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canadianreader's review against another edition
2.0
I liked that this book had some good character development, and was pleased that the book was so Canadian - there were recognizable Montreal and Ottawa landmarks. It just wasn't a style I enjoyed. I like to be entertained or engrossed, and this novel, instead, took you along for a ride through a woman's realistic and complicated way of navigating the emotions in her life, particularly related to the death of her sister and relationship with her teenaged son.
kayjay34's review against another edition
3.0
A gentleman's six. It was very well written but didn't connect with the characters. After 400+ pages I still couldn't quite figure out what makes them tick.
ksbrennan's review against another edition
4.0
"It is a perfect day and we are all terribly flawed."
Bone and Bread is a very beautifully written book that slowly circles closer and closer to finding meaning is the life and death of one of the main characters.
It's a book about family, and about sisterhood and parenthood in particular. It's about the responsibility of taking care of the people closest to you, as well as the selfish protection of personal relationships. It's about how you see yourself, and how you're seen by others.
The plot is a bit slow, but the story is definitely worth it.
Bone and Bread is a very beautifully written book that slowly circles closer and closer to finding meaning is the life and death of one of the main characters.
It's a book about family, and about sisterhood and parenthood in particular. It's about the responsibility of taking care of the people closest to you, as well as the selfish protection of personal relationships. It's about how you see yourself, and how you're seen by others.
The plot is a bit slow, but the story is definitely worth it.
carolikesbooks's review against another edition
4.0
This was one of the 2015 selections of the Hello Hemlock. I have to say, I really, really like this one. The story follows the lives of two sisters, Beena and Sadhana. The book opens with Beena dealing with the recent death of her sister, due to a sudden heart attack, and it's through her grief and memories that the author takes the story back to their childhood. Daughters of a Sikh baker and a white yoga instructor, the two girls become orphan at very early age and then end up in the care of their very strict uncle.
Nawaz builds her story around what sisterhood can be and mean, while also touching hard subjects such as death, anorexia and teenage pregnancy. How little we can now from the people that are the closest to us, and how, even after they departure they can still surprise us.
I think that, because I live in Montreal, the images described by the author, in the Plateau, walking around the city, felt so much more vivid. And yet, she also shows another side of the city that I am not familiar with, trough complex characters that have much more than one facet and even at the end are still changing.
Some reviewers have mentioned that the side story (the immigrant family) was unnecessary, but I think it showed another side of Sadhana and considering that they came from an immigrant family too, it made sense to me that it touched her so deeply. Considering it's such a thorny subject around here, I feel that Nawaz used to the advantage of the story, with characters that felt that they don't always belong, even if they were born there.
Nawaz builds her story around what sisterhood can be and mean, while also touching hard subjects such as death, anorexia and teenage pregnancy. How little we can now from the people that are the closest to us, and how, even after they departure they can still surprise us.
I think that, because I live in Montreal, the images described by the author, in the Plateau, walking around the city, felt so much more vivid. And yet, she also shows another side of the city that I am not familiar with, trough complex characters that have much more than one facet and even at the end are still changing.
Some reviewers have mentioned that the side story (the immigrant family) was unnecessary, but I think it showed another side of Sadhana and considering that they came from an immigrant family too, it made sense to me that it touched her so deeply. Considering it's such a thorny subject around here, I feel that Nawaz used to the advantage of the story, with characters that felt that they don't always belong, even if they were born there.
sherryhinman's review against another edition
4.0
Satisfying read about the intricate and complex relationships of a family.
mattquann's review against another edition
3.0
CANADA READS 2016 FINALIST
Let me open with some praise: I enjoyed Bone & Bread much more than I would have anticipated based on the cover. But, here’s the thing: the cover.
THE COVER
You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. It’s a fine adage for schoolteachers and bookworms to toss around, but it is also something I find nearly impossible. The book cover should act as a snapshot of what is contained within. If a novel is a house, then the cover is you furtively looking through a window into that house (in the least creepy way possible). A cover lets the reader know that the shirtless, axe-wielding bodybuilder astride a winged goat is likely not going to be an appropriate choice for the fans of quirky romance novels. Sometimes, an interesting quote or font used for the book’s title is enough to capture the reader’s attention.
