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The Hindu Gods #2
The Age of Shiva
The Age of Shiva is at once a powerful story of a country in turmoil and an "unflinchingly honest" portrait of maternal love — "intricately interwoven with the ancient rites and myths" (Booklist) crucial to India's history. Meera, the narrator, is seventeen years old when she catches her first glimpse of Dev, performing a song so infused with passion that it arouses in her the first flush of erotic longing. She wonders if she can steal him away from Roopa, her older, more beautiful sister, who has brought her along to see him.
It is only when her son is born that Meera begins to imagine a life of fulfillment. She engulfs him with a love so deep, so overpowering, that she must fear its consequences.
Meera's unforgettable story, embodying Shiva as a symbol of religious upheaval, places The Age of Shiva among the most compelling novels to emerge from contemporary India. Reading group guide included.
It is only when her son is born that Meera begins to imagine a life of fulfillment. She engulfs him with a love so deep, so overpowering, that she must fear its consequences.
Meera's unforgettable story, embodying Shiva as a symbol of religious upheaval, places The Age of Shiva among the most compelling novels to emerge from contemporary India. Reading group guide included.
464 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2008
74 people are currently reading
1477 people want to read
About the author
Manil Suri
20 books184 followersManil Suri is a distinguished mathematics professor at the University of Maryland, Baltimore County. Author of three acclaimed novels, including The Death of Vishnu, he is a former contributing opinion writer at the New York Times, for which he has written several widely read pieces on mathematics. He lives in Silver Spring, Maryland.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 266 reviews
March 20, 2009
eh. i was hoping to really love this, since i loved his first book so much. i dont know who gave him the go-ahead to write a book about the pitfalls and heights of motherhood, complete with some ick, but there it is, in all its unevenness. and its just hard to root for a "strong female character", who isnt strong at all, and is kind of a dick. again - a book i had to have right away so bought in hardcover, and didnt read until the paperback had been out for months... someone has to stop me, please.
January 30, 2020
The Age of Shiva focuses on the life story of an Indian woman named Meera. The plot follows her from her early years (when she falls in love) to more mature years (when she becomes a possessive mother who has a hard time letting her son go). We follow Meera as she falls in love, becomes a wife and a mother and struggles to find a purpose in her life. The historical period is a turbulent one. As India becomes independent and grows into a more modern state, Meera herself is encouraged to study and become independent as well. Her father wants her to be independent, he is a feminist. But what does Meera want? Meera doesn't seem to be sure of that, in many ways she is quite passive. At first she wants to be a traditional wife to her husband, but soon Meera becomes disillusioned with her marriage. Like the land itself, Meera is struggling to find her identity in a fast changing world. Moreover, Meera has some growing up to do. Her father's intentions might be good but it is not easy turning Meera into a modern woman he envisioned. That's the thing with feminism. It doesn't care about what women want. It is all about pushing women into a certain direction that some of them might not like. For example, Meera's father doesn't care about what his wife or daughters want. He wants them to be feminists, not taking into account their own feelings (that might be more traditional).
When a novel is so heavily based on one protagonist, the portrayal of that one protagonist is really important. I must admit that the heroine of this novel frustrated me. Meera is at times incredibly selfish and possessive. At the same time, knowing her story and background, I did feel for her. I was torn between wanting to give her a hug and wanting to shout at her: grow a spine! Everything Meera does is a reaction to what men in her life too. It is almost as Meera has no mind of her own at times. As time moved one, I found it harder to sympathize with her. Long story short: the protagonist Meera drove me nuts! In that sense, reading The Age of Shiva was both a hit and miss for me, if that makes sense. I struggled with the reading at times.
It is funny how clearly I remember this novel. My memory is pretty good so I'm not surprised I remember details about a novel that I read it seven years ago, but I'm surprised I remember so well a novel I felt so torn about. Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised. This novel frustrated me at times! I couldn't tell whether I should hate Meera or understand her. The possessive motherly side of her wasn't very appealing and yet it is that vulnerability that made her such a real character. I hated her at times, but I also felt for her. One thing is for sure- this book didn't left me feeling indifferent.
There is certainly a lot that can be said about this novel, but I'll try sum it up. When this writer writes about the human psyche, he really seems to know what he is talking about. It is certainly impressive how he got into the head of the main female character. The narrative is engaging, Manil Suir knows how to capture the readers attention. The characters are fascinating, if overly too negative (including the protagonist). The story itself is (or seem to me) utterly depressing and I might have responded to that. There is a ring of truth in the tragedy of countless failures that sometimes make the human life.
I was often left confused and bewildered while reading, especially with the personality of our (unreliable?) narrator. There seems to be a touch of that Henry James' ambiguity going on. There are probably some flaws in The Age of Shiva, but all together it is really a captivating read. I judge that the time spent reading it was well used. This book really annoyed and frustrated me at times, and yet I feel I have really learned something by reading it.
When a novel is so heavily based on one protagonist, the portrayal of that one protagonist is really important. I must admit that the heroine of this novel frustrated me. Meera is at times incredibly selfish and possessive. At the same time, knowing her story and background, I did feel for her. I was torn between wanting to give her a hug and wanting to shout at her: grow a spine! Everything Meera does is a reaction to what men in her life too. It is almost as Meera has no mind of her own at times. As time moved one, I found it harder to sympathize with her. Long story short: the protagonist Meera drove me nuts! In that sense, reading The Age of Shiva was both a hit and miss for me, if that makes sense. I struggled with the reading at times.
It is funny how clearly I remember this novel. My memory is pretty good so I'm not surprised I remember details about a novel that I read it seven years ago, but I'm surprised I remember so well a novel I felt so torn about. Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised. This novel frustrated me at times! I couldn't tell whether I should hate Meera or understand her. The possessive motherly side of her wasn't very appealing and yet it is that vulnerability that made her such a real character. I hated her at times, but I also felt for her. One thing is for sure- this book didn't left me feeling indifferent.
There is certainly a lot that can be said about this novel, but I'll try sum it up. When this writer writes about the human psyche, he really seems to know what he is talking about. It is certainly impressive how he got into the head of the main female character. The narrative is engaging, Manil Suir knows how to capture the readers attention. The characters are fascinating, if overly too negative (including the protagonist). The story itself is (or seem to me) utterly depressing and I might have responded to that. There is a ring of truth in the tragedy of countless failures that sometimes make the human life.
I was often left confused and bewildered while reading, especially with the personality of our (unreliable?) narrator. There seems to be a touch of that Henry James' ambiguity going on. There are probably some flaws in The Age of Shiva, but all together it is really a captivating read. I judge that the time spent reading it was well used. This book really annoyed and frustrated me at times, and yet I feel I have really learned something by reading it.
July 1, 2009
First things first. I think Manil Suri has a tremendous flair for creating drama and an astonishing ability of penetrating into human psyche. Which means, at certain points, The Age of Shiva touches the brilliance of V S Naipaul's A Home For Mr Biswas in portraying human despair and chaotic family life with all its colourful and despicable characters.
The author's biggest strength lies in creating interesting set pieces and keeping the narrative moving at a frenzied, rapid-fire pace. The language is simple yet wonderfully descriptive. All of this makes the book quite a compelling read.
And yet, the sum total does not add up to make this as ambitious a book as it would like to be.
For one, Manil Suri’s attempt to give the book an epic scale even while keeping it intimate is not always convincing. Spanning a period of 40 years since India's independence, the story somewhat awkwardly weaves in everything from episodes from the partition, the socio-political events around Nehru's time, the Emergency...all of it is there. Now, not all these events have a direct bearing on the characters which is what makes it nothing more than a contrivance. Then there is the evocation of myth, traditional rituals like karwa chaut explained in great detail. All of this makes the story a 'spiced up' Indian fare but authentically served nevertheless.
As I mentioned, Manil Suri has an acumen for dramatic plot points, which should make him a great script writer. The story's main thrust is on the mother-son relationship, so the author makes the unusual but intriguing choice of having the nondescript Meera as a narrator, addressing the story to her son, Ashwin. There are strong undercurrents of oedipal love as the reader will discover in the first page itself.
