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What We Know About Her
Yamuna is adrift. A long-term relationship has come to an end. Her mother and she are at loggerheads about their ancestral home in Chingleput, which she loves and lives in. Even her PhD on early twentieth-century music in Tamil Nadu seems to be going nowhere—until it leads her to an unexpected puzzle from the past.
During her research, she comes to be fascinated by her enigmatic grandaunt, Lalitha, who rose to prominence as a Carnatic musician at a time when thirteen-year-old brides were the norm. And then she chances upon a letter written by her own grandmother to her grandfather that opens up another window into Lalitha’s life. She wants to know more. Only, the more questions she asks, the closer her family draws its secrets. No one will talk to her about this long-dead ancestor’s life or death.
What lies beneath the stories they are willing to tell? Beyond the letters that Yamuna manages to purloin from her beloved grandfather’s papers when she visits him in Banaras? What did this family do to Lalitha? Krupa Ge’s debut novel is an absorbing tale of an angsty young woman who must unravel the secrets of her family before she can untangle her own life.
During her research, she comes to be fascinated by her enigmatic grandaunt, Lalitha, who rose to prominence as a Carnatic musician at a time when thirteen-year-old brides were the norm. And then she chances upon a letter written by her own grandmother to her grandfather that opens up another window into Lalitha’s life. She wants to know more. Only, the more questions she asks, the closer her family draws its secrets. No one will talk to her about this long-dead ancestor’s life or death.
What lies beneath the stories they are willing to tell? Beyond the letters that Yamuna manages to purloin from her beloved grandfather’s papers when she visits him in Banaras? What did this family do to Lalitha? Krupa Ge’s debut novel is an absorbing tale of an angsty young woman who must unravel the secrets of her family before she can untangle her own life.
160 pages, Kindle Edition
Published April 26, 2021
6 people are currently reading
335 people want to read
About the author
Krupa Ge
8 books11 followersKrupa Ge is a writer from Madras. She is the author of a novel, What We Know About Her (Context, 2021) and a narrative non-fiction book, Rivers Remember (Context, 2019).
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Displaying 1 - 29 of 35 reviews
September 4, 2021
The cover and the endpapers of Krupa Ge’s What We Know About Her feature an illustration that reminds me of Ranganathan Theru, a popular commercial street in Chennai, or rather Madras, as the narrator Yamuna continues to lovingly call this city in 2019, even after it was officially renamed in 1996. In the art that looks grim and apocalyptic on the first impression and eerily real as the story unfolds, a sea of men (quite like the humanity that moves in waves in Ranganathan Theru) walks toward the reader, with just empty spaces in the places where their eyes should have been, and amidst these men, three women stand as though they are squirming under the spotlight that’s trained on them. Or, they are trying to resist being moved by the mob that doesn’t respect their agency, the pressure that’s exerted on them. They go against the current, and their faces betray a certain degree of effort and discomfort. The art suggests that men don’t see what matters, women are under constant surveillance, and despite that harsh light which dictates their lives, we don’t know much about the women. Should this push and pull go on for eternity? If women stop, reflect, and question, what will happen?
Yamuna needs answers. She wants to inherit her home which her commie mother has decided to donate to an NGO; her doctoral research has hit a roadblock; her relationship has flatlined. Her life is under a cloud of uncertainty. When you are tired of digging the same spot in the ground, you would entertain the idea of digging another spot to renew your hope of finding something underneath. Besides every other question that grows around her like a creeper, she lets one question, about her grandaunt, fill her being. “What did this family do to Lalitha?” The truth she unearths just doesn’t answer the question that presses her the most, but the one that shouldn’t be stopped asking. “What are the families, in this side of the world, doing to women?”
The answers come to her in the forms of delightful, traumatic, moving, poetic, introspective letters (even an excerpt, which gets an U/A rating for its language, from an autobiography called I Dream For My Sisters), written in the 40’s, by the women in her family, painting a detailed picture of their lives which were marked by oppression and Gender-based Violence for most parts and caressed and healed by clandestine freedom and art in few parts. The letters document each woman’s struggle with wanting to become her mother and breaking the chain of intergenerational trauma. In this chorus of narratives, Krupa Ge’s writing soars. Each letter starts with a pillaiyar suzhi, offers an intimate view into the letter writer’s mind, and also subtly reveals the way the Second World War directed their lives. The letters made me wonder about the times when I discovered that my mum could swim, the first watch that my dad wore was her gift, her favourite subject in school was physics, and she led a team when she worked in Solidaire TV. That mum, who flickered and appeared rarely and disappeared, shocked me by disclosing truths about an exciting, unknown side of her life, the side that was darkened by the familial responsibilities she was coerced to carry. What do I know about her! What do we know about all of them, really!
The entire novel plays against the backdrop of Carnatic music. There certainly needs to be a playlist on YouTube with all the songs featured in the book. Yamuna, for she is from the current time, tries to be politically correct. When her partner opines that Carnatic music is inaccessible, and ‘even to enjoy it, you need to know so much. And it’s a very closed space, even for someone who just wants to listen,’ Yamuna, who has paid enough thought to the caste-badge that the music wears, clarifies, “I was reading an interview of Rajarathinam Pillar, and he talks about how therukoothu, harikatha, nodighoshti, all of these made Carnatic music the default songs of the masses. All of that is marginalised now, which is possibly why it’s so alienating. It’s become a polarised, elitist space now.” Her narration is consistently laced with the politics of her time, my time. She discusses NRC, women’s reproductive rights, consent, gender security, and even jokes about ‘Allaha.., sorry, Prayagraj.’ Yamuna’s political assertion, as the novel progressed, stopped surprising me, for her grandaunt Lalitha’s views about Hitler surfaced; the oppressed stood by the oppressed.
