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Summer of Then: A Novel
A twenty-six-year-old English literature PhD student negotiates between her writing and her livelihood, her morality and her heart, her self-hood and her family’s history. Working odd jobs as a proofreader and researcher, she strays along a classically directionless path, finding herself in a stultified marriage and a similarly immobile but romantic adulterous relationship with her husband’s best friend.
Summer of Then is a debut novel that relishes the interiority of women, especially about the often-unsettling intimacies of relationships—sexual, romantic and platonic—against the trauma of sexual assault and harassment. Set across Calcutta, Delhi, Mumbai, and even Edinburgh, Scotland, this coming-of-age novel crosses paths with the India of the 2010s, exploring the trickle-down effect of politics into academia and college life in Indian metropolitan cities, leading us just to the point of the incipient anxieties and beginnings of the 2020 pandemic.
In the vein of Sally Rooney’s Normal People, Otessa Moshfegh’s My Year of Rest and Relaxation, and Avni Doshi’s Burnt Sugar, the novel’s protagonist has a sparse, yet deeply compelling voice that pays attention to precise emotional and social detail, exposing a range of motion between observational commentary and introspection.
Summer of Then is a debut novel that relishes the interiority of women, especially about the often-unsettling intimacies of relationships—sexual, romantic and platonic—against the trauma of sexual assault and harassment. Set across Calcutta, Delhi, Mumbai, and even Edinburgh, Scotland, this coming-of-age novel crosses paths with the India of the 2010s, exploring the trickle-down effect of politics into academia and college life in Indian metropolitan cities, leading us just to the point of the incipient anxieties and beginnings of the 2020 pandemic.
In the vein of Sally Rooney’s Normal People, Otessa Moshfegh’s My Year of Rest and Relaxation, and Avni Doshi’s Burnt Sugar, the novel’s protagonist has a sparse, yet deeply compelling voice that pays attention to precise emotional and social detail, exposing a range of motion between observational commentary and introspection.
- GenresIndia
360 pages, Hardcover
Published May 1, 2024
3 people are currently reading
152 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 20 of 20 reviews
June 2, 2024
My heart is beating like a man possessed...
A remarkable book
A remarkable book
June 10, 2024
4.5 stars
What an absolute delight the experience of reading this book was! More! I want more of such contemporary literary fiction goodness from Indian women authors.
The first half of the book was definitely more enjoyable for me than the latter half. I think the pacing was a bit off. Initially the story was luxuriating in nuance and then later it felt rushed.
Overall, a brilliant debut novel. One that I almost felt like I studied given all my annotations and notes in the margins.
I loved a tiny detail about the book — the way the author keeps describing food. The meals she and her friends and lover have either at cafés or at home. Simple slice of life moments trapped in the heavier emotions and dynamics of adult relationships and miseries.
What an absolute delight the experience of reading this book was! More! I want more of such contemporary literary fiction goodness from Indian women authors.
The first half of the book was definitely more enjoyable for me than the latter half. I think the pacing was a bit off. Initially the story was luxuriating in nuance and then later it felt rushed.
Overall, a brilliant debut novel. One that I almost felt like I studied given all my annotations and notes in the margins.
I loved a tiny detail about the book — the way the author keeps describing food. The meals she and her friends and lover have either at cafés or at home. Simple slice of life moments trapped in the heavier emotions and dynamics of adult relationships and miseries.
August 24, 2024
It's very unfortunate to break it to you that this book didn't make the cut for me. However, I looked up the reviews from others and realised it was just me. It was a solid five-on-five book to me until upto 50%. And then it started tumbling downhill. How not to mess up a well-written book with a remorseless protagonist and a messy story is what I got from this book. So, if you are planning to read this book, please ignore the caption, as I am choosing to go with a spoiler-filled review here because a rant would definitely help me out.
This is a coming-of-age story of the protagonist who narrates her struggles as she navigates life between her boyfriend, Nikhil and his best friend, Zap, aka Zafar. Why would her life navigate around her boyfriend's best friend? Is that what you ask? Well, that's basically the storyline here. Ever since she met Zap, she has felt this intense connection, and she believes they were made for each other. They keep staring into each other and make obviously flirty remarks while hanging out with their respective partners. Even then, the protagonist maintains her relationship with Nikhil despite not feeling any love for him.
And yeah, she says yes to Nikhil when he proposes, and they get married, too, because what other option does the poor girl have? Soon after marriage, she cheats on him with Zap, who in turn cheats on his girlfriend. When her husband learns about it and yells at her, she points out how he has always been rude and self-centred. I mean, the man still didn't speak about it to another soul and let her decide on divorce while staying together! See, I am all in for stories with fierce and unapologetic women. But this, this is not unapologetic. This is straight-up crass.
I didn't hate the book as a whole. The struggles of an aspiring author and the life of a girl from a family with orthodox values surrounded by a misogynistic society were a few things I loved reading. And the political appropriation was relevant. The only thing I seem to dislike is the relationship between her, Nikhil and Zap, which she chooses to term a tangled relationship, but it comes as straight-up cheating to me.
Even in the end, when she realises how Zap played her, she blames Zap for cheating on Nikhil and her. She never once accepted her mistake because she didn't feel it was one. Is the book about second chances and starting over again? Well, if it was the case, I couldn't see or feel it. Maybe the book is really this way, or perhaps it's way too intelligently written for my tiny brain to wrap around. And the poor editing didn't make it any better.
This is a coming-of-age story of the protagonist who narrates her struggles as she navigates life between her boyfriend, Nikhil and his best friend, Zap, aka Zafar. Why would her life navigate around her boyfriend's best friend? Is that what you ask? Well, that's basically the storyline here. Ever since she met Zap, she has felt this intense connection, and she believes they were made for each other. They keep staring into each other and make obviously flirty remarks while hanging out with their respective partners. Even then, the protagonist maintains her relationship with Nikhil despite not feeling any love for him.
And yeah, she says yes to Nikhil when he proposes, and they get married, too, because what other option does the poor girl have? Soon after marriage, she cheats on him with Zap, who in turn cheats on his girlfriend. When her husband learns about it and yells at her, she points out how he has always been rude and self-centred. I mean, the man still didn't speak about it to another soul and let her decide on divorce while staying together! See, I am all in for stories with fierce and unapologetic women. But this, this is not unapologetic. This is straight-up crass.
I didn't hate the book as a whole. The struggles of an aspiring author and the life of a girl from a family with orthodox values surrounded by a misogynistic society were a few things I loved reading. And the political appropriation was relevant. The only thing I seem to dislike is the relationship between her, Nikhil and Zap, which she chooses to term a tangled relationship, but it comes as straight-up cheating to me.
Even in the end, when she realises how Zap played her, she blames Zap for cheating on Nikhil and her. She never once accepted her mistake because she didn't feel it was one. Is the book about second chances and starting over again? Well, if it was the case, I couldn't see or feel it. Maybe the book is really this way, or perhaps it's way too intelligently written for my tiny brain to wrap around. And the poor editing didn't make it any better.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
July 20, 2025
easy read, relatable themes. i just couldn't wrap my head around her, couldn't make her out as a person.
