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The Archer
Kiese Laymon called Shruti Swamy’s debut book of stories, A House Is a Body, “one of the greatest short story collections of the 2020s.” Now, Swamy brings us an accomplished and immersive coming-of-age novel set in the Bombay of the 1960s and 1970s.
As a child, Vidya exists to serve her family, watch over her younger brother, and make sense of a motherless world. One day she catches sight of a class where the students are learning Kathak, a precise, dazzling form of dance that requires the utmost discipline and focus. Kathak quickly becomes the organizing principle of Vidya’s life, even as she leaves home for college, falls in love with her best friend, and battles demands on her time, her future, and her body. Can Vidya give herself over to her art and also be a wife in Bombay’s carefully delineated society? Can she shed the legacy of her own imperfect, unknowable mother? Must she, herself, also become a mother?
Intensely lyrical and deeply sensual, with writing as rhythmically mesmerizing as Kathak itself, The Archer is about the transformative power of art and the possibilities that love can open when we’re ready.
As a child, Vidya exists to serve her family, watch over her younger brother, and make sense of a motherless world. One day she catches sight of a class where the students are learning Kathak, a precise, dazzling form of dance that requires the utmost discipline and focus. Kathak quickly becomes the organizing principle of Vidya’s life, even as she leaves home for college, falls in love with her best friend, and battles demands on her time, her future, and her body. Can Vidya give herself over to her art and also be a wife in Bombay’s carefully delineated society? Can she shed the legacy of her own imperfect, unknowable mother? Must she, herself, also become a mother?
Intensely lyrical and deeply sensual, with writing as rhythmically mesmerizing as Kathak itself, The Archer is about the transformative power of art and the possibilities that love can open when we’re ready.
304 pages, Hardcover
First published September 7, 2021
64 people are currently reading
7290 people want to read
About the author
Shruti Swamy
6 books140 followersThe winner of two O. Henry Awards, Shruti Swamy's work has appeared in The Paris Review, the Kenyon Review Online, Prairie Schooner, and elsewhere. In 2012, she was Vassar College's 50th W.K. Rose Fellow, and has been awarded residencies at the Millay Colony for the Arts, Blue Mountain Center, and Hedgebrook.
She is a Kundiman fiction fellow, a 2017 – 2018 Steinbeck Fellow at San Jose State University, and a recipient of a 2018 grant from the Elizabeth George Foundation. Her story collection A House Is a Body was published in August 2020 from Algonquin Books, and her novel The Archer is forthcoming.
She is a Kundiman fiction fellow, a 2017 – 2018 Steinbeck Fellow at San Jose State University, and a recipient of a 2018 grant from the Elizabeth George Foundation. Her story collection A House Is a Body was published in August 2020 from Algonquin Books, and her novel The Archer is forthcoming.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 154 reviews
September 3, 2021
"Sometimes god puts a soul in the wrong body. You should have been a boy with your nature."
Vidya, as a child served her family. She carried around a huge amount of responsibility and expectations on her shoulders. One day she noticed a class of dancers studying the Kathak, a precise, dazzling form of dance that requires the utmost discipline and focus. Upon mentioning the dancers to her mother, she learned that she was named after a dancer and is told she may take dance lessons. Her mother understands her drive as she too had dreams and hopes for her life as a young girl. After her mother left, Vidya took care of her younger brother and made meals, but never lost her desire to dance. Dance soon became her sole focus. Her father had other plans for her but from a young age, Vidya was restless, wanting more than what was expected of her. Her grandmother saw this with her own knowing eyes.
"You are restless, you are unsatisfied. You cannot reconcile yourself. A boy could find an outlet for all his restlessness. Not you."
But she did find an outlet in dance. Kathak became a huge part of her life even when she went away to college. It was/is her purpose. Dance allowed her to be separate from all other aspects of her life. She continued to dance as she fell in love with her best friend, studied, and realized that she was unaware of so many things in her life. Awareness, harsh truths, family, dance, hope, friends, and college course work combine for her while she makes her way.
Even when she married, she continued to dance and reconcile how to be a wife and a dancer. Is it possible? Could she create her own legacy? Will she be like her mother? What will the future hold?
This book touches on a lot of themes such as gender roles, expectations, sexuality, duty, feminism, colorism, mental health, and purpose to name a few. The book is about Vidya's journey from childhood to adulthood in Bombay. We watch as she grows, experiences, lives, and struggles. Her mother is gone for most of her life and as she finds purpose, she thinks of her mother often.
This was a book I needed to sit with. Initially I gave it 3 stars but bumped my rating up upon reflecting on the book. Parts of this book felt a little choppy as the story progresses from her childhood to college to married life. I fell this book could have benefited from a chapter header here and there to make for smoother transitions. But life isn't smooth so this may also have been done on purpose. What helped me with the transitions was thinking about each section as a short story about Vidya's life.
This book is about one woman's journey. Again, I found that with sitting with this book and reflecting on the story, that I enjoyed it more than I initially thought. I enjoyed the insight into her drive and search for purpose. How she struggled with several things in her life such as being her own person vs. the expectations that society and her father placed upon her. What will happen when expectations and drive collide?
The writing style is unique thus creating its own pace which meanders through one woman's life. The writing ebbs and flows. It is a dance in and of itself.
This is a unique and original novel set in Bombay. I found it to be thought provoking and mesmerizing. There is a lot of food for thought here and would make a good book club selection.
Insightful, original, and thought provoking. Swamy’s words dance across the page.
3.5 stars rounded up
Thank you to Algonquin Books and NetGalley who provided me with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. All the thoughts and opinions are my own.
Read more of my reviews at www.openbookposts.com
Vidya, as a child served her family. She carried around a huge amount of responsibility and expectations on her shoulders. One day she noticed a class of dancers studying the Kathak, a precise, dazzling form of dance that requires the utmost discipline and focus. Upon mentioning the dancers to her mother, she learned that she was named after a dancer and is told she may take dance lessons. Her mother understands her drive as she too had dreams and hopes for her life as a young girl. After her mother left, Vidya took care of her younger brother and made meals, but never lost her desire to dance. Dance soon became her sole focus. Her father had other plans for her but from a young age, Vidya was restless, wanting more than what was expected of her. Her grandmother saw this with her own knowing eyes.
"You are restless, you are unsatisfied. You cannot reconcile yourself. A boy could find an outlet for all his restlessness. Not you."
But she did find an outlet in dance. Kathak became a huge part of her life even when she went away to college. It was/is her purpose. Dance allowed her to be separate from all other aspects of her life. She continued to dance as she fell in love with her best friend, studied, and realized that she was unaware of so many things in her life. Awareness, harsh truths, family, dance, hope, friends, and college course work combine for her while she makes her way.
Even when she married, she continued to dance and reconcile how to be a wife and a dancer. Is it possible? Could she create her own legacy? Will she be like her mother? What will the future hold?
This book touches on a lot of themes such as gender roles, expectations, sexuality, duty, feminism, colorism, mental health, and purpose to name a few. The book is about Vidya's journey from childhood to adulthood in Bombay. We watch as she grows, experiences, lives, and struggles. Her mother is gone for most of her life and as she finds purpose, she thinks of her mother often.
This was a book I needed to sit with. Initially I gave it 3 stars but bumped my rating up upon reflecting on the book. Parts of this book felt a little choppy as the story progresses from her childhood to college to married life. I fell this book could have benefited from a chapter header here and there to make for smoother transitions. But life isn't smooth so this may also have been done on purpose. What helped me with the transitions was thinking about each section as a short story about Vidya's life.
This book is about one woman's journey. Again, I found that with sitting with this book and reflecting on the story, that I enjoyed it more than I initially thought. I enjoyed the insight into her drive and search for purpose. How she struggled with several things in her life such as being her own person vs. the expectations that society and her father placed upon her. What will happen when expectations and drive collide?
The writing style is unique thus creating its own pace which meanders through one woman's life. The writing ebbs and flows. It is a dance in and of itself.
This is a unique and original novel set in Bombay. I found it to be thought provoking and mesmerizing. There is a lot of food for thought here and would make a good book club selection.
Insightful, original, and thought provoking. Swamy’s words dance across the page.
3.5 stars rounded up
Thank you to Algonquin Books and NetGalley who provided me with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. All the thoughts and opinions are my own.
Read more of my reviews at www.openbookposts.com
October 7, 2021
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Throughout the course of reading The Archer, I was painfully aware that I was in fact reading a novel. That is to say, I did not think this was a particularly ‘immersive coming-of-age’ story, quite the contrary. Almost every line I read struck me as contrived and as attempting (and failing) to be eloquent and adroit. This novel reads like something that should have stayed in drafts or that would have been okay if it had been some sort of MFA project. The verbose and trying-too-hard-to-be literary language was distracting and unimaginative. The main character and her environment felt inconsequential, the narrative more intent on showing off its supposedly ‘lyrical’ prose (which, you guessed it, in my eyes, was anything but). Banal, shallow, and repetitive The Archer was not for me. If you enjoyed this novel please refrain from commenting on things along the lines ‘you are wrong’. If you want to read this novel...eh, I guess I should remind you to check out more positive reviews.
