A luminous, bittersweet novel of India and the American midwest, immigrants and their first-generation children, and the power of cooking to bridge the gulfs between them
When Mala and Ronak learn that their mother has only a few months to live, they are reluctantly pulled back into the midwestern world of their Indian immigrant parents--a diaspora of prosperous doctors and engineers who have successfully managed to keep faith with the old world while claiming the prizes of the new. More successfully than their children--equally ill at ease with Holi and Christmas, bhaji and barbecue, they are mysteries to their parents and themselves.
In the short time between diagnosis and deterioration, Mala sets about learning everything she can about her mother's art of Indian cooking. Perfecting the naan and the raita, the two confront their deepest divisions and failures and learn to speak as well as cook. But when Ronak hits upon the idea of selling their experience as a book and a TV documentary, India and America, immigrant and native-born are torn as never before.
With grace, acuity, and wry compassion, Amit Majmudar has written anew the immigrant experience, the clash of cultures, the conflicts of assimilation, and, most poignantly, the tangled ties between generations.
Amit Majmudar is the author of The Abundance, Partitions, chosen by Kirkus Reviews as one of the best debut novels of 2011 and by Booklist as one of the year’s ten best works of historical fiction. His poetry has been published in The New Yorker, The Atlantic, and Best American Poetry 2011. A radiologist, he lives in Columbus, Ohio.
A story of a woman, a wife, mother, and grandmother that tells of her response to learning she is terminally ill. One by one her family comes to realize that her unstoppable time has come. This is about their exploration of time past and the time left as they respect, introspect and assimilate. Each person has their own way, through conversations and actions to meditate on what family means, to mull over the past, and sort out what comes next. A story of acceptance, how to keep love in one’s heart, and till the end to show compassion for one another. It’s sometimes difficult to not want to look away from the author’s honest description of impending loss. This family finds a way to flow with their feelings, no matter how this hurts, finding it preferable to grieve and release their emotions. They argue and cry for what they will lose, the changes they will face, and how they will in the end, survive. You have to be a cold bastard to not shed some tears. A story with a calming voice and an even bigger heart.
In his first novel, Partitions, Amit Majmudar dealt brilliantly with the large-scale tragedy of the partitioning of India. In this book he deals with the much more personal yet equally tragic circumstance of a family facing a terminal diagnosis. What he does so beautifully here is to create characters and situations that feel unwaveringly real. There is no dramatic dysfunction, no "good guys" or "bad guys", just ordinary people making their way through the challenges, complexities, and blessings of being part of a family, and dealing each in their own way with the diagnosis. Although the book addresses the challenges of immigrant parents raising their America-born children, and in turn watching them raise their grandchildren, I found many of the conflicts to be fairly universal, as every parent raises their children in a different world from the one in which they themselves grew up. This was a subtle yet lovely book.
This is the best book I've read in a long time. It was painful yet beautiful, and the characters seemed very real to me. Although it sells itself as being a novel about the divide between first and second generation Indian immigrants, the book was much more universal in its theme of family relationships. Now excuse me while I go cry and hug my kids and call my mom.
I'm still reading this book, but I had to comment midway that I am loving Dr. Majmudar's voice and his writing style. His turns of phrase are evocative and poetic and weave beautiful images. As other reader-reviewers have noted, it is a marvel that this book is written by a man, since he expresses female viewpoint insights for his heroine that are thoughtful and rich.
I would recommend this book to everyone.
I finished The Abundance last night and wept. Dr. Majmudar's heroine (unnamed throughout the book) is suffering from terminal (what I believe is) ovarian cancer (the abdominal scans, the ascites), and this is a recounting of her last year in Ohio with her physician/mathematician husband, her grown children, their spouses and their offspring and her recollections of family and life in India. Since I battled ovarian cancer last year, this theme resonated with me profoundly.
Not every plot line is resolved, but they are presented and treated in the way life, and death, are - continuation of matters that are important, and then, not particularly so.
