It would be too glib to suggest that the novel traces a journey from deluge to deliverance, and Doshi is too intelligent a writer to leave us with facile resolutions, but this is a vivid and vigorous novel about the distress of marital collapse and a kind of self-seeking that strives to be restorative ... At her best, though, Doshi captures something that begins at the edges of the narrator’s understanding but which will gradually become more apparent and important: the staunch love of sisters and friends ... Doshi is excellent, too, on the sensitivity of daughters. In the midst of her breakdown, the narrator wakes up 'to the dark, to a daughter on either side, each holding one arm, grasping me for comfort, or perhaps to hold me down, chain me to the bed as though I were a madwoman.' Both are possible in this disquieting novel about the strange textures of female consciousness under pressure.
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