The Archer begins with a 3rd pov that gives us an overview of the childhood of our protagonist. The narrative year tries to make it so that we are seeing things from the pov of a child, but it doesn’t quite pull it off. Vidya lives in Bombay during a generically historical period. There is Father Sir, Brother, The Mother, and briefly Room-Not-Mother. Vidya has to look after Brother and has to be obedient and respectful towards her elders. Nothing much happens other than some lengthy descriptions about objects or feelings that amount to absolutely nothing. Vidya is devoid of personality because we all know children don’t have those...anyway, one day she sees a Kathak class and wants to learn this type of dance. The Mother eventually dies (i think?) and Vidya is given even more responsibilities. Father Sir plays almost no role, his presence relegated to two or three scenes. The narrative begins switching from a 3rd to a 1st pov, in a painfully artificial attempt at mirroring Vidya becoming aware, through dancing, of ‘the self’.
There is a time skip and the story is narrated by Vidya herself, who is now at university. Once again the narrative is very much all telling, no showing. The author will dedicate a paragraph to describe the flesh of a fruit or the shape of a shoe but spend almost no time fleshing out the secondary characters who soon enough end blurring together. Vidya has a predictable half-hearted relationship with another girl, but because neither of these characters struck me as real I could not bring myself that they would care for each other.
Another time skip and Vidya is married to this generic guy. We learn nothing about him, nothing substantial that is but the author will inform us of the smell of his sweat and his cologne. K. Then we get the predictable pregnancy where Vidya learns that the body is abject.
I just found the language so profoundly irritating. As I said, there are very few scenes actually happening in ‘real time’ on the page. Vidya mostly recounts to us stuff that happens, taking away the immediacy of that moment/scene. There is also very little dialogue so that we spend most of our time just listening to Vidya’s voice. Yet, in spite of the pages and pages she spends navel-gazing, I did not feel as if she was a fleshed-out character. She was an impression, a generic girl who grows up to become a generic young woman. She’s often painted as the victim, but I felt no sympathy towards her.
The prose was full of cliched descriptions and platitudes (“ the scars on her skin making her legs more beautiful instead of less”). There were so many unnecessary words. Time and time again Vidya felt the need to say something backwards (on the lines of ‘it was not that I was sad’). Or we get passages like this: “Something else had been lost, many things had been lost, perhaps everything had been lost, the girl I had been felt far away, though I had come to school to be rid of her—the sad, motherless girl with dry ugly knees and a dark ugly face: that girl, I could not remember her as me, I could only remember her as though I watched her from somewhere outside her body;”. Rather than just saying things as they are, the author will refer to things such as Vidya’s ‘true voice’, or lazy descriptors such as ‘tomorrow-feeling’ and later ‘girl feeling’. Time and again Vidya will not say what she thinks or feels directly. She will preface whatever by saying ‘and so’, ‘perhaps’, ‘it seemed to me’, and then go to say ‘it wasn’t y nor was it x but it was z’. All these words end up amounting to nothing. They did not make Vidya into a more credible character nor did they bring to life her surroundings/experiences. Yet the author will sacrifice character development to these prolonged acts of introspection that actually don’t reveal anything about this character.
This was a bland affair. The best thing about this novel is the cover/title combo. Its contents left much to be desired. I’ve read far more compelling novels about fraught mother/daughter relationships (You Exist Too Much and The Far Field) and I wish that Vidya’s Kathak practices and her relationship with her teacher could have been the focus of the narrative.
Throughout the course of reading The Archer, I was painfully aware that I was in fact reading a novel. That is to say, I did not think this was a particularly ‘immersive coming-of-age’ story, quite the contrary. Almost every line I read struck me as contrived and as attempting (and failing) to be eloquent and adroit. This novel reads like something that should have stayed in drafts or that would have been okay if it had been some sort of MFA project. The verbose and trying-too-hard-to-be literary language was distracting and unimaginative. The main character and her environment felt inconsequential, the narrative more intent on showing off its supposedly ‘lyrical’ prose (which, you guessed it, in my eyes, was anything but). Banal, shallow, and repetitive The Archer was not for me. If you enjoyed this novel please refrain from commenting on things along the lines ‘you are wrong’. If you want to read this novel...eh, I guess I should remind you to check out more positive reviews.
The Archer begins with a 3rd pov that gives us an overview of the childhood of our protagonist. The narrative year tries to make it so that we are seeing things from the pov of a child, but it doesn’t quite pull it off. Vidya lives in Bombay during a generically historical period. There is Father Sir, Brother, The Mother, and briefly Room-Not-Mother. Vidya has to look after Brother and has to be obedient and respectful towards her elders. Nothing much happens other than some lengthy descriptions about objects or feelings that amount to absolutely nothing. Vidya is devoid of personality because we all know children don’t have those...anyway, one day she sees a Kathak class and wants to learn this type of dance. The Mother eventually dies (i think?) and Vidya is given even more responsibilities. Father Sir plays almost no role, his presence relegated to two or three scenes. The narrative begins switching from a 3rd to a 1st pov, in a painfully artificial attempt at mirroring Vidya becoming aware, through dancing, of ‘the self’.
There is a time skip and the story is narrated by Vidya herself, who is now at university. Once again the narrative is very much all telling, no showing. The author will dedicate a paragraph to describe the flesh of a fruit or the shape of a shoe but spend almost no time fleshing out the secondary characters who soon enough end blurring together. Vidya has a predictable half-hearted relationship with another girl, but because neither of these characters struck me as real I could not bring myself that they would care for each other.
Another time skip and Vidya is married to this generic guy. We learn nothing about him, nothing substantial that is but the author will inform us of the smell of his sweat and his cologne. K. Then we get the predictable pregnancy where Vidya learns that the body is abject.
I just found the language so profoundly irritating. As I said, there are very few scenes actually happening in ‘real time’ on the page. Vidya mostly recounts to us stuff that happens, taking away the immediacy of that moment/scene. There is also very little dialogue so that we spend most of our time just listening to Vidya’s voice. Yet, in spite of the pages and pages she spends navel-gazing, I did not feel as if she was a fleshed-out character. She was an impression, a generic girl who grows up to become a generic young woman. She’s often painted as the victim, but I felt no sympathy towards her.
The prose was full of cliched descriptions and platitudes (“ the scars on her skin making her legs more beautiful instead of less”). There were so many unnecessary words. Time and time again Vidya felt the need to say something backwards (on the lines of ‘it was not that I was sad’). Or we get passages like this: “Something else had been lost, many things had been lost, perhaps everything had been lost, the girl I had been felt far away, though I had come to school to be rid of her—the sad, motherless girl with dry ugly knees and a dark ugly face: that girl, I could not remember her as me, I could only remember her as though I watched her from somewhere outside her body;”. Rather than just saying things as they are, the author will refer to things such as Vidya’s ‘true voice’, or lazy descriptors such as ‘tomorrow-feeling’ and later ‘girl feeling’. Time and again Vidya will not say what she thinks or feels directly. She will preface whatever by saying ‘and so’, ‘perhaps’, ‘it seemed to me’, and then go to say ‘it wasn’t y nor was it x but it was z’. All these words end up amounting to nothing. They did not make Vidya into a more credible character nor did they bring to life her surroundings/experiences. Yet the author will sacrifice character development to these prolonged acts of introspection that actually don’t reveal anything about this character.
This was a bland affair. The best thing about this novel is the cover/title combo. Its contents left much to be desired. I’ve read far more compelling novels about fraught mother/daughter relationships (You Exist Too Much and The Far Field) and I wish that Vidya’s Kathak practices and her relationship with her teacher could have been the focus of the narrative.
September 15, 2021
Poetic. Solitary. Universal. A tale of restless passion and rhythmic persistence to experience the excellence of being oneself through a performing art that transports through life.
Vidya, the protagonist of The Archer, wants to be perfect. Whether this desire of hers stemmed from the patriarchial, gender-conforming norms that she was repeatedly educated about while growing up in an Indian family where poverty limited everything, or whether this want of hers was purely a recitation of what she was truly passionate about: kathak, an ancient dance form, is a wonder that doesn't really hold value. Because Vidya understood perfection to be the key to independence; freedom from the familial expectations, the gendered life—freedom to perform a dance that is infused with story-telling.
Like kathak, that is both a roar and a calm, Vidya found herself to be torn between the wildness of taking up societal responsibilities without desiring any of it, and the tranquillity of finding a peace that only follows what the heart aspires the most. Through the years, her stubbornness drives her towards a rhythm that rushes through facets that are similar yet conjectured to be different: queerness and love, duty and devotion, life and struggle. Her journey is far from what the world wants it to be, linear, expected, assigned. It's actually synonymous to a katha—the Sanskrit word for story—as a long-form narrative so complex that only a dance like kathak, only a writing so coherent, can help unfold.
The author's unique prose, the very same that won my heart in A House is a Body , precisely recounts the occurrences and hazily portrays the inner thoughts, much like the turns in kathak where the watcher awes at the dancer's posture, balance, the mere ability to not fall away; while the dancer sees a flurry of surroundings, blurriness covering their eyes. The run-on sentences were far from overwhelming, they were coordinating with the various stages of Vidya's life like the sound of ghungroos, tiny bells tied on a traditional anklet, matching the beats of a tabla, the drum that guides a performance through its music. Set in 1960s-70s Bombay, the backdrop of a city that truly builds dreams is wonderfully painted along the infinite sea that opens a metaphorical gateway to hope, to escape, to find oneself.