A cover is meant to entice the reader and, when in a bookshop, it is usually the cover that intrigues me enough to read the synopsis on the back.
But, hey! It’s Canada Reads, and the whole thing is about reading something you might not normally choose of your own accord. Right?
Bone & Bread features a cover where two young girls (or women) of different colored skin stare at each other. What does this gaze suggest? A YA lesbian coming-of-age story (not quite, but there’s some of that)? Deep understanding? A staring contest that will culminate in a head-butt? The font on the cover might lead you to think that the book is romance novel (it isn’t), or perhaps a period piece (also not the case).
One thing is certain: it certainly was hard to explain my book choice to those I encountered while reading Bone & Bread.
To the cashier at the bookstore I had to explain that this wasn’t a gift for my girlfriend, sister, mother, or any other female relation. When I explained it was for me, I quickly added, “But it’s for Canada Reads.”
To the lady who sat beside me on a flight from Toronto to Calgary reading Game of Thrones. We connected over our shared appreciation for Westeros on the page and the screen. When she asked what I was reading, I showed her the cover. Her face shifted as though she had opened a Tupperware container who’s contents had long since seen their best-before date. “Oh, well, that isn’t the type of thing I’d be interested in.”
To the boy and girl bundled in snowsuits after an afternoon skating at Lake Louise, who walked in front of my impromptu reading station to ask why I was reading a book for girls. “Patriotism?”
But, dear Goodreaders, did I take the judgment to heart? Did I abandon a book for the awkward social situations in which it placed me? Did I let those young oppressors dissuade me from my task? Goodreader, I did not.
THE BOOK
So, I read Bone & Bread. It wasn’t at all what I had anticipated. It wasn’t something I would have picked up on my own. But I ended up enjoying it more than I have any other of this year’s CR selections. In brief, this is the story of sisterhood narrated by Beena (a sister) after the sudden passing of her sister. Beena and her son navigate their grief, the mysteries of Sadhanna’s life prior to her passing, and try to structure their lives in the wake of their shared tragedy.
Nawaz has a knack for characterization, and the predominantly female cast is full of well-differentiated personalities. My one complaint on the character front: the men. They are all a bit too strong-headed and their silent stoicism comes off as a bit clichéd. With that said, the story is primarily concerned with sisterhood, and Beena and Sadhanna rightfully sit at its center.
The prose is actually quite strong, though the novel does seem as if it could have benefitted from a good editing session. Bone & Bread is about 100-pages over-full, and removing one of the more ancillary storylines could have tightened this into a much more cohesive read. A part of the story that works quite well is the depiction of Sadhanna’s anorexia throughout. As a reader I was led through Sadhanna’s progression as the disease began to take over her life, but it is most powerfully presented through the effect of anorexia on the people who love Sadhanna most.
I kept drawing comparisons between Bone & Bread and Miriam Toews’ All My Puny Sorrows as I read. Both deal with sisterhood and the loss of a loved one due to an almost indecipherable mental illness. I enjoyed Toews’ effort more for its shorter length: it was a powerful piece that didn’t overstay its welcome. Instead, it ended quickly, but lingered with me long after I had finished the last pages. Bone & Bread, by comparison, is filled to the brim with events, characters, and by the end, social justice. Though it is still a pretty good book, it definitely could have been tightened to make a tighter novel with more kick.
All in all, worth your time despite the cover!
Let me open with some praise: I enjoyed Bone & Bread much more than I would have anticipated based on the cover. But, here’s the thing: the cover.
THE COVER
You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. It’s a fine adage for schoolteachers and bookworms to toss around, but it is also something I find nearly impossible. The book cover should act as a snapshot of what is contained within. If a novel is a house, then the cover is you furtively looking through a window into that house (in the least creepy way possible). A cover lets the reader know that the shirtless, axe-wielding bodybuilder astride a winged goat is likely not going to be an appropriate choice for the fans of quirky romance novels. Sometimes, an interesting quote or font used for the book’s title is enough to capture the reader’s attention.
