I didn't expect so much patronising flattery and unscientific claptrap in the opening speech. Very little of this collection is agelessly thundering in exposing the crimes of imperialism, the prison walls of America, and the artifice of white liberal allyship.
Capably written single-formula stories that are casually fatphobic, ableist, dismissive of the other while centring another ‘other'.
Kerala and nearly all of the characters expand into three dimensions in a story that weaves between past and present and addresses class and patriarchal structures, colonialism, family dysfunction, and the beats of a butterfly's wing. It's cluttered however with poetic turns of phrase that founder and repeat and grow overshadowly wearisome.
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