Tales within a tale heightens the impressiveness. Whether it's the story of Eklavya, the archer from Mahabharata who was asked to give up his right thumb as a display of devotion to his teacher—the guru of royal children, the guru who had rejected Eklavya despite his excellent archery skills for he couldn't afford to let anyone surpass the skills of his royal students. It's this tale that lends the novel, The Archer, its title. Or the story of Dhritrashtra as the blind king whose wife willingly took blindness by wearing a blindfold until her death. This peregrination through girlhood, through a transformation to express, through the universal need for individuality, is further lined with mythical undertones that are subtly desiring attention.
Overall, The Archer brilliantly and unabashedly places art at the highest point of passion while building a raw, mesmerising, and honest coming-of-age tale through a poetic prose that comments on societal bindings, pure independence, unapologetic persistence.
➵ finished reading this his-fic set in '60s bombay where the author's lyrical writing has captured the dreams & desires of a young woman's artistic heart as she navigates transformation + pursues transcendence through kathak. recommended. rtc.
08.07.2021 i'm so ashamed. how did i not know about shruti swamy's new book? especially after i loved a house is a body so much? anyway, watch me excitedly wait for the author's first novel! and that cover, oh wow.
The Archer is a coming-of-age novel set in 1960-70s Bombay and told through a protagonist who loves kathak.
Vidya, the protagonist of The Archer, wants to be perfect. Whether this desire of hers stemmed from the patriarchial, gender-conforming norms that she was repeatedly educated about while growing up in an Indian family where poverty limited everything, or whether this want of hers was purely a recitation of what she was truly passionate about: kathak, an ancient dance form, is a wonder that doesn't really hold value. Because Vidya understood perfection to be the key to independence; freedom from the familial expectations, the gendered life—freedom to perform a dance that is infused with story-telling.
↣ consider reading this review on my blog.
Like kathak, that is both a roar and a calm, Vidya found herself to be torn between the wildness of taking up societal responsibilities without desiring any of it, and the tranquillity of finding a peace that only follows what the heart aspires the most. Through the years, her stubbornness drives her towards a rhythm that rushes through facets that are similar yet conjectured to be different: queerness and love, duty and devotion, life and struggle. Her journey is far from what the world wants it to be, linear, expected, assigned. It's actually synonymous to a katha—the Sanskrit word for story—as a long-form narrative so complex that only a dance like kathak, only a writing so coherent, can help unfold.
The author's unique prose, the very same that won my heart in A House is a Body , precisely recounts the occurrences and hazily portrays the inner thoughts, much like the turns in kathak where the watcher awes at the dancer's posture, balance, the mere ability to not fall away; while the dancer sees a flurry of surroundings, blurriness covering their eyes. The run-on sentences were far from overwhelming, they were coordinating with the various stages of Vidya's life like the sound of ghungroos, tiny bells tied on a traditional anklet, matching the beats of a tabla, the drum that guides a performance through its music. Set in 1960s-70s Bombay, the backdrop of a city that truly builds dreams is wonderfully painted along the infinite sea that opens a metaphorical gateway to hope, to escape, to find oneself.
Tales within a tale heightens the impressiveness. Whether it's the story of Eklavya, the archer from Mahabharata who was asked to give up his right thumb as a display of devotion to his teacher—the guru of royal children, the guru who had rejected Eklavya despite his excellent archery skills for he couldn't afford to let anyone surpass the skills of his royal students. It's this tale that lends the novel, The Archer, its title. Or the story of Dhritrashtra as the blind king whose wife willingly took blindness by wearing a blindfold until her death. This peregrination through girlhood, through a transformation to express, through the universal need for individuality, is further lined with mythical undertones that are subtly desiring attention.
Overall, The Archer brilliantly and unabashedly places art at the highest point of passion while building a raw, mesmerising, and honest coming-of-age tale through a poetic prose that comments on societal bindings, pure independence, unapologetic persistence.
↣ an early digital copy received via netgalley.
➵ finished reading this his-fic set in '60s bombay where the author's lyrical writing has captured the dreams & desires of a young woman's artistic heart as she navigates transformation + pursues transcendence through kathak. recommended. rtc.
08.07.2021 i'm so ashamed. how did i not know about shruti swamy's new book? especially after i loved a house is a body so much? anyway, watch me excitedly wait for the author's first novel! and that cover, oh wow.
January 3, 2023
A pensive and sensuous novel on limitations and desire, of the freedom and the prison we find within our bodies. With fluid yet hazy prose, we see the progression of self awareness, of imagination, of ambition, and the intimacy of discovering how it feels to truly come alive. We see the devotion one has towards art, perfection, self expression, and how desire propels us to new heights and journeys. We see the wavelengths of consciousness as life changes, restrictions are enforced and defied, and truths are revealed. An innovation novel of artistic power and dedication.
September 19, 2021
This is absolutely my sweet spot of literary fiction. It's engrossing and interesting, it's able to play with structure and/or language without being inaccessible, it makes you think and makes you care.
I admit I have been a little hesitant to read a lot of more "literary" fiction lately. I am harder to please and I don't always feel up for a challenge. Sometimes I just don't try but I'm glad I did this time because it was a beautiful read that I also admired and it reminded me why I do it. It considers class and gender and colorism, with a deep consideration of being a woman in a society that is still heavily patriarchal and yet one that is starting to change.
The audiobook had a nice essay by Swamy at the end sharing how this story came from her mother's life, from her family's stories, and from her interest in Kathak, a form of Indian dance. This was actually helpful for me to hear because knowing she had that end point in mind made it easier for me, as I actually wanted the book to end differently and got frustrated by the end somewhat, so this explained a lot to me.
This novel plays with structure and perspective, it covers around 20 years in Vidya's life, even though she's a relatively small child at the beginning it didn't do any of the things that often bother me about stories with a young child protagonist. There are some big jumps in time but they all feel organic. The writing about dance was particularly good.
The audiobook was very good, the reader had an almost musical tone to her voice that suited the prose well.
I admit I have been a little hesitant to read a lot of more "literary" fiction lately. I am harder to please and I don't always feel up for a challenge. Sometimes I just don't try but I'm glad I did this time because it was a beautiful read that I also admired and it reminded me why I do it. It considers class and gender and colorism, with a deep consideration of being a woman in a society that is still heavily patriarchal and yet one that is starting to change.
The audiobook had a nice essay by Swamy at the end sharing how this story came from her mother's life, from her family's stories, and from her interest in Kathak, a form of Indian dance. This was actually helpful for me to hear because knowing she had that end point in mind made it easier for me, as I actually wanted the book to end differently and got frustrated by the end somewhat, so this explained a lot to me.
This novel plays with structure and perspective, it covers around 20 years in Vidya's life, even though she's a relatively small child at the beginning it didn't do any of the things that often bother me about stories with a young child protagonist. There are some big jumps in time but they all feel organic. The writing about dance was particularly good.
The audiobook was very good, the reader had an almost musical tone to her voice that suited the prose well.
May 17, 2022
I received an advance reader copy of this book to read in exchange for an honest review via netgalley and the publishers.
***AUDIO BOOK VERSION***
The Archer is a lovely, gently told story about Vidya, a young girl who loves to dance. Set in Bombay in the 1960s, this book not only expands on the culture and tradition of the times but also about being a female. Losing her mother at a young age, Vitya grew up confused and often feeling quite lost. She takes on the role of helping to raise her brother. Dance is her escape and something she is not only great at but helps her stay grounded and get through life. Told in a lyrical way, this is a touching and often tender read and I'm so glad I got to listen to the audio book version. The narrator had an enchanting and soothing tone and really did the book justice in making its voice heard!
***AUDIO BOOK VERSION***
The Archer is a lovely, gently told story about Vidya, a young girl who loves to dance. Set in Bombay in the 1960s, this book not only expands on the culture and tradition of the times but also about being a female. Losing her mother at a young age, Vitya grew up confused and often feeling quite lost. She takes on the role of helping to raise her brother. Dance is her escape and something she is not only great at but helps her stay grounded and get through life. Told in a lyrical way, this is a touching and often tender read and I'm so glad I got to listen to the audio book version. The narrator had an enchanting and soothing tone and really did the book justice in making its voice heard!
September 23, 2021
Gorgeous. The way that Shruti Swamy uses language is something to marvel at. The way that she’s able, in this stellar debut novel, to tell a story that is full of passion, turmoil, heartbreak, and nuance is magic.
The main character, Vidya, is such an inquisitive, pensive and layered character. Everything that Shruti Swamy created with this character from her childhood to her adulthood is emotive and thoughtful. Although there are some holes in the story that she patches in the later parts of this novel, not a word or a storyline is wasted. She examines what it means for women and girls growing up in restrictive times to come into their own and find independence, to claim their independence, alongside sexist, standard, traditionalist practices.
I really feel like Vidya is a hero in her own right, freeing herself through her passion for dance. She’s an obsidian stone — dark, dreamy, and powerful.
The duality of trying to be yourself and find your footing in worlds that aren’t yours, or that you don’t want to be yours, while carrying around painful truths in your heart that skew the ways that people perceive you and your place in their lives... it makes for an infinitely readable extended coming-of-age story.
Swamy’s descriptions, how involved she gets in describing Vidya’s life experiences learning and then becoming one with Kathak dance illustrates so much.
Set in Bombay in the late 60s/70s, I have a few theories re: how this book feels linked to A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry. I feel like Swamy might be a student of Mistry’s, and it’s not just because the husbands in both books have the same name.. you can read about my theories here.
