Yasodhara is an exquisite feminist fairy tale that's at once playful and profound. I couldn't put it down, and when I read the last line (with tears streaming down my face, no less), I promptly returned to page 1 and started again, flipping through it nostalgically to re-read my favorite sections if only to savor it a little while longer.
The premise alone is captivating, and you don't need to be a Buddhist or a Buddhist scholar or a religion enthusiast to enjoy it (though if you're any of the above, you may appreciate it all the more, for the fine attention to detail and the copious notes at the back of the book that provide textual references and context for the choices Sasson makes in her imaginative yet grounded storytelling). We all know about the Buddha, but few in Western, non-Buddhist spaces know that before he was the Buddha, he was a prince who was married to the love of his life, and that he left her, and their newborn child, abruptly, when he decided to step away from palace life to seek enlightenment. And though much has been written about his journey from prince to Buddha, even in popular culture (I distinctly remember how influential the book Siddhartha was when I myself was a teenager, journeying into adulthood), I had never heard about Yasodhara until picking up this gorgeous novel.
Yasodhara is her story. Told in her voice, it's the fictional imagining of what it would have been like to be young and in love and then suddenly abandoned, within the confines of her particular time and place. It's a story of vulnerability and resilience, told with humor, compassion, and deep insight about the human condition and the relationships that feed us. While the story itself could not be more specific (there was only one Siddhartha and one Yasodhara, no matter how many lifetimes they spent together), it has a universality in the way Sasson depicts the paired experiences of joy and sorrow, love and grief.
Plus, what's more painfully universal than the story of a man who leaves his partner to "go find himself"? Cynically, I'll admit that this familiar "trope" was what attracted me to the story to begin with, but Sasson's portrayal of the prince avoids "going there" and instead treats all the characters with nuance and grace, which is itself a lesson in humility. More importantly, though, it's her portrayal of Yasodhara and the experiences and challenges that shape her that make this a truly captivating read.
To avoid spoiling it, I'll stop there. But I can't overstate how happily I devoured this novel. You won't regret it!