sonalipawar26's reviews
199 reviews

'That child who sprang from my own flesh and blood is perhaps the creature I'm most distant from,' says the sixty-something narrator.
Isn't it true for the most of us though? Tumultuous mother-daughter relationships are a tale as old as time.

If you are a woman, you'll relate to this relationship being as complex as a maze that has no exit. You are stuck with each other, butting heads at the smallest issue. But then you look for each other at the minutest inconvenience as well. You can't live together, you can't live apart.

Concerning My Daughter navigates the 'treacherous shoals of the mother-daughter relationship' [as Morticia Addams from Wednesday quoted]. The narrator is a sixty-something woman working as a carer at the hospital for senior citizens waiting to take their last breath. She has a thirty-something daughter, who won't do things the 'traditional' way. She can't understand why her daughter chose the hard life.

Her daughter then moves in with her along with another woman. But they are not just friends, and the mother isn't ready to come to terms with their true relationship.

This book brings out the nuances and several layers to mother-daughter relationships brilliantly. Moreover, it is also a commentary on palliative care and are not cared for properly.

This novella is subtle yet impactful. You find yourself empathising with the daughter, but then you start understanding the mother and her internal conflicts, too. Apart from being about mothers and daughters, it is provides a perspective on the LGBTQ+ community through the lens of the older generation. Of course, you might not agree with the.

A lot was left to read between the lines, and my only woe with the book is that it was too short to peel the layers of a mother-daughter relationship. 

There are books you see everywhere. Everyone you know is talking about them. You make a mental note of picking up one of these and vow to read it soon. But then the title slips your mind and you forget all about the promise to read that book for months, often, years.

But then one day you spot it at a bookstore and the flashbacks of vowing to reading this book from years ago pop into your head. So, you buy it. And when you finally read it, you love it. This is the story of how I came across The Guernsey Literary & Potato Peel Pie Society.

Set in early 1946, London-based writer, Juliet Ashton, receives a letter from someone who lives across the English Channel, on an island called Guernsey. Thanks to Charles Lamb, through these letters, Juliet slowly gets acquainted with the residents of Guernsey, and so do we. And Just like Juliet, we, too, fall in love with them. We snicker at Isola's letters, fawn over Dawsey, smile at Mrs Maugery's warmth, and feel our stomachs sink for Elizabeth.
The characters made a special place in my heart and I loved how people around Juliet also fell in love with the residents.

This epistolary book was a lot of things--charming, light-hearted, witty, nostalgic, and at times heart-wrenching. It also reminds the reader of the fact that humans may overcome anything with love and kindness from others. That's what the Guernsey residents did during the Occupation and they weren't afraid to pour their hearts to someone far away in London through letters either.

A perfect winter read, this book made me chuckle, made me sad, but also left its warmth within me. Great stories are made when they involve books, and this novel is the best example. 

Having loved This Is Going to Hurt, when I noticed that Adam Kay's novella, Twas the Nightshift Before Christmas was available in  audio format, I didn't think twice before picking it up.
This one is mostly a collection of anecdotes from the time Kay was a practising doctor. He talks about the time he had to be on call a few Christmases in a row before he left the profession. And as expected from a doctor's job, he wasn't spreading Christmas cheer to all his patients as not everyone's life is full of joy during Christmas.

I reckon this was a perfect December read. In true Adam Kay fashion, it was witty and heartfelt. I only wish it was longer with more details. Although it doesn't compare to This Is Going to Hurt, I enjoyed it nonetheless. 

I watched Harold & Kumar Go to the White Castle as a teenager who, for the first time, saw someone who looked like me in an American movie! I was fascinated as the idea of a brown person in Hollywood seemed wild to me at the time. I was probably too young to watch the movie (this is what happens when you've working parents and are home alone), but I developed a massive crush on Kal Penn.

Heartfelt, hilarious, and honest, You Can't Be Serious was a fun read (highly recommend getting the audiobook). From navigating his way to Hollywood in the sea of white actors to leaving his acting career for a while and working for the Obama administration (still bitter about his exit from House M.D.), Kal Penn bares it all. Well, almost.

He does not owe us his entire life story, but I was surprised that he didn't go into detail about his sexuality, especially how his parents reacted as there were plenty instances mentioned in the book where his parents wanted him to 'at least' go to law school and had strong opinions about his career choice. But we do get a cute little chapter on how he met his fiancé, Josh.

Reading about the racist remarks and microaggression he came across in the movie industry made me livid. It's no secret that systemic racism is prevalent in the West, and reading such stories just makes your stomach sink. This memoir is a great portrayal of how racist Hollywood truly is.

In fine, it was an interesting read, that was well-narrated. And I'm glad I got to read about one of my first crushes.

 This story transports us to the twentieth century Italian island, Sardinia, to a society divided by wealth and class. And in this world, our unnamed protagonist is born into poverty but does hard, honest work as a seamstress. She has her nonna to thank who taught her independence and instilled strong values in her so that she didn't have to be a damsel in distress, waiting for her knight in shining armour to rescue her from the poverty.