I highly recommend this read.
The main character, Vidya, is such an inquisitive, pensive and layered character. Everything that Shruti Swamy created with this character from her childhood to her adulthood is emotive and thoughtful. Although there are some holes in the story that she patches in the later parts of this novel, not a word or a storyline is wasted. She examines what it means for women and girls growing up in restrictive times to come into their own and find independence, to claim their independence, alongside sexist, standard, traditionalist practices.
I really feel like Vidya is a hero in her own right, freeing herself through her passion for dance. She’s an obsidian stone — dark, dreamy, and powerful.
The duality of trying to be yourself and find your footing in worlds that aren’t yours, or that you don’t want to be yours, while carrying around painful truths in your heart that skew the ways that people perceive you and your place in their lives... it makes for an infinitely readable extended coming-of-age story.
Swamy’s descriptions, how involved she gets in describing Vidya’s life experiences learning and then becoming one with Kathak dance illustrates so much.
Set in Bombay in the late 60s/70s, I have a few theories re: how this book feels linked to A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry. I feel like Swamy might be a student of Mistry’s, and it’s not just because the husbands in both books have the same name.. you can read about my theories here.
I highly recommend this read.
March 7, 2022
I felt super conflicted on how I felt about this one. The writing style didn't mesh well with me and I didn't feel super compelled to keep reading a lot of the time. But I found the main character to be super intriguing and I loved exploring how she chose her own path and how she pushed against the societal expectations for herself.
Check out my full thoughts in this reading vlog: https://youtu.be/a0J7DTAd7xA
Check out my full thoughts in this reading vlog: https://youtu.be/a0J7DTAd7xA
May 15, 2022
**Mother and daughters book club read for May, 2022**
Kathak dance done by Vidya Patel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fz_Tp...
We all enjoyed this debut novel with its depiction of class, gender issues and colorism for Vidya, a poor motherless girl growing up in India. My older daughter, who is a dancer and young mother, thought the Kathak dance sequences were especially well described (using one's body as a means of self-expression and discovery) and could certainly relate to Vidya during the painful labor and birth of her child.
Kathak dance done by Vidya Patel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fz_Tp...
We all enjoyed this debut novel with its depiction of class, gender issues and colorism for Vidya, a poor motherless girl growing up in India. My older daughter, who is a dancer and young mother, thought the Kathak dance sequences were especially well described (using one's body as a means of self-expression and discovery) and could certainly relate to Vidya during the painful labor and birth of her child.
May 17, 2022
3.5 stars
Lyrical and lulling, this novel was an entrancing story of one woman's love of dance in 1960-1970s Bombay.
Plot/Pacing: ★★★★
Narrative style: ★★ (did not work for me)
Main character: ★★★★
Enjoyment: ★★★
I absolutely adored Shruti Swamy's A House is a Body short story collection. It was out-of-this-world mesmerizing and filled with stories that seared your soul. Because of that collection, I was thrilled to pick up a copy of her newest novel.
Vidya is a girl growing up in 1960s Bombay. Raised within the traditional values of her culture and the world's views on womanhood, Vidya does not know how to fit in as a girl. She's hyperaware of her physical self and soul in her surroundings. But then everything changes when she begins to dance.
As she falls further into the dancing world of Kathak, a style of dance known for its precision, Vidya begins to make order of her life. Dance becomes her means of ordering herself and her place within time and space. The years flow. The dance remains.
This book calls itself "deeply sensual," and I strongly agree. Everything emotional and sensory is deeply feel through the pages, and there is a startling intimacy in the reader's connection to Vidya as she grows into womanhood and reckons with her life and the limitations of her gender.
The Archer is memorable and lyrical, but I do have to admit that I loved it slightly less than Swamy's short story collection. I had a heck of a time getting into the narrative style of this one. The character's narration of her own thoughts and life's journey was intentionally distanced and meant to highlight her internal journey toward herself, yes, but it did make for a very difficult reading experience.
Recommended for fans of the author's previous collection and for those who enjoy non-traditional narration.
Thank you to the publisher for my copy in exchange for an honest review.
Blog | Instagram
Lyrical and lulling, this novel was an entrancing story of one woman's love of dance in 1960-1970s Bombay.
Plot/Pacing: ★★★★
Narrative style: ★★ (did not work for me)
Main character: ★★★★
Enjoyment: ★★★
I absolutely adored Shruti Swamy's A House is a Body short story collection. It was out-of-this-world mesmerizing and filled with stories that seared your soul. Because of that collection, I was thrilled to pick up a copy of her newest novel.
Vidya is a girl growing up in 1960s Bombay. Raised within the traditional values of her culture and the world's views on womanhood, Vidya does not know how to fit in as a girl. She's hyperaware of her physical self and soul in her surroundings. But then everything changes when she begins to dance.
As she falls further into the dancing world of Kathak, a style of dance known for its precision, Vidya begins to make order of her life. Dance becomes her means of ordering herself and her place within time and space. The years flow. The dance remains.
This book calls itself "deeply sensual," and I strongly agree. Everything emotional and sensory is deeply feel through the pages, and there is a startling intimacy in the reader's connection to Vidya as she grows into womanhood and reckons with her life and the limitations of her gender.
The Archer is memorable and lyrical, but I do have to admit that I loved it slightly less than Swamy's short story collection. I had a heck of a time getting into the narrative style of this one. The character's narration of her own thoughts and life's journey was intentionally distanced and meant to highlight her internal journey toward herself, yes, but it did make for a very difficult reading experience.
Recommended for fans of the author's previous collection and for those who enjoy non-traditional narration.
Thank you to the publisher for my copy in exchange for an honest review.
Blog | Instagram
August 5, 2021
Vidya grew up with expectations, beginning with the command to care for her younger brother like a mother. When her mother left them, Vidya did become the mother of the house, taking care of her father and sibling. In fact, her father decided that she would study engineering and have a career and take care of him always, to never marry or leave her childhood home.
There was a passion in Vidya, a restlessness. Her grandmother understood. “You should have been a boy,” she said. How could such a girl marry and obey her mother-in-law’s rule?
Vidya was enthralled with the dancers she had glimpsed, the pounding feet and tinkling bells, the precise movements and the rhythm of the music. She wanted to know the secret. When she shared her desire with her mother, Vidya learns she had been named for a dancer. Her mother herself had hoped for another kind of life, and agreed for dancing lessons, if Vidya promised to have discipline and practice. And then, her mother told the story of the boy who wanted to study with a master archer who demanded a harsh price.
In dance, Vidya found her “I”, separate from the roles she played: wife taking care of her father, daughter and student, mother to her brother. Going away to school was an escape from home, but she was chained to her studies. She finds a new dance teacher, and friendship in fellow student Radha who dreams of becoming an astronaut.
Asked to dance the chorus in a play, Vidya creates her own dance, and in performance, is transported into her “I”, finding her anger, and making an indelible impression on her teacher and on a boy who becomes her future husband. Marriage brings new problems, her husband marrying her against his family’s wishes, and expectations that disrupt her chance for a career in dance performance.
The Archer is a marvelous experience, a journey into a girl’s growing awareness of herself as a person in a world that presses to squash her individuality. I loved the portrayal of her girlhood, the transformative experience of one’s body as vehicle for expression, the description of labor and motherhood. Vidya’s story is exotic in locale and specific in time, while universal in theme and story.
The true achievement in life to to make one’s life one’s art, to live one’s truth. It is an empowering message.
I received an ARC from the publisher. My review is fair and unbiased.
There was a passion in Vidya, a restlessness. Her grandmother understood. “You should have been a boy,” she said. How could such a girl marry and obey her mother-in-law’s rule?
Vidya was enthralled with the dancers she had glimpsed, the pounding feet and tinkling bells, the precise movements and the rhythm of the music. She wanted to know the secret. When she shared her desire with her mother, Vidya learns she had been named for a dancer. Her mother herself had hoped for another kind of life, and agreed for dancing lessons, if Vidya promised to have discipline and practice. And then, her mother told the story of the boy who wanted to study with a master archer who demanded a harsh price.
In dance, Vidya found her “I”, separate from the roles she played: wife taking care of her father, daughter and student, mother to her brother. Going away to school was an escape from home, but she was chained to her studies. She finds a new dance teacher, and friendship in fellow student Radha who dreams of becoming an astronaut.
Asked to dance the chorus in a play, Vidya creates her own dance, and in performance, is transported into her “I”, finding her anger, and making an indelible impression on her teacher and on a boy who becomes her future husband. Marriage brings new problems, her husband marrying her against his family’s wishes, and expectations that disrupt her chance for a career in dance performance.
The Archer is a marvelous experience, a journey into a girl’s growing awareness of herself as a person in a world that presses to squash her individuality. I loved the portrayal of her girlhood, the transformative experience of one’s body as vehicle for expression, the description of labor and motherhood. Vidya’s story is exotic in locale and specific in time, while universal in theme and story.
The true achievement in life to to make one’s life one’s art, to live one’s truth. It is an empowering message.
I received an ARC from the publisher. My review is fair and unbiased.