Read
March 25, 2025Between Desire and Destiny: An Intimate Portrait of Modern Womanhood in Summer of Then
A Narrative of Desire and Discontent:
Rupleena Bose’s Summer of Then is a poignant exploration of personal and political turmoil, interwoven with the quiet rebellion of a woman navigating love, ambition, and societal constraints. Set in the backdrop of an evolving India, the novel delves into the intimate spaces of relationships, academia, and the psyche of a woman who refuses to conform. Bose constructs a protagonist whose life is neither a grand rebellion nor a submission to fate; instead, it exists in the margins, where she resists, questions, and stumbles through the paradoxes of modern existence. The novel is as much about the protagonist’s inner world as it is about the larger socio-political landscape, making it a compelling examination of identity in the face of historical, cultural, and ethical dilemmas.
History and Society: The Weight of the Past on the Present:
The protagonist’s journey is deeply rooted in the socio-historical context of contemporary India, where the past seeps into the present, shaping decisions, fears, and aspirations. The weight of family failures, particularly in Kolkata, reflects a generational burden—a theme recurrent in South Asian literature. Like the melancholic undercurrents in Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Lowland or Amitav Ghosh’s The Shadow Lines, Bose’s novel portrays the protagonist’s relationship with her lineage as a complex web of duty, regret, and rebellion. Her refusal to adopt her husband’s surname is not merely an act of modern feminism but a rejection of inherited identities imposed upon her. Similarly, the protagonist’s academic pursuits in English literature signify the colonial imprint on Indian intellectualism, a reminder that the very act of studying literature is tied to the remnants of an imperial past.
Politics and World Relations: The Microcosm of Academia:
Set against the backdrop of Indian academia, Summer of Then captures the political undercurrents that shape intellectual spaces. The protagonist’s disillusionment with the university system mirrors the larger anxieties within India’s education sector—where meritocracy, political influence, and ideological battles dictate one’s professional trajectory. The murder of a Muslim student involved with a Hindu girl serves as a stark commentary on the rising communal tensions in India, reminiscent of real-life tragedies that have haunted the nation. The protagonist’s inability to effect meaningful change despite her intellectual awareness reflects the disempowerment of those who seek justice in a system that thrives on privilege and historical biases. Much like Arundhati Roy’s The Ministry of Utmost Happiness, Bose’s novel captures the simmering tensions of caste, class, and religion that define India’s socio-political reality. The brief sojourn in Edinburgh offers a contrast—a world seemingly free of such immediate burdens—yet even this escape is transient, reinforcing the idea that global mobility does not equate to liberation from deeply ingrained socio-political structures.
Ethics and Philosophy: The Morality of Love and Betrayal:
The novel refuses to offer a moral judgment on the protagonist’s extramarital affair with Zap. Instead, it presents her desire as an existential yearning, a search for something beyond the mundanity of marriage and societal expectations. Much like Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary or Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, the affair is not simply about infidelity but about the tension between duty and self-fulfillment. Nikhil’s moral rigidity stands in contrast to Zap’s artistic fluidity, positioning the two men as symbolic representations of the protagonist’s internal struggle. Yet, the novel does not glorify the affair; instead, it shows how personal choices are inevitably constrained by social structures. The protagonist does not emerge victorious from her emotional entanglements—she is left fragmented, proving that love, in the absence of true agency, becomes yet another space of entrapment.
Psychology and Feminine Interiority: The Confessional Narrative:
Bose crafts an intensely introspective narrative, employing a voice that is confessional yet detached, much like the works of Sally Rooney or Otessa Moshfegh. The protagonist’s psychological depth is evident in her constant self-questioning, her moments of doubt, and her inability to fully commit to either rebellion or conformity. The novel does not portray her as a tragic heroine or a feminist icon but rather as a deeply flawed individual trying to make sense of her world. Her dissatisfaction with her marriage, career, and financial instability leads to a spiraling sense of existential ennui, reminiscent of the disillusionment seen in Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar. This psychological complexity makes her relatable, particularly for women who have navigated the treacherous waters of ambition, relationships, and self-doubt.
Pop Culture, Music, Cinema, and Theatre: The Aesthetics of Rebellion:
Bose’s writing is cinematic in its visual composition, using symbols and motifs that evoke the textures of independent Indian cinema. The oppressive summer heat serves as a recurring metaphor, reminiscent of the works of filmmakers like Rituparno Ghosh and Mira Nair, who have captured the sensuality and suffocation of womanhood in their narratives. The novel’s preoccupation with academia, literature, and film aligns it with the intellectual traditions of avant-garde cinema and theatre. Zap’s profession as a filmmaker is particularly significant, as it situates the novel within the discourse of artistic freedom and the struggle of creatives in a world that commodifies art. The protagonist’s literary aspirations and the failure to translate them into success mirror the struggles of many aspiring writers, much like the themes explored in Noah Baumbach’s Frances Ha. The novel’s tone and structure could also be compared to Richard Linklater’s Before trilogy, where the essence of storytelling lies in conversations, reflections, and the passage of time rather than dramatic plot twists.
The Geography of Emotion: Cities as Emotional Landscapes:
The novel’s shifting locations—Kolkata, Delhi, Mumbai, Edinburgh—are not mere backdrops but active participants in the protagonist’s story. Each city embodies a phase of her life: Kolkata represents her family’s failures, Delhi the toxicity of her marriage, Mumbai the chaos of artistic ambition, and Edinburgh the illusion of escape. This geographical movement mirrors the protagonist’s internal restlessness, similar to Jhumpa Lahiri’s use of place as an emotional marker. The protagonist’s return to Delhi after Edinburgh highlights the inevitability of her struggles, proving that physical relocation does not equate to liberation. Nilokheri, where she reconnects with her grandmother’s past, adds another layer—suggesting that the answers to one’s identity often lie in history rather than in geographical displacement.
Conclusion: A Delicate Balance Between the Personal and the Political:
Summer of Then is a novel that refuses easy categorization. It is simultaneously a story of love, betrayal, ambition, and socio-political consciousness. Bose’s writing captures the quiet yet profound struggles of a woman who is neither a revolutionary nor a conformist but someone who exists in the liminal space between longing and reality. The novel’s strength lies in its ability to weave together personal dilemmas with larger societal issues, making it a deeply relevant narrative for contemporary times. It is a book that does not offer clear resolutions but instead forces the reader to sit with discomfort—much like life itself. Bose has crafted a work that will resonate with those who seek literature that mirrors the complexities of modern existence, where love, politics, and identity are inextricably linked.
A Narrative of Desire and Discontent:
Rupleena Bose’s Summer of Then is a poignant exploration of personal and political turmoil, interwoven with the quiet rebellion of a woman navigating love, ambition, and societal constraints. Set in the backdrop of an evolving India, the novel delves into the intimate spaces of relationships, academia, and the psyche of a woman who refuses to conform. Bose constructs a protagonist whose life is neither a grand rebellion nor a submission to fate; instead, it exists in the margins, where she resists, questions, and stumbles through the paradoxes of modern existence. The novel is as much about the protagonist’s inner world as it is about the larger socio-political landscape, making it a compelling examination of identity in the face of historical, cultural, and ethical dilemmas.