Even when authors try to write a proper ‘Madras novel’, at times, they are shackled by the need to still make it universal. Once, a ‘Mumbai novel’ asked for it to be abandoned when the author had written ‘turmeric sauce’ for a dish that I haven’t yet understood. Krupa Ge, though, seems sure about catering to readers who know this world and to those who are willing to explore and learn. Clichés and idioms make way for some gorgeous metaphors which stem from South India, rendering an authenticity to the story. “Liked winged termites that come for mud lamps in alcoves, restless, looking for light before the rains.” “Her voice has the same effect as honey does on the quartz lingam in our house.” “The sun was on its way down, and the calm sky, the colour of parijatham stalk, made me homesick.”
After I finished reading What We Know About Her, I revisited some parts of Krupa Ge’s first book Rivers Remember, a narrative non-fiction about the flood of 2015, when Chennai drowned. It seemed like a futile, intrusive exercise, even to me, to connect some dots between the contents of both books, a fiction and a non-fiction, but I followed a sense of familiarity that lingered. Above all, both the books make the universe where Krupa Ge’s writing originates — Chennai, her own grandfather who was a communist and who found the Cine Musicians Union of Madras (it almost feels blasphemous to mention the legendary KV Kannaiah of What We Know About Her in brackets), her grandmother who wrote diaries, the narrator named after a river, and some historical events like the flood of October 1943, which destroyed the city when it was already crushed under an air attack by a Japanese aircraft, and which makes a cameo in What We Know About Her at a crucial juncture when a character seeks redemption. Although Rivers Remember was published first, I gather from the Internet that the fiction had been growing in the author for about a decade, blurring boundaries between the real and the imagined. In the first work, rivers remember; in the second one, women want to be remembered. They want to flow, too, unobstructed by gender, caste, and class.
It is our job to keep on living, and to leave a record of what we saw in our time on this earth. If war is always around us, hate is forever holding us, it is we, those in the pursuit of life’s fleeting joys, that bear witness to the truth that art too is here. As is love. If hate and death are permanent, so are love and life. At least for some of us, some of the time.
Yamuna needs answers. She wants to inherit her home which her commie mother has decided to donate to an NGO; her doctoral research has hit a roadblock; her relationship has flatlined. Her life is under a cloud of uncertainty. When you are tired of digging the same spot in the ground, you would entertain the idea of digging another spot to renew your hope of finding something underneath. Besides every other question that grows around her like a creeper, she lets one question, about her grandaunt, fill her being. “What did this family do to Lalitha?” The truth she unearths just doesn’t answer the question that presses her the most, but the one that shouldn’t be stopped asking. “What are the families, in this side of the world, doing to women?”
The answers come to her in the forms of delightful, traumatic, moving, poetic, introspective letters (even an excerpt, which gets an U/A rating for its language, from an autobiography called I Dream For My Sisters), written in the 40’s, by the women in her family, painting a detailed picture of their lives which were marked by oppression and Gender-based Violence for most parts and caressed and healed by clandestine freedom and art in few parts. The letters document each woman’s struggle with wanting to become her mother and breaking the chain of intergenerational trauma. In this chorus of narratives, Krupa Ge’s writing soars. Each letter starts with a pillaiyar suzhi, offers an intimate view into the letter writer’s mind, and also subtly reveals the way the Second World War directed their lives. The letters made me wonder about the times when I discovered that my mum could swim, the first watch that my dad wore was her gift, her favourite subject in school was physics, and she led a team when she worked in Solidaire TV. That mum, who flickered and appeared rarely and disappeared, shocked me by disclosing truths about an exciting, unknown side of her life, the side that was darkened by the familial responsibilities she was coerced to carry. What do I know about her! What do we know about all of them, really!
The entire novel plays against the backdrop of Carnatic music. There certainly needs to be a playlist on YouTube with all the songs featured in the book. Yamuna, for she is from the current time, tries to be politically correct. When her partner opines that Carnatic music is inaccessible, and ‘even to enjoy it, you need to know so much. And it’s a very closed space, even for someone who just wants to listen,’ Yamuna, who has paid enough thought to the caste-badge that the music wears, clarifies, “I was reading an interview of Rajarathinam Pillar, and he talks about how therukoothu, harikatha, nodighoshti, all of these made Carnatic music the default songs of the masses. All of that is marginalised now, which is possibly why it’s so alienating. It’s become a polarised, elitist space now.” Her narration is consistently laced with the politics of her time, my time. She discusses NRC, women’s reproductive rights, consent, gender security, and even jokes about ‘Allaha.., sorry, Prayagraj.’ Yamuna’s political assertion, as the novel progressed, stopped surprising me, for her grandaunt Lalitha’s views about Hitler surfaced; the oppressed stood by the oppressed.
Even when authors try to write a proper ‘Madras novel’, at times, they are shackled by the need to still make it universal. Once, a ‘Mumbai novel’ asked for it to be abandoned when the author had written ‘turmeric sauce’ for a dish that I haven’t yet understood. Krupa Ge, though, seems sure about catering to readers who know this world and to those who are willing to explore and learn. Clichés and idioms make way for some gorgeous metaphors which stem from South India, rendering an authenticity to the story. “Liked winged termites that come for mud lamps in alcoves, restless, looking for light before the rains.” “Her voice has the same effect as honey does on the quartz lingam in our house.” “The sun was on its way down, and the calm sky, the colour of parijatham stalk, made me homesick.”
