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Verbrande suiker von Avni Doshi
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Verbrande suiker (2021. Auflage)

von Avni Doshi, Luud Dorresteijn, Maaike Harkink

MitgliederRezensionenBeliebtheitDurchschnittliche BewertungDiskussionen
2861672,893 (3.31)76
Titel:Verbrande suiker
Autoren:Avni Doshi
Weitere Autoren:Luud Dorresteijn, Maaike Harkink
Info:Haarlem Xander 2021
Sammlungen:Deine Bibliothek


Burnt Sugar von Avni Doshi

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I had to read this because someone said it was "corrosive".

I love it.

We dissolve with questions. Even question marks have always seemed strange to me, a hook from the hand of some nightmare.

The narrator is so lost, she doesn't have anything to hold on to at all. No foundation of solid relationships, no shared memories, no conclusions, no solid ground. That's a key aspect of the character for me, and that she doesn't know even know what questions to ask. She thinks she can see subatomic particles under a microscope. Google searches, life coaches, messed up father figures, ephemeral mother figures, psychopathic nuns.

Random quotes I don't remember highlighting:

seeing a reflection shout is similar to watching television.

my mother said they were trading their bad memories for a stranger’s.

I wish moderation were a comfortable state.

By the time we left the ashram, it was 1989. I was seven years old. Sometimes I can feel that girl crowning at the back of my throat, trying to come out through any orifice she can. But I swallow her until the next time she wants to be born

I want to cry for being stupid, for giving him the tools to make this incision.

This is a long and drawn out loss, where a little bit goes missing at a time.

I think about every decision I’ve made until this point that has brought me here, and I wonder how much is because it was easy.

I stopped seeing the therapist soon after that because she asked too many questions. Wasn’t her job to sit and listen? In fact, worse than the thought of my parents’ abandonment were all the unanswered questions she posed, the ones that continue to float around. Anytime I come close to answering one, a whole series of other doubts assert themselves. I wonder at the terror physicists must have felt when the laws of Newton failed under a microscope. They poked a little too far.

Hating the playground felt good, gave a direction to my feeling of unease, grounded it in an object that I could see. This contempt still draws up the moment I feel uncomfortable. I disown so I can never be disowned.

I rub my eye. White from the corner sticks like glue on my fingers. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what to make of it.

Though if they repeat it long enough, if the act is internalized – would it be an act any more? Can a performance of pleasure, even love, turn into a true experience if one becomes fluent enough in it? When does the performance become reality?

Otherwise my reading and writing skills were passable, and the teachers praised my mechanical handwriting. Submission was apparent in every line I wrote.

She has a smile on her face that is worn too tightly.

Yes, I dripped on occasion too, but I was always able to seal myself up again.

‘And doesn’t it make sense that people want to leave?’ I asked. The therapist jotted something down and asked me to elaborate. I told him that staying doesn’t have the appeal, the mystery, of escape. To stay is to be staid, to be resigned, to believe this is all there will ever be. Aren’t we creatures made for searching, investigation, dominion? Aren’t we built to believe there can always be something better?

Neither has listening. There was a breakdown somewhere about what we were to one another, as though one of us was not holding up her part of the bargain, her side of the bridge.
( )
  RebeccaBooks | Sep 16, 2021 |
Truly brilliant writing - and not surprised it was shortlisted for the Booker Prize in 2020. I confirm the book blurb is completely accurate: Arresting and fiercely intelligent, disarmingly witty and frank - Sunday Times.

It was the sort of book I would have breathed in and been sated once. Nowadays, mother - daughter themes are my least favourite. So I listened to about 1.5 hours and didn't return to it. I appreciate that it is a kind of love story between mother and daughter. The mother's Alzheimer's and the obvious dislike of daughter for mother - you have to be in the mood for these thing, and don't have the buzz of the good escapism.

Vineeta Rishi's reading is great and love the glimpse into India. Nothing else read by her in my library unfortunately. ( )
  Okies | Sep 12, 2021 |
This book is a wonderful look at a very difficult mother-daughter relationship, as well as the tendency for a new mom to disappear when people come to see the baby. I really liked this and want to read more by this author, though there were a few things I wanted to know more about. Did Antara or her mother continue to see/write to Kali Mata until her death? Antara seems to view her as the woman who truly raised her, but did they lose touch during her adolescence? Dilip is American, but there is very little about what that means for the story, other than occasional mentions of maybe moving--no real job search or paperwork or discussion. So why is it here?
Antara is an adult and married, and her 50-something mother Tara is forgetting things. Soon she is wandering, setting fires, and needs to be watched. Her own mother is getting to be too feeble to do the watching. Antara tries, but is soon in a downward spiral related to her own pregnancy, probable postpartum depression, and her memories of her strange childhood. She was always in her mother's way, and her mother is more than happy to tell her that now. Antara struggles with her mother leaving her father for a guru. With her father having remarried and having a younger son whom Anatara doesn't know. Her mother took her to the guru's ashram for years, where another woman, Kali, cared for her. Then she had them begging on the streets, to get at her own wealthy parents. Now, she insults Antara's artwork and claims the baby as her own. ( )
  Dreesie | Jun 30, 2021 |
My expectations may have been too high. I loved the idea of this novel, but found myself reading just to get to the ending without caring much about the characters. ( )
  Beth.Clarke | Jun 12, 2021 |
12. Burnt Sugar by Avni Doshi
reader: Sneha Mathan
published: 2019
format: 8:36 Audible audiobook (240 pages in paperback)
acquired: March 20
listened: Mar 22 – Apr 2
rating: 4
locations: Pune, India and other places in India – 1980’s through current day
about the author: from New Jersey, daughter of Indian immigrants, born 1982

My 8th book from the 2020 Booker long list. I liked this one. I have read enough plotless sentence-level incisive devastating-secret devi novels to know it's a thing and not a thing I'm a big fan of. This is one of those. But it was engaging. I like how the book addresses dementia, which I could relate to, and how it uses local culture in Pune and Mumbai, how it touches on life in an ashram, and how it addresses some of the characteristics of American-born Indians, and their relation to India. I enjoyed it.

It's a mother-daughter story - Tara and Antara. Mom has progressing dementia and Antara is trying to deal with it, and is bitter about it. She still has hurts to respond to, and Tara is there, but there can no longer be a reckoning. It's too late. But also, Tara has less and less control over what she says. She starts hinting at dark secrets about to her son-in-law and Antara, our narrator, is getting a little anxious...and a little unstable.

This is a debut novel by American born Doshi, and takes place in Pune, India. It's read beautifully by [[Sneha Mathan]]. (I think there is another version with a different narrator.) Recommended.

2021 ( )
  dchaikin | Apr 10, 2021 |
keine Rezensionen | Rezension hinzufügen

» Andere Autoren hinzufügen (8 möglich)

AutorennameRolleArt des AutorsWerk?Status
Avni DoshiHauptautoralle Ausgabenberechnet
Mathan, SnehaErzählerCo-Autoreinige Ausgabenbestätigt
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Ma, ami tumar kachchey aamar porisoi diti diti biakul oya dzai

Mother I'm so tired, tired of introducing myself to you

Rehna Sultana, 'Mother'
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For Nishi, Naren and Pushpa the Brave
Erste Worte
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I would be lying if I said my mother's misery has never given me pleasure.
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Durchschnitt: (3.31)
1 1
2 7
2.5 3
3 20
3.5 6
4 18
4.5 4
5 1

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