"Do you know how you thrust your feet towards me, how you reach out your arms, how the sides of your chest strain against my palms? Are you aware of your fingers brushing against my breasts, their lips trying to curl around something to hold on to, but slipping instead against my smooth flesh?"
It's a shock beginning and it would be easy to think of such writing as being titillating. No doubt, the author is a bit of a flame thrower - but the emotional audacity in Manil Suri's work is undeniable. And this is where the 'Shiva' allusion come in. It refers to the myth about Parvati creating her own son, Andhaka to keep her company in the absence of Shiva. That's the only connection here, so it's not really a title that encompasses the entire essence of the book. Not a strong allusion.
Meera, as she recounts her story, is the less fortunate daughter of the influential Sawhneys. Her elder sister, Roopa - blessed with superior looks - is pampered at home and she loses no opportunity in taking the nastiest jibes at her younger sibling. By a quirk of fate, however, Meera ends up marrying the guy who Roopa was going around with. Meera feels no particular love for Dev - though his quiet charm is attractive to her- and her decision to marry him is almost entirely driven by the fact that she managed to whisk at least one thing out of her selfish sister.
Meera, after being used to a lavish lifestyle, suddenly finds herself in very modest surroundings. Dev has a joint family, comprising a sympathetic mother-in-law, a vicious sister-in-law (Hema), Dev' brother Arya and his wife, Sandhya. (Surprisingly, Dev, who one supposes to be a very charming, articulate man going by the affection the two women shower on him, is relegated to the sidelines by the author). It's a bitter sweet life that Meera leads here, feeling frustrated at one point and at another time warming up to the affection she receives.
Meera's father, a well-to-do publisher and a proud rationalist, becomes an imposing presence in her life - something that she comes to grudge soon. Meera and Dev move to Bombay, so that the latter can try his luck as a singer.
For all this while, there seems to be absolutely no passion between the couple. That is until their son Ashwin is born and things vastly alter. Dev- who so far is portrayed as a wimp - starts to acquire some positive shades, taking to fatherhood effortlessly. Meera - who so far was a picture of stoicism - is emboldened after turning mother. She sees her son as the sum total of her life, her only achievement and she would let nothing come in the way.
The rest can be read at my blog, http://sandyi.blogspot.com/2009/06/ag...
The author's biggest strength lies in creating interesting set pieces and keeping the narrative moving at a frenzied, rapid-fire pace. The language is simple yet wonderfully descriptive. All of this makes the book quite a compelling read.
And yet, the sum total does not add up to make this as ambitious a book as it would like to be.
For one, Manil Suri’s attempt to give the book an epic scale even while keeping it intimate is not always convincing. Spanning a period of 40 years since India's independence, the story somewhat awkwardly weaves in everything from episodes from the partition, the socio-political events around Nehru's time, the Emergency...all of it is there. Now, not all these events have a direct bearing on the characters which is what makes it nothing more than a contrivance. Then there is the evocation of myth, traditional rituals like karwa chaut explained in great detail. All of this makes the story a 'spiced up' Indian fare but authentically served nevertheless.
As I mentioned, Manil Suri has an acumen for dramatic plot points, which should make him a great script writer. The story's main thrust is on the mother-son relationship, so the author makes the unusual but intriguing choice of having the nondescript Meera as a narrator, addressing the story to her son, Ashwin. There are strong undercurrents of oedipal love as the reader will discover in the first page itself.
"Do you know how you thrust your feet towards me, how you reach out your arms, how the sides of your chest strain against my palms? Are you aware of your fingers brushing against my breasts, their lips trying to curl around something to hold on to, but slipping instead against my smooth flesh?"
It's a shock beginning and it would be easy to think of such writing as being titillating. No doubt, the author is a bit of a flame thrower - but the emotional audacity in Manil Suri's work is undeniable. And this is where the 'Shiva' allusion come in. It refers to the myth about Parvati creating her own son, Andhaka to keep her company in the absence of Shiva. That's the only connection here, so it's not really a title that encompasses the entire essence of the book. Not a strong allusion.
Meera, as she recounts her story, is the less fortunate daughter of the influential Sawhneys. Her elder sister, Roopa - blessed with superior looks - is pampered at home and she loses no opportunity in taking the nastiest jibes at her younger sibling. By a quirk of fate, however, Meera ends up marrying the guy who Roopa was going around with. Meera feels no particular love for Dev - though his quiet charm is attractive to her- and her decision to marry him is almost entirely driven by the fact that she managed to whisk at least one thing out of her selfish sister.
Meera, after being used to a lavish lifestyle, suddenly finds herself in very modest surroundings. Dev has a joint family, comprising a sympathetic mother-in-law, a vicious sister-in-law (Hema), Dev' brother Arya and his wife, Sandhya. (Surprisingly, Dev, who one supposes to be a very charming, articulate man going by the affection the two women shower on him, is relegated to the sidelines by the author). It's a bitter sweet life that Meera leads here, feeling frustrated at one point and at another time warming up to the affection she receives.
Meera's father, a well-to-do publisher and a proud rationalist, becomes an imposing presence in her life - something that she comes to grudge soon. Meera and Dev move to Bombay, so that the latter can try his luck as a singer.
For all this while, there seems to be absolutely no passion between the couple. That is until their son Ashwin is born and things vastly alter. Dev- who so far is portrayed as a wimp - starts to acquire some positive shades, taking to fatherhood effortlessly. Meera - who so far was a picture of stoicism - is emboldened after turning mother. She sees her son as the sum total of her life, her only achievement and she would let nothing come in the way.
The rest can be read at my blog, http://sandyi.blogspot.com/2009/06/ag...
September 12, 2018
A beautiful and brilliantly portrayed epic story.
April 19, 2011
The Age of Shiva follows the life of Meera through her marriage to Dev, a talented musician struggling to make a living, and through the various divergences in her destiny as she aimlessly plods though her disappointments, clinging to her son as the only reason for her existence, till she finds her foothold and purpose in life. The story unfolds right after the partition between India and Pakistan, when the tension between Hindus and Muslims heightened and gave birth to the Hindu fundamentalists, and later flows into Indira Gandhi’s reign, and the years of Emergency. The political background gives some perspective to the story, the characters, and some of their decisions. Just as how Parvati molded a son out of turmeric and breathed life into him, creating her own personal attendant and friend, in effect, that’s how Meera views her son. The events leading up to the inevitable separation from him, is her Age of Shiva.
There are so many levels to this story and the characters that I don’t know how to summarize it... maybe I shouldn’t be trying to, for it takes away the book’s intensity. Cutting through all the layers, it is a common enough story of a woman caught in the various trappings of society and traditional norms. But it’s the power of the words crafting the story that makes all the difference. I was mesmerized by Suri’s writing. It is delicately sensitive, incisively insightful and clear, and rivetingly poetic. It is absolutely beautiful that I have been craving to read more of his words, randomly turning to pages and not caring about the context or the story. It’s been ages since I did something similar, hopelessly hypnotized by the writing. Ok, I will stop gushing now. Be forewarned though, that if you don’t have a poetic streak/love/inclination, you will find the writing laborious and tedious. But to me, his writing is what pulled together a regular story of a mundane life into a gorgeous and poignant work of fiction.
The protagonist, Meera, is hard to sympathize with at times, yet (I will harp again), the writing made her shine in a light of vulnerability that made me reach out to her. Her emotions, feelings and thoughts were so palpable that I wrapped myself in them and felt miserable for her. Despite hardly any correspondences between our lives, I somehow could relate to and understand Meera, in spite of my frustrations with her. And although there is no intense suspense or drastic turn of events, I was hooked to the book, eager to know more about a woman who kept blundering through her life. And I love the book just for this quality!
