Obayed Haq’s Bangla novel, Arkathi, is almost a bildungsroman tale filled with adventure and self-reflection. In true bildungsroman fashion, where the protagonist progresses into adulthood with room for growth and change, a bulk of Haq’s novel talks about the spiritual journey that an orphan, Naren, takes through a forest in order to mature, and comes out on the other side to realise a community’s deep, hidden truth.
Someone in a chat group somewhere called Sally Rooney the ‘Taylor Swift’ of the literary world, and now I cannot unsee it.
In January 2023, I was sitting in the crowd, listening in on a panel at the 10th and possibly the final edition of the Dhaka Lit Fest. Sheikh Hasina had already been in power for almost 15 years, and it felt like the sun would never set on Awami League, at least not in my lifetime.
I was a Twilight girl.
‘Shabnam’ is a dewdrop in Persian. Shabnam (1960) is the name of Syed Mujtaba Ali’s passionate love story that stretches beyond the history of nearly a century ago.
Being an ardent admirer of K-pop culture, I wonder why I was hitherto unaware of this gem of a book, One Left by Kim Soom, and the excruciatingly painful truth it delineates.
Everett’s breezy, fast-moving retelling of Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1884) is about putting in some due respect.
Review of ‘The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida’ (Sort of Books, 2022) by Shehan Karunatilaka
Happy Hour greeted me like a warm hug. This is definitely one of the sweetest books I’ve read this year, and possibly one of the sweetest books I will ever read.
This is a beautiful book about a teenager looking for the answers in life, the joys of found family, and the experience of love in its many forms.
Hannah's protagonist Freddie is attempting to make progress on her novel by working at the Boston Public Library, when she—along with three of the people she is sharing a table with—are transfixed by the sound of a woman screaming somewhere in the Library.
Although the story doesn’t talk about how this particular cafe became a time-travelling spot to begin with, reading through to the last page made me feel that the café was always there-since the beginning of time.
Perhaps Martin Amis’s works do not grab me for the most part because it veers too far away from the humanism of, say, Saul Bellow—a writer Martin greatly admires and has written about extensively.
Institutional racism in colonies, migration, flawed anti-monarchy sentiments stemming from personal vendettas, and the need for rebellion permeate the lives of these characters.
It is the disease that maintains the upper hand in the plot. A jarring voice of its own, the toxins spilling across the pages in bold, chaotic words.
A major scientific breakthrough has ensured that boys born with a particular gene can be identified as having the potential to grow into violent men.
This story, which originally began as a short story, features a headstrong heroine putting her desires above what society expects of her, in order to realise her destiny.
Set in 1990s Dhaka against the backdrop of the military occupation, the novella follows the lives of a young university professor, his wife, and their house help, Phulbanu. The story is narrated entirely from Phulbanu’s perspective.
Schwartz’s narrator speaks in the choral “we”, and like a daisy chain, they connect all these women’s shared yet individual experiences of feeling closed in, being violated, feeling misunderstood by society, until they all shed their names and managed to “escap[e] the century”.
