Review of Arundhati Roy's Mother Mary Comes to Me

Arundhati Roy, the Booker Prize-winning author of The God of Small Things (1997) and The Ministry of Utmost Happiness (2017), is a literary luminary and fierce activist, celebrated for her incisive essays on social justice and political resistance. Her first memoir, Mother Mary Comes to Me (2025), a finalist for the Kirkus Prize and a LitHub Most Anticipated Book of 2025, marks a departure from fiction, offering a raw, introspective exploration of her life shaped by her complex relationship with her mother, Mary Roy. Published by Penguin Random House India and Scribner, the memoir received praise from The New York Times and

The Guardian for its insight and clarity. The memoir’s thesis asserts that personal identity and political consciousness are forged in the crucible of familial bonds, particularly the fraught, formative relationship with a singular mother, whose influence is both nurturing and destructive. It argues that understanding this duality is key to navigating personal and societal struggles. This book is a must-read because it serves as a wake-up call, laying bare the ground reality of love’s complexities while urging readers to confront their own histories and societal roles. Its lyrical prose and unflinching candor make it essential for anyone seeking to understand the interplay of personal and political awakening in a world playing catch-up to empathy.

Mother Mary Comes to Me opens with Roy’s return to Kerala after her mother’s death in September 2022: “As the plane banked to land, and the earth rose to greet us, I couldn’t believe that topography could cause such palpable, physical pain” (Roy, 2025, p. 3). The memoir traces Roy’s life from her childhood in Kerala to her activist and literary career in Delhi, framed by her relationship with Mary Roy, a formidable educator and women’s rights advocate who fought against discriminatory inheritance laws. “She was my shelter and my storm” (Roy, 2025, p. 7) encapsulates this duality. The narrative argues that Mary’s fierce presence shaped Roy’s resilience and rebellion: “I have been writing this book all my life” (Roy, 2025, p. 7).

The central argument is that familial love, fraught with cruelty and devotion, molds personal and political identity. Roy’s childhood in Aymanam, Kerala, is marked by poverty and Mary’s volatility: “We were poor, and poverty was a cage” (Roy, 2025, p. 12). Mary, a single mother after leaving an alcoholic husband, founded Pallikoodam school: “She raised generations of sweet men and sent them out into the world” (Roy, 2025, p. 14). Yet, her cruelty scars Roy: “She called me a bitch when I was nine” (Roy, 2025, p. 16). Roy flees home at 18, “not because I didn’t love her, but in order to be able to continue to love her” (Roy, 2025, p. 18), seeking freedom in Delhi.

Evidence comes from Roy’s vivid recollections and historical context. Mary’s asthma and rage are constant: “She was followed by a frightened minion carrying her asthma inhaler, as though it were a crown” (Roy, 2025, p. 22). Her legal battle against the Travancore Christian Succession Act, won in 1986, made her a feminist icon: “Mrs. Roy fought and won the battle for equal inheritance rights” (Roy, 2025, p. 14). Roy’s own path—architecture school, activism, and literary fame—parallels her mother’s defiance: “I was drawn to the unsafe” (Roy, 2025, p. 28). Her essays, like The Greater Common Good, reflect this: “Writing about things that vitally affected people’s lives was very much an appropriate focus” (Roy, 2025, p. 30).

The memoir weaves personal and political narratives. Roy’s activism against dams, nuclear policies, and Hindu nationalism mirrors Mary’s rebellion: “My mother never tried to please people or be cute” (Roy, 2025, p. 32). Yet, their relationship remains strained: “When she got angry with me, she would mimic my way of speaking” (Roy, 2025, p. 34). Roy’s grief at Mary’s death is profound: “I was wrecked, heart-smashed” (Roy, 2025, p. 3). The narrative explores her father, a fleeting presence: “He was lying on his stomach with his feet waving at the ceiling” (Roy, 2025, p. 38). Solutions lie in writing as catharsis: “I wrote to make sense of my feelings” (Roy, 2025, p. 40). The memoir ends with acceptance: “I mourn her as a writer who has lost her most enthralling subject” (Roy, 2025, p. 42).

