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4.46 AVERAGE
4.46 AVERAGE
dark
emotional
informative
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
last 2 pages of the book hit a little too close to home. the writing was weird sometimes and the author annoyed me a bit sometimes hence the -.5 but some of that might say more about me than the book
emotional
informative
reflective
medium-paced
I read this book because Book of Cinz gave it 5 stars and at this point I think I will trust this woman with my life. What an incredible book.
I was particularly touched with the outpouring of empathy and love the author extended to her mother. i have been on a similar journey myself. With my therapist I have learned how how to extend more care to my mother. As an individual who has had so many more opportunities because of my mom's sacrifices I had to take a hard look at how I judged her for her choices. I disagree a lot with how my mom continues to live her life, but as this author articulates, in trying to shape my mom into the person I want her to be, I am no better than all the other people in her life that has tried to mold her. I don't think I'll ever understand the pain it can cause a mother to think her child judges her in the same way so many other people have done. I am just grateful my mom has had the patience and grace to deal with me.
In this self-reflection I really feel for Prachi. The pain she feels was communicated very effectively and the scenes from her life are so palatable. She is amazingly brave to publish this and I can only imagine the backlash she has received from her family on the book, if they have read it.
This is the second memoir I have read, the first one being "Somebody's Daughter" and I think the 2 books compliment each other very well. I would recommend this book to those who like to explore topics of feminism outside of discourse that centers whiteness (although the commentary is still there, I think this may be unavoidable in the American context). This was a really touching read and eloquently connects how the ills of society transformed one family's relationship with each other. I can only hope to extend as much empathy in my everyday life as Prachi does in this book.
I was particularly touched with the outpouring of empathy and love the author extended to her mother. i have been on a similar journey myself. With my therapist I have learned how how to extend more care to my mother. As an individual who has had so many more opportunities because of my mom's sacrifices I had to take a hard look at how I judged her for her choices. I disagree a lot with how my mom continues to live her life, but as this author articulates, in trying to shape my mom into the person I want her to be, I am no better than all the other people in her life that has tried to mold her. I don't think I'll ever understand the pain it can cause a mother to think her child judges her in the same way so many other people have done. I am just grateful my mom has had the patience and grace to deal with me.
In this self-reflection I really feel for Prachi. The pain she feels was communicated very effectively and the scenes from her life are so palatable. She is amazingly brave to publish this and I can only imagine the backlash she has received from her family on the book, if they have read it.
This is the second memoir I have read, the first one being "Somebody's Daughter" and I think the 2 books compliment each other very well. I would recommend this book to those who like to explore topics of feminism outside of discourse that centers whiteness (although the commentary is still there, I think this may be unavoidable in the American context). This was a really touching read and eloquently connects how the ills of society transformed one family's relationship with each other. I can only hope to extend as much empathy in my everyday life as Prachi does in this book.
challenging
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
an introspective and heartbreaking memoir written as a message from daughter to mother; it took me so long to get through because it’s heavy and I kept having to return it to the library, but it was absolutely beautiful and so well written; I admire the way the author is able to put her innermost feelings into words
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
(Book club read)
This memoir was devastating. I found myself wanting to reach through the book and shake the author to tell her she could leave and never look back.
Abuse (mental, verbal, physical, societal, racism, colonialism) shapes so much of how we see the world and see ourselves, and this memoir touches on all of it. Even more so, it talks about a different kind of grief beyond death, a grief for what could have been… especially the lives she and her family, and especially her mother and brother, could have led.
The book does drag in some parts, and felt like it could have used a better editor to cut down on a lot of repetitive ideas/timelines, but overall it was a heart-wrenching memoir that reminds the reader things aren’t always as good as they appear on the outside.
I can’t remember the last time I read a book in the second person, but it made the story so much more heartbreaking for me. Knowing her mother has likely never read this devastated me even more. I tried to put myself in her shoes, writing something like this my own mother, and I just kept crying.
I don’t think the author has much new to say in the way of racism, colonialism, machismo/male fragility, and mental illness that readers don’t already know, but instead puts her family in its framework for context, both for the reader and for herself as she figures it out.
While I thought the writing tended to be plain or repetitive, a few passages did stop me in my tracks and I found myself reading them several times before I continued on:
“It's a strange thing to miss someone who is right there. When I talk to you is when I miss you the most, because I am confronted by what I cannot have.”
