Astrid Hawk
This was probably my most disappointing read of the year. When I discovered it, I was immediately convinced that I'd love the whole series, and dove into this with excitement when it finally arrived. The first several chapters were... uncomfortable... but not too off-putting - historical fiction often puts female characters in uncomfortable situations since misogyny is unfortunately a pretty much global theme across time in our world. But after I got through about 100 pages, after Lakshmi's sister arrives and things have gone from bad to worse between them, I was having to force myself more and more to continue, until one evening I realized it was just too much of a chore and decided to give myself the night off.
Usually I can come back to an uncomfortable book after a couple days' break from it... but this one sat on my bedside table for an entire month and a half, and even then I still didn't relish the thought of picking it up again. I finally forced myself to get through it (I don't like DNF-ing books unless they're really badly written, or life legitimately gets in the way, or the author is proven to be a scumbag) 10 pages at a time, thinking about it like doing a house chore.
My issues with this book did not include boredom. In fact, I rated it two stars instead of 1 star because the prose is flowing and engaging. It brings the sights, smells, and sounds of 1950s Jaipur to life (at least, as the author envisioned it), and I love that sort of experience in historical fiction. I was certainly never bored.
Instead, I found myself infuriated by the characters. Lakshmi, the main character who we are supposed to be rooting for because she has taken her life in her own hands, escaped an abusive marriage, and built her own business in a world where women really have no rights and no autonomy, is, at best, extremely challenging as a heroine. She has built her business as a henna artist for rich women, where she is privy to their most intimate needs and secrets. Her primary business is built partially on trust, partially on mutual assurance of secrecy through the threat of blackmail, and partially on superstition. She has a secondary business that actually keeps her afloat more than her primary business - an underhanded arrangement facilitated by the husband of one of her key clients.
I am not from India, so have no authority to comment on whether or not this type of business was even realistic in 1950s Jaipur. I will say that the whole thing didn't feel very believable based on the culture that my close South Indian friends have shared with me. But worse than that was just how unlikeable Lakshmi's character was. I found it difficult to feel any sympathy for her, despite the fact that her husband was abusive. When we enter the story, she's about 15 years removed from that abusive situation, and is doing well for herself. As we start to learn more about how she got there, though, we figure out that she's arrogant and self-centered. She thinks very highly of her skills and her accomplishments, and she clearly sees herself above (not economically or socially, but in her value as a person) all of her clients (except possibly Kanta, with whom she seems to have a more legitimate relationship, the origin of which is never quite explained).
She looks down on all others - for allowing themselves to stay in their gilded cages, trading wealth and comfort for captivity; for being in arranged marriages where she knows about all the infidelities of the husbands; for actually putting stock in her henna designs and mandalas and snacks. Like she knows the whole thing is a sham, but rather than regretting that she has to earn a living this way, she enjoys it - enjoys taking money and secrets from her customers in exchange for, essentially, a show.
Then Lakshmi's orphaned younger sister Radha shows up, and injects angst and entropy into Lakshmi's carefully constructed order. If Lakshmi was hard to like, Radha is impossible. Despite having come from literally nothing, Radha is ungrateful and pretentious and just downright awful. And somehow Lakshmi still beats herself up throughout the book on how she could have been a better sister. Perhaps we were supposed to dislike Radha - and feel for the moral challenges that Lakshmi is faced with - but Radha is just so disgusting without any real cause that it just doesn't make any sense that Lakshmi wouldn't just kick her out, sister or no. For that matter, why does Radha even stay? We're told that once she learned of Lakshmi's existence all she wanted was her sister. Then when she gets her, and finds out that Lakshmi is actually an adult with a life and responsibilities, she blames Lakshmi for it and nothing Lakshmi gives her is good enough. Huh? I mean, just because you grow up with nothing doesn't mean you should be grateful when someone gives you trash... but that's not what was going on here.
The last straw for me (which actually didn't even happen until AFTER that 1.5 month hiatus I took) was that inexplicably, when things start getting really tough for Lakshmi with Radha, she goes to her client's husband's mistress's house and sleeps with said husband there. And for some reason she's then mad at her client when said client rather predictably causes her business to unravel. It was just so out of character that it was clearly done just to create a climactic event for the plot. And I really hate when authors make their characters do things just to get that mouth-opening eyes-widening pearl-clutching reaction from readers.
And.. don't even get me started on the character of Malik. The street rat who basically runs Lakshmi's business for her (including all the secret aspects she wouldn't want to get out) but whom she's happy to just leave on the streets in poverty. Where the reader is supposed to believe that he "prefers" to live in the back alleys with the other urchins, digging sandals to wear out of trash heaps and surviving on handouts and filched scraps. Yeah... sure.
After getting through all of the manufactured angst and poor decision-making by the characters, the ending is pretty milquetoast. In essence, it's a "happily ever after" for everyone. With the exception of the parrot Madhu Singh, I am left with zero interest in what happens to anyone after the last page.