History and Society: The Weight of the Past on the Present:
The protagonist’s journey is deeply rooted in the socio-historical context of contemporary India, where the past seeps into the present, shaping decisions, fears, and aspirations. The weight of family failures, particularly in Kolkata, reflects a generational burden—a theme recurrent in South Asian literature. Like the melancholic undercurrents in Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Lowland or Amitav Ghosh’s The Shadow Lines, Bose’s novel portrays the protagonist’s relationship with her lineage as a complex web of duty, regret, and rebellion. Her refusal to adopt her husband’s surname is not merely an act of modern feminism but a rejection of inherited identities imposed upon her. Similarly, the protagonist’s academic pursuits in English literature signify the colonial imprint on Indian intellectualism, a reminder that the very act of studying literature is tied to the remnants of an imperial past.
Politics and World Relations: The Microcosm of Academia:
Set against the backdrop of Indian academia, Summer of Then captures the political undercurrents that shape intellectual spaces. The protagonist’s disillusionment with the university system mirrors the larger anxieties within India’s education sector—where meritocracy, political influence, and ideological battles dictate one’s professional trajectory. The murder of a Muslim student involved with a Hindu girl serves as a stark commentary on the rising communal tensions in India, reminiscent of real-life tragedies that have haunted the nation. The protagonist’s inability to effect meaningful change despite her intellectual awareness reflects the disempowerment of those who seek justice in a system that thrives on privilege and historical biases. Much like Arundhati Roy’s The Ministry of Utmost Happiness, Bose’s novel captures the simmering tensions of caste, class, and religion that define India’s socio-political reality. The brief sojourn in Edinburgh offers a contrast—a world seemingly free of such immediate burdens—yet even this escape is transient, reinforcing the idea that global mobility does not equate to liberation from deeply ingrained socio-political structures.
Ethics and Philosophy: The Morality of Love and Betrayal:
The novel refuses to offer a moral judgment on the protagonist’s extramarital affair with Zap. Instead, it presents her desire as an existential yearning, a search for something beyond the mundanity of marriage and societal expectations. Much like Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary or Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, the affair is not simply about infidelity but about the tension between duty and self-fulfillment. Nikhil’s moral rigidity stands in contrast to Zap’s artistic fluidity, positioning the two men as symbolic representations of the protagonist’s internal struggle. Yet, the novel does not glorify the affair; instead, it shows how personal choices are inevitably constrained by social structures. The protagonist does not emerge victorious from her emotional entanglements—she is left fragmented, proving that love, in the absence of true agency, becomes yet another space of entrapment.
Psychology and Feminine Interiority: The Confessional Narrative:
Bose crafts an intensely introspective narrative, employing a voice that is confessional yet detached, much like the works of Sally Rooney or Otessa Moshfegh. The protagonist’s psychological depth is evident in her constant self-questioning, her moments of doubt, and her inability to fully commit to either rebellion or conformity. The novel does not portray her as a tragic heroine or a feminist icon but rather as a deeply flawed individual trying to make sense of her world. Her dissatisfaction with her marriage, career, and financial instability leads to a spiraling sense of existential ennui, reminiscent of the disillusionment seen in Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar. This psychological complexity makes her relatable, particularly for women who have navigated the treacherous waters of ambition, relationships, and self-doubt.
Pop Culture, Music, Cinema, and Theatre: The Aesthetics of Rebellion:
Bose’s writing is cinematic in its visual composition, using symbols and motifs that evoke the textures of independent Indian cinema. The oppressive summer heat serves as a recurring metaphor, reminiscent of the works of filmmakers like Rituparno Ghosh and Mira Nair, who have captured the sensuality and suffocation of womanhood in their narratives. The novel’s preoccupation with academia, literature, and film aligns it with the intellectual traditions of avant-garde cinema and theatre. Zap’s profession as a filmmaker is particularly significant, as it situates the novel within the discourse of artistic freedom and the struggle of creatives in a world that commodifies art. The protagonist’s literary aspirations and the failure to translate them into success mirror the struggles of many aspiring writers, much like the themes explored in Noah Baumbach’s Frances Ha. The novel’s tone and structure could also be compared to Richard Linklater’s Before trilogy, where the essence of storytelling lies in conversations, reflections, and the passage of time rather than dramatic plot twists.
The Geography of Emotion: Cities as Emotional Landscapes:
The novel’s shifting locations—Kolkata, Delhi, Mumbai, Edinburgh—are not mere backdrops but active participants in the protagonist’s story. Each city embodies a phase of her life: Kolkata represents her family’s failures, Delhi the toxicity of her marriage, Mumbai the chaos of artistic ambition, and Edinburgh the illusion of escape. This geographical movement mirrors the protagonist’s internal restlessness, similar to Jhumpa Lahiri’s use of place as an emotional marker. The protagonist’s return to Delhi after Edinburgh highlights the inevitability of her struggles, proving that physical relocation does not equate to liberation. Nilokheri, where she reconnects with her grandmother’s past, adds another layer—suggesting that the answers to one’s identity often lie in history rather than in geographical displacement.
Conclusion: A Delicate Balance Between the Personal and the Political:
Summer of Then is a novel that refuses easy categorization. It is simultaneously a story of love, betrayal, ambition, and socio-political consciousness. Bose’s writing captures the quiet yet profound struggles of a woman who is neither a revolutionary nor a conformist but someone who exists in the liminal space between longing and reality. The novel’s strength lies in its ability to weave together personal dilemmas with larger societal issues, making it a deeply relevant narrative for contemporary times. It is a book that does not offer clear resolutions but instead forces the reader to sit with discomfort—much like life itself. Bose has crafted a work that will resonate with those who seek literature that mirrors the complexities of modern existence, where love, politics, and identity are inextricably linked.
September 9, 2024
“Too long, too personal” – that’s what Rupleena Bose’s protagonist says about her piece after reading it in front of her writing class. And, that, also is the shortest way to describe the experience of reading Summer of Then, a delicate balance between deeply personal and unflinchingly political.
Rupleena Bose's debut novel, Summer of Then, is an ambitious narrative that spans over a decade and moves between Kolkata, Delhi, Mumbai, and Edinburgh. Set from 2010 to 2020, the novel offers an intimate look at a woman coming to terms with herself, her relationships, and the society that shapes her experiences. At its core, Summer of Then is a story about desire, not just in the romantic sense but in the broader context of longing—for freedom, identity, and a life unconstrained by societal expectations. The protagonist, a young English professor, navigates her tumultuous relationships with two men: Nikhil, her husband, and Zap, her husband’s childhood friend and a filmmaker, who eventually becomes her lover. These relationships seem to stand as metaphors for the tension between societal duty and personal desire. With his anger, prideful morality, and authoritative presence, Nikhil embodies the weight of societal norms. At the same time, Zap represents a more carefree, artistic rebellion that is fleeting like a fantasy of a love-struck mind. Yet, the protagonist's affair with Zap or her separation from Nikhil does not provide a clean escape from her constraints; instead, it complicates her sense of self, leaving her trapped between two worlds.
