Publisher’s write-up:
‘From Newcastle to Cornwall,
from the birth of the twentieth century to the teens of the twenty-first, Girl,
Woman, Other follows a cast of twelve characters on their personal journeys
through this country and the last hundred years. They're each looking for
something - a shared past, an unexpected future, a place to call home,
somewhere to fit in, a lover, a missed mother, a lost father, even just a touch
of hope . . .’
Girl, Woman, Other is a Booker
Prize winning novel written by Bernadine Evaristo featuring twelve principal
characters – all of them being Black British women. Each of these characters
were connected to the other in some way or the other; inevitable the first two characters
in a chapter being a mother-daughter relationship (or the other way round) and
the third being a woman closely involved in the lives of one or both of them.
The book features people from different
sections of the society – a well to do playwright and her rebellious daughter,
an immigrant from Nigeria running a successful business and her daughter who
gets admitted to Oxford and is losing her ‘Nigerian identity’, a
teacher, a struggling teenage single mother, a self-identified ‘gender free’
character, etc. Through these characters, the author explores multiple themes, patriarchy,
privilege, racism, one of intersectionality – wherein some of the characters would
often be facing discrimination at three levels, that is, being a woman, being
black and also being lesbian.
The book is written in an odd
manner, I was initially wondering if there was a mistake in my version of the
book or that there was a printing error throughout. The book is in a poetic
structure wherein, there are hardly any complete sentences and there are
paragraph breaks all the time. However, I got used to it within the first
twenty pages and could then enjoy and start appreciating this style of writing.
I liked how each of these
characters were connected – which added an inadvertent element of suspense as
to at what point is this character going to be connected to an earlier
character (or characters). However, the relationship between the characters is
not as important as the individuals themselves, as each of them had their own
complexities. My favourite section was the chapter involving Bummi (the
Nigerian immigrant mentioned earlier) and her daughter Carole, who looked down
on most of her classmates and then, the story is presented from the perspective
of one such classmate. It gets interesting when each character seems justified while
narrating the stories from their perspective.
I was circumspect about the
manner in which she conveyed some of her messages, perhaps to engage better
with a global audience (for I am sure that the author is more aware of West
Africa than I am). This was when she repeatedly used the word Nigerian –
like Bummi telling Carole that she must embrace her Nigerian identity
and marry only a Nigerian man, which is a very culturally diverse place
with ethnicities having of little connection to each other. From their profile,
I could infer that Bummi was an Igbo and every time she said ‘Nigerian’, she
perhaps meant Igbo or a related ethnic group (and likely not a Hausa or a Fula who
are also ‘Nigerians’).
I enjoyed every chapter, but some
could feel that there is heavy repetition involved my most of the characters
often repeating the same themes of patriarchy or intersectionality. I also felt
that there could have been a bit more diversity in the book – with a less
privileged White British character. There was a promising conversation between
Yazz, the teenage daughter of a playwright and her Cornish friend about a ‘privilege
olympics’ and I might have perhaps liked a story dedicated to this friend.
On the whole, this book was a
great read – was an engaging style of writing for various reasons (be it
language or even the structure), the multiple themes that were explored and the
engaging characters. On that note, I would award this book an eight on ten.
Rating – 8/10
Have a nice day,
Andy
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