Arundhati Roy has held a dear place in my heart since I read her hit debut novel “The God of Small Things,” which explores forbidden love and social discrimination in 1960s Kerala, India. What draws me into Roy’s work is her uncanny ability to weave words in such a way that they read like looking at a painting — second glances are often necessary, each time uncovering hidden nuances the reader would miss upon first skim. Her fictional text digs deep, telling stories of imperfect characters moving through a politically violent, hostile world.
But this time, she’s stepping outside of fiction. She’s getting personal. And it all revolves around her mother, Mary Roy, known as “Mrs. Roy” to her colleagues — and, more surprisingly, to her own daughter as well.
“Mother Mary Comes to Me” centers around Mrs. Roy: the tenacious, manipulative, strong-willed character that, for better or for worse, shaped Roy into the stunning literary hero she is today.
Mrs. Roy is presented in the novel as a force of nature, one who does not hesitate to sling insults, raise her voice and beat her children with a ruler following an average report card. On the flip side of the coin, she was a celebrated feminist icon, educator and women’s rights activist. She founded a progressive school in Kerala known for its unconventional teaching methods and strict rules against gender discrimination. Much of Roy’s novel takes place within the classrooms of the school her mother poured her heart and soul into.
“I say ‘my mother,’” Roy writes, “but once she started her school she was no longer only my mother. The moment the children entered the school, she became their mother too.”
The author has referenced her mother in previous fictional works, often admittedly using her as inspiration for her more uncompromising characters.
What makes this memoir exceptional is the consideration of a grey area: a deep exploration of a woman who is not simply good or bad, who made huge leaps for women throughout the world, but also occasionally verbally berated her kids in fits of “cruelty” and “unpredictable temper.”
Roy’s professional life didn’t follow a straightforward path. The New York Times called the reflection on her bumpy maternal relationship “the keystone” of “an unconventional career.” Before hitting literary fame, Roy worked as an architect and an actor in films, among other things.
Her newest story is one of attachment, begging questions about breaking generational cycles. But, perhaps more overlooked, it’s a story of grief. It’s a soft story, of a daughter reckoning with walking away from a mother who cannot give her everything she needs; and a mother who insists on preserving her own definition of success, even if it means her daughter is collateral damage.
“As a child, I loved her irrationally, helplessly, fearfully, completely, as children do. As an adult I tried to love her coolly, rationally, and from a safe distance. I often failed,” Roy wrote.
Eventually, she chose to cut ties completely.
“I left my mother not because I didn’t love her, but in order to be able to continue to love her.”
Much like Roy herself, the reader doesn’t leave the novel with a firm grip on Mrs. Roy’s innermost motives and complicated behavior patterns. It is a novel that asks more questions than it answers, but inherently, it is a product of the volatile Mrs. Roy herself, who raised her daughter to be extraordinary, strong-willed and scared of the innate violent possibilities of the world.