The protagonist is not a rebel in the typical sense — she is neither loud nor overtly defiant. Rather, her rebellion is quiet, rooted in a refusal to fit neatly into the boxes society has carved out for women. Her story reflects the dilemma many modern women face: the push and pull between fulfilling societal expectations and pursuing a life driven by personal desires. Her dissatisfaction with her marriage, and her frustration with her career—are juxtaposed against the backdrop of a changing India, marked by rising religious fanaticism, class divisions, and caste-based discrimination. This interplay between the personal and political gives the novel a broader resonance, as the protagonist’s internal conflicts mirror the external tensions in society. The protagonist’s middle-class background is a constant reminder of her limitations. She is a writer at heart, but her dreams of literary success are thwarted by financial realities. She works as an ad hoc professor and occasional proofreader, struggling to find stability in a world that seems indifferent to her creative ambitions.
The novel further touches on the protagonist’s experience as a teacher, where she witnesses the murder of a Muslim student who was involved with a Hindu girl. This tragedy highlights the stark inequalities that exist in Indian society—inequalities that the protagonist, despite her struggles, cannot fully escape. The futility of her attempts at activism, as she and a colleague visit the dead student’s home, underscores the harsh realities of power and privilege. The protagonist’s internal journey is mirrored by the shifting political landscape of India. The protagonist’s refusal to take on her husband’s surname becomes a small, yet significant, act of defiance—an assertion of her own identity in a society that constantly seeks to define her by her gender, caste, and class.
Summer of Then is as much a novel about place as it is about people. Each city represents a different phase of her life, with Kolkata symbolizing her family’s failures, and Delhi embodying the toxicity of her marriage and professional dissatisfaction. When the protagonist travels to Edinburgh for a writer’s residency, she is briefly seduced by the charm of the West—its clean air, temperate climate, and promises of freedom. But even this escape proves temporary. Her return to Delhi marks a return to reality, where the weight of her responsibilities and the limitations of her class and gender once again close in on her. Her trip to Nilokheri brings back a strange connection to her grandmother and her life in the past.
Bose uses a deeply introspective tone to draw the reader into her thoughts and emotions. The protagonist is constantly reflecting on her circumstances, whether it’s her relationships, career, or social standing. This self-awareness gives the novel a confessional feel, as though the reader is privy to the protagonist’s most private thoughts. The reflective language is filled with moments of hesitation, doubt, and self-criticism, often highlighting the protagonist’s emotional vulnerability. The frequent use of rhetorical questions and self-reflection lends the narrative a sense of immediacy, making the protagonist’s struggles feel raw and unfiltered. Bose’s descriptive style is minimalist, often focusing on key symbolic details rather than long, elaborate descriptions.
The narrative moves back and forth in time and space, mirroring the disjointed and often chaotic nature of the protagonist’s life. The nonlinear narrative explores the protagonist’s past and present simultaneously, creating a layered understanding of how her experiences have shaped her. She is often caught between conflicting desires, unsure of where her life is headed. By moving fluidly between different points in time, Bose captures the way memory, desire, and regret constantly intersect in the protagonist’s mind, emphasizing the complexity of her internal journey. The oppressive heat of summer, which recurs throughout the narrative, serves as a metaphor for the protagonist’s stifling circumstances. The brown, parched grass on her side of the fence becomes a symbol of her dissatisfaction, and her inability to find joy or fulfilment in the life she has chosen. Similarly, the changing seasons—particularly the relief brought by winter—serve as a metaphor for the moments of clarity and hope that punctuate the protagonist’s otherwise tumultuous journey. Motifs such as air, water, and geography also play a significant role in shaping the narrative. The language is subtle, yet powerful, capturing the nuances of desire, identity, and the socio-political landscape that shape the protagonist’s journey. Bose’s writing is sharp, insightful, and unflinchingly honest, making Summer of Then a must-read for anyone interested in the intersection of the personal and the political, and the quiet rebellions that define our lives.
Rupleena Bose's debut novel, Summer of Then, is an ambitious narrative that spans over a decade and moves between Kolkata, Delhi, Mumbai, and Edinburgh. Set from 2010 to 2020, the novel offers an intimate look at a woman coming to terms with herself, her relationships, and the society that shapes her experiences. At its core, Summer of Then is a story about desire, not just in the romantic sense but in the broader context of longing—for freedom, identity, and a life unconstrained by societal expectations. The protagonist, a young English professor, navigates her tumultuous relationships with two men: Nikhil, her husband, and Zap, her husband’s childhood friend and a filmmaker, who eventually becomes her lover. These relationships seem to stand as metaphors for the tension between societal duty and personal desire. With his anger, prideful morality, and authoritative presence, Nikhil embodies the weight of societal norms. At the same time, Zap represents a more carefree, artistic rebellion that is fleeting like a fantasy of a love-struck mind. Yet, the protagonist's affair with Zap or her separation from Nikhil does not provide a clean escape from her constraints; instead, it complicates her sense of self, leaving her trapped between two worlds.
The protagonist is not a rebel in the typical sense — she is neither loud nor overtly defiant. Rather, her rebellion is quiet, rooted in a refusal to fit neatly into the boxes society has carved out for women. Her story reflects the dilemma many modern women face: the push and pull between fulfilling societal expectations and pursuing a life driven by personal desires. Her dissatisfaction with her marriage, and her frustration with her career—are juxtaposed against the backdrop of a changing India, marked by rising religious fanaticism, class divisions, and caste-based discrimination. This interplay between the personal and political gives the novel a broader resonance, as the protagonist’s internal conflicts mirror the external tensions in society. The protagonist’s middle-class background is a constant reminder of her limitations. She is a writer at heart, but her dreams of literary success are thwarted by financial realities. She works as an ad hoc professor and occasional proofreader, struggling to find stability in a world that seems indifferent to her creative ambitions.
The novel further touches on the protagonist’s experience as a teacher, where she witnesses the murder of a Muslim student who was involved with a Hindu girl. This tragedy highlights the stark inequalities that exist in Indian society—inequalities that the protagonist, despite her struggles, cannot fully escape. The futility of her attempts at activism, as she and a colleague visit the dead student’s home, underscores the harsh realities of power and privilege. The protagonist’s internal journey is mirrored by the shifting political landscape of India. The protagonist’s refusal to take on her husband’s surname becomes a small, yet significant, act of defiance—an assertion of her own identity in a society that constantly seeks to define her by her gender, caste, and class.
Summer of Then is as much a novel about place as it is about people. Each city represents a different phase of her life, with Kolkata symbolizing her family’s failures, and Delhi embodying the toxicity of her marriage and professional dissatisfaction. When the protagonist travels to Edinburgh for a writer’s residency, she is briefly seduced by the charm of the West—its clean air, temperate climate, and promises of freedom. But even this escape proves temporary. Her return to Delhi marks a return to reality, where the weight of her responsibilities and the limitations of her class and gender once again close in on her. Her trip to Nilokheri brings back a strange connection to her grandmother and her life in the past.