Well, I might be painting the image of a deluded romantic in love with the writing and gushing about a boring story. Not true (well, not entirely)! Suri manages to bring to the fore those subtle aspects of our lives which are riddled with constraints and disappointments, and presents the basis for all the underlying resentments and misery. He shows how much we are variables, dependent on factors such as the society we are in and the families we are bound to, and that our individual destinies get shaped by the push and pull of these forces. In essence, every little step influenced by our surrounding is what results in drastic shifts in our life …. and unfortunately, there is very little that can be done to break-free. Wherever we go, the patterns repeat. The ability to break-free, in its true sense, rises from a deeper place from within us. It is the ability to break free from our vulnerabilities and still live within a prejudiced social structure. We realize the value of such independence only after suffering the loss of dependency.
In addition, the characters in the story are well framed. Suri’s exploration of the various relationship dynamics - between husband and wife, father and daughter, siblings, sister-in-law and brother-in-law, sisters-in-law, and most importantly, between mother and child, is very interesting and quite realistic. It is interesting because of the hidden depths to which his exploration seeps. Suri delves into an especially uncomfortable zone, the intimacy between a mother and son, and the possibility of a latent sexuality underneath it. Although I found it extremely repulsive and reproachable to even read, after much thought, I think it makes psychological sense for Suri to have introduced this issue in this story. Suri has done a beautiful job of expressing a mother’s intensity of love and her fiery instincts of possessiveness. I was teary-eyed throughout the book although I’m not a mother to empathize with the instincts... but I felt I could read my own mother and feel her pain, however irrational it may sound. Viewed from such a psychological point of view, and taking into account the various circumstances through which Meera and her son go through, it is understandable that the issue of Oedipal complex surfaced. But not to cringe, Suri barely scratches the surface... but even the tip of the iceberg looks menacingly huge sometimes. And I saw many more intricate facets to the discussion than just lust, although it takes time to get to that point of reflection.
I have floundered enough with this post because I can't verbalize that which managed to impress me. I may have made the book seem disturbing (even disgusting) and full of despair, but I am not able to convey the feeling of poignancy that erases all of that and simply just moves you and lets you connect with the simple human emotions and needs pulsing through the story. I see this book eliciting only one of two reactions from its readers - love or hate, nothing in between.
There are so many levels to this story and the characters that I don’t know how to summarize it... maybe I shouldn’t be trying to, for it takes away the book’s intensity. Cutting through all the layers, it is a common enough story of a woman caught in the various trappings of society and traditional norms. But it’s the power of the words crafting the story that makes all the difference. I was mesmerized by Suri’s writing. It is delicately sensitive, incisively insightful and clear, and rivetingly poetic. It is absolutely beautiful that I have been craving to read more of his words, randomly turning to pages and not caring about the context or the story. It’s been ages since I did something similar, hopelessly hypnotized by the writing. Ok, I will stop gushing now. Be forewarned though, that if you don’t have a poetic streak/love/inclination, you will find the writing laborious and tedious. But to me, his writing is what pulled together a regular story of a mundane life into a gorgeous and poignant work of fiction.
The protagonist, Meera, is hard to sympathize with at times, yet (I will harp again), the writing made her shine in a light of vulnerability that made me reach out to her. Her emotions, feelings and thoughts were so palpable that I wrapped myself in them and felt miserable for her. Despite hardly any correspondences between our lives, I somehow could relate to and understand Meera, in spite of my frustrations with her. And although there is no intense suspense or drastic turn of events, I was hooked to the book, eager to know more about a woman who kept blundering through her life. And I love the book just for this quality!
Well, I might be painting the image of a deluded romantic in love with the writing and gushing about a boring story. Not true (well, not entirely)! Suri manages to bring to the fore those subtle aspects of our lives which are riddled with constraints and disappointments, and presents the basis for all the underlying resentments and misery. He shows how much we are variables, dependent on factors such as the society we are in and the families we are bound to, and that our individual destinies get shaped by the push and pull of these forces. In essence, every little step influenced by our surrounding is what results in drastic shifts in our life …. and unfortunately, there is very little that can be done to break-free. Wherever we go, the patterns repeat. The ability to break-free, in its true sense, rises from a deeper place from within us. It is the ability to break free from our vulnerabilities and still live within a prejudiced social structure. We realize the value of such independence only after suffering the loss of dependency.
In addition, the characters in the story are well framed. Suri’s exploration of the various relationship dynamics - between husband and wife, father and daughter, siblings, sister-in-law and brother-in-law, sisters-in-law, and most importantly, between mother and child, is very interesting and quite realistic. It is interesting because of the hidden depths to which his exploration seeps. Suri delves into an especially uncomfortable zone, the intimacy between a mother and son, and the possibility of a latent sexuality underneath it. Although I found it extremely repulsive and reproachable to even read, after much thought, I think it makes psychological sense for Suri to have introduced this issue in this story. Suri has done a beautiful job of expressing a mother’s intensity of love and her fiery instincts of possessiveness. I was teary-eyed throughout the book although I’m not a mother to empathize with the instincts... but I felt I could read my own mother and feel her pain, however irrational it may sound. Viewed from such a psychological point of view, and taking into account the various circumstances through which Meera and her son go through, it is understandable that the issue of Oedipal complex surfaced. But not to cringe, Suri barely scratches the surface... but even the tip of the iceberg looks menacingly huge sometimes. And I saw many more intricate facets to the discussion than just lust, although it takes time to get to that point of reflection.
I have floundered enough with this post because I can't verbalize that which managed to impress me. I may have made the book seem disturbing (even disgusting) and full of despair, but I am not able to convey the feeling of poignancy that erases all of that and simply just moves you and lets you connect with the simple human emotions and needs pulsing through the story. I see this book eliciting only one of two reactions from its readers - love or hate, nothing in between.
November 28, 2011
I am guilty of not reading enough books by Indian authors. I am ignorant of the new authors entering the world and the new books released by veteran authors and I would feel a pang of guilt for not making an attempt to keep in touch with my own country’s literary world. To rectify this, I picked up The Age of Shiva. I had read interesting reviews of Suri’s debut book The Death of Vishnu and since this book was not available, I picked up the next available option.
The book opens with a vivid description of a mother breastfeeding her baby which can be easily misunderstood to be a love making scene. You don’t realize until you are almost through that the author is in fact describing breastfeeding and not some erotic incident. I have to admit, this totally put me off. I am not sure if other women (or mothers should I say) would find it offending, but the very fact that the author even dared to compare a breastfeeding act with an erotic scene was offensive to me.
The book is about Meera who is brought up under the shadows of her more beautiful and attractive elder sister. In a stupid attempt to take revenge for the indifference shown by her family, she decides to marry her sister’s lover. It is Meera’s story of getting along with a new family with drastically different financial condition and social views, her strange relationship with her husband and more importantly the birth of her son. Meera’s relationship with her son is the essence of the book and is supposed to draw parallels to Parvati and Ganesha. Parvati creates Ganesha using sandalwood paste (or the muck on her body, there are different versions of the story), thus eliminating the need for a guy to create a new being. This in a way excludes Shiva from the isolated mother and son world. Meera is in a struggle to keep her son for herself and shows a reluctance to share him with her husband. There are subplots in the book which I thought act more as distraction than add meat to the plot.
I was utterly confused with Meera’s character. I could not interpret her words and actions. She appears so unsure of her marital relationship and what to expect from her husband. When she is stuck in a one bedroom house and is desperate to get out of that hell and move to Bombay, her father offers her the golden opportunity. Instead of snatching it up, she trashes it and it left me wondering why she did that. Her on-now-off-now relationship with her brother-in-law was another problem area for me. The incidents that happen between the two and the way they ‘patch up’ left a bitter taste in my mouth.
As suspected, Meera and her son grow close in their relationship as Avinash grows up, and in more ways than one. I was again disgusted by these parts and wondered if this really happens and if this was required in the book at all. Is this Suri’s way of showing what happens in a family which does not have a father figure? The ending was even more confusing. I will not elaborate much here because it could be termed as a spoiler.
