Love the Dark Days by Ira Mathur

Written as a memoir and yet so much more, this story follows Poppet, a child of mixed Hindu and Muslim religion, who begins childhood living with her sister Angel and Burrimummy (grandmother). It’s a story of growing up unwanted, the prejudices against those seen as inferior, and the struggle to find an identity when no one has prepared her for life. It shows the complexities of flawed generations and the influence seemingly small decisions or actions have. The story shares a poignant look at a life that could have gone a number of ways and the choices the author faced (or had no control over) to end up where she is now. A vivid and fascinating journey that is well-written and plunges you so deeply into scenes sometimes that it is difficult to come back to the present.  

 

I found this story quite difficult to read – for a number of reasons. In the beginning, when we are introduced to Poppet and her situation, it’s hard to understand how people are treated in certain ways or spoken to as they are for things not of their doing. Then, as the story continues, the interactions with Derek Walcott (while I understand help to move the story and explain her motivations) stop the flow of the story every now and then. You’d find yourself immersed in a part and the next chapter, when about Derek Walcott, would bring you out of the era you were in. Then the journey through her moving, college, and marriage left a very sour taste in my mouth – through no fault of her own. The interactions and conversations were heavy, and while there may be some who understand the history and feel the parts were normal, to me the lack of respect threw me and made me feel quite ill for a while after finishing the book. So in that respect, the author has done a tremendous job in getting the reader right into the situations.

 

Burrimummy was brought across as a character able to be hated and pitied. She was so caught up in her past that she couldn’t see changing times and changing choices and only felt validated by her possessions, connections, and perceived superiority over others. Poppet’s mummy had the redeeming feature of choice – and a backbone to go with it. Otherwise, her reliance on physical looks as validation and constant socialising in dances and visits made for a character without much substance.

 

Poppet’s struggles through life played on my mind for days. Trying to fit in as a child of mixed religion and where lighter skin than hers is preferred in post-colonial patriarchal India. Trying to fit in in the West Indies where emphasis is placed on different values. Trying to fit in in London in a modern society where she is wholly unprepared to be herself. At times, it even felt as though she was fighting the wrong fights.

 

The photos at the end of the book helped to cement how the reader envisaged the characters and settings (especially what Burrimummy looked like when she was younger), but what was missing for me though, was the connection between who and where the author is now to the last pieces of information we had. The ending felt rushed and left me asking for more information.  

 

I wasn’t sure if I would enjoy this book, and at times I didn’t. But it left something with me. Something that made me hug my family closer, something that made me feel for those whose stories I don’t know, and something that made me motivated to do and be better.

 

Thank you to Loudhailer Books and NetGalley for a copy of the book to review.