As with the fictional article that begins the book, Umrigar’s strength as a writer is most potent in individual scenes that distill these tensions. Just as the arc of the story builds to a crescendo, both in its hastening action surrounding the trial of Meena’s brothers and the reader’s understanding of Smita’s history, so do smaller moments ... The many layers that comprise 'Honor' unfurl like a peak season peony ... [a] beautiful conclusion.
Readers will find themselves completely immersed in the sights, sounds and smells of India ... a multifaceted examination of Smita’s love-hate relationship with her native country, a place that fills her heart yet is besieged with assaults on women ... a well-rounded portrait of a complicated country ... the blend of passion alongside brutality sometimes makes for an uneasy mix. Nonetheless, readers are likely to remain engaged with the story and its well-drawn characters. Whether she’s writing about the bright lights of Mumbai or the poverty of village life, Umrigar excels at creating engaging situations and scenes. Readers will appreciate this novel’s deep understanding of the many complexities of Indian society.
Umrigar aptly tackles honor killings in rural India and paints Meena with agency and depth ... a stirring critique of individual agendas surrounding Meena's high-profile case ... In her years of reporting on gender violence around the world, Smita takes care to avoid the kind of 'trauma porn' typical of such articles. Curiously, in the book, Umrigar pens a gruesome scene that feels close to fetishizing female victimization. It neither fortifies the narrative nor deepens the reader's understanding of the cultural context of such violence. Less would have definitely been more ... Nevertheless, Honor boldly examines a system that continues to greenlight brutality and serves as a poignant reminder that despite all odds, 'in every country, in every crisis, there are a handful of people who will stand against the tide.'
Thrity Umrigar's important new novel Honor isn't an easy read ... It's a searing meditation on the meaning of dignity in a dehumanizing world ... Umrigar writes not only as an elegant storyteller but as a sharp-eyed reporter, no doubt informed by her experience as a former journalist. Her reportorial style takes us deep into the lives and minds of vividly realized characters, showing us their gestural quirks, geniality and, at times, horrific cruelty. If you are familiar with the country, the novel's depiction of Indian manners will seem startlingly true-to-life ... Yet she also lapses into sentimental didacticism that sounds inauthentic. The novel's conclusion is a crowd pleasing melodrama that ticks all the correct boxes. To some extent it follows inevitably from the novel's premise. But for all its structural weakness, the earnestness of Umrigar's intention is unquestionable: She convinces us that to read is to comprehend and to comprehend is to act.
... a courageous and sometimes gut-wrenching picture of rigidly held caste and religious hatreds, preening male privilege, extreme misogyny, and age-old corruption that spill into horrific violence. Yet Umrigar gives us a rounded perspective that shows how India still resonates with Smita and how it leads her to imagine a new and better nation, as represented by Meena’s idealistic late husband, Abdul ... Highly recommended.
Umrigar excels in her juxtaposition of the contrasts between the tech hub image of contemporary India and the deep religious divisions that continue to wrack rural regions. Will justice be served, or will the trial only add fuel to the fire? The somewhat predictable ending notwithstanding, this is a thought-provoking portrait of an India that 'felt inexpressibly large—as well as small and provincial enough to choke' ... Umrigar is a library favorite and readers will be talking about this intense, incisive, and timely drama.
Umrigar’s juxtaposition of urban norms with the archaic, impoverished rural hinterland, as well as Abdul’s dreams of himself and Meena as a modern, integrated couple, delivers a clear message but a starkly delineated one, its allegorical quality intensified by one-dimensional supporting characters. The horror and Meena’s intense suffering also contrast uneasily with a late love story for Smita and some binary, not always plausible choices ... A graphic parable of contemporary India delivered in broad brush strokes.
... uneven ... Both Meena’s recollections and Smita’s narrative contain moments of emotional clarity and terror. Their propulsive stories and well-developed characterizations, however, don’t quite compensate for the flat, even cartoonish, supporting characters, or for a romantic subplot involving Smita and a man she meets while reporting on the story, which reads like an afterthought. Umrigar offers readers a broad understanding of the complicated issues at play in contemporary India, but the story fails to do the subject justice.