I did enjoy certain parts of the book, but in the end, it left me wondering what was the point of it all. The subtext about drawing parallel to one of the most popular stories in the Hindu mythology is all fine, but what is the conclusion the reader is supposed to draw? In the end, all I remember about the book is the deep disgust I felt while reading the physical closeness between mother and son. I am not sure if I should give Suri another chance by reading The Death of Vishnu! Any suggestions?
The book opens with a vivid description of a mother breastfeeding her baby which can be easily misunderstood to be a love making scene. You don’t realize until you are almost through that the author is in fact describing breastfeeding and not some erotic incident. I have to admit, this totally put me off. I am not sure if other women (or mothers should I say) would find it offending, but the very fact that the author even dared to compare a breastfeeding act with an erotic scene was offensive to me.
The book is about Meera who is brought up under the shadows of her more beautiful and attractive elder sister. In a stupid attempt to take revenge for the indifference shown by her family, she decides to marry her sister’s lover. It is Meera’s story of getting along with a new family with drastically different financial condition and social views, her strange relationship with her husband and more importantly the birth of her son. Meera’s relationship with her son is the essence of the book and is supposed to draw parallels to Parvati and Ganesha. Parvati creates Ganesha using sandalwood paste (or the muck on her body, there are different versions of the story), thus eliminating the need for a guy to create a new being. This in a way excludes Shiva from the isolated mother and son world. Meera is in a struggle to keep her son for herself and shows a reluctance to share him with her husband. There are subplots in the book which I thought act more as distraction than add meat to the plot.
I was utterly confused with Meera’s character. I could not interpret her words and actions. She appears so unsure of her marital relationship and what to expect from her husband. When she is stuck in a one bedroom house and is desperate to get out of that hell and move to Bombay, her father offers her the golden opportunity. Instead of snatching it up, she trashes it and it left me wondering why she did that. Her on-now-off-now relationship with her brother-in-law was another problem area for me. The incidents that happen between the two and the way they ‘patch up’ left a bitter taste in my mouth.
As suspected, Meera and her son grow close in their relationship as Avinash grows up, and in more ways than one. I was again disgusted by these parts and wondered if this really happens and if this was required in the book at all. Is this Suri’s way of showing what happens in a family which does not have a father figure? The ending was even more confusing. I will not elaborate much here because it could be termed as a spoiler.
I did enjoy certain parts of the book, but in the end, it left me wondering what was the point of it all. The subtext about drawing parallel to one of the most popular stories in the Hindu mythology is all fine, but what is the conclusion the reader is supposed to draw? In the end, all I remember about the book is the deep disgust I felt while reading the physical closeness between mother and son. I am not sure if I should give Suri another chance by reading The Death of Vishnu! Any suggestions?
October 20, 2012
So I have had this book on my TBR stack for quite some time (2008). I loved The Death of Vishnu. Every time I picked up The Age of Shiva I checked the reviews on Goodreads. Avg review of 320 which surprised me, so I put it back on my TBR stack. I guess I have to take all reviews with a grain of salt, because I loved this book! Moral of the story: Reviews are great but go with your instinct in the end.
If you are a reader of Indian Fiction I highly recommend this one. If you loved The Death of Vishnu or A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry read this book! Manil Suri has a beautiful writing style. I was totally engrossed in Meera's life. I felt like I was walking along with Meera at Chowpatty Beach. The sights and sounds came alive to me.
Some day I would love to visit India. Can't wait for book three in this trilogy.
If you are a reader of Indian Fiction I highly recommend this one. If you loved The Death of Vishnu or A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry read this book! Manil Suri has a beautiful writing style. I was totally engrossed in Meera's life. I felt like I was walking along with Meera at Chowpatty Beach. The sights and sounds came alive to me.
Some day I would love to visit India. Can't wait for book three in this trilogy.
December 21, 2021
It gets one star simply because it is an achievement to collect so many words about nothing at all
March 8, 2010
I really wanted to like this book and was really looking forward to reading it. It started off much better than it ended. About 3/4's of the way through, I found myself skimming the pages just so I could get through it. Meera's narrative got to be quite boring and the story just took a rather sad and unfortunate turn. Her thoughts of her son became too weird and I don't feel like Suri really did a great job of developing where those thoughts were coming from...I mean, I get it, she was lacking some serious companionship all her life and through her son finally found some happiness in their relationship...but the sexual undertones didn't really seem to fit.
November 29, 2015
It's a fictional story about a woman's feelings/behavior with various men in her life - father, husband, brother-in-law, and son. Sounds interesting. However it was a bit confusing/difficult to understand as her feelings keep changing with no logical reason.
Meera wants to experience love, and knowingly falls for her sister's boyfriend, Dev. Once she is married to Dev, she is no longer "in love" with him and faults him. She goes out of her way to defy her "over powering" father, sleeps with her husbands brother and has inappropriate feelings for her own son.
I thought it was unrealistic.
Meera wants to experience love, and knowingly falls for her sister's boyfriend, Dev. Once she is married to Dev, she is no longer "in love" with him and faults him. She goes out of her way to defy her "over powering" father, sleeps with her husbands brother and has inappropriate feelings for her own son.
I thought it was unrealistic.
May 31, 2021
The Age of Shiva is the second novel in the trilogy by Manil Suri. The first book is The Death of Vishnu, which this reader has reviewed and recommends, and the third is The City of Devi. Readers should know that no book in the trilogy is a sequel to a previous one; it’s a trilogy only in a broader sense of “books about post-independent, modern India.” In addition, though the Hindu mythological story of Shiva and his wife Parvati is referenced often, claims that the novel is anything other than the most tenuous representation of the myth would be exaggeration.
Having said that, author Suri has incorporated all the necessary ingredients for family drama—Indian style—to play out in an entertaining and literary fashion. The story backdrop is India’s tumultuous but authentic history of post-independence from 1955 to the 80s. At the story’s core are two families: the wealthy Sawhney family, with a progressive, modern-thinking patriarch, Paji, and three daughters, Roopa, Meera, and Sharmila; and, by contrast, the working class Arora family, religiously and rigidly orthodox, consisting of antimuslim extremist Arya, wanna-be movie actor/singer Dev, and feisty Hema. The two families connect through the marriage of 17-year-old Meera and Dev.
Accordingly, the novel becomes a vehicle for how independent-thinking Meera is forced to navigate life in a male-dominated world. Author Suri does a good job of capturing the bittersweet blend of Meera’s cycles of fierce resistance and fateful capitulation. She sacrifices a great deal initially—career, family proximity, early motherhood—to clear the way for husband Dev to make it as a singer starting with a relocation from Delhi to Bombay. Her life consists of blind obedience, strict observance of religious practices, and disheartening disappointment in marriage.
Things appear more promising with the eventual birth of a son, Ashvin, who becomes the center of Meera’s world. As Ashvin grows, however, Meera’s mother-love seems to transform into smother-love to such an extent that it teeters at one point on the brink of incest. At first, Ashvin allows no other influence in his life but his mother. But that influence grows fragile as Ashvin listens to juvenile ideologies of friends, nationalist sentiments of his Uncle Arya, and subtle connivances of Grandfather Paji. But could his growing distance from his mother finally mean Meera’s liberation and the opportunity to follow her own life choices?
The Age of Shiva is a rich, beautifully written saga, a family drama infused with age-old Hindu mythology and rocked by unstable contemporary politics that don’t always favor country unity. One could argue that Meera’s struggle for independence and freedom of choice parallels India’s fight to become a fledgling secular democracy. The memorable cast of characters is not so vast that they won’t all linger individually in readers’ minds.
Having said that, author Suri has incorporated all the necessary ingredients for family drama—Indian style—to play out in an entertaining and literary fashion. The story backdrop is India’s tumultuous but authentic history of post-independence from 1955 to the 80s. At the story’s core are two families: the wealthy Sawhney family, with a progressive, modern-thinking patriarch, Paji, and three daughters, Roopa, Meera, and Sharmila; and, by contrast, the working class Arora family, religiously and rigidly orthodox, consisting of antimuslim extremist Arya, wanna-be movie actor/singer Dev, and feisty Hema. The two families connect through the marriage of 17-year-old Meera and Dev.