March 6, 2022
I was already a huge ginormous fan of Shruti Swamy after reading her book of stories, A House Is a Body, so I was excited for this novel. And... wow. There's a moment early on in this book when and it's so gorgeous and beautifully handled. This is a heartbreaking, utterly stunning book about how art and performance can transform your life, turn you from object to subject. It's also about queerness, and what happens when you deny a crucial part of yourself for the sake of belonging. Swamy beautifully evokes 1960s Mumbai, and shows how a generation of educated people who aspire to be bohemian and progressive can get pulled back into traditional roles so easily. This is a difficult, complex, but utterly beautiful novel. And did I mention heartbreaking? It's heartbreaking.
August 6, 2021
Hmm.
This just didn't work for me.
The way the story jumped from one timeline to the next only confused me and broke any connection I had with the characters.
Despite isolated moments of good description (such as her dancing lessons), it is just a hodgepodge of so many different scenes and themes that it doesn't feel like a complete novel at all.
Additionally, Vidya was an annoying, selfish character to read about.
Not recommended, though the audio narrator did a good job.
***Thanks Netgalley for the arc!***
This just didn't work for me.
The way the story jumped from one timeline to the next only confused me and broke any connection I had with the characters.
Despite isolated moments of good description (such as her dancing lessons), it is just a hodgepodge of so many different scenes and themes that it doesn't feel like a complete novel at all.
Additionally, Vidya was an annoying, selfish character to read about.
Not recommended, though the audio narrator did a good job.
***Thanks Netgalley for the arc!***
August 7, 2021
My gratitude to Shruti Swamy, audiobook narrator Sneha Mathan, Workman audio, and NetGalley for advance review access!
The Archer is a book I will recommend for vivid prose in a coming of age story with a strong, yet flawed heroine in 1960s Bombay. Thought-provoking themes include family & cultural expectations of gender and class versus individual autonomy in major life choices.
I want to better understand the story of the archer told by Vidya's mom, reflected in the title.
And I feel heartbroken that Vidya missed the opportunities to travel with her Kathak dance teacher.
The Archer is a book I will recommend for vivid prose in a coming of age story with a strong, yet flawed heroine in 1960s Bombay. Thought-provoking themes include family & cultural expectations of gender and class versus individual autonomy in major life choices.
I want to better understand the story of the archer told by Vidya's mom, reflected in the title.
And I feel heartbroken that Vidya missed the opportunities to travel with her Kathak dance teacher.
January 18, 2023
Even though this book is not really that long, it’s very wordy. Less happens than it seems. There’s a lot of reflection and introspection by our main character. This is a contemplative book, and we really only get to know Vidya, the main character. Everyone else is a foil for her to react to and think about. On the one hand, it’s a peaceful novel, and one that is probably true to the course of a lot of women’s lives. On the other, this story could probably use a little more depth and purpose from the other characters and a bit more action to fuel Vidya’s contant contemplation.
August 30, 2021
The Archer is a poetic smash of a debut novel by Shruti Swamy, about a young girl named Vidya who falls in love with Kathak, a dance form of discipline and story-telling. Deep within Vidya is an urge to dance, it is all she wants, and yet the gendered life prescribed for her has other ideas, expectations are that she will be tied to a home, will eventually marry, will eventually have children, and that she will abandon dancing now, or later. Independence is something firm and lonely, tough to fight for, impossible to seek.
Swamy's writing mirrors the stirring ring of the ghungru, the bells tied around Vidya's ankles—sentences run, giving us a flurry of images as Vidya's emotions rush, as her excitement surges—and the percussive beats of the tablā and of a teacher keeping the rhythm, as Vidya seems to remember herself, as she brings herself back to life's realities. Kathak is both wild and disciplined, and Vidya struggles between the two. Forced to grow up and take on responsibility early, her life is always a pull between her desires for autonomy, her wish to dedicate a life to dance, and the expectations put on her as a woman in 1960s and 70s Bombay. As Vidya grows, her stubborn, frustrated drive morphs but never leaves her. Repressed loves, queerness, an ever-rushing rhythm, shudder in the story as if hidden behind a curtain. Vidya's coming-of-age tale, her growth into a woman, is a sensual, musical story about what it means to live, a book about grief, love, and hope, all wrapped into dance.
I received a copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. The Archer comes out September 7 from Algonquin Books, and it's worth putting a hold on it now: it's one of my favorite novels of the year.
Content warnings for colorism and suicide.
Swamy's writing mirrors the stirring ring of the ghungru, the bells tied around Vidya's ankles—sentences run, giving us a flurry of images as Vidya's emotions rush, as her excitement surges—and the percussive beats of the tablā and of a teacher keeping the rhythm, as Vidya seems to remember herself, as she brings herself back to life's realities. Kathak is both wild and disciplined, and Vidya struggles between the two. Forced to grow up and take on responsibility early, her life is always a pull between her desires for autonomy, her wish to dedicate a life to dance, and the expectations put on her as a woman in 1960s and 70s Bombay. As Vidya grows, her stubborn, frustrated drive morphs but never leaves her. Repressed loves, queerness, an ever-rushing rhythm, shudder in the story as if hidden behind a curtain. Vidya's coming-of-age tale, her growth into a woman, is a sensual, musical story about what it means to live, a book about grief, love, and hope, all wrapped into dance.
I received a copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. The Archer comes out September 7 from Algonquin Books, and it's worth putting a hold on it now: it's one of my favorite novels of the year.
Content warnings for colorism and suicide.
September 12, 2021
What a profound, gorgeous, and mesmerizing story. The beauty and skill of Swamy's writing is clear on every page, and it's a privilege to witness Vidya's rich interior life as she navigates questions of identity, love, creativity, and making a life for herself that feels true. An astonishing novel.
April 16, 2023
Random thoughts on The Archer by Shrti Swamy, which I rate 3.5 stars but am rounding down because I found myself bored at times.
- Checked out of my local library
- "Anyone can draw. Art is having something inside you screaming to get out." That is from Chaim Potok's My Name is Asher Lev, and it is a good parallel to Swamy's story. In Asher Lev, the main character is an orthodox Jew who wants to be an artist, against the wishes of his family. The line above is said by one of Lev's teachers, explaining to him the difference between being good at something and being passionate about it.
- Vidya, the main character here, has the same relationship with dance. Having a very surface relationship with her mother, Vidya seeks refuge in dance, and it comes to define her. Here Swamy relates Vidya's early experience with seeing an exceptional dancer, "All your life you walked around going about your daily tasks, and then you watched her dancing and remembered you had a soul." This reminded me very much of Potok's description of being an artist.
- The same goes for this line, where Vidya is explaining to one of her teachers how important dance is to her, "If I couldn't perform I would dance every day in the kitchen even if no one saw me. If I was injured I would dance every day in my mind."
- Part of the reason that dance is so important to Vidya is that it is how she learns to deal with her feelings, something she doesn't get from her largely absent mother. Like many children of neglectful parents who seek solace and escape in something else, Vidya escapes in dance. In dance she can lose herself, be graceful, be something that she hasn't learned how to be outside the dance studio or stage.
- Vidya also seeks mother figures as she gets older, particularly in her dance teachers and an older student in college. She seeks their acceptance and praise, something that was lacking in her upbringing. They are her role models as she searches for her identity as a young woman in India.
- At the end, Vidya becomes a mother herself, and the circle is complete. She is still a naive young woman, but has learned something along the way. More importantly, she finds something within herself that helps her vow to raise her child with more than Vidya herself received. The book ends on a hopeful note, that Vidya can escape the cycle in her past and provide a more solid foundation for her daughter in the future.
- SPOILER AHEAD... SPOILER AHEAD... SPOILER AHEAD: One sentence in particular was meaningful to me. I am now four years older than my father was when he died. Swamy writes this as Vidya, reaching a similar point, "Her face showed age as my mother's never had - and as I cross this birthday into another year of life I too would stride forward in the vast field of time from which my mother had vanished, and the unknown years would mark my face as they had never touched hers."
- There are a lot of thought-provoking things in this story, and it is a good read. I thought it dragged a bit in spots, and I had to push through those, but in general I thought it was well worth it.
- Checked out of my local library
- "Anyone can draw. Art is having something inside you screaming to get out." That is from Chaim Potok's My Name is Asher Lev, and it is a good parallel to Swamy's story. In Asher Lev, the main character is an orthodox Jew who wants to be an artist, against the wishes of his family. The line above is said by one of Lev's teachers, explaining to him the difference between being good at something and being passionate about it.
- Vidya, the main character here, has the same relationship with dance. Having a very surface relationship with her mother, Vidya seeks refuge in dance, and it comes to define her. Here Swamy relates Vidya's early experience with seeing an exceptional dancer, "All your life you walked around going about your daily tasks, and then you watched her dancing and remembered you had a soul." This reminded me very much of Potok's description of being an artist.
- The same goes for this line, where Vidya is explaining to one of her teachers how important dance is to her, "If I couldn't perform I would dance every day in the kitchen even if no one saw me. If I was injured I would dance every day in my mind."
- Part of the reason that dance is so important to Vidya is that it is how she learns to deal with her feelings, something she doesn't get from her largely absent mother. Like many children of neglectful parents who seek solace and escape in something else, Vidya escapes in dance. In dance she can lose herself, be graceful, be something that she hasn't learned how to be outside the dance studio or stage.
- Vidya also seeks mother figures as she gets older, particularly in her dance teachers and an older student in college. She seeks their acceptance and praise, something that was lacking in her upbringing. They are her role models as she searches for her identity as a young woman in India.