The memoir’s strengths lie in its lyrical prose and emotional candor. Roy’s writing, described as “beautiful and passionate, threaded through with characteristic humour” (Roy, 2025, p. 30), evokes a visceral response, akin to Joan Didion’s introspective clarity. The seamless blend of personal and political narratives is a triumph: “With the scale, sweep, and depth of her novels, this book is an ode to freedom” (Roy, 2025, p. 7). Roy’s reflections on her mother’s cruelty and love, as in “She was a woman who showed the full range of everything she was” (Roy, 2025, p. 32), offer a nuanced portrait. Her activism, from opposing the Sardar Sarovar dam to critiquing fascism, grounds the memoir in broader struggles: “Arundhati Roy flags signs of fascism in India” (Roy, 2025, p. 28).

The memoir’s depth stems from Roy’s lived experience and interviews, lending authenticity: “Based on memories and feelings provoked by her mother’s death” (Roy, 2025, p. 7). The intersectional lens—class, gender, and political identity—is robust, particularly in Mary’s feminist legacy: “She gave her girl students spines, she gave them wings” (Roy, 2025, p. 14). The humor, as in “She was almost eighty-nine when she died, so we had sixty years to discuss her imminent death” (Roy, 2025, p. 3), balances the narrative’s weight, making it accessible yet profound.

Weaknesses include a sometimes narrow focus on Roy’s perspective, limiting family voices: “They seldom appear directly in the narrative” (Roy, 2025, p. 301). The memoir’s intensity, as in “These diverse iterations of hell knock you back with a visceral punch” (Roy, 2025, p. 34), risks overwhelming readers, as Frontline notes: “offers a fractured, lyrical meditation” (web:14). Intersectional analysis, while strong on class and gender, skims race beyond the Syrian Christian context, unlike The God of Small Things’s broader caste critique. The lack of resolution, though thematic, may frustrate some: “It is unsure of who the protagonist even is” (Roy, 2025, p. 14). The historical context, while rich, can feel dense, potentially alienating readers new to Roy’s activism.

The verdict is strongly positive. Mother Mary Comes to Me is a luminous, essential memoir, recommended for readers of literary nonfiction and social justice narratives. Its minor flaws do not diminish its power to provoke reflection on love, loss, and resistance.

Why Indian Youth Readers Must Read This Book

For Indian youth, navigating the grind of rote learning and societal expectations, Mother Mary Comes to Me resonates profoundly. The education system’s pressure to excel in exams like JEE mirrors Roy’s struggle to break free from her mother’s shadow: “I was leaving her behind, and it broke my heart” (Roy, 2025, p. 89). The memoir is a wake-up call, exposing the ground reality of balancing personal aspirations with familial duty, urging youth to challenge conformity.

The job market’s fierce competition parallels Roy’s precarious early years: “I was drawn to the unsafe” (Roy, 2025, p. 28). Youth, often blamed for systemic issues like unemployment, will relate to her defiance against societal norms, such as caste or career expectations. Mary’s rebellion, “She never tried to please people” (Roy, 2025, p. 32), inspires youth to resist pressures to conform, whether to family traditions or “respectable” professions. The emphasis on writing as resistance, “I wrote to make sense of my feelings” (Roy, 2025, p. 40), encourages finding voice through creative or activist outlets, challenging the need to keep playing catch-up in rigid systems. Roy’s activism, “Writing about things that vitally affected people’s lives” (Roy, 2025, p. 30), resonates with India’s youth, who face similar calls to address inequities, from caste to climate justice. This memoir is a rallying cry for resilience and empathy.

Mother Mary Comes to Me is a searing, lyrical exploration of love, loss, and rebellion, blending personal memory with political fire. Roy’s unflinching prose and profound insights make it a vital lens on identity and resistance. For Indian youth, it is a call to defy conformity and embrace empathy. This memoir lingers, urging readers to confront their histories and build a more humane world.