I do wish, because the cooking theme so made me salivate, that there actually was a cookbook of recipes from this wonderful and very human character.
This is one of the best books I have read in years.
A moving and bittersweet story of mothers, their children and second generation immigrants. When their mother is diagnosed with cancer, both children and their families, find their mothers in different ways. The daughter Mala, has always had somewhat of a contentious relationship with her mother but mother and daughter heal their relationship by cooking together. In the kitchen they become the friends they always wanted to be, bonding over the cooking of Indian food. The difference in the ethnic outlook of the parents, are contrasted with the difficulty of the son and daughter trying to fit in their new culture while the parents try to teach them the old. Parents, children sandwiched between taking care of their parents while trying to raise their own children are one the themes of this novel. Well written, fresh voiced about the cultural divide and family relationships. One of the things I was most impressed about was that the mother, whose voice we hear, is written by a male author and he has done quite well.
This is a truly well-done, moving novel that makes very small gestures, words, or situations take on momentous, even tragic dimension.
It is important to read the novel independently of the summary on the back. The summary makes it sound as though the start of the conflict is the son's decision to sell the story. But really that is the son's desperate last-ditch attempt to involve himself in the bonding that has been going on between the mother and daughter--it happens very late in the book itself. Also be warned: this is not standard book-club fare, but artful, sparely eloquent, literary fiction of the highest order.
This book manages to mimic the rhythms and movement of everyday life yet even, in the first section of three, is unexpectedly suspenseful as the mother tries to hide her condition from her children, unsuccessfully.
I would give this book six stars if I could. It is about Indians in America but I suspect there is a great deal of universality in the things described.
I really, really enjoyed this. A lovely take on the relationship between parents and children over the course of a lifetime, with the added dimension of vastly different cultural expectations and upbringing. Recommend!
Midway through reading THE ABUNDANCE, I thought (a bit dismissively) that this was the simple story of a dying woman's regret that she can no longer nurture her family with the meticulously prepared meals that have been her life. When her daughter sets herself the task of learning her mother's recipes and skills, the novel, I thought, embodied the kind of wish-fulfillment we have all experienced. How many times have we wished we had asked deceased relatives questions or learned their skills!
THE ABUNDANCE is all that, but also a sneaky, quiet metafiction. I will start with the very end, then double back.
Time frame: The book begins just before Christmas with a visit from the unnamed mother's children, Mala and Ronak. During that visit M and R learn that their mother is dying of cancer. The book ends with the Thanksgiving Indian meal that Mala and daughter-in-law, Amber, triumphantly make. The mother had not expected to live until Thanksgiving and begins the chapter by saying: "Thanksgiving: I am thankful I am here to give thanks." That segment ends with the mother and her beloved husband, Abhi, in bed together. She, ambiguously, says, "This night would be a good night."
In the book's conclusion, the mother closes her eyes, then, improbably, finds, "It is still night, but summer." Abhi leads her barefoot across the wet grass to their neighbor's trampoline. Joyously, the couple bounce together. (At the beginning of the book, the mother says that they had stopped having sex. Bouncing, of course, has a sexual suggestion.) At the end, the mother dies: "I float bodiless above the earth's turning."
One way to read this scene is as a wish-fulfillment fantasy at the moment of death--a sort of Indian "Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge." However, an earlier conversation suggests a different meaning.
Shortly before the Thanksgiving scene, the mother wonders about Mala's writing. She suspects that, besides recording recipes, Mala is writing about her. Mala locks her computer files and won't answer questions directly. There is this mother-daughter exchange:
Mala: "What if someone wrote someone else's life, from that person's perspective?" "Like a biography?" "More like an autobiography." "But isn't an autobiography written by the person?" "That's what this would be. The writer would try to see everything as her subject sees it. Everything. Even herself." "Like in a novel?" "Like, imagine me writing our story. I'd talk about us, only I'd be doing it from your perspective. Not mine" (242).
