Scan barcode
A review by brice_mo
The Lucky Ones: A Memoir by Zara Chowdhary
2.75
Thanks to NetGalley and Crown Publishing for the ARC!
Less a memoir and more an eyewitness account, Zara Chowdhary’s The Lucky Ones is a brutal testimony of a life at the epicenter of violence toward Muslims in Gujarat, India.
This is one of the most information-dense memoirs I’ve encountered in recent memory. Chowdhary often writes like this is anyone’s story but her own, and while she does so with grace, it creates some structural tension in the latter half of the book, namely because its not always clear how the author situates her life in its surrounding history—a history of unbelievable cruelty.
Chowdhary excels in her depiction of violence. Americans are often numb to its realities or assume that it’s impersonal, but the author refuses to allow readers that comfort. She displays a steady and intentional hand as she shares stories that highlight conscious evil—careful decisions to inflict pain. That said, I found myself wondering if all the graphic details are actually necessary, or if they begin to underserve the author’s own story. After all, injustice is injustice, and murder doesn’t occur on a gradable scale. When Chowdhary attempts to pivot to the more intimate details of own life, they feel like they belong elsewhere—they seem almost less personal than when the author writes about her community as a whole.
The Lucky Ones also raises some interesting questions about how authors should navigate multilingualism. Chowdhary includes many extended quotes that she leaves untranslated. Occasionally, she includes paraphrases several sentences or paragraphs later, but the connection isn’t always transparent. Philosophically, I think this approach is really exciting—after all, so much meaning is contained within the specificity of a particular language, and something will always be lost with translation. Furthermore, I don’t think readers are entitled to know or understand everything. That said, if I’m being more pragmatic, I don’t think it works very well here. This is a book that is already difficult to read due to its large, unexplained lexicon of cultural-specific vocabulary—especially in the first half—and when there are such huge portions of untranslated quotes, the problem compounds. Readers will spend a great deal of time floating through pages until they find something to latch onto.
Despite these quibbles, The Lucky Ones feels like a necessary book because western coverage of religiously motivated violence in India is virtually non-existent. Zara Chowdhary seems to recognize this, and the result is a memoir that feels urgent, even if it doesn’t always feel personal.
Less a memoir and more an eyewitness account, Zara Chowdhary’s The Lucky Ones is a brutal testimony of a life at the epicenter of violence toward Muslims in Gujarat, India.
This is one of the most information-dense memoirs I’ve encountered in recent memory. Chowdhary often writes like this is anyone’s story but her own, and while she does so with grace, it creates some structural tension in the latter half of the book, namely because its not always clear how the author situates her life in its surrounding history—a history of unbelievable cruelty.
Chowdhary excels in her depiction of violence. Americans are often numb to its realities or assume that it’s impersonal, but the author refuses to allow readers that comfort. She displays a steady and intentional hand as she shares stories that highlight conscious evil—careful decisions to inflict pain. That said, I found myself wondering if all the graphic details are actually necessary, or if they begin to underserve the author’s own story. After all, injustice is injustice, and murder doesn’t occur on a gradable scale. When Chowdhary attempts to pivot to the more intimate details of own life, they feel like they belong elsewhere—they seem almost less personal than when the author writes about her community as a whole.
The Lucky Ones also raises some interesting questions about how authors should navigate multilingualism. Chowdhary includes many extended quotes that she leaves untranslated. Occasionally, she includes paraphrases several sentences or paragraphs later, but the connection isn’t always transparent. Philosophically, I think this approach is really exciting—after all, so much meaning is contained within the specificity of a particular language, and something will always be lost with translation. Furthermore, I don’t think readers are entitled to know or understand everything. That said, if I’m being more pragmatic, I don’t think it works very well here. This is a book that is already difficult to read due to its large, unexplained lexicon of cultural-specific vocabulary—especially in the first half—and when there are such huge portions of untranslated quotes, the problem compounds. Readers will spend a great deal of time floating through pages until they find something to latch onto.
Despite these quibbles, The Lucky Ones feels like a necessary book because western coverage of religiously motivated violence in India is virtually non-existent. Zara Chowdhary seems to recognize this, and the result is a memoir that feels urgent, even if it doesn’t always feel personal.