After I finished reading What We Know About Her, I revisited some parts of Krupa Ge’s first book Rivers Remember, a narrative non-fiction about the flood of 2015, when Chennai drowned. It seemed like a futile, intrusive exercise, even to me, to connect some dots between the contents of both books, a fiction and a non-fiction, but I followed a sense of familiarity that lingered. Above all, both the books make the universe where Krupa Ge’s writing originates — Chennai, her own grandfather who was a communist and who found the Cine Musicians Union of Madras (it almost feels blasphemous to mention the legendary KV Kannaiah of What We Know About Her in brackets), her grandmother who wrote diaries, the narrator named after a river, and some historical events like the flood of October 1943, which destroyed the city when it was already crushed under an air attack by a Japanese aircraft, and which makes a cameo in What We Know About Her at a crucial juncture when a character seeks redemption. Although Rivers Remember was published first, I gather from the Internet that the fiction had been growing in the author for about a decade, blurring boundaries between the real and the imagined. In the first work, rivers remember; in the second one, women want to be remembered. They want to flow, too, unobstructed by gender, caste, and class.
It is our job to keep on living, and to leave a record of what we saw in our time on this earth. If war is always around us, hate is forever holding us, it is we, those in the pursuit of life’s fleeting joys, that bear witness to the truth that art too is here. As is love. If hate and death are permanent, so are love and life. At least for some of us, some of the time.
August 31, 2021
What we Know About Her by Krupa Ge is about the many ways in which defiance plays out: in relationships, in the domestic and public sphere and in one’s political equilibrium. You begin reading this book for domestic friction, difficult ties, memories of hurt and the baggage of resentments. But the narrative takes you to a load more than you expected and you feel yourself opening up to the characters and the situations they are placed in, the actions they take and the fall outs later.
The author uses two different timelines between Benares and Madras with segments set in the early 1940s through recollections and letters from the time. That the author sticks to Madras when the narrative is set in contemporary times is her defiance to the way a place has severed from its socio-political roots with a changed name but stays alive in the minds and imagination of millions in its original flavour and name. It is a delicious addition to the way the writing flows, subtly pulling in many more strands.
You have the main protagonist’s family: a motley bunch spread across different journeys: a grandfather who rebelled against his orthodox family and took up creative arts and then turned Communist but who embraces faith and uproots himself to Benares after he loses his wife in his later years, a grandmother who gives love and affection to another family member but who gets carried away by what she thinks is best and hence, calls back the abusive husband; a grand aunt who had a stellar singing oeuvre but who had to marry early, face domestic abuse and then find her way to herself and her art and some semblance of stolen happiness.
Then is the generational angst, with the central protagonist questioning the past and what for her is a battle of wills with her mother. Everything plays out over less than 200 pages: the self discoveries, the realization that defiance is a common thread in the lives and decisions of each family member, the subtle political flavour in the past and the present, the personal equations, the difference and similarities between the political protests of the older generational and the new, the debates over meritocracy and reservation, all of this weave in not screaming for attention but so seamlessly and naturally that makes the writing stand out.
Full review: https://bookandconversations.wordpres...
The author uses two different timelines between Benares and Madras with segments set in the early 1940s through recollections and letters from the time. That the author sticks to Madras when the narrative is set in contemporary times is her defiance to the way a place has severed from its socio-political roots with a changed name but stays alive in the minds and imagination of millions in its original flavour and name. It is a delicious addition to the way the writing flows, subtly pulling in many more strands.
You have the main protagonist’s family: a motley bunch spread across different journeys: a grandfather who rebelled against his orthodox family and took up creative arts and then turned Communist but who embraces faith and uproots himself to Benares after he loses his wife in his later years, a grandmother who gives love and affection to another family member but who gets carried away by what she thinks is best and hence, calls back the abusive husband; a grand aunt who had a stellar singing oeuvre but who had to marry early, face domestic abuse and then find her way to herself and her art and some semblance of stolen happiness.
Then is the generational angst, with the central protagonist questioning the past and what for her is a battle of wills with her mother. Everything plays out over less than 200 pages: the self discoveries, the realization that defiance is a common thread in the lives and decisions of each family member, the subtle political flavour in the past and the present, the personal equations, the difference and similarities between the political protests of the older generational and the new, the debates over meritocracy and reservation, all of this weave in not screaming for attention but so seamlessly and naturally that makes the writing stand out.
Full review: https://bookandconversations.wordpres...
September 14, 2021
Such an utterly mediocre book that too nominated for a book prize. While the story and the ambition was good and so was the writing the execution was sorely lacking. I mean the author just jumped from one day to the next, one location to the next one city to the next in a single line and the narrator Yamuna was so strange I just could not understand her motivation. They may have been clear in the authors head but definitely she wasn’t able to execute with the clarity she may have seen her
August 22, 2021
I have read—a while long after—a novel of such simplicity in expression, complexity in the story, and wonderfulness in the craft. I got goosebumps right after the last line.
September 20, 2021
What we know about her by Krupa Ge is a longlisted title for JCB Prize 2021. That is when I heard about it first. The cover, the blurb and reviews convinced me to pick it up first from the list. So, I read it. And oh boy, I am frustrated and disappointed. A long rant ahead, plus potential spoilers. If you are planning to skip this book, go ahead and read it. If you want to read the book, skip my rant.
Before I begin my tirade, let me highlight a few good things about the book. Krupa Ge’s writing is ingenious. It is something that will leave mark on the reader. The themes this book covers in parts are important: Women and their lives in the 1940s, multi-generational family secrets, social-political backdrop, domestic violence, etc. That's all. But to make all this stands out, the execution of the story needs to be good, which fell flat for me.
The book began well for me. It built up my interest to know why our narrator Yamuna is meeting her grandfather, why inheriting the house matter so much to her, her research, and the letters she has of her grandmother Subbu and grandaunt Lalitha. One of the initial letters leaves you curious about Lalitha very much. She was a musician, a superstar and a fashion icon with worldwide fans. After around the first 50 pages, the book baffled me. The story started wandering, which I assumed will come together in the end, but I was wrong.