I conclude, then, that the final trampoline segment isn't a dying woman's moment-of-death fantasy. It's the daughter's empathetic effort to IMAGINE HER MOTHER'S MOMENT OF DEATH. The whole novel, therefore, consists of Mala's diary/autobiography/novel--minus the recipes. (Too bad!)
Majmudar prepares us emotionally and intellectually for this way of reading his book by frequent suggestions that, in their final months together, mother and daughter achieve a mutual empathy that had eluded them both. Here is a tiny example, just before the passage quoted. The mother: "She [Mala} takes a sip of hot chocolate. I can tell it has lost its taste for her" (241). Just earlier Mala has been bemoaning the fact that her two Indian grandmothers (whom her mother nursed during their last days) "were unreal" to her. She wants these two women to be a part of her consciousness in the way they are part of her mother's.
This is an extraordinarily artful--and deceptively complex--novel. Do others read it as metafiction?
A new author for me and one I have not heard about. I could not put it down from the first page. It's not a thriller, on the contrary, it is a very quiet, simple, ordinary story about ordinary people and their ordinary lives. Yet the craft, the sensibilities, the perceptions and the deep love of family that comes through, make this a powerful book. Perhaps it resonated particularly strongly for me as a sixty something woman: the protagonist and narrator, is an older woman at a turning point in her life. Another extraordinary thing about this book is that it is written by a young man, in the voice of an older woman. I think this author must have an amazing bond with his mother! The setting is an Indian immigrant family in Ohio. Many customs and beliefs from the Old Country emerge from the narrative, which is colorful and rich, like the abundant cooking that is referred to metaphorically in the title. Abundance of emotion, of love, fear, jealousy, longing, ambition, and abundance of flavors, spices, colors and textures of the handmade, complex vegetarian cuisine central to family life in this community. Wonderful read, inspiring for it's exceptionally fine craftsmanship as well as the uplifting and positive message.
I love books about Indian culture and this was a good one. The narrator is an older Indian woman who has been diagnosed with cancer and is dying. She reflects on her life, her familial relationships and the challenges of being an immigrant. It's a gentle book about a lovely woman's last days and the importance of tradition and family.
This book was overall just so cute and realistic in its depictions of true family dynamics and I really really liked it. Amit Majmudar made a good decision by having the mom narrate this book because oh my God. It was so devastating.
All of the emotions that the narrator feels just seems to real, and Majmudar is able to capture all of these tiny changes in her emotions so incredibly well. There are some times where she regrets saying small words, or she regrets not doing something, or she refrains from saying something to not hurt her children, but all of it is just beautifully written. I think this book captures the typical miscommunications between people so incredibly well, especially when we want to tell someone something but don't know the best way to do so. It's clear that what you're saying may be out of love, but the exact word choice you made may not be the best.
I didn't cry but I certainly teared up a bit. No because let me tell you a line that eats:
"This is not a book about dying. This is a book about life."
It's such a simple quote but I think it summarizes the entire book so well. Even though this book is mainly to document the last moments of the narrator's life, she is still telling us everything that happens and how she still chooses to live life to the fullest by spending time with her family and cooking meals for everyone. It's so so so so cute.
I also really really loved the discussions on love and food as a love language. I think this was just such a beautiful part of the book. How the narrator makes sure that everyone's plates are full. How she cooks food not for fuel but for enjoyment. The narrator's view on food is just so heartwarming and makes me happy. A lot of Asian families (including my own) use food as a love language and this was just so cute to read. I also like the discussion on gender roles in the family. Very insightful book.
But it wasn't perfect. Sadly.
There are some parts where the dialogue gets a little confusing and I can't really tell who's speaking. When there are like 3 or more people in a conversation, Majmudar sometimes stops indicating who says what and then lets the reader try to decipher who is speaking, and honestly I didn't eat it up. Each character didn't really have enough of their own distinct voice in these scenes for that to work out. It just seemed like anyone could have said any of those lines so it was just low-key super confusing to read.
