With translation, it’s like you can do the one-to-one or you can dive into the semiotic excess and see what happens, and rather than try to order the chaos, it’s more sequencing the chaos.
Randhawa has a control over language that I rarely encounter. There is a feeling of each word having been specifically selected, purposeful descriptions that alter the way we talk about the things around us.
A tale of liminality and family, characters continually trying to piece themselves together among persistent loss. This is the condition of being a migrant, of being in-between, told in a stunning story which spans nearly fifty years.