A cover is meant to entice the reader and, when in a bookshop, it is usually the cover that intrigues me enough to read the synopsis on the back.
But, hey! It’s Canada Reads, and the whole thing is about reading something you might not normally choose of your own accord. Right?
Bone & Bread features a cover where two young girls (or women) of different colored skin stare at each other. What does this gaze suggest? A YA lesbian coming-of-age story (not quite, but there’s some of that)? Deep understanding? A staring contest that will culminate in a head-butt? The font on the cover might lead you to think that the book is romance novel (it isn’t), or perhaps a period piece (also not the case).
One thing is certain: it certainly was hard to explain my book choice to those I encountered while reading Bone & Bread.
To the cashier at the bookstore I had to explain that this wasn’t a gift for my girlfriend, sister, mother, or any other female relation. When I explained it was for me, I quickly added, “But it’s for Canada Reads.”
To the lady who sat beside me on a flight from Toronto to Calgary reading Game of Thrones. We connected over our shared appreciation for Westeros on the page and the screen. When she asked what I was reading, I showed her the cover. Her face shifted as though she had opened a Tupperware container who’s contents had long since seen their best-before date. “Oh, well, that isn’t the type of thing I’d be interested in.”
To the boy and girl bundled in snowsuits after an afternoon skating at Lake Louise, who walked in front of my impromptu reading station to ask why I was reading a book for girls. “Patriotism?”
But, dear Goodreaders, did I take the judgment to heart? Did I abandon a book for the awkward social situations in which it placed me? Did I let those young oppressors dissuade me from my task? Goodreader, I did not.
THE BOOK
So, I read Bone & Bread. It wasn’t at all what I had anticipated. It wasn’t something I would have picked up on my own. But I ended up enjoying it more than I have any other of this year’s CR selections. In brief, this is the story of sisterhood narrated by Beena (a sister) after the sudden passing of her sister. Beena and her son navigate their grief, the mysteries of Sadhanna’s life prior to her passing, and try to structure their lives in the wake of their shared tragedy.
Nawaz has a knack for characterization, and the predominantly female cast is full of well-differentiated personalities. My one complaint on the character front: the men. They are all a bit too strong-headed and their silent stoicism comes off as a bit clichéd. With that said, the story is primarily concerned with sisterhood, and Beena and Sadhanna rightfully sit at its center.
The prose is actually quite strong, though the novel does seem as if it could have benefitted from a good editing session. Bone & Bread is about 100-pages over-full, and removing one of the more ancillary storylines could have tightened this into a much more cohesive read. A part of the story that works quite well is the depiction of Sadhanna’s anorexia throughout. As a reader I was led through Sadhanna’s progression as the disease began to take over her life, but it is most powerfully presented through the effect of anorexia on the people who love Sadhanna most.
I kept drawing comparisons between Bone & Bread and Miriam Toews’ All My Puny Sorrows as I read. Both deal with sisterhood and the loss of a loved one due to an almost indecipherable mental illness. I enjoyed Toews’ effort more for its shorter length: it was a powerful piece that didn’t overstay its welcome. Instead, it ended quickly, but lingered with me long after I had finished the last pages. Bone & Bread, by comparison, is filled to the brim with events, characters, and by the end, social justice. Though it is still a pretty good book, it definitely could have been tightened to make a tighter novel with more kick.
All in all, worth your time despite the cover!
penny_literaryhoarders's review against another edition
5.0
4.5 stars. What an immensely satisfying read. Lots to turn over in my head here after finishing. Fantastic ending. Another fantastic group read for the CBC Monthly Group.
pgchuis's review against another edition
3.0
3.5* rounded down.
Set mostly in Montreal, this novel tells the story of two sisters, Beena and Sadhana, who lose their (Sikh) father when they are infants and then their (hippie Irish American) mother when they are young teenagers. They are then raised by their uncle, still in the apartment above the family bagel shop. At 16 Beena becomes pregnant and Sadhana is hospitalized with anorexia for the first time.