Bose uses a deeply introspective tone to draw the reader into her thoughts and emotions. The protagonist is constantly reflecting on her circumstances, whether it’s her relationships, career, or social standing. This self-awareness gives the novel a confessional feel, as though the reader is privy to the protagonist’s most private thoughts. The reflective language is filled with moments of hesitation, doubt, and self-criticism, often highlighting the protagonist’s emotional vulnerability. The frequent use of rhetorical questions and self-reflection lends the narrative a sense of immediacy, making the protagonist’s struggles feel raw and unfiltered. Bose’s descriptive style is minimalist, often focusing on key symbolic details rather than long, elaborate descriptions.
The narrative moves back and forth in time and space, mirroring the disjointed and often chaotic nature of the protagonist’s life. The nonlinear narrative explores the protagonist’s past and present simultaneously, creating a layered understanding of how her experiences have shaped her. She is often caught between conflicting desires, unsure of where her life is headed. By moving fluidly between different points in time, Bose captures the way memory, desire, and regret constantly intersect in the protagonist’s mind, emphasizing the complexity of her internal journey. The oppressive heat of summer, which recurs throughout the narrative, serves as a metaphor for the protagonist’s stifling circumstances. The brown, parched grass on her side of the fence becomes a symbol of her dissatisfaction, and her inability to find joy or fulfilment in the life she has chosen. Similarly, the changing seasons—particularly the relief brought by winter—serve as a metaphor for the moments of clarity and hope that punctuate the protagonist’s otherwise tumultuous journey. Motifs such as air, water, and geography also play a significant role in shaping the narrative. The language is subtle, yet powerful, capturing the nuances of desire, identity, and the socio-political landscape that shape the protagonist’s journey. Bose’s writing is sharp, insightful, and unflinchingly honest, making Summer of Then a must-read for anyone interested in the intersection of the personal and the political, and the quiet rebellions that define our lives.
October 8, 2025
summer of then by rupleena bose
genre : literary fiction
My 💭:
[26/9/25 8.03 PM] 🏅
I have no idea how to express the whirlwind of thoughts swarming my head right now after finishing this book. Or maybe I should say, this masterpiece of a book. Author, I cannot thank you enough for writing this book and Penguin India, a BIG hug, for bringing this book into my life.
I had been quite sure that this story will bring forth relentless tears. And it did. But I did not expect the mild euphoria, from being seen and understood and accepted, by a book - my best friend. After all these years, I finally have found that ONE singular acceptance that I have been trying to find from all the people and stories around me - life is not a peaceful journey, no matter how hard we try.
I have often associated people with stories - they have new chapters, pauses and words. Ah words! Words define my existence! And everyone else's too! But often we tie one particular genre to a story and the same goes for people too. We are always rushing to put a label on everything. But does life actually have a category? Does YOUR story have a singular category? It can never. And this book beautifully portrays that. Told from the pov of an unnamed woman, we get to experience the summers of her life through the mirrors of the events and people and emotions of her life. Yes, I am putting 'emotions' on a separate plane from herSELF because at times I felt like these emotions were happening to her rather than her creating them. We get to see her navigating her life as a friend, girlfriend, wife, lover, daughter, granddaughter, teacher and lastly, the most important role of all - herself. I have never ever read a story where this sense of roles and characters we play in life described so vividly and relatably. Because, truthfully, after living for so many years, I know that we ourselves are many characters within ourselves.
I won't lie that at times, I wanted to grab this girl by her elbows, turn her towards me and ask her - "What are you doing? Why are you doing this? Don't you see what this is doing to you? You know and still you are doing it? Is that because you think you deserve it or maybe because you finally want to find a grand meaning to it all that makes your story a better one? Or is it because you simply cannot exist with your longing? Maybe you know at the back of your mind that you will be nullified without this terrible aching and longing and that's why you cannot stop. Because it's survival. Devoid of your longing, you'll drown."
I wish I could get answers to these questions from her. I wish that I could have become friends with her. I wish I had the courage to find my own peace like she did in the end. After the endless emotions and longing and conversations and restless sleeps and travels and exhaustions, it always comes back to roots. To her, it was her grandmother. And for this alone, she is luckier than all others.
This story has somehow wound itself into my soul. I'm going to come back to this unnamed girl's story every other day. It's the story of life, how can I ever leave it?
genre : literary fiction
My 💭:
[26/9/25 8.03 PM] 🏅
I have no idea how to express the whirlwind of thoughts swarming my head right now after finishing this book. Or maybe I should say, this masterpiece of a book. Author, I cannot thank you enough for writing this book and Penguin India, a BIG hug, for bringing this book into my life.
I had been quite sure that this story will bring forth relentless tears. And it did. But I did not expect the mild euphoria, from being seen and understood and accepted, by a book - my best friend. After all these years, I finally have found that ONE singular acceptance that I have been trying to find from all the people and stories around me - life is not a peaceful journey, no matter how hard we try.
I have often associated people with stories - they have new chapters, pauses and words. Ah words! Words define my existence! And everyone else's too! But often we tie one particular genre to a story and the same goes for people too. We are always rushing to put a label on everything. But does life actually have a category? Does YOUR story have a singular category? It can never. And this book beautifully portrays that. Told from the pov of an unnamed woman, we get to experience the summers of her life through the mirrors of the events and people and emotions of her life. Yes, I am putting 'emotions' on a separate plane from herSELF because at times I felt like these emotions were happening to her rather than her creating them. We get to see her navigating her life as a friend, girlfriend, wife, lover, daughter, granddaughter, teacher and lastly, the most important role of all - herself. I have never ever read a story where this sense of roles and characters we play in life described so vividly and relatably. Because, truthfully, after living for so many years, I know that we ourselves are many characters within ourselves.
I won't lie that at times, I wanted to grab this girl by her elbows, turn her towards me and ask her - "What are you doing? Why are you doing this? Don't you see what this is doing to you? You know and still you are doing it? Is that because you think you deserve it or maybe because you finally want to find a grand meaning to it all that makes your story a better one? Or is it because you simply cannot exist with your longing? Maybe you know at the back of your mind that you will be nullified without this terrible aching and longing and that's why you cannot stop. Because it's survival. Devoid of your longing, you'll drown."
I wish I could get answers to these questions from her. I wish that I could have become friends with her. I wish I had the courage to find my own peace like she did in the end. After the endless emotions and longing and conversations and restless sleeps and travels and exhaustions, it always comes back to roots. To her, it was her grandmother. And for this alone, she is luckier than all others.
This story has somehow wound itself into my soul. I'm going to come back to this unnamed girl's story every other day. It's the story of life, how can I ever leave it?
May 25, 2025
-This Must be on Your Must Reads-
Review of 'Summer of Then'
Quote Alert
"𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐡𝐢𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲; 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞. 𝐇𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐰as 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨. 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐡𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞. 𝐁𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫, 𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐫-𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦."
The blurb of 'Summer of Then' calls it ideal for those who loved Sally Rooney's Normal People. I think Rupleena Bose's debut is far more energetic, adorable, sharp and more than that, it's a story that finds its happy place towards the end. Bose takes a hammer to your heart, shatters it and then rebuilds it, like a skillful wordmason.