Accordingly, the novel becomes a vehicle for how independent-thinking Meera is forced to navigate life in a male-dominated world. Author Suri does a good job of capturing the bittersweet blend of Meera’s cycles of fierce resistance and fateful capitulation. She sacrifices a great deal initially—career, family proximity, early motherhood—to clear the way for husband Dev to make it as a singer starting with a relocation from Delhi to Bombay. Her life consists of blind obedience, strict observance of religious practices, and disheartening disappointment in marriage.
Things appear more promising with the eventual birth of a son, Ashvin, who becomes the center of Meera’s world. As Ashvin grows, however, Meera’s mother-love seems to transform into smother-love to such an extent that it teeters at one point on the brink of incest. At first, Ashvin allows no other influence in his life but his mother. But that influence grows fragile as Ashvin listens to juvenile ideologies of friends, nationalist sentiments of his Uncle Arya, and subtle connivances of Grandfather Paji. But could his growing distance from his mother finally mean Meera’s liberation and the opportunity to follow her own life choices?
The Age of Shiva is a rich, beautifully written saga, a family drama infused with age-old Hindu mythology and rocked by unstable contemporary politics that don’t always favor country unity. One could argue that Meera’s struggle for independence and freedom of choice parallels India’s fight to become a fledgling secular democracy. The memorable cast of characters is not so vast that they won’t all linger individually in readers’ minds.
June 26, 2025
Ovaj roman govori o političkim i vjerskim neredima i promjenama u Indiji u vrijeme vladavine Indire Gandhi i o životu žene koja je cijeli život provela pod očevim malverzacijama, koji joj je cijelo vrijeme nametao svoje želje i stavove, te uz muža alkoholičara.
U to vrijeme žene su imale jako malo prava, a Merra je bila jedna od rijetkih sretnica koja je imala puno mogućnosti. Spletom okolnosti i svojom, reći ću, nepromišljenošću, morala se udati.
Sve što je osjećala u svim aspektima života bilo je tako vjerno dočarano da sam u nekim trenucima suosjećala s njom jer sam i sama prošla te slične faze u životu. A kad sam saznala da je pisac zapravo muškarac, bila sam u šoku. Ne mogu vjerovati kako je sve dočarao kao da je pisala žena koja je sama sve to doživjela.
Dosta poglavlja me poprilično i pogodilo i bilo mi je teško čitati. Knjiga definitivno nije za svakoga jer je stvarno rollercoaster emocija.
U to vrijeme žene su imale jako malo prava, a Merra je bila jedna od rijetkih sretnica koja je imala puno mogućnosti. Spletom okolnosti i svojom, reći ću, nepromišljenošću, morala se udati.
Sve što je osjećala u svim aspektima života bilo je tako vjerno dočarano da sam u nekim trenucima suosjećala s njom jer sam i sama prošla te slične faze u životu. A kad sam saznala da je pisac zapravo muškarac, bila sam u šoku. Ne mogu vjerovati kako je sve dočarao kao da je pisala žena koja je sama sve to doživjela.
Dosta poglavlja me poprilično i pogodilo i bilo mi je teško čitati. Knjiga definitivno nije za svakoga jer je stvarno rollercoaster emocija.
June 29, 2013
The Age of Shiva by Manil Suri sat on my bookshelves for five years. I bought it at Powell’s Bookstore in Portland, Oregon, in 2008. I picked up The Age of Shiva a few weeks ago, and it’s opening page lured me in despite my uneasy feeling when I realized the very sensuous description of a woman being fondled was actually the narrator Meera describing to “you” how it felt to breastfeed “you” as a tiny baby.
Written in first person, Meera is describing her life of sacrifice in India during the decades from the 1950s to the 1980s to her son Ashvin. The female narrator comes to life under the author’s careful sketch. After the first chapter, I read the biography of the author and discovered Manil Suri is a man – another off-kilter revelation. Suri pulls it off.
The book is at its best in the descriptions of India’s turmoil under the rule of Nehru and then Indira Ghandi. The racial and religious tensions is given life through the other characters close to Meera. Her brother-in-law belongs to the radical HRM, which hopes to drive out all other religions from India, leaving Hindu as the ruling majority class.
Meera’s father is non-religious and likes to flaunt his secularism in the face of his very nonsecular Hindu wife. He invites Muslims to the house for dinner and socializes with them in public. However, when Meera’s younger sister marries a Muslim, even the father has difficulty accepting it. Meera remains on the outside looking in.
Meera’s life is run by the men, which is most likely a true portrayal of an Indian woman. She is passive aggressive with those men as she finds ways to defy them. The punishments inflicted on her are a steep price to pay for her momentary thrill in winning a small victory.
Suri paints a very complicated portrait of a mother and son. As Ashvin grows into a young man, the relationship becomes wholly unhealthy. Meera selfishly tries to keep him to herself and what ensures is difficult and horrifying to read. It is the son who finally has the guts to do something about the taboo broken in the sacred bond between mother and child.
I enjoyed this book most of the time, although the descriptions sometimes bogged down the reading. I thought the ending dragged on far too long. The conflicted relationships between Meera and her son, father, husband, brother-in-law, and sister took too long to resolve. And most of them were resolved unsatisfactorily.
If you love historical novels from the twentieth century set in another world from the one in which you live, you’ll find plenty to enjoy in this novel. However, be forewarned that parts of it may make you uncomfortable.
The Death of Vishnu is Manil Suri’s first book, and it received much more acclaim than this one. I like the author enough to read it one of these days, but hopefully I’ll manage to do that sooner than five years from now.
Written in first person, Meera is describing her life of sacrifice in India during the decades from the 1950s to the 1980s to her son Ashvin. The female narrator comes to life under the author’s careful sketch. After the first chapter, I read the biography of the author and discovered Manil Suri is a man – another off-kilter revelation. Suri pulls it off.
The book is at its best in the descriptions of India’s turmoil under the rule of Nehru and then Indira Ghandi. The racial and religious tensions is given life through the other characters close to Meera. Her brother-in-law belongs to the radical HRM, which hopes to drive out all other religions from India, leaving Hindu as the ruling majority class.
Meera’s father is non-religious and likes to flaunt his secularism in the face of his very nonsecular Hindu wife. He invites Muslims to the house for dinner and socializes with them in public. However, when Meera’s younger sister marries a Muslim, even the father has difficulty accepting it. Meera remains on the outside looking in.
Meera’s life is run by the men, which is most likely a true portrayal of an Indian woman. She is passive aggressive with those men as she finds ways to defy them. The punishments inflicted on her are a steep price to pay for her momentary thrill in winning a small victory.
Suri paints a very complicated portrait of a mother and son. As Ashvin grows into a young man, the relationship becomes wholly unhealthy. Meera selfishly tries to keep him to herself and what ensures is difficult and horrifying to read. It is the son who finally has the guts to do something about the taboo broken in the sacred bond between mother and child.
I enjoyed this book most of the time, although the descriptions sometimes bogged down the reading. I thought the ending dragged on far too long. The conflicted relationships between Meera and her son, father, husband, brother-in-law, and sister took too long to resolve. And most of them were resolved unsatisfactorily.
If you love historical novels from the twentieth century set in another world from the one in which you live, you’ll find plenty to enjoy in this novel. However, be forewarned that parts of it may make you uncomfortable.
The Death of Vishnu is Manil Suri’s first book, and it received much more acclaim than this one. I like the author enough to read it one of these days, but hopefully I’ll manage to do that sooner than five years from now.
February 27, 2014
Plenty of drama in this novel which traces the growth of modern India in the Nehru-Indira years. Narrated by Meera, a woman who appears to not have a single healthy and happy relationship in the first 30 years of Indian independence. Instead Suri throws her into violent relationships, manipulative relationships, failed, tragic relationships and one that just borders on yucky.
