A review of Anuk Arudpragasam’s novel A Passage North
21 September 2021
While sitting in my living room I was transported to a train anywhere in the subcontinent looking out into grassy fields for miles spotted with cattle and small mud huts with thatched roofs paddy fields and streams and stations with hot chai in tiny plastic cups and samosas. Berths with thin white sheets and packed dinners leaking with yellow oil. A recent cross country train ride I did just my older son and I where we spent sometime just staring out of the window each with our own thoughts.
While I’m yet to read A Passage North, it seems to me these words capture something of the novel’s essence.