Another thing is that the summary explains the plot by saying that Mala (the narrator's daughter) writes a cookbook based on her mother's recipes and Ronak (the mother's son) tries to sell the book to a publisher. Literally because it was in the synopsis I thought that this moment was going to be a major plot point of the book. Tell me why the entire cookbook debacle ended in a single chapter. It seemed a little rushed to me low-key. It was like Majmudar thought that the novel was getting too long so he just decided to have the family suddenly stop arguing and wrap everything up. I was a little disappointed by this. I thought it would be really interesting to see how Ronak's money-centric views would clash with Mala and their mother's more family-based and personal views but it all just ended so quickly there was really no development.
I also didn't really like much of the backstory LMFAO (omg I just realized how much I'm dogging on this book right now. Guys I swear I liked this book). Like when the narrator started talking about events that happened in the past, like when the narrator's own mother and her mother-in-law got sick, I genuinely didn't really care. I just cared more about the family dynamics between her, Abhi, Mala, and Ronak more than anything. I just didn't find any substance in these parts of the book. But that's just me.
Anyway. Yes I actually did like this book LOLL. I thought that Majmudar captured the emotions of motherhood and family so incredibly well and it was just really beautifully written. You really get to connect with the narrator and I loved that. It's a beautiful book, and it makes me sad because I don't like to think about parents passing away :(( Anyway. Wonderful book. Ok bye!!!!!!
When a woman gets a terminal diagnosis, her married children and young grandchildren make the journey home more frequently to support her. This is not a novel about dying, but about family dynamics. Medical treatments are not discussed and symptoms are glossed over. Instead, using the imminent separation to intensify interactions, this story explores how we can wound when we intend to protect, how confusion or fear can be misconstrued as anger, how our own emotional needs can be so intense that they are incorrectly projected onto those around us. Although I found the woman’s narration of events and reactions credible, for some reason I understood what she was reporting rather than feeling what she was experiencing. This may not have been the fault of the author, but of this reader. 3.5 stars
Well, I had to bring this home from the new-book shelf since it had Indian spices on the cover. I was actually hoping for MORE cooking than was in the book, but I found myself so drawn into the life of this family in which the mother and cook was slowly dying of cancer, that in the end I did not care that the food was really peripheral to the family story. There is a part of the book in which the difficult daughter draws closer to her mother by learning to cook her Indian recipes, but the real drama is really the family relationships and how they are affected by being an immigrant family, the separate personalities and how they clash, and the imminent death of the central person in the family--the mother.
A compassionate story about family, food, parent-child relationships, clashes between 1st and 2nd generation immigrant identities, and recognising what's important.
Told through the perspective of the grandmother who has just received a terminal diagnosis, she is determined that this christmas will be business as normal just one more time, and the story rolls around the way relationships can change or be perceived as changing, once such information is let loose. We get her reflections on her own life, her marriage, caring for her own mother and her mother in law in their final days as well as her anxieties about her children's wellbeing, wondering how they've turned out as they have done, wanting to enjoy the precious moments available to connect fully with her children, in particular her daughter Mala as the news spreads. Food becomes a bonding point, connective tissue across the generations, as Mala as is keen to retain as much of her sense of her mother as she can before it's too late.
I really enjoyed it, the characters felt real; humane and flawed, and it is an instructive reminder to recognise the value of connection, and the different ways we can connect with our friends and family.
From the first fifty pages I knew this wasn't a book for me. I struggled so much with the writing style, often finding the dense sentences hard to read. However, there were interesting and touching parts, lines, and moments throughout the book which kept me reading. The jumpy plot left me dissatisfied. It had little focus and I was left with a lot of questions. I was also expecting food to be a more central theme, but it wasn't. The characters were ok. The narrator was someone I had difficulty relating to as she seemed so critical, however I did empathise with her situation.
Mala and Ronak’s mother has a secret. She has terminal cancer. However is does not want her children to know as she does not want to ruin their visit home. She does not do a good job of hiding her secret. Once Mala and Ronak find out, they decide to spend more time with their mother. For Mala this means learning how to cook traditional Indian food. For Ronak, he pays a crew to plant his mother’s garden as she can not get out to do it herself.