- At the end, Vidya becomes a mother herself, and the circle is complete. She is still a naive young woman, but has learned something along the way. More importantly, she finds something within herself that helps her vow to raise her child with more than Vidya herself received. The book ends on a hopeful note, that Vidya can escape the cycle in her past and provide a more solid foundation for her daughter in the future.
- SPOILER AHEAD... SPOILER AHEAD... SPOILER AHEAD: One sentence in particular was meaningful to me. I am now four years older than my father was when he died. Swamy writes this as Vidya, reaching a similar point, "Her face showed age as my mother's never had - and as I cross this birthday into another year of life I too would stride forward in the vast field of time from which my mother had vanished, and the unknown years would mark my face as they had never touched hers."
- There are a lot of thought-provoking things in this story, and it is a good read. I thought it dragged a bit in spots, and I had to push through those, but in general I thought it was well worth it.
August 31, 2022
Sometimes you read a work of literary fiction and you are supremely aware that the author is likely much smarter than you are. That was the case with with The Archer by Shruti Swamy.
The third person narrative in the beginning made my head swim a bit—Swamy writes with a broken stream of consciousness to portray Vidya’s thoughts as a child. I was a bit confused, I couldn’t fully follow the train of thought, but I suppose that’s probably what it’s like being in the head of a child.
It gets much smoother when she switches to third person. Slowly some of the details came together from the previous chapters and I was able to piece things together that happened.
This book is very much about identity—how we identify, how others perceive us, how we want to be perceived. It’s about dreams and hopes, about cycles within our family and how we break them or continue them. It’s finding ourselves outside of what our family expects for us and also life going in unexpected ways even so.
Vidya goes through phases; at times she could be immensely likable and other times she was unlikable and selfish. There’s nothing wrong with this because that is the way of humanity. Everyone has moments of selfishness and selflessness.
I found that I enjoyed the book even more when reading the author’s note. This book is such an honest look into the author’s mind and life.
Ultimately, this is book was about a 3.5 star read for me. I could see it going up on a reread, once I am able to better process it!
The third person narrative in the beginning made my head swim a bit—Swamy writes with a broken stream of consciousness to portray Vidya’s thoughts as a child. I was a bit confused, I couldn’t fully follow the train of thought, but I suppose that’s probably what it’s like being in the head of a child.
It gets much smoother when she switches to third person. Slowly some of the details came together from the previous chapters and I was able to piece things together that happened.
This book is very much about identity—how we identify, how others perceive us, how we want to be perceived. It’s about dreams and hopes, about cycles within our family and how we break them or continue them. It’s finding ourselves outside of what our family expects for us and also life going in unexpected ways even so.
Vidya goes through phases; at times she could be immensely likable and other times she was unlikable and selfish. There’s nothing wrong with this because that is the way of humanity. Everyone has moments of selfishness and selflessness.
I found that I enjoyed the book even more when reading the author’s note. This book is such an honest look into the author’s mind and life.
Ultimately, this is book was about a 3.5 star read for me. I could see it going up on a reread, once I am able to better process it!
July 19, 2025
How to review this...it's a rather hard book to review because it's such a strange mix of too try hard and yet earnest throughout.
While the novel is very heavy handed and lacks the sort of subtlety that a subject matter like this would require, the author's earnestness shines through a number of moments in the books, especially the dance sequences. And yet, that's not enough to keep the plot afloat and it does fall apart rather badly.
That being said though, I did enjoy the book, even though it felt like a chore at times. While I couldn't connect with Vidya as a protagonist, her experiences were quite relatable in a way, I feel like they would be to most Indian women, if I'm being honest. And so, I won't say I regret reading this book, I just wish it had stood up to its full potential.
While the novel is very heavy handed and lacks the sort of subtlety that a subject matter like this would require, the author's earnestness shines through a number of moments in the books, especially the dance sequences. And yet, that's not enough to keep the plot afloat and it does fall apart rather badly.
That being said though, I did enjoy the book, even though it felt like a chore at times. While I couldn't connect with Vidya as a protagonist, her experiences were quite relatable in a way, I feel like they would be to most Indian women, if I'm being honest. And so, I won't say I regret reading this book, I just wish it had stood up to its full potential.
February 9, 2022
The protagonist is a queer Kathak dancer and Electrical Engineer. So this couldn't have directly pandered to me more as a reader. And the writing style is poetic but not indulgent. Which is exactly how a story about a Kathak dancer should be. It's a discipline of controlled grace, and a neverending exercise in expression through stillness. I related so so much to how the dance shaped Vidya's consciousness the way it did mine having been introduced to it very young (I started when I was 4). While the Eklavya/Dronacharya metaphors started to wear thin on me, I very much appreciated the frank portrayal of how guru-shishya traditions in classical dance education can be toxic as well as gratifying.
August 19, 2021
This is a really lovely, intimate portrait of a woman's life from childhood to adulthood during the 1960s and 70s Bombay. Vidya's childhood is defined by the absence of her mother. She turns to dance and finds her purpose there. But she struggles with how to be an artist, a wife, and a mother. She's also unable to name the feelings she has for other women. This is a really gorgeously written novel
August 23, 2021
This book was art. It reminded me of a painting with large brush strokes, sweeping lines, and abstract images. You definitely have to be slow and patient with this book.
This book was about a young woman named Vidya, who is trying to embark on a life of her own. She doesn’t want to be shackled by the chains of tradition in her culture, but she also doesn’t want to be an outcast because of her ideas/behaviors.
In India, there is a patriarchal society that is heavy handed on everything. Women are raised to be good daughters, wives, and mothers. Girls’ whole upbringing is designed to be conditioned for marriage life and motherhood. The women who are fortunate enough to be able to go to school or have a career are looked down upon. Employers view women as liabilities; knowing undoubtedly that the woman will leave upon marriage or motherhood, and thus do not hire them or give them meaningful jobs to sustain themselves.
Vidya is embarking on a self-discovery journey and realizes that she does not want to play by the rules of patriarchy. Mixed in there are her emotions regarding her mother, especially as she gets older and life circumstances makes her see life possibly through the eyes of her own mother.
The book discusses several topics I thought were worthy of repeating:
- Feminism and independence
- Fighting/living with the patriarchy
- Motherhood
- Womanhood
- Caste/class system (poverty vs. elitism)
- Colorism
- Sociatial pressures vs Cultural norms
- Gender norms/roles
- Self-care and mental health
- Dysfunctional families
- LGBT
Vidya is a talented young woman who had been afforded the opportunity to go to college, and is majoring in engineering. She also wants to be a dancer of the most complicated Kathak dance that is performed in India. She spends her days practicing and dreaming of dance, hoping to have opportunities to dance in performances and please her dance teachers. She is also opening her eyes to friendships with other women and she tells of her friendship with Radha. We see the various social issues become discussed amongst them and how they are trying to navigate the societal pressures thrust upon them as young Indian women. We see Vidya bend a little towards what’s expected of her, but then we see her emerging as a formidable independent woman, making her own rules.
I was impressed with Vidya’s persistence and I was hopeful for her as she learned about herself and what she wanted. I loved how she took the reins of her life and made her own way despite the chance and opportunity of a life of ease. She made a bold statement to people in her life; having her own independence was worth fighting for rather than giving in to tradition.
I really enjoyed this book, as it provided a different tempo from what I normally read. This book was like a complicated dance, a form of abstract art, and beautifully written and immersive. 4 stars.
Thank you to Algonquin Books and the author Shruti Swamy for this book in exchange for a fair and honest opinion.
This book was about a young woman named Vidya, who is trying to embark on a life of her own. She doesn’t want to be shackled by the chains of tradition in her culture, but she also doesn’t want to be an outcast because of her ideas/behaviors.
In India, there is a patriarchal society that is heavy handed on everything. Women are raised to be good daughters, wives, and mothers. Girls’ whole upbringing is designed to be conditioned for marriage life and motherhood. The women who are fortunate enough to be able to go to school or have a career are looked down upon. Employers view women as liabilities; knowing undoubtedly that the woman will leave upon marriage or motherhood, and thus do not hire them or give them meaningful jobs to sustain themselves.
Vidya is embarking on a self-discovery journey and realizes that she does not want to play by the rules of patriarchy. Mixed in there are her emotions regarding her mother, especially as she gets older and life circumstances makes her see life possibly through the eyes of her own mother.
The book discusses several topics I thought were worthy of repeating:
- Feminism and independence
- Fighting/living with the patriarchy
- Motherhood
- Womanhood
- Caste/class system (poverty vs. elitism)
- Colorism
- Sociatial pressures vs Cultural norms
- Gender norms/roles
- Self-care and mental health
- Dysfunctional families
- LGBT
Vidya is a talented young woman who had been afforded the opportunity to go to college, and is majoring in engineering. She also wants to be a dancer of the most complicated Kathak dance that is performed in India. She spends her days practicing and dreaming of dance, hoping to have opportunities to dance in performances and please her dance teachers. She is also opening her eyes to friendships with other women and she tells of her friendship with Radha. We see the various social issues become discussed amongst them and how they are trying to navigate the societal pressures thrust upon them as young Indian women. We see Vidya bend a little towards what’s expected of her, but then we see her emerging as a formidable independent woman, making her own rules.
I was impressed with Vidya’s persistence and I was hopeful for her as she learned about herself and what she wanted. I loved how she took the reins of her life and made her own way despite the chance and opportunity of a life of ease. She made a bold statement to people in her life; having her own independence was worth fighting for rather than giving in to tradition.
