Do you ever find a book unavoidable? Your mom is reading it, your friends are reading it, there's chatter about it on Facebook, and strangers on the bus are poring through it? Secret Daughter was such a book for me so when I saw it on a shelf in Buy the Book, my local used bookstore, I picked it up. The bookseller even chimed in with, "Great choice. It's a terrific book." My expectations were high–slightly too high in the end.
In Secret Daughter, author Shilpi Somaya Gowda juxtaposes the stories of two women struggling against circumstances beyond their control.
First we meet Kavita, a young woman in a rural India who gives birth to a girl. Her husband Jasu is a poor farmer. He only wants a baby boy who can contribute to, rather than drain, the family's meagre resources. With the threat of infanticide looming (in the horrifying opening scene we learn Jasu had the couple's firstborn girl killed), Kavita flees with the baby and leaves her at an orphanage in Mumbai before returning home.
Next we meet Californian Somer (the cheesy name fits), who seems to lead a charmed existence. She's ambitious, privileged and married to charming Krishnan, whom she met in medical school. But after a series of miscarriages, Somer learns she's infertile so despite her many other accomplishments, she feels unfulfilled.
The stage is set. Somer and Krishnan return to his native Mumbai and adopt Kavita's baby. (Don't worry. All this is so obvious from the start I'm not giving anything away.) The plot from there examines the clash between American and Indian culture in both countries. It also examines themes of loss, longing, forgiveness and acceptance in mainly predictable yet believable ways. The problem is not in the storyline so much as how it is told. Here is a story loaded with potential I didn't feel was realized. The writing never sung for me; I didn't once stop to reread a sentence simply because of how beautifully it was structured. I would describe the writing style as: this happened, then that happened, then something else happened, which resulted in this. At the end the characters are enlightened and reflective, but it is too little, too late.
I don't regret having read Secret Daughter. It is a quick read but like a quick snack, it didn't leave me feeling full. I wasn't able to forgive Jasu for ordering his firstborn girl murdered, although the author treated him sympathetically. I never fell in love with either main character, especially Somer. She struck me as privileged and her disdain for Indian culture was stereotypical. Her eventual awakening coincides with her taking up yoga, which seemed like a cliché.
The author, an Indo-Canadian/American, draws upon her heritage effectively to compare the different wedding customs, marriage, food, grooming and parenting norms in each culture. She also examines life in the infamous Mumbai slum Dharavi, and the declining birth rates of Indian girls compared with boys beginning in the 1980s due to widespread infanticide and the introduction of ultrasound technology (which led to the abortion of many female fetuses).
So while there were parts of this book that held my attention and while I understand its appeal, the reading experience, for me, was like eating a chapati when I craved spicy paneer.