An unabashedly feminist novel from Markandaya. I already loved her work, and this moved her even higher in my estimation. Saroja is a wonderful narrator, and her often-unusual insights into the world around her resonate. The final chapter drags a bit--and it is a bit reminiscent of the Mysore sections of Nectar in a Sieve--but even then, the interactions between characters, particularly Saroja and Lalitha, jumps out.
Also, the village scene and the city scene Markandaya creates make me imagine that there's an entire rich world here--we're just seeing a fragment. From the beginning, even, she darts around to Chingleput and the Manikkams before settling in on Saroja's family. And in Chennai, we meet Curly, who clearly has more going on than his conversations with a teenager.