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A review by cindypepper
A Passage North by Anuk Arudpragasam
2.0
I really wanted to like this!
However, I just couldn't get into it in the first half. I found the prose objectively gorgeous in the sense that I could handle a monologue one at a time and appreciate the way Arudpragasam can string together words in a way that flows so fluidly and seamlessly.
And I think that's the problem with me. The words flowed a little too well. It's kind of mesmerizing how a single passage can skirt from news of Rani's death to electroshock therapy to old American movies -- or how a scene about waiting for the train flits around from meditations on smoking to the main character's grandmother's physical health to a London trip that the grandmother took years ago. But at the same time, it's tedious and too Proustian for my liking, such that I would read a few pages, and then shake my head and go, "Wait, how did we get from point A to B?".
I almost marked it as DNF, but I can be rather mulish when it comes to trudging through books (I know, it's not a great habit). It's important to note that the novel isn't so much plot-heavy (I don't think there really is a plot) as it is a meditation on trauma in its many shapes and forms.
I personally found the first part way too mazy and I struggled quite a bit. I found the passages and storyline regarding Anjum a bit thin, and as a result, not as integral to the overall novel. I also get that this is a stream-of-consciousness narration, but it also makes me question whether Krishan (a -- comparatively -- privileged male who is merely speculating on Rani and her motivations) is the best lens for the novel.
That said, I really liked the passages and musings on Rani, which led to poignant, elegiac prose that deftly explores intergenerational trauma, memory, grief, and war. There is some good stuff.
I wonder if listening to this (via audiobook) would have done the lyrical nature of the prose a lot more justice; perhaps I wouldn't have felt as lost as I did.
However, I just couldn't get into it in the first half. I found the prose objectively gorgeous in the sense that I could handle a monologue one at a time and appreciate the way Arudpragasam can string together words in a way that flows so fluidly and seamlessly.
And I think that's the problem with me. The words flowed a little too well. It's kind of mesmerizing how a single passage can skirt from news of Rani's death to electroshock therapy to old American movies -- or how a scene about waiting for the train flits around from meditations on smoking to the main character's grandmother's physical health to a London trip that the grandmother took years ago. But at the same time, it's tedious and too Proustian for my liking, such that I would read a few pages, and then shake my head and go, "Wait, how did we get from point A to B?".
I almost marked it as DNF, but I can be rather mulish when it comes to trudging through books (I know, it's not a great habit). It's important to note that the novel isn't so much plot-heavy (I don't think there really is a plot) as it is a meditation on trauma in its many shapes and forms.
I personally found the first part way too mazy and I struggled quite a bit. I found the passages and storyline regarding Anjum a bit thin, and as a result, not as integral to the overall novel. I also get that this is a stream-of-consciousness narration, but it also makes me question whether Krishan (a -- comparatively -- privileged male who is merely speculating on Rani and her motivations) is the best lens for the novel.
That said, I really liked the passages and musings on Rani, which led to poignant, elegiac prose that deftly explores intergenerational trauma, memory, grief, and war. There is some good stuff.
I wonder if listening to this (via audiobook) would have done the lyrical nature of the prose a lot more justice; perhaps I wouldn't have felt as lost as I did.