The Rice Mother by Rani Manicka

Although I only met her once, from what I hear about my Malaysian Great Grandma or Muttachi, she had a pretty mega life. She was born the same day the Titanic sank in Kerala. Aged 14 she was shipped off to Mayalsia to marry a man she didn’t know. She lived through the Japanese invasion of the country during WW2. She raised 11 children. When she passed away just over a year ago aged 100, she probably took about a thousand stories and secrets with her, I’m certain that if her life had been recorded it would turn out something like this book. The Rice Mother is a family saga, which seems to me to have many echoes of Muttachi’s own life right from the start.

The story begins in Sri Lanka, where arrangements are made for a fourteen year old girl to marry a rich Malaysian man, who is more than twice her age. Lakshmi doesn’t even see her betrothed until her wedding day. Her mother is convinced that the match will improve Lakshmi’s life significantly, but upon landing in Malaysia after a hellish journey at sea, Lakshmi discovers that her mother has been deceived, and that her husband is a poor man with a mountain of financial debt. Despite his part in the deception, Lakshmi’s husband is a good man, and Lakshmi starts to build a life for them from scratch.

As the years go on, they have six children together, and their family and turn of good fortune grows. Then, in the summer of 1941, the Japanese invade Malaysia, and a reign of terror begins.

At first Lakshmi narrates the story, and then every member of her family spanning over four generations re-tell this family saga from their perspective. It’s epic and really tragic. From moments of suffering and cruelty at the hands of the Japanese soldiers, to moments of suffering and cruelty inflicted by members of Lakshmi’s own family. There’s a bit at the end of the novel where Lakshmi’s great grand-daughter descends into a state of trauma, reciting nursery rhymes as she uncovers the truth behind her family history, that’s just so intense.

Even though I’m not a big fan of some of the flowery language, it’s great story-telling, and I would highly recommend it.

To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee

I know, I know; everyone did it at secondary school and no one cares anymore (although they made our class read Lord of the Flies instead so that was kind of shit and unfair).

To Kill A Mockingbird should be enjoyed rather than scribbled on with highlighter pen and butchered by some daft curriculum that forces kids to learn chunks of a book they aren’t interested in reading.

The story introduces us to 1930’s Alabama through the eyes of our child narrator, Scout Finch. Living in a cosy suburb with her brother Jem and their father Atticus, Scout’s greatest fear is the mysteriously reclusive next door neighbour Boo Radley, who occupies many a rambling description and has become something of a monstrous legend in Scout’s mind. But when their father Atticus, a lawyer, is appointed to defend Tom Robinson, a black man accused of raping a white girl – Scout is forced to confront the very real terror of vicious racism, discrimination and a community without any scruples. When Atticus discovers that Tom’s accusers, the Ewell family, are lying – the poisonous corruption of the so-called justice system is thrust into the cold light of day. It will make your blood boil.

For me the narration of this book is what makes it enjoyable. It’s children’s literature style narration exploring very adult content; a well trodden technique, but Harper Lee was probably one of the first writers to use it to such powerful effect. I’ve read and re-read it, and by the end of the book you’ll really want to hang out with Atticus. Total lad.

Disgrace by J.M Coetzee

I went to South Africa with work for the first time a few months ago. We were heavily chaperoned by the production company, who had booked us into a string of fancy pants hotels in Cape Town, Pilanesberg and Johannesburg (the kind where you get free fruit in your room – win!). It was the dream shoot, and I loved every minute of it. Even the getting up at 4am everyday bit…that was good too. Sort of.  But despite all the molly coddling and glamorous experience we were treated to, you couldn’t ignore the politics and dare I say ‘racial tension’ after speaking to the locals and some of the crew (this was probably times a bajillion given that the day we landed was the day Mandela died). I felt the same reading Disgrace, as if there was some other feeling bubbling constantly beneath the words.

Set in post-apartheid Cape Town, the novel introduces us to David Lurie, a white professor at the university who is dismissed after (somewhat forcibly) seducing one of his black students. (Forgive me for mentioning race at this stage, but it’s relevant.) David goes to stay with his daughter, who lives on a remote farm running a dog kennel. He occasionally assists Bev at the Animal Shelter putting the dogs to sleep and helps Lucy’s neighbour Petrus with odd jobs. Life bumbles on as David comes to terms with his disgrace, until one day, David and Lucy are attacked at her farm by three black men. David is set on fire, Lucy’s kennel dogs are killed and Lucy is gang-raped – but refuses to press charges. The real strain arises when it becomes clear that Petrus is good friends with Lucy’s attacker, and things might not quite be what they seem.

There’s a lot of tricky racial tension going on here. The novel begins with a white man abusing his power over a black girl, and then a white girl and her father are physically abused by three black men. I’m not going to try and comment on what the author is getting at as I’m far too politically ignorant – but I do find this shift interesting given that the novel is post-apartheid.

After Mandela’s death there were fears that there would be racially driven riots, as revenge for years of black oppression, and the so-called ‘racial power transfer’ seemed to be a very current topic. Although this novel is a bit serious, it is none the less thought-provoking and an incredible bit of writing. If you need any more convincing to give it a go, J.M Coetzee won the Nobel Prize for Literature a few years after its publication.