Marriage of a Thousand Lies
Ratings5
Average rating4.2
15
Ratings5
Average rating4.2
"Lakshmi, called Lucky, is an unemployed millennial programmer. She likes to dance, to have a drink or two, and she makes art on commission. Fifty bucks gets you high-resolution digital images of anything you want (orcs, mermaids, cos-playing couples in sexy boudoir scenes) and a nice frameable print. Lucky's husband, Krishna, is an editor for a greeting card company. Both are secretly gay. They present their conservative Sri Lankan-American families with a heterosexual front, while each dates on the side. When Lucky's grandmother has a nasty fall, Lucky returns to her mother's home to act as caretaker and unexpectedly reconnects with her childhood best friend and first lover, Nisha. Nisha has agreed to an arranged marriage with a man she doesn't know, but finds herself attracted to her old friend. The attraction is mutual and Lucky tries to save Nisha from entering a marriage based on a lie. But does Nisha really want to be saved? And what does Lucky want, anyway? It doesn't always get better. To live openly means that Lucky would lose most of the community she was born into--a community she loves, an irreplaceable home. As Lucky, an outsider no matter what choices she makes, is pushed to the breaking point, Marriage of a Thousand Lies offers a moving exploration of friendship, family, and love, shot through with humor and loss"--
Reviews with the most likes.
What an infuriating book. What a beautiful, necessary book.
It's easy to slip into the two-Americas mindset: civilized coasts and cities, barbarian South and (parts of) Midwest living brutish lives of ignorance and fear and hatred. Sindu reminds us that this is a flawed picture; that even the places we consider safest can harbor pockets of mindless evil. Consider Lakshmi: youngest of three sisters born to Sri Lankan immigrants living in Boston. Educated, intelligent, talented. Also a lesbian, with pathetically shallow parents entirely unable to accept or tolerate that, and raised in a stone-age culture in which appearances are everything and children are pawns required to keep repeating the moronic cycle: shut up, marry as arranged, breed, then drive your children through the same hell.
In Boston. In 2012. It's galling. Also heartbreaking. Sindu gives us a chance to see the pain of having to live in such a “culture”; lets us see the courage and strength needed to navigate such a toxic environment, whether it be to accept it, to hide oneself in lies, or to escape it altogether. There is no easy way out of the trap. There are, however, routes that are more dignified and fulfilling than others.
I loved that there isn't a single male character in the book. Occasional male presences, but all of them onedimensional and with limited screen time; simply plot elements in the story. The action—and inaction—centers entirely on the women: their decisions, and the pain of living with them.
