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A review by stevensquirrels
The Parcel by Anosh Irani
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
5.0
An artfully smooth writing style lures you into an emotionally brutal story of finding your footing in a world that reviles you.
The story left me pondering cycles of violence - how a personal context limits choices.
How the scars from rejection from the family in which you were raised continue to sting. Even if surrounded by your found family - the longing to be reconciled, even if impossible, deepens the heart ache.
Brutal. Many-many triggers.
Again, wonderfully written. “Madhu loved gurumai, and would continue to do so, but not the way humans experience love. Madhu loved her the way wind loved the trees. She was visible only because of her.”
The book wraps up jarringly fast. I can see why the author made the decision - catching us off guard in the suddenly changed world that the characters find themselves in. But still, be prepared for a slight feeling things being unresolved.
It’s a book that I will keep, am very happy I read, but will only consider rereading if I’m home alone, armed with a gallon of ice-cream and nursing a depression.
The story left me pondering cycles of violence - how a personal context limits choices.
How the scars from rejection from the family in which you were raised continue to sting. Even if surrounded by your found family - the longing to be reconciled, even if impossible, deepens the heart ache.
Brutal. Many-many triggers.
Again, wonderfully written. “Madhu loved gurumai, and would continue to do so, but not the way humans experience love. Madhu loved her the way wind loved the trees. She was visible only because of her.”
The book wraps up jarringly fast. I can see why the author made the decision - catching us off guard in the suddenly changed world that the characters find themselves in. But still, be prepared for a slight feeling things being unresolved.
It’s a book that I will keep, am very happy I read, but will only consider rereading if I’m home alone, armed with a gallon of ice-cream and nursing a depression.