My Thoughts: We Need to Talk about Kevin – Lionel Shriver

-

I’ve gone through my fair share of dark reads, but this was one of the darkest and heaviest books I’ve ever read. A teenage boy goes on a chillingly-planned and executed school shooting rampage, and the book is basically his mother’s bewildered, anguished perspective, vainly struggling to figure out how it all went wrong, starting right from Kevin’s birth up to that fateful day and its misery-laden aftermath.
As Eva the mother agonized and picked over each step of her doomed parenting sojourn, it was impossible for me as a mother to distance myself from her terrible doubts and uncertainty. Time and again, as she recounted a difficult parenting incident, a showdown with her son, a maternal dilemma, I found myself laying down the book and thinking of near-parallel incidents in my own parenting experiences. It was so difficult to remain detached. I realized that at the heart of it, all parents face pretty much the same pattern of problems with their kids as they continue to strive to do the best they can. But as Eva despairingly realises, you can try to do everything the parenting books tell you, be the most well-intentioned of mothers, and still not get it right. And you need to realize – it’s not your fault.
As you can probably tell, this book really got to me. However I would still recommend it as a superb read. The unfolding of the plot, narrative style and language impressed immensely, although you need to brace yourself for brutal punches, especially at the end. Can you feel any sympathy for Kevin? Or will you simply abhor him? The author leaves you teetering in the middle. A book I’ll be brooding over for quite some time.

#weneedtotalkaboutkevin #lionelshriver #bookreview

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Book Review: Love and Life Behind the Purdah – Cornelia Sorabji

-
Image
A mother whipped to death for the sin of touching her daughter’s corpse; a vivacious girl-widow condemned to her husband’s pyre; a childless wife banishing herself so that her husband might marry another- all these and other issues surrounding orthodox India are dealt with to striking effect by Cornelia Sorabji in this collection of short fiction. The narratives contain a considerable amount of social realism and deal with important issues regarding women, some of which figured prominently in socio-religious reformist discourse of the nineteenth century. What sets these narratives apart from other historical accounts is a refreshingly new point of view. The book is novel on two counts. It provides one of the earliest illustrations of colonial response to British rule in India. Additionally, it provides a fresh perspective on the beginnings of Indian writing in English.   The daughter of a Parsee who converted to Christianity, three streams of cultural influences- British, Parse...
Read more

Book Review: Life of Pi - Yann Martel

-
Image
  What do you say about a modern epic that lands up in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, its 18-year-old protagonist lost at sea with only a 450-pound Royal Bengal tiger for company? Laugh in amused disbelief? Gawk at the utter ludicrousness of such a situation? Gasp in horror at the terrifying implications of such a predicament? You will experience all these reactions and more in rapid succession as you chart the territory of this amazing novel. Yann Martel’s imaginative and unputdownable Life of Pi is a magical reading experience, an endless blue expanse of storytelling about adventure, survival, and ultimately, faith.   Piscine Molitor Patel, known to all as Pi Patel, is the son of a zookeeper in Pondicherry. Growing up among the wild beasts, Pi gathers an encyclopedic knowledge of the animal world- something that is to later save his life. We are provided with a fascinating glimpse into the world of zoo-keeping, abounding in intriguing and informative zoological fact...
Read more

The Terrace

-
Image
The terrace was old and decrepit now – a lot like a doddering old man who’d lost most of his hair and teeth. Mossy and cracked, it stood forlornly crowning a house almost as worn out as itself. It didn’t like being alone, this terrace. It liked the pattering of little feet, the anxious strides of older feet, the languorous pacing of the gossips. But in recent years, the steps had gradually dwindled. Now all that were left were memories… “Come on – quick, quick! Before Dida wakes up!” With suppressed giggles, the scurrying little feet made their way to the sunniest corner of the terrace where Dida’s humongous glass jars of mango pickle & kuler aachar were having a good sun bath. No mercy shown! Lids stealthily opened, little hands dipped inside, and then the mouthwatering waft of mustard oil and spices, with squeaks of delight. Sticky fingers were hastily rubbed on to the terrace walls in an attempt to hide the evidence. The terrace didn’t mind. If it could’ve let out a deep chu...
Read more