Here are two novels about forced migrations and which focus on structural inequalities and the particular dangers to women and girls. The first is about the partition of India in the mid-1940s and the second a contemporary novel set in the Americas.
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Moth by Melody Razak
Alma is fourteen, and a young fourteen at that, so I was somewhat alarmed to find she was about to be married. Her parents, both university lecturers, aren’t keen but seem reluctant to disappoint either her or the girl’s grandmother who has arranged the match. Naïvely, they think marriage will offer her some protection from the sexual violence perpetrated against women and girls at times of civil unrest. Welcome to the hitherto comfortable home of a Brahmin family in Delhi in the run-up to the departure of the British colonisers which will see India partitioned into three.
The cruelty and chaos of the mismanaged transfer of power is well-handled, showing me more about a period of history I thought I knew. I knew about the millions uprooted – Muslims fleeing their homes in India, Hindus escaping what would be Pakistan – and the trains pulling into termini with every passenger dead. I didn’t know this would spread terror even to the capital. I should’ve known, of course, from similar stories in my own lifetime, when neighbour turns against neighbour, and no-one wins.
I liked the focus on the female side of the family, which includes a couple of servants. The younger sister, Roop, is a sheer delight, especially when I realised she was only six, and I liked how Alma becomes more like her in the end. I could’ve done with less of Alma’s Disney princess attitude to relationships, but otherwise Melody Razak’s debut novel is a poignant story of how political turmoil can turn the most settled lives upside down. Thanks to publishers Weidenfeld & Nicolson for my advance proof copy.
The cruelty and chaos of the mismanaged transfer of power is well-handled, showing me more about a period of history I thought I knew. I knew about the millions uprooted – Muslims fleeing their homes in India, Hindus escaping what would be Pakistan – and the trains pulling into termini with every passenger dead. I didn’t know this would spread terror even to the capital. I should’ve known, of course, from similar stories in my own lifetime, when neighbour turns against neighbour, and no-one wins.
I liked the focus on the female side of the family, which includes a couple of servants. The younger sister, Roop, is a sheer delight, especially when I realised she was only six, and I liked how Alma becomes more like her in the end. I could’ve done with less of Alma’s Disney princess attitude to relationships, but otherwise Melody Razak’s debut novel is a poignant story of how political turmoil can turn the most settled lives upside down. Thanks to publishers Weidenfeld & Nicolson for my advance proof copy.
American Dirt by Jeanine Cummins
I thought this story of a mother and son’s hazardous journey fleeing the drug cartel that had murdered a dozen members of their family in Acapulco to safety el norte might be my kind of novel when it first came out. Then, when it was criticised for cultural appropriation, I didn’t want to be the kind of white woman who says that doesn’t matter. Now I’ve read it, it’s confirmed my faith in the power of fiction to tell the truth about inequalities and other serious stuff.
No doubt it has a zillion reviews already, so I’ll just mention a few take-home points for me as a writer. It’s a classic hero’s journey, with lessons learnt from enemies and allies along the way. Except that we’re straight into the adventure, with the status quo revealed in flashback, and no real choice, although much reluctance, about heeding the call. There’s mounting tension, a slight midpoint reversal, and a physical and metaphorical cave in the Arizona desert.
Interesting for me, with all my novels, whether in the third or first person, sticking to the main characters’ points of view, was how easily the viewpoint flows between Lydia and Luca and others they encounter, with no loss of momentum. I still had tears in my eyes when a character I barely knew had to die. And though there’s some disturbing sexual violence, it doesn’t have to be directly shown.
Read it to improve your own skills as a writer. Read it to remember the migrants’ plight. I didn’t want or expect this to happen, but it’s one of my favourite reads this year. Published by Tinder Press in the UK, I bought my copy.
Click on the image for other recommended reads about migration and refugees.
No doubt it has a zillion reviews already, so I’ll just mention a few take-home points for me as a writer. It’s a classic hero’s journey, with lessons learnt from enemies and allies along the way. Except that we’re straight into the adventure, with the status quo revealed in flashback, and no real choice, although much reluctance, about heeding the call. There’s mounting tension, a slight midpoint reversal, and a physical and metaphorical cave in the Arizona desert.
Interesting for me, with all my novels, whether in the third or first person, sticking to the main characters’ points of view, was how easily the viewpoint flows between Lydia and Luca and others they encounter, with no loss of momentum. I still had tears in my eyes when a character I barely knew had to die. And though there’s some disturbing sexual violence, it doesn’t have to be directly shown.
Read it to improve your own skills as a writer. Read it to remember the migrants’ plight. I didn’t want or expect this to happen, but it’s one of my favourite reads this year. Published by Tinder Press in the UK, I bought my copy.
Click on the image for other recommended reads about migration and refugees.
It was World Refugee Day when I started putting this post together. Then it was the summer solstice here in the northern hemisphere. Now it’s Trotting up to the Post Office with Packages of Books Day (I made that one up).
 | Anyway, the flash fiction challenge this week is to write a 99-word story involving a solstice. I’ve managed to link mine to the plight of refugees. |
The crossing
She couldn’t prove they were her triathlon medals, but he gave her the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes the shortest, the skinniest, proved the toughest, enduring scorching days and freezing nights. They marched, jogged, uncomplaining; they melted into the shadows at his command. Crossing in summer was madness with dark’s protection paper thin. Tonight, the solstice: riskiest of all. Yet she pleaded, everyone did, handing him wads of cash. Desert’s dangers the final stepping-stone on freedom’s trail. Now, minutes from departure, she arrives with a baby on her hip. Slim chance they’ll reach America. Certain death unless she tries.
She couldn’t prove they were her triathlon medals, but he gave her the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes the shortest, the skinniest, proved the toughest, enduring scorching days and freezing nights. They marched, jogged, uncomplaining; they melted into the shadows at his command. Crossing in summer was madness with dark’s protection paper thin. Tonight, the solstice: riskiest of all. Yet she pleaded, everyone did, handing him wads of cash. Desert’s dangers the final stepping-stone on freedom’s trail. Now, minutes from departure, she arrives with a baby on her hip. Slim chance they’ll reach America. Certain death unless she tries.
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