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A review by mattquann
Bone & Bread by Saleema Nawaz
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!