The best part for me were the detailed descriptions of Delhi, and then Mumbai, as my grandparents and parents must have experienced. I loved the mention of the Sunday mystery movie on Doordarshan TV (mystery movie not because they involved crime solving, but because no one knew what movie would be screened until the very last minute), the gaudy film posters and sights and sounds of modern India. At the same time, Suri has a wonderful ear for family dynamics as well.
The first page is probably an excellent litmus test for any reader ...can you stand second person narrative (Question: Is that the correct term for a story that addresses "you"?), and how do you feel about a highly eroticized breastfeeding scene, although that only becomes relevant in the second half of the novel.
Perhaps I should have started with one Suri's other books which reviewers on this site seem to have rated higher.
The best part for me were the detailed descriptions of Delhi, and then Mumbai, as my grandparents and parents must have experienced. I loved the mention of the Sunday mystery movie on Doordarshan TV (mystery movie not because they involved crime solving, but because no one knew what movie would be screened until the very last minute), the gaudy film posters and sights and sounds of modern India. At the same time, Suri has a wonderful ear for family dynamics as well.
The first page is probably an excellent litmus test for any reader ...can you stand second person narrative (Question: Is that the correct term for a story that addresses "you"?), and how do you feel about a highly eroticized breastfeeding scene, although that only becomes relevant in the second half of the novel.
Perhaps I should have started with one Suri's other books which reviewers on this site seem to have rated higher.
February 6, 2020
I have mixed feelings about this book, and about characters as well. Meera, the main character, is a rather melancholic person who is too attached to her son Ashvin. Their relationship clearly shows Oedip complex, incestuous connotations. The background of her possessiveness lies in her unhappy childhood, when she felt neglected while being in shadow of her older sister Roopa. So to her, Ashvin was a promise of love and affection she always lacked. From that point of view I understand Meera and sympathize, but on the other, I don't get her. She seems like a troubled, weak person, full of negative energy and emotions, who constantly brings poor decisions. I'm glad that her son decided to leave her, because her act of sleeping with him in bed together was totally weird. What she was doing was just damaging the poor kid, dragging him away from his father and his friends, keeping him only to herself and being so overly physical with him. I even felt sorry for Dev when he died. He was selfish and he did a lot of bad things to Meera, but he loved Ashvin and enjoyed spending time with him. Seems like whenever the two of them were having fun and playing, she was there to intentionally interrupt, only because of her twisted jealousy.
September 15, 2012
I picked this book up because I was in the mood for a family saga type of story, something that spans decades and crosses generations of a family. This book based in post-partition India seemed perfect and in many ways it was. It is a family saga that follows a family and it's complicated and largely unhappy members for some 25 years. The central character Meera meets Dev in the beginning of the book and wants to get him at all costs. But once she does get her wish ,life isn't nearly as peachy as she imagines, what follows is essentially close to 3 decades of trials and troubles and tribulations.
Meera as a character was hard to identify with or even feel fondly for. She is meek and weak and does nothing to help her situation in life. Later on in the book she turns bitter and mean and frankly rather strange. The other characters in the book are alright but none leave a lasting impression.
The book was a decent read though and I liked reading about India in her early years as a democracy. The story was gripping as well and I am glad I read this book, the annoying and cloying lead character notwithstanding.
March 14, 2010
I did not finish this. I got almost half way through. Though the author's writing is beautiful, lyrical, and he really knows how to write from a woman's point of view, I could not do it. If I had all the time in the world to read any book, i would have. However, the main character made too many horrible choices that made her life more and more depressing and I could not understand her reasons or motivations in doing so. So the story kept getting more and more tense, and not in a good, page-turning kind of way.
June 17, 2013
Manil is a mathematician, and that makes him good at playing around with the plot. But I saw no such maneuvering in The Age of Shiva, He's ruthless at times, but is sensitive to the core. He brings order where seems to be none. He follows life, as reality does. I would recommend for anyone who cannot comprehend the idea that a few pages could envelope complete life in them. It's a saga of loss, but has been paced to make it acceptable. One of my most favourite books.
March 22, 2008
The Death of Vishnu was a very good book, and I was eager to read The age of shiva. This second novel felt less believable and less immediate; even though the story was certainly compelling, the narrow focus on a single point of view didn't work for me.
October 31, 2018
It was depressing, a little disturbing, and I became so tired of the main character. A part of the book could have been cut out. Nonetheless, it is a valuable contribution.
March 27, 2016
Finally finished at 3 in the morning...
March 2, 2024
Honestly, it gets the third star simply for the writing that, despite my constant urge to slap Meera’s face right out of the book, managed to completely suck me in. Other than that, I found this a (mostly) frustrating story with a painfully annoying protagonist, and pretty much bad human beings as the side characters.
November 24, 2013
- mother/son relationship was at times disturbing and shocking
- i liked the lyricism but sometimes the details were a bit too much, especially when it came to the mother/son stuff
- very believable characterization of a female from a male author
- couldn't quite follow all the hindu stories and myths and i got lost by the ending. does that mean mother and son were finally one?
-- esv, 11/14/08
15 of 18 people found the following review helpful:
Unsympathetic Narrator, February 14, 2008
By Mary Lins
I've been anxiously awaiting the publication of "The Age of Shiva" by Manil Suri, because I was a huge fan of "The Death of Vishnu", his first novel. And while it's interesting and well paced, I had a hard time sympathizing with any of the characters, particularly the narrator/protagonist, Meera. From the beginning she continually makes horrifically self-destructive choices in her life. Every single time. Early on she is coerced into a tragic choice and then spends years blaming others for that decision that was ultimately hers to make.
Throughout her life Meera tries to take a stand for strength and reason in her life, only to capitulate every time to her husband, father, brother-in-law, or son. Frustratingly she by-passes every opportunity to say "no" and then finds herself in a mess and whines about being "powerless". Her motivations for making the stupid choices again and again just aren't made clear. Ironically, in the end it's her inability to make a resolve and then follow through with a plan that saves her life.
Despite my consternation I realize that Meera is likely to be an allegory for the country India herself. (Similar to Rushdie's "Midnight's Children") I am not educated enough on Indian history and politics to agree or disagree with the comparison. I will leave that to savvier critics. But reading about India, the culture, the religious identities, the Partition and the Emergency was very interesting and informative.
In addition to frustration with Meera's passivity, there is the entirely inappropriate relationship with her son. If you cringe in the beginning reading her sexually-charged descriptions of breastfeeding, well, that's only a foreshadowing, so be warned.
And still, it held my interest to the end, so I'm giving it 3 stars.
October 7, 2016
This is the second book by Manil Suri and though i have not read his first book The death of Vishnu which received much more acclaim I thoroughly enjoyed reading this one.
The story is of Meera born in a well to do family in Delhi. The story follows the time period of India post partition unto the emergency and the reemergence of Indira Gandhi in power. Suri has done a commendable job in his description and one feels as if we are travelling through a time machine and experiencing it first hand. Meera's father is a publisher, who is an ardent follower of Nehru and who beliefs in secularism and the opposite spectrum is Meera's mother uneducated, daughter of zamindar who is a staunch believer of age old customs and traditions much to the dismay of Meera's father. Meera has two siblings an elder sister Roopa and a younger sister Sharmila.
Roopa is the most beautiful of the three and also studies well and hence is the apple of eye of her parents. She has this sense of arrogance around her. Meera thus feels a longing for love and appreciation. As the story proceeds Meera goes on to marry Dev a struggling singer who is the ex flame of Roopa and had been dumped by her for another guy. Meera from the time she had seen Dev had a sense of attraction for him.
Post marriage even though Dev professes his love for Meera it is clear that he still loves her is attracted to Roopa.Thus, Meera's longing for love remains unrequited and she finds her life being led by the decisions taken by Dev and primarily her father. Though she does at times protests she succumbs to it at the end. This longing for love is fulfilled by the arrival of Ashvin in Meera's life. Ashvin is Meera's son whom she loves to the extreme and who is the center of her universe. As Ashvin reciprocrates his love to Meera she is jubiliant. This love between Meera and her son at times is uncomfortable and we feel Ashvin must be stifled by it. As the story progresses we see that Meera becomes more asservative but at the same time gives up easily as well.