This was probably my most disappointing read of the year. When I discovered it, I was immediately convinced that I'd love the whole series, and dove into this with excitement when it finally arrived. The first several chapters were... uncomfortable... but not too off-putting - historical fiction often puts female characters in uncomfortable situations since misogyny is unfortunately a pretty much global theme across time in our world. But after I got through about 100 pages, after Lakshmi's sister arrives and things have gone from bad to worse between them, I was having to force myself more and more to continue, until one evening I realized it was just too much of a chore and decided to give myself the night off.
Usually I can come back to an uncomfortable book after a couple days' break from it... but this one sat on my bedside table for an entire month and a half, and even then I still didn't relish the thought of picking it up again. I finally forced myself to get through it (I don't like DNF-ing books unless they're really badly written, or life legitimately gets in the way, or the author is proven to be a scumbag) 10 pages at a time, thinking about it like doing a house chore.
My issues with this book did not include boredom. In fact, I rated it two stars instead of 1 star because the prose is flowing and engaging. It brings the sights, smells, and sounds of 1950s Jaipur to life (at least, as the author envisioned it), and I love that sort of experience in historical fiction. I was certainly never bored.
Instead, I found myself infuriated by the characters. Lakshmi, the main character who we are supposed to be rooting for because she has taken her life in her own hands, escaped an abusive marriage, and built her own business in a world where women really have no rights and no autonomy, is, at best, extremely challenging as a heroine. She has built her business as a henna artist for rich women, where she is privy to their most intimate needs and secrets. Her primary business is built partially on trust, partially on mutual assurance of secrecy through the threat of blackmail, and partially on superstition. She has a secondary business that actually keeps her afloat more than her primary business - an underhanded arrangement facilitated by the husband of one of her key clients.
I am not from India, so have no authority to comment on whether or not this type of business was even realistic in 1950s Jaipur. I will say that the whole thing didn't feel very believable based on the culture that my close South Indian friends have shared with me. But worse than that was just how unlikeable Lakshmi's character was. I found it difficult to feel any sympathy for her, despite the fact that her husband was abusive. When we enter the story, she's about 15 years removed from that abusive situation, and is doing well for herself. As we start to learn more about how she got there, though, we figure out that she's arrogant and self-centered. She thinks very highly of her skills and her accomplishments, and she clearly sees herself above (not economically or socially, but in her value as a person) all of her clients (except possibly Kanta, with whom she seems to have a more legitimate relationship, the origin of which is never quite explained).
She looks down on all others - for allowing themselves to stay in their gilded cages, trading wealth and comfort for captivity; for being in arranged marriages where she knows about all the infidelities of the husbands; for actually putting stock in her henna designs and mandalas and snacks. Like she knows the whole thing is a sham, but rather than regretting that she has to earn a living this way, she enjoys it - enjoys taking money and secrets from her customers in exchange for, essentially, a show.
Then Lakshmi's orphaned younger sister Radha shows up, and injects angst and entropy into Lakshmi's carefully constructed order. If Lakshmi was hard to like, Radha is impossible. Despite having come from literally nothing, Radha is ungrateful and pretentious and just downright awful. And somehow Lakshmi still beats herself up throughout the book on how she could have been a better sister. Perhaps we were supposed to dislike Radha - and feel for the moral challenges that Lakshmi is faced with - but Radha is just so disgusting without any real cause that it just doesn't make any sense that Lakshmi wouldn't just kick her out, sister or no. For that matter, why does Radha even stay? We're told that once she learned of Lakshmi's existence all she wanted was her sister. Then when she gets her, and finds out that Lakshmi is actually an adult with a life and responsibilities, she blames Lakshmi for it and nothing Lakshmi gives her is good enough. Huh? I mean, just because you grow up with nothing doesn't mean you should be grateful when someone gives you trash... but that's not what was going on here.
The last straw for me (which actually didn't even happen until AFTER that 1.5 month hiatus I took) was that inexplicably, when things start getting really tough for Lakshmi with Radha, she goes to her client's husband's mistress's house and sleeps with said husband there. And for some reason she's then mad at her client when said client rather predictably causes her business to unravel. It was just so out of character that it was clearly done just to create a climactic event for the plot. And I really hate when authors make their characters do things just to get that mouth-opening eyes-widening pearl-clutching reaction from readers.
And.. don't even get me started on the character of Malik. The street rat who basically runs Lakshmi's business for her (including all the secret aspects she wouldn't want to get out) but whom she's happy to just leave on the streets in poverty. Where the reader is supposed to believe that he "prefers" to live in the back alleys with the other urchins, digging sandals to wear out of trash heaps and surviving on handouts and filched scraps. Yeah... sure.
After getting through all of the manufactured angst and poor decision-making by the characters, the ending is pretty milquetoast. In essence, it's a "happily ever after" for everyone. With the exception of the parrot Madhu Singh, I am left with zero interest in what happens to anyone after the last page.
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