I found some chapters and characters unrelated to the story. Like why on the earth I would like to know about the insects and mosquitoes around the house. There’s one whole chapter to it. There’s a part where the party happens, the characters ( Asha and her boyfriend) are so irrelevant and do not even appear in the story ever again. Not even a reference to their conversation with Yamuna. (Ch 13) Then there's the love life of Yamuna. I think her past love interest (Nikhil) was unnecessary. Because he did not play any role, not even as a help. I understand that not everything in the narrative has to make sense. It frustrated me because, while focusing on all these random details, the essence of the story got lost. Everything was left without a conclusion.
I would have loved to know more about Lalitha, her life, Subbu and her husband, music, and at least some conclusion in the end. If you want to leave it open-ended, give us some clues to decipher. I did not understand about the house, the smell in the house, Lalitha's death, even about Yamuna's mother's intentions. In the end, I was like " Chalo abhi kuchh nahi to bhoot hi dikha do" ( Now, at least show me the ghost)
The initial part of the book made me curious about something else i.e. Lalitha and the scandal and then it talked about Yamuna and her love life. Okay fine, talk about it but at least close that chapter. If everything was to leave open-ended, I don’t know what was to be conveyed. I am frustrated. I tried super hard to understand the symbolism, the hidden meanings, it did not make sense. No book has left me as puzzled as this.
The grandfather died without leaving any clue. The Karthik was of no use. The mother and daughter matter did not resolve. The house remained the mystery. So did the Lalitha. ( Even if some letters talked about her life)
So the conclusion is: No, we do not know anything about her.
I am highly disappointed. I do not recommend this.
Before I begin my tirade, let me highlight a few good things about the book. Krupa Ge’s writing is ingenious. It is something that will leave mark on the reader. The themes this book covers in parts are important: Women and their lives in the 1940s, multi-generational family secrets, social-political backdrop, domestic violence, etc. That's all. But to make all this stands out, the execution of the story needs to be good, which fell flat for me.
The book began well for me. It built up my interest to know why our narrator Yamuna is meeting her grandfather, why inheriting the house matter so much to her, her research, and the letters she has of her grandmother Subbu and grandaunt Lalitha. One of the initial letters leaves you curious about Lalitha very much. She was a musician, a superstar and a fashion icon with worldwide fans. After around the first 50 pages, the book baffled me. The story started wandering, which I assumed will come together in the end, but I was wrong.
I found some chapters and characters unrelated to the story. Like why on the earth I would like to know about the insects and mosquitoes around the house. There’s one whole chapter to it. There’s a part where the party happens, the characters ( Asha and her boyfriend) are so irrelevant and do not even appear in the story ever again. Not even a reference to their conversation with Yamuna. (Ch 13) Then there's the love life of Yamuna. I think her past love interest (Nikhil) was unnecessary. Because he did not play any role, not even as a help. I understand that not everything in the narrative has to make sense. It frustrated me because, while focusing on all these random details, the essence of the story got lost. Everything was left without a conclusion.
I would have loved to know more about Lalitha, her life, Subbu and her husband, music, and at least some conclusion in the end. If you want to leave it open-ended, give us some clues to decipher. I did not understand about the house, the smell in the house, Lalitha's death, even about Yamuna's mother's intentions. In the end, I was like " Chalo abhi kuchh nahi to bhoot hi dikha do" ( Now, at least show me the ghost)
The initial part of the book made me curious about something else i.e. Lalitha and the scandal and then it talked about Yamuna and her love life. Okay fine, talk about it but at least close that chapter. If everything was to leave open-ended, I don’t know what was to be conveyed. I am frustrated. I tried super hard to understand the symbolism, the hidden meanings, it did not make sense. No book has left me as puzzled as this.
The grandfather died without leaving any clue. The Karthik was of no use. The mother and daughter matter did not resolve. The house remained the mystery. So did the Lalitha. ( Even if some letters talked about her life)
So the conclusion is: No, we do not know anything about her.
I am highly disappointed. I do not recommend this.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 21, 2021
Krupa Ge’s What we know about her is a difficult book to review for one reason - it reads like a deeply personal story, but is relatable and engaging in its narration.
Yamuna stakes her claim over the ancestral house in Chengalpattu that she has tended since she was 18, and will not hesitate to fight her mother over it. She is also delving into the secrecy surrounding the death of her grand aunt Lalitha who was also a singer in the mid 1900s. She reads letters between her grandmother Subbu, and Subbu’s beloved sister Lalitha, and spends time with her grandfather, Kannaiya hoping he would share more about those days. Yamuna has her own tryst with love in the form of Karthik who brings balance to her intertwined pursuit of owning the house as well as digging into the past.
One can’t write about this book without also understanding what I call ‘The Chennai Novel written in English’, usually a multi-generational story, with an old family secret that makes its presence felt in the present, or a protagonist who seeks to unravel it. There is a dash of Tamil cinema, affection for a specific family member, life in Chennai, the overcoming of a caste or religious hurdle, a house, and a whole lot of Carnatic music. Some examples of this are T.S. Tirumurti’s Chennaivaasi, Ameen Merchant’s Silent Raga, and more recently, Meera Rajagopalan's The Eminently Forgettable Life of Mrs Pankajam.
Krupa Ge uses the multigenerational element of the genre, but depicts a specific cultural milieu with influences of Communism, and a backdrop of the film industry. I loved the depiction of a family of Telugu origin but living in Chennai, and I enjoyed the clarity of the depiction of this identity that has no simple answer to the question, ‘Where are you from?”. The relationships I loved most were those between the sisters, Subbu and Lalitha, and I have to confess that I was rather taken in by the personality of Subbu’s husband and Yamuna’s grandfather, Kannaiya.