At the beginning of the book we learn that Sadhana has just died and Beena and her son Quinn, now living in Ottawa, are struggling to come to terms with this. Each chapter is partly in the present of the need to clear out Sadhana's flat and Quinn's desire to meet his father, and partly describes the girls' childhood and teenage years and so on up to the present.
I have mixed feelings about this story. I found it generally interesting, although it was longer than it needed to be and dragged in the middle. Beena was a very passive, closed-off character, who seemed to believe people were unknowable and hard to get close to, but it seemed to me that she avoided ever being direct or straightforward with anyone. Her relationship with Sadhana was well-described and believable; the love and the hate and the inter-connectedness. On the other hand, the refugee story seemed tacked-on to make the story more relevant or something; I would have been more interested in hearing about the sisters' experiences of being partly Sikh.
Sad and well-written, but I wouldn't read it again.
Set mostly in Montreal, this novel tells the story of two sisters, Beena and Sadhana, who lose their (Sikh) father when they are infants and then their (hippie Irish American) mother when they are young teenagers. They are then raised by their uncle, still in the apartment above the family bagel shop. At 16 Beena becomes pregnant and Sadhana is hospitalized with anorexia for the first time.
At the beginning of the book we learn that Sadhana has just died and Beena and her son Quinn, now living in Ottawa, are struggling to come to terms with this. Each chapter is partly in the present of the need to clear out Sadhana's flat and Quinn's desire to meet his father, and partly describes the girls' childhood and teenage years and so on up to the present.
I have mixed feelings about this story. I found it generally interesting, although it was longer than it needed to be and dragged in the middle. Beena was a very passive, closed-off character, who seemed to believe people were unknowable and hard to get close to, but it seemed to me that she avoided ever being direct or straightforward with anyone. Her relationship with Sadhana was well-described and believable; the love and the hate and the inter-connectedness. On the other hand, the refugee story seemed tacked-on to make the story more relevant or something; I would have been more interested in hearing about the sisters' experiences of being partly Sikh.
Sad and well-written, but I wouldn't read it again.
jillheather's review against another edition
3.0
The book was interesting -- the characters well-drawn, the relationship between the sisters realistic. I enjoyed the plot, and found that going back and forth in time was a good choice, though occasionally confusing.
I don't know why the book acted as if we couldn't tell from the moment she phoned that Libby was Sadhana's girlfriend, especially since Beena knew that she was bi. It was a discordant note.
The setting was strangely set up. Some locations were mentioned specifically, others left oddly generic. Did the bagel store not have a name? Wouldn't people ever use it? There are four universities in this city, how did no names there turn up, when we know that Sadhana lived in Mile End, that Beena and Sadhana temporarily rented a house on St-Marc. Women of Beena and Sadhana's age would not have gone directly to university from high school, because the system in Quebec is not set up like that.
And the idea that both Beena and Sadhana (who is politically active) would just ignore the referendum, that the anxiety in the months leading up to it would have had no effect on them -- it's unimaginable. I know the author lives in Montreal, but there's some distinct lack of research done here. (The political climate now, with Ravi, was excellently done.)
I'll pick up her next book.
I don't know why the book acted as if we couldn't tell from the moment she phoned that Libby was Sadhana's girlfriend, especially since Beena knew that she was bi. It was a discordant note.
The setting was strangely set up. Some locations were mentioned specifically, others left oddly generic. Did the bagel store not have a name? Wouldn't people ever use it? There are four universities in this city, how did no names there turn up, when we know that Sadhana lived in Mile End, that Beena and Sadhana temporarily rented a house on St-Marc. Women of Beena and Sadhana's age would not have gone directly to university from high school, because the system in Quebec is not set up like that.
And the idea that both Beena and Sadhana (who is politically active) would just ignore the referendum, that the anxiety in the months leading up to it would have had no effect on them -- it's unimaginable. I know the author lives in Montreal, but there's some distinct lack of research done here. (The political climate now, with Ravi, was excellently done.)
I'll pick up her next book.
kittiehawke's review against another edition
4.0
Beautiful story of the relationship between two sisters. Bittersweet yet hopeful.