Review of BURNT SUGAR by Avni Doshi (New Release)

 3 Stars

This novel appeared on the shortlist for the 2020 Booker Prize for Fiction so I was anxious to read it and requested a digital galley before its North American release date of January 26.  Unfortunately, it was a disappointment.

The narrator is Antara, a woman in her mid-thirties living in Pune, India.  Her mother Tara seems to be in the early stages of dementia and Antara is left caring for a mother who didn’t take care of her daughter.  In sections set in the 1980s, we see Tara moving into an ashram to be the mistress of a guru; to do so she abandons her marriage and becomes estranged from her parents.  She takes Antara with her but neglects her:  “she would disappear every day, dripping with milk, leaving me unfed.”  For a time, the two live on the streets.  Though married and financially secure, Antara knows that her childhood continues to affect her life:  “my mother leaving my father, and my father letting us both go, has coloured my view of all relationships.”

Tara is an interesting, though unlikeable, character.  As a young woman, Tara is a free spirit obsessed with self-actualization, with pursuing her own dreams.  She lacks inhibition and lives her life free of guilt; she refuses the demands of motherhood and makes no apologies for her behaviour.  Though one might admire her desire for personal growth and happiness, there is no doubt that she is selfish.  Antara describes her mother as emotionally immature:  “emotionally, she has never progressed past being a teenager.  She is still at the mercy of hormones.  She still thinks in terms of freedom and passion.  And love.”  When angry or hurt, she lashes out at Antara, slapping her and calling her “’a fat little bitch.’”  Tara tends to compare herself to her daughter:  she would compare their bodies and comment that “her breasts were bigger than mine, but my waist was smaller.  She would comment on how my positive attributes were a symptom of age, declaring with certainty that my ugliness would surpass hers when I reached my forties. . . . she was pleased to tell me these things, to know that I would suffer as she had . . . did she ever see me as a child . . . [or] Did she always see me as a competitor, or, rather, an enemy?” 

Antara tends to receive sympathy from the reader as she details her childhood of abuse and neglect.  But then it becomes clear that Antara is not flawless.  Her behaviour towards her mother can be interpreted as self-preservation or as revenge.  She suffers from post-partum depression and her thoughts are distressing:  “I am tired of this baby.  She demands too much, always hungering for more. . . .  I’ve never been a stickler for manners, but this baby doesn’t stand on ceremony.  She’s a rude little bitch if I ever met one.” 

There is also some suggestion that Antara is not a reliable narrator.  Her memories of the past cannot be verified by Tara who is losing her memory but Antara’s grandmother questions the accuracy of some of her granddaughter’s memories.  Tara may be suffering from memory loss caused by dementia but perhaps Antara’s memory is selective.  One character says, “’We are all unreliable.  The past seems to have a vigour that the present does not.’”  It is interesting that Antara several times refers to madness (“This is madness.  I feel it – I inch towards it daily”) and at least two other people refer to her madness:  “’Hoarding this garbage will make you madder than you are’” and “’You should worry about your own madness instead of mine.’” 

This book can be commended for its depiction of the complicated emotions a caregiver can experience when trying to care for a person with whom she has had a difficult relationship.  However, it didn’t captivate me, and I found myself wanting to skim just to reach the end of the book.  The discussions of Antara’s art go on and on.  Some events, like the trip to Goa, seem irrelevant.  Perhaps I just wasn’t in the right frame of mind but trying to decipher the significance of some of the digressions just didn’t appeal. 

The winner of the 2020 Booker Prize, Shuggie Bain by Douglas Stuart, also deals with a complex parent-child relationship.  Its examination is so realistic, empathetic, and powerful that the book left me in awe. The depiction of the parent-child relationship in Burnt Sugar is less successful so I’m not surprised that it didn’t win the prestigious award.

Note:  I received an eARC from the publisher via NetGalley.