Book Review: Mother Mary Comes to Me
1 min read
Wani Nazir reviews Arundhati Roy’s Mother Mary Comes to Me (Penguin India, 2025), calling it everything from shelter and storm to reminiscence and revelation
In life, there are hundreds of stories that seldom turn up with point-blank answers, but with reverberations of sorrow and a flurry of doubts and questions so heckling that muffling them would be a devilish arduousness. Arundhati Roy, in Mother Mary Comes to Me, rummages through ‘within’ as she unravels an intricate realm of a daughter’s bond with her mother, and like those hundreds of stories, doesn’t come up with simple answers. The book exudes something chaotic and confusing but truer as well, and the memoir is not simply as neat as a new pin.
It muses on the blunt beauty ominously reminiscent of the wrenching realities of the past. The author does not shy away from any form of unfolding the truth in whatever form it is. The bond between a daughter and her mother has been dug deep so unswervingly in the book.