Bose doesn't behave like those masochistic writers who feel their protagonist finding happiness is inversely proportional to the literary merit they as a writer deserve. When Bose's MC does get what she wants, I felt as if I had won something. I was dreading lest Bose turned her quill into a knife, bleeding her MC dry but thank you the god of books, Bose believes in happiness.
The first thing that struck me, while reading 'Summer of Then', apart from exquisite prose and engaging storytelling, was: 'the way clever people can insult, nobody can'. Bose is clever people indeed. The way she insults the people don't like wants me to have a coffee with her and see how she goes about slaying the peeps she hates. In her book, Bose reserves the most incentive insult for the people (her character) hates most is that she makes them hates books and bookshops. For a guy, she says- 'Bookshops give me a headache, he had said.' Now, every reader knows how humongous a red flag this is.
Now read this one- 'But the mother didn't read newspapers. She didn't read anything. Not newspapers or books or takeaway menu cards or pamphlets.'
The second creative insult she invents is her MC's parents: 'They were people who had built their lives around the need to sleep.' There is an entire page dedicated to this and I was just a hair short of rolling on the floor.
And here comes the third insult, reserved again for the boyfriend - 'Nikhil had told me his grades were the worst in the literary components of the syllabus. A few conscientious faculty members tried to help him develop a reading habit by giving reading lists, but he never read a single book, He did not like reading. He believed stories were false and truth was elsewhere.'
The book of course isn't made entirely upon insults. It's a beautifully told story of love, loss, chaos and finding yourself.
Review of 'Summer of Then'
Quote Alert
"𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐡𝐢𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲; 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞. 𝐇𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐰as 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨. 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐡𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞. 𝐁𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫, 𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐫-𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦."
The blurb of 'Summer of Then' calls it ideal for those who loved Sally Rooney's Normal People. I think Rupleena Bose's debut is far more energetic, adorable, sharp and more than that, it's a story that finds its happy place towards the end. Bose takes a hammer to your heart, shatters it and then rebuilds it, like a skillful wordmason.
Bose doesn't behave like those masochistic writers who feel their protagonist finding happiness is inversely proportional to the literary merit they as a writer deserve. When Bose's MC does get what she wants, I felt as if I had won something. I was dreading lest Bose turned her quill into a knife, bleeding her MC dry but thank you the god of books, Bose believes in happiness.
The first thing that struck me, while reading 'Summer of Then', apart from exquisite prose and engaging storytelling, was: 'the way clever people can insult, nobody can'. Bose is clever people indeed. The way she insults the people don't like wants me to have a coffee with her and see how she goes about slaying the peeps she hates. In her book, Bose reserves the most incentive insult for the people (her character) hates most is that she makes them hates books and bookshops. For a guy, she says- 'Bookshops give me a headache, he had said.' Now, every reader knows how humongous a red flag this is.
Now read this one- 'But the mother didn't read newspapers. She didn't read anything. Not newspapers or books or takeaway menu cards or pamphlets.'
The second creative insult she invents is her MC's parents: 'They were people who had built their lives around the need to sleep.' There is an entire page dedicated to this and I was just a hair short of rolling on the floor.
And here comes the third insult, reserved again for the boyfriend - 'Nikhil had told me his grades were the worst in the literary components of the syllabus. A few conscientious faculty members tried to help him develop a reading habit by giving reading lists, but he never read a single book, He did not like reading. He believed stories were false and truth was elsewhere.'
The book of course isn't made entirely upon insults. It's a beautifully told story of love, loss, chaos and finding yourself.
July 12, 2024
Summer of Then by Rupleena Bose is a debut novel that strikes up your reading pose in just a few pages and lets you switch only after you finish it. Reading this book felt like a cool breeze, that makes you shiver enough to make the hair of your arms bristle but not cold enough for you to wrap yourself in a blanket. Rupleena has exceptionally written about the dilemma, guilt, shame, and hope a young woman in her late twenties experiences. The constant urge to settle down on one path yet constantly negotiating between family, career, and marriage, all the while being in search of her individuality.
This coming-of-age novel set in India of 2010, revolves around a twenty-six-year-old woman who is trying to manage her career, love life, marriage, family history, and sexual liberation. Contrary to the protagonist’s ceaseless anti-moral actions, as a reader you would find a likeness, even a defending nature towards her. The book explores the feeling of being in a circle where everyone is doing some magnificent & popular work, while you keep paddling to maintain buoyancy in that flow.
Expanded over 10 years of a woman’s life, the book honed into the religious & political involvement in academia and thoroughly discusses lifestyle in metropolitan cities like Delhi, Mumbai, Calcutta, Edinburgh, and Scotland.
Running away from an anti-feminist household, ending up in a big city with a temporary job and minimal savings, becoming a victim of a stifled marriage, falling into an equally unromantic adulterous relationship, and finding a sense of belonging in Edinburgh doing the things she loves, before returning to India because of visa and ending on just the beginning of 2020 pandemic’s formative anxiety. Reading this book is an experience, a deeper pertinent, and a broad reflection on today’s lifestyle.
This coming-of-age novel set in India of 2010, revolves around a twenty-six-year-old woman who is trying to manage her career, love life, marriage, family history, and sexual liberation. Contrary to the protagonist’s ceaseless anti-moral actions, as a reader you would find a likeness, even a defending nature towards her. The book explores the feeling of being in a circle where everyone is doing some magnificent & popular work, while you keep paddling to maintain buoyancy in that flow.
Expanded over 10 years of a woman’s life, the book honed into the religious & political involvement in academia and thoroughly discusses lifestyle in metropolitan cities like Delhi, Mumbai, Calcutta, Edinburgh, and Scotland.
Running away from an anti-feminist household, ending up in a big city with a temporary job and minimal savings, becoming a victim of a stifled marriage, falling into an equally unromantic adulterous relationship, and finding a sense of belonging in Edinburgh doing the things she loves, before returning to India because of visa and ending on just the beginning of 2020 pandemic’s formative anxiety. Reading this book is an experience, a deeper pertinent, and a broad reflection on today’s lifestyle.
November 3, 2024
At the time of writing this, I’ve been a part of no fewer than five separate conversations where I’ve had to defend my fascination and general awe for Sally Rooney, the Irish author, and her decidedly piquant school of storytelling against some rather well-intentioned critics. While I acknowledge the validity of most of the arguments in the face of the incredible subjectivity of the vocation that is reading, I would, rest assured, gladly do it again a sixth time, with no scruples to spare.
Taking a leaf from that particular literary conundrum, I find myself in a similar pickle with Rupleena Bose’s debut novel ‘Summer of Then’ – a seemingly innocuous story that says more in its many subtexts than one would venture to guess at the first glance. It follows an unassuming protagonist in her late twenties across a span of ten years and three cities in an almost lyrical journey of identity and self-discovery.
The deployment of a plotless plot as a narrative technique, while often misconstrued as a modern writing hack, has been, for a long time, an exceptional tool utilised in varied shapes and forms in literature, riding on the dependable shoulders of those such as Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway and Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot. That being said, it also happens to be a literary choice that skates like walking on thin ice because once you remove the thrill and suspense of lumbering through a concrete plotline, you render yourself vulnerable to an inordinate set of expectations at the hands of the reader. On the best of days, it’s a daring decision; on the unfortunate ones, it’s deemed foolish.