I really enjoyed this book, as it provided a different tempo from what I normally read. This book was like a complicated dance, a form of abstract art, and beautifully written and immersive. 4 stars.
Thank you to Algonquin Books and the author Shruti Swamy for this book in exchange for a fair and honest opinion.
May 4, 2025
4.5, rounding up - it really resonated with me !
January 14, 2022
Favorite book of 2021.
I read this in Sept/Oct, but have not wanted to talk about it. Just to feel it. Many novels I can love in the reading but then forget pretty easily over the months and years after I finish. This has not been the case here. Vidya and the specific, heart-molding scenes and phases of her life, are very much with me months later.
The ease and reality of her imprint on me takes me back to the feeling of falling in love with book characters as a girl. I treasure Swamy's ability to remind me how to read naively.
But this is also a major success in my critical mind, even though my love for the work comes from the way the book makes me feel. The ending, on the roof, surprised me and did not feel telegraphed in advance at all - yet it was perfect. In tone, in resolution for the character, in its aesthetic beauty. And really all of it is beautiful.
The writing was easy for me to love, uninhibited by the over-workshopped language control of some first novels. Swamy is brilliant with language and apparently not willing to be shamed for that. She needs space and range to express the inner world of these characters, even as she uses precision and gorgeous, simple imagery to build their outer worlds. I hope Swamy keeps whatever editor she worked with here.
For people with a yoga practice, there is something important here in the first section of the book around the culture of learning an embodied art form in 1960s India. The respect and reverence between teacher and student, and absolute devotion to the art, say more than I can about my own experience as a student of embodied practice over many years in India. The internal wonderment, discipline, sacrifice and dedication that come within Vidya as she realizes her non-negotiable devotion to her practice: this is the most beautiful narration of something I too have known. It's an internal devotion that comes above all, and in whatever circumstances. For anyone who practices yoga seriously, I would recommend this novel for this phase of the story alone.
I was astonished that Swamy makes the story of Eklavia the very heart of her novel. This, along with Sita's death, is the story within the epics that has always troubled me most. And maybe it is true - I have never understood it. It takes nothing less than a legend so confusing and even terrible to make a through-line of Vidyas life story. In Swamy's telling the myth of Eklavia is not just a source of transcendence, but a personal inner triumph. It rings true.
Speaking of terrible things: my favorite aspect of this book is the way Swamy treats horror. It seems there is some incentive now for the best young writers to prove their existential and technical skill with indulgent, unforgettable, involved, precise, long tellings of human horror. The reader should be a little traumatized by literary writing, it seems. (Thinking of Moshfegh, for example.) But that is not so much how trauma works. Swamy's book contains horror and trauma that weights the story like an undetonated bomb, instead of shredding you to ribbons on the readthrough. In this sense, there is a restraint to the writing. A source of gravitas indeed.
Some of my love for this book comes from my own missing of India. I spent every winter there in my 30s and covid times make for much uncertainty about when if ever I'll return. But it also makes me nostalgic for a time and a city I never knew. And I suspect that the greatness of this book has little to do with the aesthetic and historic ripeness of its setting. I would recommend it to anyone who appreciates good writing.
I read this in Sept/Oct, but have not wanted to talk about it. Just to feel it. Many novels I can love in the reading but then forget pretty easily over the months and years after I finish. This has not been the case here. Vidya and the specific, heart-molding scenes and phases of her life, are very much with me months later.
The ease and reality of her imprint on me takes me back to the feeling of falling in love with book characters as a girl. I treasure Swamy's ability to remind me how to read naively.
But this is also a major success in my critical mind, even though my love for the work comes from the way the book makes me feel. The ending, on the roof, surprised me and did not feel telegraphed in advance at all - yet it was perfect. In tone, in resolution for the character, in its aesthetic beauty. And really all of it is beautiful.
The writing was easy for me to love, uninhibited by the over-workshopped language control of some first novels. Swamy is brilliant with language and apparently not willing to be shamed for that. She needs space and range to express the inner world of these characters, even as she uses precision and gorgeous, simple imagery to build their outer worlds. I hope Swamy keeps whatever editor she worked with here.
For people with a yoga practice, there is something important here in the first section of the book around the culture of learning an embodied art form in 1960s India. The respect and reverence between teacher and student, and absolute devotion to the art, say more than I can about my own experience as a student of embodied practice over many years in India. The internal wonderment, discipline, sacrifice and dedication that come within Vidya as she realizes her non-negotiable devotion to her practice: this is the most beautiful narration of something I too have known. It's an internal devotion that comes above all, and in whatever circumstances. For anyone who practices yoga seriously, I would recommend this novel for this phase of the story alone.
I was astonished that Swamy makes the story of Eklavia the very heart of her novel. This, along with Sita's death, is the story within the epics that has always troubled me most. And maybe it is true - I have never understood it. It takes nothing less than a legend so confusing and even terrible to make a through-line of Vidyas life story. In Swamy's telling the myth of Eklavia is not just a source of transcendence, but a personal inner triumph. It rings true.
Speaking of terrible things: my favorite aspect of this book is the way Swamy treats horror. It seems there is some incentive now for the best young writers to prove their existential and technical skill with indulgent, unforgettable, involved, precise, long tellings of human horror. The reader should be a little traumatized by literary writing, it seems. (Thinking of Moshfegh, for example.) But that is not so much how trauma works. Swamy's book contains horror and trauma that weights the story like an undetonated bomb, instead of shredding you to ribbons on the readthrough. In this sense, there is a restraint to the writing. A source of gravitas indeed.
Some of my love for this book comes from my own missing of India. I spent every winter there in my 30s and covid times make for much uncertainty about when if ever I'll return. But it also makes me nostalgic for a time and a city I never knew. And I suspect that the greatness of this book has little to do with the aesthetic and historic ripeness of its setting. I would recommend it to anyone who appreciates good writing.
September 7, 2021
The first thing you notice about Shruti Swamy's novel The Archer is the striking cover- a young woman dancer caught in midspin. I immediately wanted to know all about her.
The story opens in 1960's Bombay with a young Vidya, who is not living with her mother or brother, but with her father, aunt and two cousins. After a time, her mother and baby brother return home, but Vidya cannot remember why her mother and brother disappeared for a while, it is a mystery not to be discussed at home.
Vidya is dark complected like her mother's family, and her father's family treats her differently as they are lighter-skinned. Her paternal grandmother says Vidya also has her mother's temperament, calling her "restless and unsatisfied", and it telling her it will lead to problems in the future.
While her mother is taking singing lessons, Vidya wanders into a kathak dance class and is mesmerized. She wants nothing more than to dance like the young women she saw. When Vidya's mother discovers that she wants to take dance lessons, she tells Vidya that it takes discipline and practice. Then her mother tells her the story of Eklavya, a young boy who wanted to be an archer and what he had to sacrifice to do it.
Vidya is accepted into dance class, and her teacher requires complete dedication to dance, which Vidya is only too happy to give. As the years go by, we see Vidya attending an English scholarship school where she excels in academics and continues her dance instruction.
When Vidya goes to college, she studies electrical engineering, and does very well in her classes. She finally makes a good friend in Radha, a fellow female engineering student, who tells Vidya that she may have to make a choice between dance and engineering as both require rigorous devotion.
In her heart, Vidya is a dancer. She trains with a reknowned teacher who requires perfection, something that Vidya strives for in her life. When Vidya earns a solo dance performance, she is so filled with joy, but her teacher's comments take her aback.
The Archer is a beautiful coming-of-age story for Vidya, with the book divided into five sections, each one dealing with a different part of her life. We see her grow from a young girl who finds her passion in dance, and how she strives to continue to live a life that honors her art, even though society asks something else of her. If you are someone for whom art is your passion, you will get even more from this beautifully written story. If you loved Alka Joshi's The Henna Artist, put The Archer on your list.
Thanks to Algonquin Books for putting me on Shruti Swamy's tour.
The story opens in 1960's Bombay with a young Vidya, who is not living with her mother or brother, but with her father, aunt and two cousins. After a time, her mother and baby brother return home, but Vidya cannot remember why her mother and brother disappeared for a while, it is a mystery not to be discussed at home.
Vidya is dark complected like her mother's family, and her father's family treats her differently as they are lighter-skinned. Her paternal grandmother says Vidya also has her mother's temperament, calling her "restless and unsatisfied", and it telling her it will lead to problems in the future.
While her mother is taking singing lessons, Vidya wanders into a kathak dance class and is mesmerized. She wants nothing more than to dance like the young women she saw. When Vidya's mother discovers that she wants to take dance lessons, she tells Vidya that it takes discipline and practice. Then her mother tells her the story of Eklavya, a young boy who wanted to be an archer and what he had to sacrifice to do it.
Vidya is accepted into dance class, and her teacher requires complete dedication to dance, which Vidya is only too happy to give. As the years go by, we see Vidya attending an English scholarship school where she excels in academics and continues her dance instruction.
When Vidya goes to college, she studies electrical engineering, and does very well in her classes. She finally makes a good friend in Radha, a fellow female engineering student, who tells Vidya that she may have to make a choice between dance and engineering as both require rigorous devotion.
In her heart, Vidya is a dancer. She trains with a reknowned teacher who requires perfection, something that Vidya strives for in her life. When Vidya earns a solo dance performance, she is so filled with joy, but her teacher's comments take her aback.