Through her eyes, we see different families living on this island and learn their secrets, struggles, and scandals. It is not only a commentary on class, this book is also peppered with the feminist undertones. The latter made this book quite a breath of fresh air when it comes to the genre of historical fiction.

It's a simple and gentle story, without any frills or complications. Do not expect big things to happen as it's a story of the (not so) mundane lives of people in the pre-war era. It is something you might enjoy on a cosy winter day with a cup of coffee.

Thanks to Harper Perennial for the e-arc! 

My newly teenaged cousin, a first-generation American, recently lost some weight. The reason behind it kind of baffled me but made me want to hug her, too. The reason behind her sudden weight loss was simple (or was it?)—her packed Indian lunch made her peers scrunch their noses.

@simuliu talks about such instances throughout his book, We Were Dreamers.
I am not an immigrant, but I am Asian, and have experienced some racism when I was travelling in North America. And I can never imagine what Asian-Americans go through since childhood!

The only commonality b/w Simu and me is a) we are millennials and b) we are Asians. Despite this, the level of relatability with what he said in the book was unmatched. We might be in different countries, but some of the experiences, especially what he went through at home, really hit home with me. Now, now, I won't wash my dirty laundry here, and I will say that although my parents never forced me to do anything I didn't want to, we did end up hurting each other in different ways, and the pain still lingers.

I have always said, I am no one to judge others' life, but reading this book was extremely heart-warming. His experiences as a Chinese-Canadian person and an actor, his life back in China with his grandparents (you could hear the love in his voice when he talked about his grandparents and it made me cry), and him landing the role of Shang Chi . . . all of this validated Asian experiences in the West. And these are the stories we need!
I strongly recommend this one. 

Thanks for the e-ARC, @harperperennial, in exchange for an honest review!
Whenever I read a book, I get lost in the imagery painted by the author in the form of words. And even when I am not reading, I am day-dreaming--either about the book or about random things. I have always been a dreamer, getting lost in my own thoughts, painting pictures, in my mind, of a world far better.
When Victoria, stuck in a dry, loveless marriage which is often difficult to read about at times, falls for a guy she saw in a cafe just because he was reading the same book as hers, it made sense to me. But that's where the 'sense' of it ends. At least, for me.

Victoria is a unhappy woman, privileged but has no agency of her own, who fantasizes about a relationship with this 'dream man', and often gets lost in her dark thoughts wherein she almost always ends up killing her husband.

This book was supposed to read like a fever dream, but it was a weak attempt. The story was repetitive, monotonous, and I pushed myself to finish it. The characters were all one-dimensional and irritating. Both the plot and writing lacked a strong foundation. Only halfway through the book, something seemingly interesting starts taking place, but then it soon fizzles out, like a day-old opened can of beer. Even the ending seemed abrupt.

The words 'bookworm' and 'fiction merging into reality' are just terms to entice a reader, but I was just disappointed.

People often think that all their problems will magically resolve once they start going to therapy. How I wish this were true! It is oft ignored how therapy is hard work. You require to put in the effort in you; it's just that there is someone to guide you.

Not many will relate to I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokkbokki. And even if you do, there will still be parts you won't be able to resonate with--which is okay.

The unfiltered conversations b/w Sehee, who has dysthymia, and her therapist will bring you closer to your self. You will find a friend amongst the pages who is going through the same things.
This book doesn't handhold you into healing or even offer you epiphanies, it is just a short memoir of a very courageous woman who decided to tell it all. And in this memoir you will find yourself.
The biggest advantage of this book is that it is honest to the core.

If you are someone who has/had some form of depression or even anxiety disorders, you'll not feel alone. If you've never had to maneuver your ship around rogue waves, I envy you. Also, this book, then, might not be for you.

It's raining, and you are sitting on the terrace, with a mug of hot coffee between your palms. You are staring at the droplets that fall on the floor, trying to muffle the chatter in your head. But there is something deep in your chest that stops you from feeling content.
Reading The Garden of Evening Mists was exactly this--trying to find solace despite the palpitations in your chest.

After taking an early retirement as a judge, Yun Ling Teoh seeks solace in the Japanese gardens of Malay where she spent time helping the Japanese Emperor's former gardener finish his garden in her 20s, a time after she was the only one to be released alive from one of the Japanese camps.
This garden is where she decides to reminisce and write down her story before her memory fades, the only thing she is sure of.

This book has one of most beautiful writing I have come across; it's almost ethereal. Such beautiful quotes that will soothe your soul. And apart from this, it is also recollection of, albeit fictional to an extent, the Japanese's reign of terror in Malay, now Malaysia.

I had a three-month-long rendezvous with the book. I allowed it to envelope me in its saccharine prose and sour history, the latter often making me keep it on the side because I didn't feel the need to know 'what's next?'. It did get a tad slow, especially as it's laced with melancholy, but perseverance led to me finishing my first ever Malaysian literature.

Read it when you want something slow and soothing. Keep it aside when you want to, because you will get back to it. The book has such a power.

‘We might be suffering from different illnesses, but it means the same thing in the end, doesn’t it? Our memories are dying.’ says Yun Ling. More than anything else, this book is an ode to memory.