Summer of Then, as it happens, belongs defiantly in the former category.
Read more about the book here:
https://theindianbookclub.com/readers...
Taking a leaf from that particular literary conundrum, I find myself in a similar pickle with Rupleena Bose’s debut novel ‘Summer of Then’ – a seemingly innocuous story that says more in its many subtexts than one would venture to guess at the first glance. It follows an unassuming protagonist in her late twenties across a span of ten years and three cities in an almost lyrical journey of identity and self-discovery.
The deployment of a plotless plot as a narrative technique, while often misconstrued as a modern writing hack, has been, for a long time, an exceptional tool utilised in varied shapes and forms in literature, riding on the dependable shoulders of those such as Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway and Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot. That being said, it also happens to be a literary choice that skates like walking on thin ice because once you remove the thrill and suspense of lumbering through a concrete plotline, you render yourself vulnerable to an inordinate set of expectations at the hands of the reader. On the best of days, it’s a daring decision; on the unfortunate ones, it’s deemed foolish.
Summer of Then, as it happens, belongs defiantly in the former category.
Read more about the book here:
https://theindianbookclub.com/readers...
June 7, 2024
Summer of Then is a decades-long novel about seasons of longing, of the trappings of the past and the interior landscape of an Indian woman craving freedom — from her marriage, from her desire, from her class and country, and especially, from the roles society has placed on her as a daughter, granddaughter, teacher, and assault survivor. This is a book that reads like Sally Rooney, hurts like Gabrielle Zevin, and makes you wonder how you'd tell the story of your own life.
The unnamed, highly perceptive but passive narrator's life fans out in a series of cities. Calcutta is wistful, just as her secret lover Zafar; Delhi is poisonous and stifling, just as her husband Nikhil. Bombay is unknowable, just as Zafar continues to be, all those years on. In Edinburgh, the narrator finds freedom from the narrative of her own life and the memories of her grandfather that haunt her. A vast, vastly interesting cast of characters pervade; they have conversations about politics that reveal themselves in a way I've never seen in books, but do, every day in real life.
I notice that early on, the editing suffers from what I term Emily Henry Syndrome: the years all feel the same, and details don't make sense if one thinks about the world as it was in 2010 or 2012. But as the book approaches the epilogue — that takes place during the first lockdown in 2020 — the story wraps itself immaculately around what was happening in the world at the time. It has a satisfyingly real and colourful quality to it.
I've never read anything like this book. For those who enjoy contemporary, literary work, it is a must read.
The unnamed, highly perceptive but passive narrator's life fans out in a series of cities. Calcutta is wistful, just as her secret lover Zafar; Delhi is poisonous and stifling, just as her husband Nikhil. Bombay is unknowable, just as Zafar continues to be, all those years on. In Edinburgh, the narrator finds freedom from the narrative of her own life and the memories of her grandfather that haunt her. A vast, vastly interesting cast of characters pervade; they have conversations about politics that reveal themselves in a way I've never seen in books, but do, every day in real life.
I notice that early on, the editing suffers from what I term Emily Henry Syndrome: the years all feel the same, and details don't make sense if one thinks about the world as it was in 2010 or 2012. But as the book approaches the epilogue — that takes place during the first lockdown in 2020 — the story wraps itself immaculately around what was happening in the world at the time. It has a satisfyingly real and colourful quality to it.
I've never read anything like this book. For those who enjoy contemporary, literary work, it is a must read.
June 8, 2024
"Summer by Then" by Rupleena Bose is a poignant tale told from the perspective of a woman who feels misunderstood by those closest to her. The protagonist, traumatized from a young age, finds herself drawn to toxic relationships with men, unable to break free. This pattern is deeply intertwined with her lack of self-confidence and her struggles in her career as an aspiring writer. Her repeated failures lead her to define herself as a failure, seeking validation and acceptance from men as a temporary solace. This need for acceptance shapes all her relationships, particularly with men, reflecting a tumultuous childhood.
I felt a deep connection to the protagonist, sympathizing with her plight and wishing I could help her if she were my friend in real life. The novel also explores societal expectations of women, illustrating how societal constraints can limit a woman's perception of her own potential. These constraints act as an invisible boundary, a "Lakshman Rekha," confining her until someone comes along to offer a glimpse of hope beyond those lines.
I felt a deep connection to the protagonist, sympathizing with her plight and wishing I could help her if she were my friend in real life. The novel also explores societal expectations of women, illustrating how societal constraints can limit a woman's perception of her own potential. These constraints act as an invisible boundary, a "Lakshman Rekha," confining her until someone comes along to offer a glimpse of hope beyond those lines.
December 8, 2024
Yay! : Bildungsroman a la Sally Rooney in 2010s urban India? Shut up and take my money. Really enjoyed the last 150 odd pages or so. I had misgivings in the beginning because of:
Nay: not really well-edited, especially the first 100 pages. A character who is supposed to be 41 is described to be 22, nine years in the past. Many such minor anachronisms, like Whatsapp and Video calling and X (twitter) in 2010, which just breaks the immersion. A few oversights like hunches being used instead of haunches. A plurality of exclamation marks suddenly in the middle third of the book during dialogue gives a fake excitement vibe to the whole thing.
Your mileage may vary: has the vibe of being written over multiple years as the author herself changes and her style changes.
Also, minor spoiler, it's not a book about choosing between two men, despite the blurb.
Nay: not really well-edited, especially the first 100 pages. A character who is supposed to be 41 is described to be 22, nine years in the past. Many such minor anachronisms, like Whatsapp and Video calling and X (twitter) in 2010, which just breaks the immersion. A few oversights like hunches being used instead of haunches. A plurality of exclamation marks suddenly in the middle third of the book during dialogue gives a fake excitement vibe to the whole thing.
Your mileage may vary: has the vibe of being written over multiple years as the author herself changes and her style changes.
Also, minor spoiler, it's not a book about choosing between two men, despite the blurb.
December 9, 2024
3.75/5⭐️
umm, i was really excited for this book, but it did not fully live up to the hype. don’t get me wrong, i really liked this book, it’s a really good book for a debut novel, but as a reviewer, i have to be honest. some parts of the book were really good, i was really into them, more interested in the lives’ of the characters, while some parts were more like filler chapters or unnecessary chapters that do nothing but make it longer. rupleena bose’s writing is highly inspired by sally rooney, which is an author i adore. she also has followed her way of writing dialogues without the quotations. in short, it’s a really good debut book. i wish all the best to rupleena for her other books in her journey.
umm, i was really excited for this book, but it did not fully live up to the hype. don’t get me wrong, i really liked this book, it’s a really good book for a debut novel, but as a reviewer, i have to be honest. some parts of the book were really good, i was really into them, more interested in the lives’ of the characters, while some parts were more like filler chapters or unnecessary chapters that do nothing but make it longer. rupleena bose’s writing is highly inspired by sally rooney, which is an author i adore. she also has followed her way of writing dialogues without the quotations. in short, it’s a really good debut book. i wish all the best to rupleena for her other books in her journey.
July 13, 2024
Summer of Then, In the Summer of Now.