“We had each been raised to believe that every unknown could be resolved through willpower and intellect, a message reinforced by America's rigid conception of who we are supposed to be. The truth is, society doesn't raise people to aspire to be kind or compassionate or happy. It pressures adults to achieve and accomplish. It teaches people that what matters more than their character or how they treat others or how they feel about themselves is how much money they can hoard, who they know, how famous they can get, and how much power they wield over others. Emotions have no basis in this framework. They are a nuisance, a hindrance, a distraction, a weakness.”
“But now I understand that coming together in shared grief is a choice, not an inevitability. Unless we choose to face it, grief folds us inward and pushes us deep into our own pockets of suffering, intensifying our pain and further isolating us from those we love. There is no hack, no quick fix, no step-by-step solution to navigate grief. We only have ourselves, and one another, to make it through.”
“My grief over Nancy's death felt selfish. I suppose that all grief is, in a way. Nancy was vibrant and complicated, like anyone. But in her death, I could not hold her as a full person anymore. I could only fixate on what I had lost: a confidante and witness. A key piece of my past and a source of joy and fulfillment for my future had inexplicably vanished. I mourned her, but, really, I mourned the loss of what could no longer be, of all the gifts from her that I would never receive.“
“Daiji and Dadaji handled what they didn't understand the way so many people do: by trying to forget.”
This memoir was devastating. I found myself wanting to reach through the book and shake the author to tell her she could leave and never look back.
Abuse (mental, verbal, physical, societal, racism, colonialism) shapes so much of how we see the world and see ourselves, and this memoir touches on all of it. Even more so, it talks about a different kind of grief beyond death, a grief for what could have been… especially the lives she and her family, and especially her mother and brother, could have led.
The book does drag in some parts, and felt like it could have used a better editor to cut down on a lot of repetitive ideas/timelines, but overall it was a heart-wrenching memoir that reminds the reader things aren’t always as good as they appear on the outside.
I can’t remember the last time I read a book in the second person, but it made the story so much more heartbreaking for me. Knowing her mother has likely never read this devastated me even more. I tried to put myself in her shoes, writing something like this my own mother, and I just kept crying.
I don’t think the author has much new to say in the way of racism, colonialism, machismo/male fragility, and mental illness that readers don’t already know, but instead puts her family in its framework for context, both for the reader and for herself as she figures it out.
While I thought the writing tended to be plain or repetitive, a few passages did stop me in my tracks and I found myself reading them several times before I continued on:
“It's a strange thing to miss someone who is right there. When I talk to you is when I miss you the most, because I am confronted by what I cannot have.”
“We had each been raised to believe that every unknown could be resolved through willpower and intellect, a message reinforced by America's rigid conception of who we are supposed to be. The truth is, society doesn't raise people to aspire to be kind or compassionate or happy. It pressures adults to achieve and accomplish. It teaches people that what matters more than their character or how they treat others or how they feel about themselves is how much money they can hoard, who they know, how famous they can get, and how much power they wield over others. Emotions have no basis in this framework. They are a nuisance, a hindrance, a distraction, a weakness.”
“But now I understand that coming together in shared grief is a choice, not an inevitability. Unless we choose to face it, grief folds us inward and pushes us deep into our own pockets of suffering, intensifying our pain and further isolating us from those we love. There is no hack, no quick fix, no step-by-step solution to navigate grief. We only have ourselves, and one another, to make it through.”
“My grief over Nancy's death felt selfish. I suppose that all grief is, in a way. Nancy was vibrant and complicated, like anyone. But in her death, I could not hold her as a full person anymore. I could only fixate on what I had lost: a confidante and witness. A key piece of my past and a source of joy and fulfillment for my future had inexplicably vanished. I mourned her, but, really, I mourned the loss of what could no longer be, of all the gifts from her that I would never receive.“
“Daiji and Dadaji handled what they didn't understand the way so many people do: by trying to forget.”
Content Warnings
Graphic: Death, Emotional abuse, Mental illness, Suicidal thoughts, Grief, Suicide attempt, Gaslighting
I'm deeply grateful that Prachi Gupta has written this, and that I had the opportunity to read this
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
listened on audio. a tragic story, beautifully written. highly recommend! TW: SI, SA, DV