A grim tale of depravity that somehow also elevates in this radical feminist story of rebellion and hope. The ravages of exploitation are portrayed in a dystopian world where culture and myths collide with the reality of climate disaster. Yet it is the uncanny collective voice of the children that breaks your heart, ensuring you are uncomfortably immersed not just in rising tides but also in this raw, gut-punching song of revolution.
And Amma did what our mothers had done when they first arrived on the island. She spat and cursed. Then she refused to speak at all. She lay in her cot and acted as if she had vacated her body.
Kusum was not in a hurry. She would go in and talk with Amma and attempt to teach her the things she had taught us.
We want rights, she said.
Rights?
Yes, rights.
You’re a snake.
Rights are things that belong to us.
Why should anything belong to you?
Because I was born. Because I breathe.
Amma rose, her folds sliding down from her belly to her hips. I can make you stop breathing any time I want.