This book reads like a slice of whirlwind lives intersecting and overlapping with each other, where there are no heroes and no villains. The origins, the traumas, the characters, the personalities are all laid out for the readers to see, and take sides on.
The story speaks of a characteristic malaise that our particular generation suffers from, either as a hand-me-down from our ancestors, or as a gift of being too educated. It leaves you feeling disgruntled in places, showing you the mirror in places more than one.
For all its complexity, the book is a surprisingly breezy read.
This book reads like a slice of whirlwind lives intersecting and overlapping with each other, where there are no heroes and no villains. The origins, the traumas, the characters, the personalities are all laid out for the readers to see, and take sides on.
The story speaks of a characteristic malaise that our particular generation suffers from, either as a hand-me-down from our ancestors, or as a gift of being too educated. It leaves you feeling disgruntled in places, showing you the mirror in places more than one.
For all its complexity, the book is a surprisingly breezy read.
Read
October 12, 2025Rupleena Bose’s Summer of Then is a tender, unhurried meditation on love, memory, and the passage of time. The novel traces a decade in the life of a woman and her relationships with the three men who shape her world, and the quiet, un-nameable spaces in between. It unfolds across cities and seasons, moving mostly between Kolkata and Delhi, where weather, light, and politics seem to echo the tides of her inner life.
What I love most about the book is its restraint, its refusal to dramatize what is already deeply felt. Beneath its surface of longing and desire lies a delicate layer of grief and self-discovery.
What I love most about the book is its restraint, its refusal to dramatize what is already deeply felt. Beneath its surface of longing and desire lies a delicate layer of grief and self-discovery.
June 15, 2024
I enjoyed the plot and the narrative, which was reminiscent of Jhumpa Lahiri's 'Whereabouts'. However, I was stumped by the many grammatical errors littering this book. It broke the flow of reading. The sentences jump between past and present tense continuously, and there were simple errors that could've been corrected while proofreading. Overall, a good book that needs another round of editing.
May 22, 2025
Too long, too much
October 1, 2024
In the midst of a world that seems to be unraveling, where every glance at the news feeds a growing sense of anxiety, I found myself searching for something to anchor me. The onslaught of statistics and the haunting tales of injustice left me feeling adrift, my mind teetering on the edge of panic. Yet, amid this storm, there was a quiet solace—a novel that held my hand and led me through a labyrinth of emotions, offering a momentary reprieve from the chaos outside.
Rupleena Bose’s debut novel, "Summer of Then," arrived like a whispered promise, a balm for the frayed nerves and restless thoughts that have consumed me of late. As I turned its pages, I felt less like a reader and more like a shadow, walking beside the protagonist through the sun-dappled streets of Calcutta, the bustling lanes of Delhi, the rain-soaked avenues of Mumbai, and the misty corners of Edinburgh. It was an experience, not just of reading but of living alongside a woman whose struggles mirrored the silent battles many of us fight every day.
In a world where women's voices often go unheard, "Summer of Then" amplifies the quiet, interior spaces where our most intimate fears and desires reside. The protagonist—a twenty-six-year-old English literature PhD student—finds herself caught between the competing demands of her intellect and her heart, her sense of self and the weight of familial expectations. Her life, marked by a stultifying marriage and a forbidden romance, unfolds in a series of vignettes that are at once painfully specific and achingly universal.
Bose’s prose is sparse yet deeply evocative, capturing the unsettling intimacies of relationships with a precision that cuts to the bone. Through her, we see the struggles of love—how it is found, how it is held, and how it so often slips through our fingers.
As I read, I couldn’t help but reflect on the common threads that run through the lives of women, the ways in which our struggles are often dismissed or misunderstood. "Summer of Then" does not shy away from these difficult truths; instead, it lays them bare, inviting the reader to walk alongside a woman who is trying, like so many of us, to find her place in a world that often seems indifferent to her pain.
In the tradition of Sally Rooney's "Normal People," Otessa Moshfegh's "My Year of Rest and Relaxation," and Avni Doshi's "Burnt Sugar," it is a novel that lingers long after the final page is turned. It is a testament to the power of fiction to not only reflect the world we live in but to offer a space where we can confront our deepest fears and hopes.
As I closed the book, I felt a sense of quiet understanding, a recognition of the shared struggles that bind us together. In a world that often feels overwhelming, "Summer of Then" is a reminder that we are not alone—that even in our darkest moments, there is a way forward, and that sometimes, solace can be found in the most unexpected places.
Rupleena Bose’s debut novel, "Summer of Then," arrived like a whispered promise, a balm for the frayed nerves and restless thoughts that have consumed me of late. As I turned its pages, I felt less like a reader and more like a shadow, walking beside the protagonist through the sun-dappled streets of Calcutta, the bustling lanes of Delhi, the rain-soaked avenues of Mumbai, and the misty corners of Edinburgh. It was an experience, not just of reading but of living alongside a woman whose struggles mirrored the silent battles many of us fight every day.
In a world where women's voices often go unheard, "Summer of Then" amplifies the quiet, interior spaces where our most intimate fears and desires reside. The protagonist—a twenty-six-year-old English literature PhD student—finds herself caught between the competing demands of her intellect and her heart, her sense of self and the weight of familial expectations. Her life, marked by a stultifying marriage and a forbidden romance, unfolds in a series of vignettes that are at once painfully specific and achingly universal.
Bose’s prose is sparse yet deeply evocative, capturing the unsettling intimacies of relationships with a precision that cuts to the bone. Through her, we see the struggles of love—how it is found, how it is held, and how it so often slips through our fingers.
As I read, I couldn’t help but reflect on the common threads that run through the lives of women, the ways in which our struggles are often dismissed or misunderstood. "Summer of Then" does not shy away from these difficult truths; instead, it lays them bare, inviting the reader to walk alongside a woman who is trying, like so many of us, to find her place in a world that often seems indifferent to her pain.
In the tradition of Sally Rooney's "Normal People," Otessa Moshfegh's "My Year of Rest and Relaxation," and Avni Doshi's "Burnt Sugar," it is a novel that lingers long after the final page is turned. It is a testament to the power of fiction to not only reflect the world we live in but to offer a space where we can confront our deepest fears and hopes.
As I closed the book, I felt a sense of quiet understanding, a recognition of the shared struggles that bind us together. In a world that often feels overwhelming, "Summer of Then" is a reminder that we are not alone—that even in our darkest moments, there is a way forward, and that sometimes, solace can be found in the most unexpected places.
July 24, 2024
I read this contemporary Indian novel back in May. It dissects the life of an academic-aspiring writer in India beautifully. Especially of a woman. I thought it was brilliant in places and sometimes overwhelming with too many investments. Compared to Rooney and Moshfegh, initially, I was anxious if this would be another dry rehash of the #hot / #sadgirl genre. To my surprise, it wasn’t! I write about this and more in my review of this book for The Federal News. The link to the review is below. I hope I am able to convince you with my review that you don’t need to wait for another Roy or Seth, that contemporary Indian writing in English still has hope. You only need to look for it in the right places. The debut novel is one such place.
The link- https://thefederal.com/category/featu...
The link- https://thefederal.com/category/featu...
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