I’m still reeling from Christmas and entertaining many family members and grandchildren but now I’m in an introverted space perfect for reading and books are very much on my mind. Makes a healthy change from doom scrolling. 

It helped that I was given Arundhati Roy’s Mother Mary Come to Me by Guido my son. I haven’t read anything by her for many years but I recall how much I engaged with The God of Small Things.

The caption on the cover is powerful. 

‘In these pages, my mother, my gangster, shall live. She was my shelter and my storm.’

 Arundhati’s relationship with Mary, her mother, was loving, turbulent, unpredictable and harrowing. Roy recounts her difficult childhood in Kerala which makes poignant reading. She clearly explains how Mary confused her as a young child with cruel retorts to her childish comments and doled out harsh mistreatment at an age when she didn’t understand why she had deserved it. 

Who could leave an under five-year-old girl by a busy highway roadside from midday to dusk because she said something unintentionally critical. There’s a parallel between Arundhati’s emotional response to her Mother and India, her homeland. The writing is personal and poetic and her honesty and self-analysis is brutal yet balanced.

It’s a great read. I highly recommend it. There were paragraphs I reread several times because they were so inspiring. Grief, love, endurance, loyalty, giftedness and courage are but some of the important themes.