The Archer is a beautiful coming-of-age story for Vidya, with the book divided into five sections, each one dealing with a different part of her life. We see her grow from a young girl who finds her passion in dance, and how she strives to continue to live a life that honors her art, even though society asks something else of her. If you are someone for whom art is your passion, you will get even more from this beautifully written story. If you loved Alka Joshi's The Henna Artist, put The Archer on your list.
Thanks to Algonquin Books for putting me on Shruti Swamy's tour.
September 10, 2021
CW: suicide, pregnancy.
This book was nowhere on my radar and despite it being a desi author, literary fiction is not my thing and I don’t think I would have specifically looked it up and decided to read. But surprisingly, I got the advance audiobook of it and then felt, why not.
First and foremost, I decided to give it a try mostly because Sneha Mathan is the audiobook narrator and she is a favorite of mine, her beautiful and husky voice giving life to even dull descriptions in her previous works which I enjoyed. And in this debut novel, the author writes with a kind of stream of consciousness style, which I thought really worked in the audio format. As someone who isn’t comfortable with that style of writing or with the heavy use of metaphors in language, I didn’t think I would like this one much either. But Sneha makes it a bit easier to digest as well as better appreciate the cadence of the author’s words. But despite understanding that there is a wild kind of beauty in these words, it didn’t wow me in any way. It was only in the scenes where the author describes the kathak dance form as well as how much the main character Vidya feels while performing - these were the parts of the story that mesmerized me. The way the author integrates stories from our mythology into the dance performance, describing it in lush and lyrical detail, really left me impressed. However, these words also evoked a deep longing in my heart for my younger days when I thought I could learn singing before I realized my dreams couldn’t come true.
But I could never put my finger on what I felt about Vidya. I didn’t understand what she actually wanted from her life other than the joy of dancing and I didn’t find myself much interested in anything that she did. And this maybe going into spoiler territory, but the fourth part of the book is all about her experience through the pregnancy and the delivery in graphic detail - and it made me very uncomfortable due to my own personal reasons. I was also hoping for a much different ending but what happened didn’t surprise me at all; I think it was the safest way to end the book and maybe I was disappointed…
Anyways, I feel like I’m only rambling some nonsense here instead of writing a coherent review, so please take my words with a grain of salt. It’s just that the book left me feeling a bit unsettled. However, if you are a lover of the literary fiction genre , or lyrical and beautifully written stories about women, or even just a fan of the amazing Sneha Mathan’s narration, you might like this much more than I did.
This book was nowhere on my radar and despite it being a desi author, literary fiction is not my thing and I don’t think I would have specifically looked it up and decided to read. But surprisingly, I got the advance audiobook of it and then felt, why not.
First and foremost, I decided to give it a try mostly because Sneha Mathan is the audiobook narrator and she is a favorite of mine, her beautiful and husky voice giving life to even dull descriptions in her previous works which I enjoyed. And in this debut novel, the author writes with a kind of stream of consciousness style, which I thought really worked in the audio format. As someone who isn’t comfortable with that style of writing or with the heavy use of metaphors in language, I didn’t think I would like this one much either. But Sneha makes it a bit easier to digest as well as better appreciate the cadence of the author’s words. But despite understanding that there is a wild kind of beauty in these words, it didn’t wow me in any way. It was only in the scenes where the author describes the kathak dance form as well as how much the main character Vidya feels while performing - these were the parts of the story that mesmerized me. The way the author integrates stories from our mythology into the dance performance, describing it in lush and lyrical detail, really left me impressed. However, these words also evoked a deep longing in my heart for my younger days when I thought I could learn singing before I realized my dreams couldn’t come true.
But I could never put my finger on what I felt about Vidya. I didn’t understand what she actually wanted from her life other than the joy of dancing and I didn’t find myself much interested in anything that she did. And this maybe going into spoiler territory, but the fourth part of the book is all about her experience through the pregnancy and the delivery in graphic detail - and it made me very uncomfortable due to my own personal reasons. I was also hoping for a much different ending but what happened didn’t surprise me at all; I think it was the safest way to end the book and maybe I was disappointed…
Anyways, I feel like I’m only rambling some nonsense here instead of writing a coherent review, so please take my words with a grain of salt. It’s just that the book left me feeling a bit unsettled. However, if you are a lover of the literary fiction genre , or lyrical and beautifully written stories about women, or even just a fan of the amazing Sneha Mathan’s narration, you might like this much more than I did.
September 10, 2021
I've never read anything like this book before, and I have never encountered a book that so accurately captures the feeling of dance. Although I have never studied kathak, I did intensive ballet for 11 years, so I know the way dance takes over your life and becomes part of you and your body. It would astonish me if the author had NOT taken dance classes of some kind because she describes it so accurately. I definitely recommend looking up videos of kathak dance if you haven't encountered it before. Seeing what it looks like helped me picture what the main character was doing and enhanced my enjoyment of the book. Far and away my favorite part of the book were the dance scenes and descriptions.
This is definitely a Literary Book and I bet my college English professors would have salivated over it. So much dense, rich description, and plenty of runon sentences to boot. One sentence was legitimately 3/4 of a page long. It was difficult to parse the writing, and at times I just wanted the author to cut to the chase. However, this description lent itself beautifully to the dance scenes, so it had its moments.
One of the most creative things I've ever seen in writing was the transition from third person to first person narration. The first 100 pages are in third person, and only when Vidya discovers dance does it switch to first person - because dance allows her to feel like an "I" in her own body. This feels completely spot-on as a dancer myself.
When you have a passion, it never really leaves you, not for good. It was fascinating to see how Vidya's relationship with kathak changes as she changes. The most interesting parts of the book for me were when she was at college and the LGBTQ+ hints there. The transitions between different parts of her life are quite abrupt and jarring, leaving me wanting more. However, I appreciate that the book was just shy of 300 pages because any more of this writing style would have been a lot to take. It's better to be left wanting more, I think, rather than wishing a book had been shorter. So credit to the author on that decision.
This was not a super easy book to breeze through, but it was a rewarding experience. I find myself thinking about it more than I expected I would, and may even give it a reread in the future. The dance in this one is what gives it a special place on my bookshelf. It's truly unlike anything I have ever read before. Thank you to Algonquin Publishers for a gorgeous ARC and finished hardcover copy in exchange for an honest review.
This is definitely a Literary Book and I bet my college English professors would have salivated over it. So much dense, rich description, and plenty of runon sentences to boot. One sentence was legitimately 3/4 of a page long. It was difficult to parse the writing, and at times I just wanted the author to cut to the chase. However, this description lent itself beautifully to the dance scenes, so it had its moments.
One of the most creative things I've ever seen in writing was the transition from third person to first person narration. The first 100 pages are in third person, and only when Vidya discovers dance does it switch to first person - because dance allows her to feel like an "I" in her own body. This feels completely spot-on as a dancer myself.
When you have a passion, it never really leaves you, not for good. It was fascinating to see how Vidya's relationship with kathak changes as she changes. The most interesting parts of the book for me were when she was at college and the LGBTQ+ hints there. The transitions between different parts of her life are quite abrupt and jarring, leaving me wanting more. However, I appreciate that the book was just shy of 300 pages because any more of this writing style would have been a lot to take. It's better to be left wanting more, I think, rather than wishing a book had been shorter. So credit to the author on that decision.
This was not a super easy book to breeze through, but it was a rewarding experience. I find myself thinking about it more than I expected I would, and may even give it a reread in the future. The dance in this one is what gives it a special place on my bookshelf. It's truly unlike anything I have ever read before. Thank you to Algonquin Publishers for a gorgeous ARC and finished hardcover copy in exchange for an honest review.
October 18, 2021
This debut novel by Shruti Swamy, about the coming of age of Vidya, a young Gujarati girl, is as much an art form as the classical Kathak dance she performs.
The novel begins quite ethereally, with no names or specific grounding in place, hours indicated by colors and dripping with the emotions of longing and anger that we can't quite place. As a girl who has lost her mother and must care for her father and brother, the protagonist's situation slowly comes into focus as she grows. Her pursuit of dance and life then takes center stage. The author snapshots different times in Vidya's life, each in vivid detail, but the transitions are often abrupt and unexpected. To me, this was exactly like Vidya's wild spinning before the final stomp in her dance, that fraction of a moment between movement and stillness.
Vidya pursues dance as a calling and a way out of poverty, plus her expected role as a girl in 1960s Indian society. We watch her life unfold and her dreams take shape until reality interrupts, another unexpected transition. In depicting a lonely path, Shruti Swamy creates a lonely, haunting novel, well worth it for its depiction of both pleasure and pain.
The novel begins quite ethereally, with no names or specific grounding in place, hours indicated by colors and dripping with the emotions of longing and anger that we can't quite place. As a girl who has lost her mother and must care for her father and brother, the protagonist's situation slowly comes into focus as she grows. Her pursuit of dance and life then takes center stage. The author snapshots different times in Vidya's life, each in vivid detail, but the transitions are often abrupt and unexpected. To me, this was exactly like Vidya's wild spinning before the final stomp in her dance, that fraction of a moment between movement and stillness.
Vidya pursues dance as a calling and a way out of poverty, plus her expected role as a girl in 1960s Indian society. We watch her life unfold and her dreams take shape until reality interrupts, another unexpected transition. In depicting a lonely path, Shruti Swamy creates a lonely, haunting novel, well worth it for its depiction of both pleasure and pain.
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