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A review by premxs
Leila by Prayaag Akbar
4.0
Leila is a novel of, and for, our times. Prayaag Akbar conjures up a terrifyingly plausible reality where various 'communities' (read: castes and religions) are assigned separate 'sectors,' hidden away behind imposing walls in an unnamed, yet distinctly Indian city. The roots of these divisions are evidently borrowed from the quietly segregated societies we live in, and extrapolated to a tangible dystopia.
Borrowing elements from classics such as 1984 and The Handmaid's Tale, Prayaag tells a startlingly human story of love and loss, in an atmosphere of social divisions turned on their head. It's easy to get lost in the messaging of the novel, but Prayaag ensures we're always rooted to the devastated life of 'protagonist' Shalini, looking for her long-lost daughter, Leila. The emotions of the characters are laid forth in brutal, clear phrasing - there is no escape from what they face.
The flashback sequences, which form a significant chunk of the book, reveal the slow-but-sure march to the absolutist state in the 'present,' presenting recognizable versions of a police state, violent fundamentalist forces (who emphasize 'purity' and an adherence to 'traditions') and the role of caste and class privilege. I had to pause and catch my breath at several moments throughout the book, since anyone who's even vaguely aware of the happenings in the India around us should be able to recognize just how close we are to the version of the country described here- although we wish it to be surreal, it's startlingly visceral.
There are a few minor quibbles I had with the pacing of the plot, which sags in a few places, and awkwardly speeds up towards the end, but these detract very little from the book.
Leila is an extremely important, uncomfortably accurate novel that truly toes a fine line between fiction and non-fiction. Given Prayaag Akbar's background as a journalist, this isn't surprising. Read this book, and think about what its world entails. And then ask yourself if this is a world you want to live in. If it is, you're part of the problem. If it's not, be a part of the solution.
Borrowing elements from classics such as 1984 and The Handmaid's Tale, Prayaag tells a startlingly human story of love and loss, in an atmosphere of social divisions turned on their head. It's easy to get lost in the messaging of the novel, but Prayaag ensures we're always rooted to the devastated life of 'protagonist' Shalini, looking for her long-lost daughter, Leila. The emotions of the characters are laid forth in brutal, clear phrasing - there is no escape from what they face.
The flashback sequences, which form a significant chunk of the book, reveal the slow-but-sure march to the absolutist state in the 'present,' presenting recognizable versions of a police state, violent fundamentalist forces (who emphasize 'purity' and an adherence to 'traditions') and the role of caste and class privilege. I had to pause and catch my breath at several moments throughout the book, since anyone who's even vaguely aware of the happenings in the India around us should be able to recognize just how close we are to the version of the country described here- although we wish it to be surreal, it's startlingly visceral.
There are a few minor quibbles I had with the pacing of the plot, which sags in a few places, and awkwardly speeds up towards the end, but these detract very little from the book.
Leila is an extremely important, uncomfortably accurate novel that truly toes a fine line between fiction and non-fiction. Given Prayaag Akbar's background as a journalist, this isn't surprising. Read this book, and think about what its world entails. And then ask yourself if this is a world you want to live in. If it is, you're part of the problem. If it's not, be a part of the solution.