Kudos to Suri for his handling of the nuances of different relationships which are stark apart. Like the relationship between Meera and her son is so different from that between Meera and her father but at the same time similar in certain aspects. The only problem I found with this book is at times certain events end abruptly when we feel something more could be said. At the end this is a good book and yes do brush up on your old hindi movie knowledge before you start reading this one.
The story is of Meera born in a well to do family in Delhi. The story follows the time period of India post partition unto the emergency and the reemergence of Indira Gandhi in power. Suri has done a commendable job in his description and one feels as if we are travelling through a time machine and experiencing it first hand. Meera's father is a publisher, who is an ardent follower of Nehru and who beliefs in secularism and the opposite spectrum is Meera's mother uneducated, daughter of zamindar who is a staunch believer of age old customs and traditions much to the dismay of Meera's father. Meera has two siblings an elder sister Roopa and a younger sister Sharmila.
Roopa is the most beautiful of the three and also studies well and hence is the apple of eye of her parents. She has this sense of arrogance around her. Meera thus feels a longing for love and appreciation. As the story proceeds Meera goes on to marry Dev a struggling singer who is the ex flame of Roopa and had been dumped by her for another guy. Meera from the time she had seen Dev had a sense of attraction for him.
Post marriage even though Dev professes his love for Meera it is clear that he still loves her is attracted to Roopa.Thus, Meera's longing for love remains unrequited and she finds her life being led by the decisions taken by Dev and primarily her father. Though she does at times protests she succumbs to it at the end. This longing for love is fulfilled by the arrival of Ashvin in Meera's life. Ashvin is Meera's son whom she loves to the extreme and who is the center of her universe. As Ashvin reciprocrates his love to Meera she is jubiliant. This love between Meera and her son at times is uncomfortable and we feel Ashvin must be stifled by it. As the story progresses we see that Meera becomes more asservative but at the same time gives up easily as well.
Kudos to Suri for his handling of the nuances of different relationships which are stark apart. Like the relationship between Meera and her son is so different from that between Meera and her father but at the same time similar in certain aspects. The only problem I found with this book is at times certain events end abruptly when we feel something more could be said. At the end this is a good book and yes do brush up on your old hindi movie knowledge before you start reading this one.
May 3, 2013
Manil Suri's debut novel, The Death of Vishnu, is an enthralling best seller. Mixed with vibrant Hindu myths and mysticisms, the novel was a real page turner and beautifully asphyxiating. It was, however, a little disappointing that I was not as enamored in his second novel, The Age of Shiva, as I was on his first one.
The Age of Shiva tells the story of Meera who has always felt that she is second best. This led to a series of wrong decisions that defined who she was: being married to an aspiring singer from a poor family, succumbing to religious practices, and being dominated by patriarchy. Her controlling father tried to get the better of her, but Meera's life turned out messed up and full of holes. Everything changed when she gave birth to her son, Ashvin. This moment was her chance to redeem herself as a woman and as a person.
The novel opened with a very sensual narrative of the infant Ashvin being breastfed by Meera. It was as if it was an adult cavorting with Meera's breast and playfully nibbling her nipple. This, however, is a foreshadowing of how their mother-and-son relationship would progress and take a quaint direction towards the end of the story.
Meera and Ashvin's story lies against the backdrop of the new India. It is a coming-of-age story, both of Meera and Ashvin, and India gaining independence and secularism. It's a struggle of fighting for one's belief and living the Hindu way of "co-existence."
Shiva plays a pivotal role in the story. He is present in Meera's seemingly wrecked future, in Ashvin's ascetic behavior, and the effervescent music and culture of India along the way. The old tale of Shiva, Parvati and Ganesh is the tale of Dev (Meera's husband), Meera and Shiva, lived in a parallel universe. At the end, Meera concludes that Parvati's love for Ganesh is akin to her unconditional love for Ashvin -- the two of them goddess and god living in a succession of reincarnation until they unite as a single being someday.
Manil Suri writes a grappling story of self-affirmation festooned in the beauty of India. It's a history he wrote, not just a novel. Despite the seeming confused direction of the plot, and the quixotic feel of Meera's journey, it is a still good read. Perhaps I was just direly anticipating that Suri would take his story-telling, with its superb myths and Bollywood ambience, one notch higher.
The Age of Shiva tells the story of Meera who has always felt that she is second best. This led to a series of wrong decisions that defined who she was: being married to an aspiring singer from a poor family, succumbing to religious practices, and being dominated by patriarchy. Her controlling father tried to get the better of her, but Meera's life turned out messed up and full of holes. Everything changed when she gave birth to her son, Ashvin. This moment was her chance to redeem herself as a woman and as a person.
The novel opened with a very sensual narrative of the infant Ashvin being breastfed by Meera. It was as if it was an adult cavorting with Meera's breast and playfully nibbling her nipple. This, however, is a foreshadowing of how their mother-and-son relationship would progress and take a quaint direction towards the end of the story.
Meera and Ashvin's story lies against the backdrop of the new India. It is a coming-of-age story, both of Meera and Ashvin, and India gaining independence and secularism. It's a struggle of fighting for one's belief and living the Hindu way of "co-existence."
Shiva plays a pivotal role in the story. He is present in Meera's seemingly wrecked future, in Ashvin's ascetic behavior, and the effervescent music and culture of India along the way. The old tale of Shiva, Parvati and Ganesh is the tale of Dev (Meera's husband), Meera and Shiva, lived in a parallel universe. At the end, Meera concludes that Parvati's love for Ganesh is akin to her unconditional love for Ashvin -- the two of them goddess and god living in a succession of reincarnation until they unite as a single being someday.
Manil Suri writes a grappling story of self-affirmation festooned in the beauty of India. It's a history he wrote, not just a novel. Despite the seeming confused direction of the plot, and the quixotic feel of Meera's journey, it is a still good read. Perhaps I was just direly anticipating that Suri would take his story-telling, with its superb myths and Bollywood ambience, one notch higher.
May 4, 2013
I was disappointed by The Age of Shiva after loving The Death of Vishnu. I frequently got the feeling that the author had to meet a word count target and was dropping in filler material, including distracting and irrelevant sub-plots at frequent intervals. I felt that Suri did not create a likable, well-rounded character in Meera, the protagonist. She was petty, stubborn and stunted: making decisions like a rebellious teenager at every turn, well into adulthood. The story is told in first-person narrative and in a chronologically linear fashion, which I found rather monotonous and I had to force myself to finish this book. Meera is simply not a fascinating enough character to be an interesting guide to the story; the writing was often dull; decisions and characters in the story are brought to the edge of narrative tension, only to fade away or dissipate in inaction/be overlooked/ignored or forgotten. The only consistent relationship, central to the story arc is that between mother and son, which is incredibly inappropriate and hard to read. This the heart of the problem in Suri's creation of Meera. He defines her only by opposition to/union with the men in her life: her father, then husband, then son. She has no true agency, only rebellion or suffocating "love" that is destructive and self-destructive. Her boundaries are either non-existent or hopelessly self-defeating. Even the ending (SPOILER) where she decides to go back to college is anti-climactic and not true liberation or self-determination; it is a decision practically forced on Meera by her best friend, Zaida, and soon defined by Meera as another way to maintain her unhealthy obsession with her now errant son. Her attempted suicide is a head-scratcher: her motives for instigating and subsequently abandoning her plan are opaque. The political/religious historical backdrop was informative but was not compelling in its presentation.
August 1, 2013
Before I write about the book, I have to disclose how fascinated I am with the fact that Manil Suri is a professor of Mathematics in University of Maryland Baltimore County. For someone whose primary occupation is teaching Mathematics and who probably didn't have the luxury of a very strong early education in English Writing and Literature, he tells really good stories remarkably well. This book is no exception and is set against the backdrop of India's Independence from the British and the partition with Pakistan. The tales are poignant and heartrending and what is most troublesome is that they ring true and there are probably some very real stories out there that are similar if not worse.
