TOMB OF SAND

An 80-year-old woman begins a new life and, in the process, confronts her past.

Winner of the 2022 International Booker Prize, this ambitious novel is something of a behemoth, upending and redefining concepts of modernity, boundaries, gender, colonialism, and the India-Pakistan Partition. Along the way, Shree challenges the idea of what a novel—or even a story—can do. At the book’s center is 80-year-old Ma, who lives in Delhi with her son and daughter-in-law. Deeply depressed following her husband’s death, Ma refuses to get out of bed. Then, suddenly, Ma disappears for a few days, and when she turns up again, with no explanation for her absence, she goes to stay with her daughter. Beti, a writer and a divorcée, has spurned the more traditional life her brother pursued and prides herself on her freedom. But as Ma returns to life, Beti is forced to question just how modern and progressive she really is—after all, it’s Ma who’s developing an intimate friendship with a hijra and casting aside her traditional saris; Beti is more discomfited by these actions than she can admit even to herself. The complex relationships depicted here could have filled a dozen other novels, but they are not Shree’s focus. Instead, she tugs at the conventions of the novel itself: “Think of a story as a living being,” she writes. “There are countless beings and countless types of beings.” Some of this material becomes repetitive and could have benefited from a strict editor. Then, too, Shree is occasionally prone to a didacticism that isn’t quite as mind-blowing as she might have intended: “That which is perceived in a state of semiconsciousness is true unvarnished reality,” for example; “A rock is only a rock as long as it’s a rock.” Still, the language games and puns, nimbly translated by Rockwell, are delightful (“Their minds turned to curd: hue and cry occurred”), and Shree’s larger project is truly admirable: an utterly unique novel that redefines its own boundaries even as it unfolds.

Shree's experimental novel doesn’t always succeed—but even when it fails, it fails in a compelling way.