I have loved many people who have tried and sometimes succeeded in killing themselves. I still remember the drunk calls a friend used to send me, where all they would do is repeat my name, sad but happy to be in the company of my voicemail. This friend used to sing me musicals, hilariously off-key. These are cherished memories now. The last time I visited them in an in-patient facility we were both shouldering sorrows too large for either of us to express. I encouraged them to keep weathering the storm but encouragement is little comfort when all else seems to have betrayed you.
Em and the Big Hoom is a story about loving a mentally ill mother through her mania and hallucinations, through her bitterness and cruelty, through her laughter, joys, and pain. The novel is written in a hypnotically melancholic voice, playfully free associating between topics in the way only a broken mind can. Written in 13 ominous chapters from the perspective of a son, the novel reads like a haunted prose poem. The son dutifully investigates his mother and father’s histories, trying to make sense of the catastrophe of his lineage. The narrator son even dips into his mother’s diaries and letters, looking for clues to solve the mystery of his mother’s condition. One senses that he is narrating a story with a bad ending, which is why he must probe their histories so diligently: to find a way to redeem the ending.
Sifting through my dead friend’s poems, I found myself doing the same. I attempted to find a narrative that would allow them to speak to us from the ashes, rearranging their poems into different arcs, different narrative conclusions. I couldn’t arrange my way to a happy ending. And I love that about Em and the Big Hoom. It isn’t a story that tries to redeem the mother through victory over her disease. Halfway through the mother’s treatment, the narrator raises the question: “What is a cure when you’re dealing with the human mind? What is normal?” Wellness can be such a hard subject to define, especially for people who have suffered incredible loss or who exist outside what is considered normal. I am finding ways to honor the grief in my life. Instead of fighting it, I am trying to make space for it on the ride.
I love the powerless love, the useless love, the lost love portrayed in Em and the Big Hoom. A love that fails to save the one you love but tries anyway.
I recommend this novel for anyone interested in fiction, intergenerational trauma, and India.