The story that Suri spins is the life and times of Meera Sawhney who is born into an upper class Hindu family in New Delhi. Her father is a well to do publisher with very liberal views. The book nicely contrasts this with the life of a poor Hindu boy, Dev Arora into whose family Meera marries. Suri very vividly describes what is fairly common in Indian tradition. After marriage a bride leaves everything behind and starts life afresh with her groom's family. In this case, her husband's family is poor and very orthodox in their Hindu traditions and Meera has to learn new customs and traditions and is literally at their mercy. What amazes me is the stoic nature of Meera and her sister-in-law in accepting their fate and bravely enduring all that is thrown at them.
There are many twists and turns along the way and Suri also describes the political climate at the time which may be lost on someone who is not familiar with this history of India. Overall, the book is a breeze to read and should while away a few hours very pleasantly.
The story that Suri spins is the life and times of Meera Sawhney who is born into an upper class Hindu family in New Delhi. Her father is a well to do publisher with very liberal views. The book nicely contrasts this with the life of a poor Hindu boy, Dev Arora into whose family Meera marries. Suri very vividly describes what is fairly common in Indian tradition. After marriage a bride leaves everything behind and starts life afresh with her groom's family. In this case, her husband's family is poor and very orthodox in their Hindu traditions and Meera has to learn new customs and traditions and is literally at their mercy. What amazes me is the stoic nature of Meera and her sister-in-law in accepting their fate and bravely enduring all that is thrown at them.
There are many twists and turns along the way and Suri also describes the political climate at the time which may be lost on someone who is not familiar with this history of India. Overall, the book is a breeze to read and should while away a few hours very pleasantly.
July 14, 2015
This book was the worst. I didn't want to stoop to giving it one star because I try to save that for books that are actually poorly written, which I don't think is the issue with this book. This book suffers because I think the author simply chose the wrong person as a protagonist. Meera is a smugly misguided, defiantly bull-headed character who meanders through her life finding a way to blame every person except herself for all the (not that bad really) stuff that happens to her. In almost EVERY situation that she describes as a pivotal moment, she is definitely offered a good solution which she blindly refuses and then spends the next few years being sullen and cruel because she doesn't like her place in the world.
Quite honestly, not since I read The Awakening have I prayed so fervently for a female protagonist to swim off into the sunset and just leave me alone already!
Suri is certainly a talented author though. In fact, I was desperately curious about many of the characters he glanced past as he followed dour Meera, including women like dynamic young Sharmila who laughed in the face of her family's low expectations and studied her way to a PhD as well as daring to marry a much older Muslim man, or soft-hearted Sandhya who clearly wrestled with actual ups and downs in her fate as she survived being a refugee who married far better than expected and then faced infertility, or even bold Zaida who faced down her husband's threat of divorce without flinching. Any one of these women would have made a better heroine, as would have men like Meera's father, husband or his brother! Just not her.
This author can write. In places, his words paint pretty pictures that are soothing and familiar. But I couldn't get over my distaste for his protagonist enough to care.
Quite honestly, not since I read The Awakening have I prayed so fervently for a female protagonist to swim off into the sunset and just leave me alone already!
Suri is certainly a talented author though. In fact, I was desperately curious about many of the characters he glanced past as he followed dour Meera, including women like dynamic young Sharmila who laughed in the face of her family's low expectations and studied her way to a PhD as well as daring to marry a much older Muslim man, or soft-hearted Sandhya who clearly wrestled with actual ups and downs in her fate as she survived being a refugee who married far better than expected and then faced infertility, or even bold Zaida who faced down her husband's threat of divorce without flinching. Any one of these women would have made a better heroine, as would have men like Meera's father, husband or his brother! Just not her.
This author can write. In places, his words paint pretty pictures that are soothing and familiar. But I couldn't get over my distaste for his protagonist enough to care.
March 18, 2011
Interesting details of life in India, post independence through the 1970's. A woman is unhappy under her father and then her husband. Fighting back the only way I suppose she can by undermining him with her sarcasm and anger.
There is so much dysfunction and immaturity with these people. The story centers around Meera's desire to fulfill her life through her son, Ashvin.
I learned many fascinating customs such as the mundan where the child's head is shaved, bringing good fortune. "The hair a child is born with is unclean from the mother's womb" pg. 232.
Her husband Dev plunges deeper into Hindu orthodoxy and superstitious rituals because he is a failure in all that he has dreamed of and is an alcoholic). I realized the parallel where these poor, uneducated people with little control over their destinies, who fall prey to such rituals are much the same as poor Americans who buy lottery tickets hoping for a way out.
You also get a taste of India's recent political history. Meera's father, Paji is a modern man who eschews religions and is always angry with his illiterate wife Biji.
There is a battle of the sexes in all the relationships in this book.
I can't really tell others this is a must read because it is so hard to relate to Meera. I would like to read a similar tale written by a woman. This author fixates a lot on the physical relationship of the mother and son, with their sleeping together, their kisses, and how dangerously close it comes to being inappropriate. I just don't think this is as big an issue as this author is fixated with.
There is so much dysfunction and immaturity with these people. The story centers around Meera's desire to fulfill her life through her son, Ashvin.
I learned many fascinating customs such as the mundan where the child's head is shaved, bringing good fortune. "The hair a child is born with is unclean from the mother's womb" pg. 232.
Her husband Dev plunges deeper into Hindu orthodoxy and superstitious rituals because he is a failure in all that he has dreamed of and is an alcoholic). I realized the parallel where these poor, uneducated people with little control over their destinies, who fall prey to such rituals are much the same as poor Americans who buy lottery tickets hoping for a way out.
You also get a taste of India's recent political history. Meera's father, Paji is a modern man who eschews religions and is always angry with his illiterate wife Biji.
There is a battle of the sexes in all the relationships in this book.
I can't really tell others this is a must read because it is so hard to relate to Meera. I would like to read a similar tale written by a woman. This author fixates a lot on the physical relationship of the mother and son, with their sleeping together, their kisses, and how dangerously close it comes to being inappropriate. I just don't think this is as big an issue as this author is fixated with.
April 24, 2013
I was looking forward to reading this book. I thought that The Death of Vishnu was a remarkable and moving novel. But I was very disappointed in The Age of Shiva. The main character was unconvincing and unlikeable; it was never clear what motivated her, and there seemed to be no development or particular change in her character over the course of major events in her life. The character was mostly about defying her father and her husband, but in a petty and self-destructive fashion, and she never seemed to learn or change. She experienced one friendship with a sister-in-law, but this was not explored and seemed to have little lasting meaning or impact. The characters were thinly drawn--they could have been interesting, but there was so little character development, they seemed more like caricatures.
The protagonist's rather creepy quasi-sexual contact with her son seemed peculiar and unexplained. Overall, the character seemed a cipher. She was irritable, nasty, showed little insight or growth, her relationships were not very compelling, and she seemed to struggle with the same conflicts (with her father, her husband, her brother-in-law) over and over. There seemed little point to her story, aside from the occasional tidbit of information about the political scene, which did not seem to interest her at all, but was part of the background. Mostly I found this novel tedious and perplexing. Maybe Suri struggled after the great reception to his transcendent first novel. I hope he got it out of his system. I thought his first novel showed great promise.
The protagonist's rather creepy quasi-sexual contact with her son seemed peculiar and unexplained. Overall, the character seemed a cipher. She was irritable, nasty, showed little insight or growth, her relationships were not very compelling, and she seemed to struggle with the same conflicts (with her father, her husband, her brother-in-law) over and over. There seemed little point to her story, aside from the occasional tidbit of information about the political scene, which did not seem to interest her at all, but was part of the background. Mostly I found this novel tedious and perplexing. Maybe Suri struggled after the great reception to his transcendent first novel. I hope he got it out of his system. I thought his first novel showed great promise.
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