Blessedly, the women are not martyrs, and the house is depicted with none of the romanticism that comes from describing spaces of nostalgia. The story is set in Chengalpattu, Varanasi and Chennai, and does a deep dive into the subcultures of the latter two. It brought back fond memories of places in Chennai I used to hang out in. There were numerous nostalgia-inducing bits in it, and I stopped often to savour them in my mind.
If you see this book as part of the Chennai novel written in English genre, you will find that it explores the elements in such a well nuanced manner, that the next novel that comes along in the genre will have to hit the ball out of Chepauk to be an engaging read.
Yamuna stakes her claim over the ancestral house in Chengalpattu that she has tended since she was 18, and will not hesitate to fight her mother over it. She is also delving into the secrecy surrounding the death of her grand aunt Lalitha who was also a singer in the mid 1900s. She reads letters between her grandmother Subbu, and Subbu’s beloved sister Lalitha, and spends time with her grandfather, Kannaiya hoping he would share more about those days. Yamuna has her own tryst with love in the form of Karthik who brings balance to her intertwined pursuit of owning the house as well as digging into the past.
One can’t write about this book without also understanding what I call ‘The Chennai Novel written in English’, usually a multi-generational story, with an old family secret that makes its presence felt in the present, or a protagonist who seeks to unravel it. There is a dash of Tamil cinema, affection for a specific family member, life in Chennai, the overcoming of a caste or religious hurdle, a house, and a whole lot of Carnatic music. Some examples of this are T.S. Tirumurti’s Chennaivaasi, Ameen Merchant’s Silent Raga, and more recently, Meera Rajagopalan's The Eminently Forgettable Life of Mrs Pankajam.
Krupa Ge uses the multigenerational element of the genre, but depicts a specific cultural milieu with influences of Communism, and a backdrop of the film industry. I loved the depiction of a family of Telugu origin but living in Chennai, and I enjoyed the clarity of the depiction of this identity that has no simple answer to the question, ‘Where are you from?”. The relationships I loved most were those between the sisters, Subbu and Lalitha, and I have to confess that I was rather taken in by the personality of Subbu’s husband and Yamuna’s grandfather, Kannaiya.
Blessedly, the women are not martyrs, and the house is depicted with none of the romanticism that comes from describing spaces of nostalgia. The story is set in Chengalpattu, Varanasi and Chennai, and does a deep dive into the subcultures of the latter two. It brought back fond memories of places in Chennai I used to hang out in. There were numerous nostalgia-inducing bits in it, and I stopped often to savour them in my mind.
If you see this book as part of the Chennai novel written in English genre, you will find that it explores the elements in such a well nuanced manner, that the next novel that comes along in the genre will have to hit the ball out of Chepauk to be an engaging read.
November 25, 2021
Do I know anything about ‘her’ after reading this book? Maybe not, but the writing is smooth and the story is gripping.
September 15, 2021
Made me like this city a little more :)
July 28, 2021
An excellent debut novel, filled with colorful characters - a grandfather who sets up his granddaughter with a boy; an activist who 'does' activism because, well, that's her job and not because it's trending on social media; widows who throw colorful abuse at young girls; a singer whose past remains a mystery; and a wonderfully messy, real protagonist. You don't often come across English novels that are set authentically in Chennai, painting vivid pictures of the city. Lovely read.
August 26, 2023
Loved the simple yet complex relationships the family carries. Made me love Chennai even more :) I wish I knew Tamil or Carnatic music, lot of references in there, but the story is so gripping that you know what she means. Women have grown so much over the ages, but really what do we know about them?
March 30, 2023
It took me several months to complete it because of my own laziness, but also because it is one of those reads you wish never ends. I write this review with tears in my eyes because it moved me so much. One of those books I wish I could wipe my memory clean for and have a first time reading experience.
August 30, 2024
A college senior of mine wrote this book so I might be a bit biased. I love her writing style. Her description of Madras instantly made me very nostalgic making me want to visit the city.
Read
May 9, 2023Are there any families without secrets? may be yes may be not..
this is poignant tale of a family.. outwardly modern and moving on with life's advancement .. but like a foul smell in the surface..something or the other always surfaces.
there is no remedy for such foul smell , secrets and abuse and there is no atonement for certain guilt factors.. you just got to live with it.. just live with it.. !!
Krupa Ge writes is so well.. fresh and very much nostalgic as a south Indian of Telugu land.
though I cant recall all .. many sentences feel as if the author know the lives of many people like back of her hand.
its a light read like a snack but very tasty snack which you will remember many years after you forgot when you ate that special snack.
this is poignant tale of a family.. outwardly modern and moving on with life's advancement .. but like a foul smell in the surface..something or the other always surfaces.
there is no remedy for such foul smell , secrets and abuse and there is no atonement for certain guilt factors.. you just got to live with it.. just live with it.. !!
Krupa Ge writes is so well.. fresh and very much nostalgic as a south Indian of Telugu land.
though I cant recall all .. many sentences feel as if the author know the lives of many people like back of her hand.
its a light read like a snack but very tasty snack which you will remember many years after you forgot when you ate that special snack.
October 3, 2023
From the moment I saw it, I was fascinated by the cover of the book. The teal, peach, bottle green and beige colour palette. The sea of people, with three women standing out- they looked like three generations of strong women each occupying their space unapologetically. While reading the book, other images kept forming- parajatam flowers strewn over yesterday's kolam, perfectly made foamy filter coffee, handwritten letters on papers with curling edges, Ganga aarti viewed from a distance of time and space, a mesmerising brooch holding up the pallu of a silk saree. All those images, and many more, crowded the pages of the book, but by the time you finished the book, you realised that the cover did capture the essence of the book. It was the tale of generations of unapologetic women who refused to shrink into the space allocated to them.
