Anyone who fell in love with The God of Small Things, by Arundhati Roy, will be drawn to Mother Mary Comes to Me, to understand how she could write such an extraordinary novel. This is her memoir, and just as bold and in-your-face as fiction, with the drama of Indian life, the outsized personalities, the confusion, the heat, the colour, the overwhelming sense of chaos that seems to define life on the subcontinent. The feeling that your life isn’t yours to own – just by being a woman in India you are liable for so much to so many.
In Roy’s case the overwhelming suffocating feeling of debt is to her mother. Bloody hell. Mothers!
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