fragmentation, shifts in time, voices (letters, diaries, flashbacks) — the disorder of life as mirrored in narrative structure.
Roy’s memoir, from what is known, seems more linear (though memoirs often allow digressions), with a more controlled revisiting and reflection of events. The narrative is intended to make sense of her life and her mother’s impact.
Tone & purpose
Roy’s memoir seems to have dual purpose: to mourn, to examine, to reckon with inheritance (emotional, intellectual, political) — both personal and public.
Pinto’s novel aims to portray a lived, chaotic, and sometimes harrowing reality of mental illness, but also to humanize it, to explore how love and despair interweave in a family’s life.
How “similar” they are in emotional impact / reader experience
You might approach both expecting:
Intense emotional texture and complexity
Uncomfortable questions (What do I owe? What do I endure? What do I forgive?)
Deep character study of a parent who is difficult, multifaceted, powerful, flawed
A struggle for understanding, acceptance, and reconciliation
So, they are not very similar in structure or subject matter in many respects, but the emotional territory (motherhood, memory, identity, conflict) overlaps significantly.
Mother Mary Comes to Me is more expansive and philosophical — a daughter’s reflection on a formidable mother and what she represents.
Em and the Big Hoom is more intimate and psychological — a son’s aching effort to love and understand his mentally ill mother.
Both are deeply human books about love, memory, and the complexity of parent–child bonds, but they differ in scope and emotional register: Roy’s is elegiac and intellectual; Pinto’s is raw and deeply personal.
Balanced Reading Path (Recommended)
If you plan to read both, try this order:
Start with Em and the Big Hoom → Feel the human core: love, pain, madness, endurance.
Then read Mother Mary Comes to Me → Reflect on the legacy and meaning of motherhood, seen through memory and art.
That way, you move from heart to mind, from emotion to reflection, and see how both books, in their own ways, heal the reader by showing how love survives even the hardest truths.
Mothers, Memory, and Madness: Reading Arundhati Roy and Jerry Pinto Together
Some books enter your heart quietly, like a memory rediscovered; others open it with a cry. Mother Mary Comes to Me by Arundhati Roy and Em and the Big Hoom by Jerry Pinto belong to this rare category. They are very different in form — one is a memoir, the other a novel — yet both circle around the same fragile constellation of love, loss, and the mystery of mothers. Read together, they reveal how remembering a mother is not just a personal act but a moral, even creative, reckoning with life itself.
In Mother Mary Comes to Me, Arundhati Roy turns her gaze inward after a lifetime of writing about nations, injustices, and revolutions. Here, her subject is the private revolution that shaped her: her mother, Mary Roy. A formidable woman — teacher, activist, and reformer — Mary was equal parts flame and fortress. Through luminous, precise prose, Arundhati revisits the battles of her childhood in Kerala, her mother’s uncompromising ideals, and the uneasy love that bound them. The book is a reckoning: a daughter asking how much of her mother’s courage she inherited, and how much of her pain. The result is intimate but unsentimental, a portrait of a woman who was both refuge and challenge, tenderness and storm.
Jerry Pinto’s Em and the Big Hoom inhabits a different space: a cramped Bombay apartment, a family held together by humour and endurance. Here, the mother “Em” is charismatic, eloquent, and mentally ill. Her manic wit fills the pages with life even as her depression threatens to undo it. The son who narrates the story moves between love and fear, fascination and helplessness, trying to decode his mother’s mind and survive its tides. Pinto’s prose is deceptively simple — conversational, almost playful — yet within it burns a rare compassion. Em and the Big Hoom is not a story about illness alone; it is a study of what love means when understanding is impossible.
When placed side by side, the two books seem to speak across a shared silence. Both mothers are unforgettable, both larger than life. Yet Roy and Pinto approach them differently. Roy writes as a daughter shaped by her mother’s defiance; Pinto as a son wounded by his mother’s fragility. Roy’s Mary is fiercely rational, a moral force in a patriarchal world. Pinto’s Em is governed by irrationality, by the unpredictable logic of the mind. But both women resist being reduced to symbols. They are fully human — contradictory, magnificent, and maddening.
The deeper connection between the two books lies in how they treat memory. Neither writer simply records the past; each reconstructs it through love and loss. Memory, for them, is not static recollection but an act of care — a way of keeping the dead alive, of forgiving what cannot be changed. Roy’s prose feels like a long, trembling elegy; Pinto’s like a conversation carried on after death. Both reveal how storytelling itself becomes a form of healing.
Their emotional registers, too, complement each other. Em and the Big Hoom moves with the rhythm of breath — short, immediate, tender — while Mother Mary Comes to Me unfolds like music, measured and meditative. Reading Pinto first is to experience the raw pulse of love under pressure; reading Roy afterward is to see that pulse translated into reflection and philosophy. Together they form a kind of emotional duet: one book cries out, the other answers softly.
Ultimately, what unites them is not subject but spirit. Both refuse sentimentality; both honour complexity. They remind us that every child, sooner or later, must return to the mother — not just to remember her, but to understand themselves. Whether through madness or memory, these writers find in that return a strange kind of grace. And in their pages, we are reminded that love, however difficult, is always the beginning of wisdom.