Yamuna, a sociology lecturer at a government college, is doing a PhD on 20th century classical music in Madras. She has also in the process of coming out of a long term abusive relationship, and is at loggerheads with her mother who wants to sell the ancestral home which she is sentimentally attached to. She finds a letter written by her grandmother which refers to the impending wedding of her sister who later rose to prominence as a classical singer, and starts wondering about how the child bride broke out of the confines of a traditional household to perform to stage. Yamuna decides to visit her grandfather in Benaras to seek answers. And eventually discovers more than she might have expected to find.
The book touches on many social themes which plagued the Tamil/ Telugu Brahmin society in the 1940s- domestic violence, child marriage, the status of widows, professional expectations on the male child, emotional abuse. Though not expressly stated, the book also draws parallels with similar themes which continue to plague society- domestic violence, caste prejudice, classism, expectations from children, emotional abuse. While singing in public may no longer be looked down upon and women might have active sex lives without expectation of marriage, has all that much changed? Aren't otherwise empowered women still forced to remain silent because of what others might say?
The author really comes into her own while describing places and situations. She is clearly drawing from experience, and her lyrical descriptions coax you to pull out memories hidden in the attic of your memory and look at them through different eyes. I also enjoyed reading the limited agency she gives the widows who were forced to lead secluded lives in their childhood homes- they were not passive like widows of fiction- they actively cursed young children (not the nicest thing to do, but they did display spunk).
The author speaks of a society that is familiar to me (my aunt too was a classical singer, though one who performed on stage), and I loved looking at it through her eyes. I would love to know how someone for whom the setting is unfamiliar reacts to the book. I am sure they would find it fascinating too, because the issues she deals with are universal.
Yamuna, a sociology lecturer at a government college, is doing a PhD on 20th century classical music in Madras. She has also in the process of coming out of a long term abusive relationship, and is at loggerheads with her mother who wants to sell the ancestral home which she is sentimentally attached to. She finds a letter written by her grandmother which refers to the impending wedding of her sister who later rose to prominence as a classical singer, and starts wondering about how the child bride broke out of the confines of a traditional household to perform to stage. Yamuna decides to visit her grandfather in Benaras to seek answers. And eventually discovers more than she might have expected to find.
The book touches on many social themes which plagued the Tamil/ Telugu Brahmin society in the 1940s- domestic violence, child marriage, the status of widows, professional expectations on the male child, emotional abuse. Though not expressly stated, the book also draws parallels with similar themes which continue to plague society- domestic violence, caste prejudice, classism, expectations from children, emotional abuse. While singing in public may no longer be looked down upon and women might have active sex lives without expectation of marriage, has all that much changed? Aren't otherwise empowered women still forced to remain silent because of what others might say?
The author really comes into her own while describing places and situations. She is clearly drawing from experience, and her lyrical descriptions coax you to pull out memories hidden in the attic of your memory and look at them through different eyes. I also enjoyed reading the limited agency she gives the widows who were forced to lead secluded lives in their childhood homes- they were not passive like widows of fiction- they actively cursed young children (not the nicest thing to do, but they did display spunk).
The author speaks of a society that is familiar to me (my aunt too was a classical singer, though one who performed on stage), and I loved looking at it through her eyes. I would love to know how someone for whom the setting is unfamiliar reacts to the book. I am sure they would find it fascinating too, because the issues she deals with are universal.
November 18, 2025
What We Know About Her, unlike any other book written by an Indian author and/or set in India (that I’ve read so far), uses the culture and language without acting as a dictionary. The author naturally uses Tamil phrases in a way that’s not forced or not too relatable, she hits the right balance. Also I want to note that the pronunciation of these Tamil words might be butchered by non-native speakers without romanisation.
The other thing I really loved where the detailing in every seen. While she is rummaging through the room and her closet, this line really stood out to me. And a few others!
“Hooks from bras got stuck to my kurta every now and then as I waded”
“You taste like candied fennel,”
Also loved the relationship between Yamuna and her grandfather, it’s very wholesome and their conversations are very entertaining.
____________________________
The other thing I really loved where the detailing in every seen. While she is rummaging through the room and her closet, this line really stood out to me. And a few others!
“Hooks from bras got stuck to my kurta every now and then as I waded”
“You taste like candied fennel,”
Also loved the relationship between Yamuna and her grandfather, it’s very wholesome and their conversations are very entertaining.
____________________________
October 1, 2021
Set in the Gateway to South India , Chennai, This is a story of Her. The story of SHE in the past and in the present.
This is the story of the forgotten Great aunt Lalitha, which Yamuna finds out through a letter and seeks the information about her through her Grandfather. Set in two different cities , Banaras and Chennai, this is the story of women in the 1940s and present day women , about music , about art and all the things around it.
the authors writing into the deepest and darkest lives of South Indian women in the 20th century, how they are treated and what they were going through in the form of letters between Lalitha , her sister and her brother in law and describing the lives of each women in their time. The oppression of the women in the 1940s by the men , by other women in the family , and how they are becoming their mothers is represented through these letters and also relating them to the second world war then, specially the mentions of Lalitha about Hitler in her letters.
Lalitha is portrayed as The Uninhibited ,a person of free will in her time , where she went through a lot of situations in her past and her liberation through music. It talks about the assaults , both domestic and social women go through. The whole book has a lot of mentions about the Carnatic music and the songs and artists in their times.
Reading a book, set in the part of the country where I live in, it gives off a lot to relate to. Where , i still see a few things , which even after 70 years are still carried on in the households.
This book held the delicate of topics in herself and gave out a beautiful story. The comparison of the dreadful life in the past with the stinky smell ,the house gives is so fine , that the action of Yamuna , leaving the house which she felt soo dear resembles leaving behind the old cultural beliefs and superstitions and liberating the women from the dark house.
