A review by sometimes_iread
All the Lives We Never Lived by Anuradha Roy

emotional reflective sad slow-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? Character
• Strong character development? It's complicated
• Loveable characters? It's complicated
• Diverse cast of characters? Yes
• Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.0

It is often when reading books that cover a character’s lifetime and the wider geopolitical landscape that I find it difficult to encapsulate my thoughts coherently. The scope is just far too broad for my limited perspective to fully comprehend. All the Lives We Never Lived by Anuradha Roy is no different. 

Here, we meet Myshkin in his twilight years as he reflects upon his life and the impact his mother’s leaving had on it. We skip back and forth between Myshkin’s recollection of his childhood and his current life before he stumbles upon a packet of letters from his mother. This discovery rocks his beliefs and sets into motion a plan to reconcile the missing parts of his identity.

I have to admit that I was not invested in the story at the start. The ramblings of an old man can lean toward the self-important and, with all the callousness of the young(er), I wondered why I should care. It was only when Gayathri, Myshkin’s mother, and her relationship with her child was fleshed out that I was hooked. What can I say, I’m always drawn to stories of women and their uneasy relationships with the world. Freudian perhaps? 

Anyway, Roy paints a compelling picture of a woman at odds with the very idea of womanhood in 1920s India. The image of a caged bird comes to mind, aided by a nickname of Gayathri’s by one of her two artist friends. A sunbird’s beauty is stunning in the wild, but when placed in captivity, its brilliance can easily be dimmed. Similarly, Gayathri chafed under societal and familial expectations of womanhood and longed to be return to her roots as an artist. However, as with any held captive for a prolonged period, return to the wild is not easy and not all can make that transition. What more for Gayathri, considering the change motherhood brings, no matter how reluctant.

That aside, I found Myshkin’s journey to reacquainting himself with his mother poignant and bittersweet. There is just something sad about children realizing their parents’ personhood separate from themselves. Especially in such cases as this, when the child is profoundly impacted in ways that never should have been. Honestly, Myshkin’s grandfather might just be my favourite character in this entire book. Unassuming, astute, and supportive in the small ways that matter, this man truly is someone to aspire to. 

I’ve waxed long and lyrical on the characters but there is something to be said about the themes as well. Briefly, I thought the idea of the white savior quite well-handled. Yes, Walter and Beryl did swoop in and pull Gayathri out of her stifling home situation, but did they truly save her when she was constantly pining for her son? Plus, the idea of the white savior unable to save himself was rather satisfying too, because can anyone truly save themselves?

Once again, I’ve read a book that engages me and as a result, I’ve rambled on and on. If you actually read everything, thank you. I hope that it would reflect my appreciation for this book in some way or another.

Diversity meter:

Indian characters

Strong female characters