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A review by bookepiphanies
Abandon by Sangeeta Bandyopadhyay
challenging
dark
reflective
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
4.25
“I was not prepared for the indifference of existence.”
After Panty hit me like a struck of lightening, I had to get Bandyopadhyay’s other novels. If Panty’s protagonist symbolizes the archetype of freedom and answers to no one but her own desire, Abandon returns to a cruel reality charged with the curse of motherhood.
Though Bandyopadhyay continues to haunt us with stunningly lyrical passages that almost turn desperation into poetry, this novel feels completely different in its more conventional structure and plot. That is not to say that it lacks authenticity.
Despite motherhood, identity and sexuality being themes often explored and picked apart in literature, Abandon manages to deliver freshness combined with a nearly extinct uncompromising depth and honesty.
Similarly to Panty, the city feels like an omnipresent support character, shedding light on relevant social and cultural aspects, such as gender roles, class and privilege.
The novel focuses on the split of female identity, where the two parts constantly battle to coexist. This division is done objectively, with the story being told from two narrative perspectives, a first person representing the urge for creativity, and a third person - Ishwari, the mother figure. Each of those selves is responsible for the birth of one creation - a novel and a child, both of which share a predatory nature in their own right. This split is led by her rejection of an abusive domestic life and refusal to surrender to complete submission.
She flees her home with her son Roo, whose name is by no means chosen at random. The word in Bengali can be interpreted as meaning a mother’s soul. Roo’s deteriorating health and imminent fatality can, therefore, be read as a mirror into the fragility of our protagonist‘s soul and her desire for full independence.
The ending is truly magnificent and literally soul-shattering, which more than makes up for a few rare weaker parts. The barre was set impossibly high with Panty, and even though this doesn’t reach quite as high, it comes as close as it can.
If you’re looking beauty underneath existential misery, you’ve come to the right place.
After Panty hit me like a struck of lightening, I had to get Bandyopadhyay’s other novels. If Panty’s protagonist symbolizes the archetype of freedom and answers to no one but her own desire, Abandon returns to a cruel reality charged with the curse of motherhood.
Though Bandyopadhyay continues to haunt us with stunningly lyrical passages that almost turn desperation into poetry, this novel feels completely different in its more conventional structure and plot. That is not to say that it lacks authenticity.
Despite motherhood, identity and sexuality being themes often explored and picked apart in literature, Abandon manages to deliver freshness combined with a nearly extinct uncompromising depth and honesty.
Similarly to Panty, the city feels like an omnipresent support character, shedding light on relevant social and cultural aspects, such as gender roles, class and privilege.
The novel focuses on the split of female identity, where the two parts constantly battle to coexist. This division is done objectively, with the story being told from two narrative perspectives, a first person representing the urge for creativity, and a third person - Ishwari, the mother figure. Each of those selves is responsible for the birth of one creation - a novel and a child, both of which share a predatory nature in their own right. This split is led by her rejection of an abusive domestic life and refusal to surrender to complete submission.
She flees her home with her son Roo, whose name is by no means chosen at random. The word in Bengali can be interpreted as meaning a mother’s soul. Roo’s deteriorating health and imminent fatality can, therefore, be read as a mirror into the fragility of our protagonist‘s soul and her desire for full independence.
The ending is truly magnificent and literally soul-shattering, which more than makes up for a few rare weaker parts. The barre was set impossibly high with Panty, and even though this doesn’t reach quite as high, it comes as close as it can.
If you’re looking beauty underneath existential misery, you’ve come to the right place.