This is the story of the forgotten Great aunt Lalitha, which Yamuna finds out through a letter and seeks the information about her through her Grandfather. Set in two different cities , Banaras and Chennai, this is the story of women in the 1940s and present day women , about music , about art and all the things around it.
the authors writing into the deepest and darkest lives of South Indian women in the 20th century, how they are treated and what they were going through in the form of letters between Lalitha , her sister and her brother in law and describing the lives of each women in their time. The oppression of the women in the 1940s by the men , by other women in the family , and how they are becoming their mothers is represented through these letters and also relating them to the second world war then, specially the mentions of Lalitha about Hitler in her letters.
Lalitha is portrayed as The Uninhibited ,a person of free will in her time , where she went through a lot of situations in her past and her liberation through music. It talks about the assaults , both domestic and social women go through. The whole book has a lot of mentions about the Carnatic music and the songs and artists in their times.
Reading a book, set in the part of the country where I live in, it gives off a lot to relate to. Where , i still see a few things , which even after 70 years are still carried on in the households.
This book held the delicate of topics in herself and gave out a beautiful story. The comparison of the dreadful life in the past with the stinky smell ,the house gives is so fine , that the action of Yamuna , leaving the house which she felt soo dear resembles leaving behind the old cultural beliefs and superstitions and liberating the women from the dark house.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 6, 2025
4.5 stars
I would recommend this book to every Indian woman I meet. It is cathartic to read generational trauma of patriarchy passed on by women to women like a legacy, and them rising above it. Leaping forward by leaving the past behind is truly a gift. Every section of the story has been so seamlessly written that you feel like you are there. I truly felt like I was in Varanasi or Madras when I read the parts, just sipping filter coffee with the characters. I was there when the author wrote about the loss of her grandfather - “In the days following Thaatha’s death, I realised how much I had underestimated my own family. I had as low an opinion as possible of everyone. But, in death, they came in from out of nowhere and brought solace, the way that only the familiar can. ”. I felt it when she wrote “...generations of women before us have got used to their girls being married off at three, then seven, and now fourteen, and who knows, maybe someday at twenty-one, but I wonder if these hundreds of years of scorn, fatigue and resentfulness against us daughters will ever leave our blood. Will we also do to our daughters what was done to us? Will we ever be any better?”
The writing is simple yet effective. Use of letters to convey the stories of the past, of mothers, grandmothers, aunts and grandaunts is a brilliant way of transitioning from the past to present. There is nothing I didn't like about this book.
I would recommend this book to every Indian woman I meet. It is cathartic to read generational trauma of patriarchy passed on by women to women like a legacy, and them rising above it. Leaping forward by leaving the past behind is truly a gift. Every section of the story has been so seamlessly written that you feel like you are there. I truly felt like I was in Varanasi or Madras when I read the parts, just sipping filter coffee with the characters. I was there when the author wrote about the loss of her grandfather - “In the days following Thaatha’s death, I realised how much I had underestimated my own family. I had as low an opinion as possible of everyone. But, in death, they came in from out of nowhere and brought solace, the way that only the familiar can. ”. I felt it when she wrote “...generations of women before us have got used to their girls being married off at three, then seven, and now fourteen, and who knows, maybe someday at twenty-one, but I wonder if these hundreds of years of scorn, fatigue and resentfulness against us daughters will ever leave our blood. Will we also do to our daughters what was done to us? Will we ever be any better?”
The writing is simple yet effective. Use of letters to convey the stories of the past, of mothers, grandmothers, aunts and grandaunts is a brilliant way of transitioning from the past to present. There is nothing I didn't like about this book.
December 23, 2021
What we know about her is what we know about most of our female ancestors. That they were born, married off, kept house and birthed children and eventually died of old age related illnesses. What we know about their inner lives is precious little. To us they are mothers and grandmothers but seldom lovers. So when Yamuna discovers a letter from her grandmother to her grandfather, she finds “all this talk of love from the matriarch” beguiling. And she wants to know more about the grandmother and also her sister, a star of the Carnatic classical music scene in her time.
“Men like to think only they can live uninterrupted private lives.”
“I am better than a man, Subbu. I am a woman who will not become pregnant.”
Ge writes about them and about love with such tenderness (especially the letters from the past) as Yamuna navigates her own life and her relationship with her mother, her grandfather and a man she might be falling in love with. As we travel with Yamuna between Chinglepet, Madras and Benaras, we get glimpses of Ge’s astute observation and relatable sense of humour (swipe to see last slide to know what I mean).
But there is something to be said about all these books coming out of India with vague endings, with some threads still tied up in knots. Sometimes it works but most times the anticlimax leaves a bit to be desired. I wonder if it is something to do with this country where old conflicts within families, between religions, across internal and external borders remain unresolved for generations.
The tenderness of the last line though gave me a flashback of the closing scene from Arundhati Roy’s The God of Small Things which I read some fifteen years ago and yet the scene refuses to leave me.. where the mother parts with her lover exchanging a simple promise.
“Naale?” “Naale.”
Tomorrow.
“Men like to think only they can live uninterrupted private lives.”
“I am better than a man, Subbu. I am a woman who will not become pregnant.”
Ge writes about them and about love with such tenderness (especially the letters from the past) as Yamuna navigates her own life and her relationship with her mother, her grandfather and a man she might be falling in love with. As we travel with Yamuna between Chinglepet, Madras and Benaras, we get glimpses of Ge’s astute observation and relatable sense of humour (swipe to see last slide to know what I mean).
But there is something to be said about all these books coming out of India with vague endings, with some threads still tied up in knots. Sometimes it works but most times the anticlimax leaves a bit to be desired. I wonder if it is something to do with this country where old conflicts within families, between religions, across internal and external borders remain unresolved for generations.
The tenderness of the last line though gave me a flashback of the closing scene from Arundhati Roy’s The God of Small Things which I read some fifteen years ago and yet the scene refuses to leave me.. where the mother parts with her lover exchanging a simple promise.
“Naale?” “Naale.”