I have not read Mr. Majmudar’s Partitions, however after reading this book I will check it out. I absolutely loved, loved this book. Yes, I said loved twice. I could not read this book fast enough.
This book is about family, love, friendship, food, and a happy ending. All filled with an intriguing cast of characters. My favorite person however is Mala and Ronak’s mother. She was kind and had such a caring heart. Even with her dying of terminal cancer she still put her family first. I thought that I would not like Mala in the beginning because she did have a bit of an edge to her but luckily it did not last long. Mala turned out to be a better mother to her two children due to her own mother and how close they became. All the yummy foods that they cooked together had my mouth watering. If books had smell-o-vision then I would be in trouble. I would have to make sure that I did not eat the book. Both Ronak and Mala and Ronak’s father were caring and warm-hearted. It was so easy to fall in love with everyone. The ending put a big smile on my face. The Abundance is filled with happiness, love, great food, loving characters, and a pinch of spice to make the right recipe for a best seller!
Even though Indian culture is not something I know a lot about, I thought this was well-written and easy to read. The characters were very relatable. I think the internal family dynamics/conflicts were pretty universal and not just isolated to first and second generation Indian immigrants.
Loved this book. Within a very small landscape, explores the sweeping subjects of love, death, and family across cultural and generational divides. Beautiful writing.
It starts as a very domestic, south Indian -American account of the family , narrated by the mother with terminal cancer. They are mostly medics, clever, but somewhat fragmented, Ronak the son lives far away, both geographically and emotionally . The mother has terminal cancer, conceals it from all except husband Abhi . She observes her family acutely, and the narrative is rich in memorable observations. Pondering her future, alongside her sleeping husband “I find the white gold of his wedding band and turn it around and around like winding a clock.”
Later, at a funeral, she is distracted, her mind wandering “like kites, in funeral” . She is a very self aware narrator, conscious of her heritage but not in thrall to it. She is sensitive to others, rejecting a lift, “ I would bring the odor of my mortality into her car, her morning, her mind”. Her passion is cooking, and food as more than nutrition, a life force.
Abhi, though a specialist doctor, is a secret mathematician, and wins a major prize. The narrator feels guilt, she didn’t pass the medical entrance exams, is outshone. Abhi is loving and caring, but somewhat remote in his mathematical world.
The account of her mother in law dying, the emotion, her obstinacy, seem vividly real.
The second part takes us to reconciliation with her daughter Mala, the one she always sparred with. The route is via cookery, once Mala is aware of her illness after she caves in and tells
Overall, it is very Indian American, very domestic, with very little plot, except “I could write a book about the slow sloppy business of dying” which indeed this is. The wider world of events and politics scarcely enters. Some of the dialogue is mentioned as being in Gujarati, but this isn’t identified by typography, and doesn’t really influence the narrative. Whilst English is her second language it seems to be her language of thought. Ideally the reader needs to be familiar with American groceries, Indian cooking, and the medical system, but it is all easily inferred.
The family dynamics are pretty universal, the emotions as her physical abilities fade are sharply and unsentimentally described . I found the whole story very relatable, perhaps because of my age, looking back over life. The ending is original, and moving. I really liked this book.
I had from the Shelterbox book group, a UK disaster relief charity. In the author interview, a feature of this book group, he mentioned his interest in the spiritual dimension of writing, which does peek through in places. As a group we were surprised and impressed that this was written by a man, a remarkable act of empathy.
Amit Majmudar’s The Abundance delves into the complexities of family dynamics within the Indian-American immigrant experience, through the lens of an unnamed terminally ill mother. The narrative examines generational and cultural divides, particularly between immigrant parents and their American-born children.
The author’s prose is at times elegant and thoughtful, capturing moments of tenderness and cultural significance with care. The novel’s strength lies in its portrayal of the mother’s deep connection to her heritage, especially through the act of cooking. Her attempts to bridge the gap with her children, particularly her daughter Mala, by sharing traditional recipes, serve as metaphors for the challenges of culture and family ties.
