WARNING: THERE MAY BE SPOILERS BELOW
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| “Destroying us. You are constructing us. It’s yourselves that you are destroying.”- The Ministry of Utmost Happiness, Arunadhati Roy |
The Ministry of Utmost Happiness takes us on an intimate journey of many years across the Indian subcontinent - from the cramped neighborhoods of Old Delhi and the roads of the new city to the mountains and valleys of Kashmir and beyond, where war is peace and peace is war.
It is an aching love story and a decisive remonstration, a story told in a whisper, in a shout, through unsentimental tears and sometimes with a bitter laugh. Each of its characters is indelibly, tenderly rendered. Its heroes are people who have been broken by the world they live in and then rescued, patched together by acts of love - and by hope.
The tale begins with Anjum - who used to be Aftab - unrolling a threadbare Persian carpet in a city graveyard she calls home. We encounter the odd, unforgettable Tilo and the men who loved her - including Musa, sweetheart and ex-sweetheart, lover and ex-lover; their fates are as entwined as their arms used to be and always will be. We meet Tilo's landlord, a former suitor, now an intelligence officer posted to Kabul. And then we meet the two Miss Jebeens: the first a child born in Srinagar and buried in its overcrowded Martyrs' Graveyard; the second found at midnight, abandoned on a concrete sidewalk in the heart of New Delhi.
As this ravishing, deeply humane novel braids these lives together, it reinvents what a novel can do and can be. The Ministry of Utmost Happiness demonstrates on every page the miracle of Arundhati Roy's storytelling gifts.
It is an aching love story and a decisive remonstration, a story told in a whisper, in a shout, through unsentimental tears and sometimes with a bitter laugh. Each of its characters is indelibly, tenderly rendered. Its heroes are people who have been broken by the world they live in and then rescued, patched together by acts of love - and by hope.
The tale begins with Anjum - who used to be Aftab - unrolling a threadbare Persian carpet in a city graveyard she calls home. We encounter the odd, unforgettable Tilo and the men who loved her - including Musa, sweetheart and ex-sweetheart, lover and ex-lover; their fates are as entwined as their arms used to be and always will be. We meet Tilo's landlord, a former suitor, now an intelligence officer posted to Kabul. And then we meet the two Miss Jebeens: the first a child born in Srinagar and buried in its overcrowded Martyrs' Graveyard; the second found at midnight, abandoned on a concrete sidewalk in the heart of New Delhi.
As this ravishing, deeply humane novel braids these lives together, it reinvents what a novel can do and can be. The Ministry of Utmost Happiness demonstrates on every page the miracle of Arundhati Roy's storytelling gifts.
I never thought I'd actually read this book. I say this because I never had any desire to read The God of Small Things, even though people rant and rave about it and I still see it referenced quite a bit even though it's been 20 years (Christ, didn't think it's been that long) since it came out. But I don't know. There was something about this novel that drew me into it, perhaps it was the cover, perhaps it was the summary, but that compelled me to pick it up.
Honestly, I still have mixed feelings about it. I think I kind of convinced myself I liked it more than I did because the good parts are really good. I loved the first quarter with Anjum and her life, really liked the second part with the intelligence officer as it reminded me of Breakfast at Tiffany's, and then the book took a downhill turn. The third part was just plain confusing, and the fourth part was not nearly strong enough to recover from the confusingness of the third part.
The main source of my confusion was the whole parts about the Kashmir war. While I did gather that it had something to do with India vs Pakistan and Hindus vs Muslims, Roy did not explain it well at all. It made me wonder what audience she was writing this book for, her fellow Indians (who are already aware of the wars and contention surrounding Kashmir) or the Western audience (who have no knowledge and would require pages upon pages of exposition just to tell what's going on). I think she settled on a compromise that pleased no one, because I still had to look up Kashmir on Wikipedia after reading.
I also cared very little (almost nothing in fact) for Tilo. While I did genuinely like Anjum and the intelligence officer, Tilo had too little personality for me to care about her and her lover. The fact that I only barely understood her parts didn't help much.
I really wish that Roy had just left all the parts about Kashmir for another book, because, honestly, the story she started was fine. I think if it had just been about Anjum and her life I would have loved this book, because I really did love Roy's writing and characters in that first part. It's a bit overwritten, true, but it has the perfect touch of dreaminess to it and- what's more- I understood everything that went on. I especially loved that first chapter, it was the perfect hook to get someone into a story like this.
While this book isn't nearly as confusing as, say, Manhattan Beach, I still think it could have been so much better than it actually was. There is still plenty of good in the story, and I wouldn't hesitate to recommend it to someone interested in this type of story.
7 out of 10
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