Like A Bird by Fariha Róisín
A Review of Fariha Róisín’s
Like a Bird
Like a Bird by Fariha Róisín (2020). Published by Unnamed Press.
I love Fariha’s work. I really do— her cultural and film criticism keeps my serotonin levels at a decent rate to get through the day. So when I discovered her novel Like a Bird was dropping in 2020, I got really excited. As soon as it was available at my local library, I preordered it and picked it up as soon as possible. My grubby little hands couldn’t wait anymore for this masterpiece. All of the online publications were hyping it too, which was adding to my general anxiousness to read it.
I read it over the course of three days. When I really like a book, I clear it within a day. This was one of those books because it was too much and too triggering. I needed space to breathe, and it was a struggle to finish the book because of that. Let’s deep dive into what I thought about the book.
Note: there are major spoilers in this review.
Book Blurb
Taylia Chatterjee has never known love, and certainly has never felt it for herself. Growing up on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, with her older sister Alyssa, their parents were both overbearing and emotionally distant, and despite idyllic summers in the Catskills, and gatherings with glamorous family friends, there is a sadness that emanates from the Chatterjee residence, a deep well of sorrow stemming from the racism of American society.
After a violent sexual assault, Taylia is disowned by her parents and suddenly forced to move out. As Taylia looks to the city, the ghost of her Indian grandmother dadi-ma is always one step ahead, while another more troubling ghost chases after her. Determined to have the courage to confront the pain that her family can't face, Taylia finds work at a neighborhood cafe owned by single mother and spiritualist, Kat. Taylia quickly builds a constellation of friends and lovers on her own,daring herself to be open to new experiences, even as they call into question what she thought she knew about the past.
Taylia's story is about survival, coming to terms with her past and looking forward to a future she never felt she was allowed to claim. Writing this for eighteen years, poet and activist Fariha Roisin's debut novel is an intense, provocative, and emotionally profound portrait of an inner life in turmoil and the redemptive power of community and love.
Content/Plot
Now, I know this book was inspired by the author’s life, which is why I want to navigate it delicately. There are graphic depictions of sex, and the plot revolves around the idea of the impact sexual assault has on one’s psyche. The main character, Taylia Chatterjee, has been kicked out her home because her parents didn’t believe that she was gang-raped by a friend’s son. Her traditional Indian father is the mastermind behind this decision, and seems to be showing characteristics of early-stage dementia or Alzheimer’s.
The novel basically follows Taylia’s journey to healing, and how she meets a man that she eventually has sex with, the first since she was raped. It also deals with how she keeps spotting her Indian grandmother’s ghost following her around.
Honestly, that’s the entire story. There’s not much else to it. We also get vague hints about her sister Alyssa, but it isn’t revealed that she killed herself because the same friend’s son also gang-raped her until much later in the book. And guess what? It’s described how her body was found.
Characters
I thought the main character was memorable, and her sister especially. However, I did not like any of the other characters in this book. More than half of the novel has characters that are new money in New York City, the ones who own entire large brownstones throughout Brooklyn and the Upper West Side.
That’s whyI can’t vibe with this novel. At certain points, I found myself rolling my eyes at how of course she met a rich boy, of course that she’s working in a cafe with a rich owner that lets Taylia live with her. I’m really sorry, but I didn’t find this realistic at all. It just reeks of privilege, because Taylia herself was Columbia educated and even admits that she never went downtown because it [seemingly] didn’t go well with her class.
The characters. Oh my god the characters. They were so stereotypically pretentious and snobby. Her mother majored in art history and would go on about designer clothes, about certain abstract artists or this or that. It just all seemed like a farce, one that really got on my nerves the more I read the novel. The characters seemed to fall into these very specific archetypes, like father is stereotypical Indian dad, mother is woke white woman who actually isn’t woke, sister is the perfect girl and student who killed herself.
Writing Style
Sorry, but the language was crude. I’m a traditionalist when it comes to my literary works and don’t appreciate seeing the word “pussy” a lot in writing when it’s not reclaimed. It’s just very off-putting when it’s not in a space where women’s sexuality is being expressed in a way that is more revolutionary, or that it isn’t used in the context of male pursuit. Here, it was used in the context of male pursuit, and while I understand the sarcasm behind its usage, it just saddened me to see it casually used.
The writing merely was okay. I don’t have much to say about it, because it was overshadowed by the content and pretentiousness of the characters.
Overall Thoughts
I wanted to love this book. I really did. I think that this book probably helped the author on her path to healing, but honestly I found the graphic sexual assault and depictions of sex, as well as the reason behind her sister’s suicide, to be extremely alarming and triggering. For someone who’s been through similar, but not as extreme experiences, I didn’t expect such a depiction and was not prepared for the detail it went into. I am not South Asian so I cannot comment on how this is representative of the South Asian experience, but I do want to note that the character is mixed with white and her sister is white passing. As a white passing Southwest Asian, I wonder how this shifts the narrative, because my experience as a white passing Iranian is completely different than one who isn’t white passing.
This book made me feel sick while I was reading it, but I’m hopeful that it opens dialogue about these issues for those who read it. These are important topics, but it is a pass for me.