Sadly, however, the novel is lacking in a driving plot, which meant that its impact was somewhat diminished, and I struggled to maintain engagement throughout. Much of the narrative meanders through reflections, memories, and domestic interactions without a clear narrative arc or tension to propel the story forward. Its exploration of heritage and loss felt a bit too sentimental, and this introspective style left me craving a sense of momentum and resolution. The meandering pace, repetitive storytelling, and lack of character depth particularly of the dying mother made it less engaging. The characters, while well-intentioned, often came across as stereotypes rather than fully realized flawed and believable individuals.
In conclusion, The Abundance offers heartfelt explorations of identity, culture, and family bonds, but its diffuse narrative, and minimal plot made it a novel that I found difficult to connect with.
"It had gone through my mind when I was taking care of my mother. It must be going through Mala's. 'I need to do this, or I am going to feel guilty later.' That is what it is like for us good daughters. Not just guilt over the past, but fear of future guilt. Daughterhood has one natural resource, and that is guilt. Hourglass sand blows over events and words and, a million years later, there are guilt deposits, black guilt anywhere you sink a drill. So much burning out of something buried so long." - Amit Majmudar is now a favorite author, though he's only written The Abundance and Partitions (which I also reviewed, link in my stories today). The Abundance is about an Indian immigrant mother who is dying of cancer. The story is told from her perspective and it is skillfully and beautifully put together. We see what it's like for her to raise children who become so culturally different than her, growing up in America. And we see the choices that she makes to shape her experience of dying, how even the arguments she has with her daughter are comforting because they are normal. I'm not a big fan of family sagas, but I guess I could become one if more of them are written in this style. Phenomenal character development, beautiful prose, and depth of content. There are themes of racism, parenting, first and second generation immigration, gender roles, independence, and unconditional love. I'd recommend this book to everyone. (Especially if you like reading about Indian cooking. Mmmmmm.) 5 stars!
I want to know how Majmudar got inside the heads of my mother and me. I wish this had been written years ago and I had read this while my mother was still alive. I found myself being both Mala, the dying woman's daughter, and the older woman herself. So many of the observations and feelings, both lingering and fleeting, rang so true they were eerie. Ultimately, this is both about the preciousness of life and its transience--generations go through the same thing, but it is how we can observe and let go that matters. There are a few minor characters who are described by the narrator who are bitter or so full of themselves that they don't see others. But the narrator sees. She's not omniscient nor is she a saint. She has personality quirks that she sees but can't quite control. Yet she sees the preciousness of the lives around her at a time when life is in the balance.
I absolutely loved this book! I’m a first-generation Canadian of immigrants with an aging parent, and this book really resonated with me. Living far away from your parents while having a career and family of your own, growing up in an immigrant family, mother-daughter relations, sibling rivalry, motherly stubbornness- it had it all.
I saw my brother in Ronak and a little bit of myself in Mala (though she seemed to be bitchy often). I see my mom in the main character, and even the ailments that struck their family had hit mine as well recently.
The writing was superb. I was drawn in from the beginning.
Highly recommended, especially if you’re first generation in your country. You won’t regret it.
A truly outstanding book. Such delicate writing. The quiet, understated characters ring true. The dialogue is deeply authentic. There is no high drama or the need to emotional manipulate the reader. The best book I’ve read in a long time. Kudos!
<3 È un romanzo sulla vita. L'ho scambiato su Acciobooks scegliendolo un po' a sentimento ed è stato un'ottimo affare, una bellissima scoperta. È arrivato in punta di piedi e si è ricavato un posticino nel mio cuore.
Character-driven and I’m more of a plot girly but I’m impressed because the narrator is a mother and the author did a really good job getting inside her mind - would have never guessed it was written by a man
Shelterbox Book Club: What an amazing book. I don’t know that I’ve read a book written by a man who tells the story from a woman’s point of view so convincingly. It’s about family and the conflicts between the immigrant parents and the first generation caught between two cultures. It’s about life and death and family.