Tomorrow.
October 11, 2021
What we know about her by Krupa Ge
This is a fictional story set in Tamilnadu and Banaras. This novel mainly talks about two females namely Lalita in 1940'S and Yamuna's life at present.
Yamuna a modern day girl who tries to inherit her ancestors property and is at loggerheads with her mother. Later she accidentally gets to know about her Grand aunt Lalita through letters written by Lalita.
Lalita was forced to marry a person but her marriage turns to be abused, she leaves her husband and joins her sister and there she invest herself in her passion that is singing. From then she Rises like a Phoenix from the Ashes. Yes the story is left incomplete at some part but maybe this is the writing style of the author. I really love this novel and the most loved part for me in this novel is the last letter written by Lalita. This novel is realistic in nature as it shows the difficulty for a female in 1940 and 1950 how hard is it to get out of a abusive marriage
This is a fictional story set in Tamilnadu and Banaras. This novel mainly talks about two females namely Lalita in 1940'S and Yamuna's life at present.
Yamuna a modern day girl who tries to inherit her ancestors property and is at loggerheads with her mother. Later she accidentally gets to know about her Grand aunt Lalita through letters written by Lalita.
Lalita was forced to marry a person but her marriage turns to be abused, she leaves her husband and joins her sister and there she invest herself in her passion that is singing. From then she Rises like a Phoenix from the Ashes. Yes the story is left incomplete at some part but maybe this is the writing style of the author. I really love this novel and the most loved part for me in this novel is the last letter written by Lalita. This novel is realistic in nature as it shows the difficulty for a female in 1940 and 1950 how hard is it to get out of a abusive marriage
January 12, 2022
I could see the effort that went into writing this novel. It was definitely engaging, from start to finish. What I liked and enjoyed were the descriptions of both Chennai and Varanasi, the letters from the protagonist's grandaunt and grandmother and the descriptions of the life of women in these traditional homes. What I feel could have been better is the ending, it was too abrupt, with too much left unexplained (like the smell in the home). I also felt like the Carnatic music references were too many sometimes, and could alienate readers who don't know anything about the genre. Another thing I was disappointed by was the whole suspense built up around a supposedly illicit but absolutely vanilla affair. It was a bit of a let down. Having said that, I enjoy reading Indian women authors and look forward to more of this author's work.
May 24, 2022
3.5*
the epistolary parts were the best probably
love the last bit
the story brings up so many things/topics/issues or things about the protag at different points in the book
but by the end, really most of them are not elaborated on or fleshed out or resolved
there was a certain kind of tension and build up (effective or not idk i don think so) around the main plot point, that made it seem like another tone or kind of thing was going to be revealed
but it really wasn't that?
i don't know
but yep
enjoyed this
really liked the writing
and some ideas that were brought up were really cool
take this useless, zero substance or info review and do what you will
would recommedn
the epistolary parts were the best probably
love the last bit
the story brings up so many things/topics/issues or things about the protag at different points in the book
but by the end, really most of them are not elaborated on or fleshed out or resolved
there was a certain kind of tension and build up (effective or not idk i don think so) around the main plot point, that made it seem like another tone or kind of thing was going to be revealed
but it really wasn't that?
i don't know
but yep
enjoyed this
really liked the writing
and some ideas that were brought up were really cool
take this useless, zero substance or info review and do what you will
would recommedn
September 29, 2021
Solid debut. Great writing, brilliant narrative structure and beautiful central metaphor. Will be looking forward to more of Krupa Ge's writings. It felt a little abridged though, like it had to be edited to the present lengths such that not all threads are taken care off and the story of the narrator's grand aunt supposed to be the central to the book doesn't quite feel complete. I would have liked it to be longer and mentions of Lalitha's relationships with various people at the peak of her musical career (and that one relationship) and her own life to be more than just mentions. But this also feels like a book that will grow on me.
July 19, 2025
I enjoyed the book but I found the resolution a bit lacking. I would describe this book as one of those where the journey is more enjoyable than the destination. However it would be a great pick for a book club - countless themes and discussion points that one could go on discussing about at lengths. For instance - take the title, "What we know about her" is a nod to all the women in our lives and how much do we actually know about them? Besides knowing the role they play of being our mothers, aunts, grandmothers?
October 19, 2021
I loved the writing and the nostalgic/current city life snippets Ge uses. Bakoruddho language, fantastic narrative but falls short on the storytelling. I wish she spent more time on the main characters. I felt like I was just getting to know Kannaiyya, Lalitha and Subbu when Ge leaves the threads on us.
The ending too, could have used some more digging, not in the literal sense that Yamuna could have. Did Ge leave it to our imagination or did she not brave it?
The ending too, could have used some more digging, not in the literal sense that Yamuna could have. Did Ge leave it to our imagination or did she not brave it?
October 30, 2021
Beautifully written, sharp, honest, and well-paced. Ambivalence is reality, past is present, love and loss is life, women are forever, music is all-pervasive, self is community is self, strength in truth, hands held and fists raised, we are here and there and everywhere in between.
(extra love for Madras nostalgia)
(extra love for Madras nostalgia)
October 12, 2023
In a story that goes by so quickly, Krupa Ge manages to get you invested in the memorable characters from across the South Indian spectrum, and paint beautiful pictures of daily life in Chennai and Varanasi as she does it. But the highlight is definitely Lalitha, what an incredible poised character.
November 7, 2021
Loved the book! The author’s writing is engaging and it kept me hooked. As a Chennaiite, I could relate to a lot of things in the book and the back and forth foray into Tamil words seemed so natural to me. So glad I picked this book to read.
October 9, 2021
Honest and unassuming storytelling
December 31, 2021
A beautifully written and enchantingly captivating plotline. The character development was spot onn.
I surely recommend it.
I surely recommend it.
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