Book Review: Mother Mary Comes to Me

Reviewer – Snigdha Agrawal

Title: Mother Mary Comes to Me
Author: Arundhati Roy (Booker Prize Winner, 1997)
Genre: Non-Fiction / Memoir
Year of Publication: September 2025
ISBN: 9780143473060
Publisher: Penguin Random House, India
Pages: 373
Price: ₹899 (inclusive of all taxes)

At the outset, I would like to clarify that this review reflects my personal impressions, an intentional surface-level response to the narrative, rather than a critical examination of political ideologies or factual accuracy. While some of the author’s views diverge from my own, I do not seek here to either critique or endorse her politics. I am going to share what stirred or resonated with me as a reader.

Snigdha Agrawal

The cover's visual impact is instant and compelling. Hardcover in hibiscus-red, title and author name printed in gleaming black, gives the effect of classic Indian holy books commonly found on the domestic prayer altar. It is reverential, borders on devotional. Concealed behind the white jacket is a butterfly motif. A delicate and tasteful revelation that encourages one to take a second look. This covert design feature, one that is both surprising and significant, is a visual metaphor for the memoir itself: layered, intricate, and metamorphic. The proverb "Don't judge a book by its cover" has seldom been more apt.

The white jacket, like a wraparound skirt, over the red casing, features two contrasting portraits of the author. On the front, a younger Arundhati Roy, with a lit beedi (tobacco-filled, hand-rolled cigarette rolled in a dried tendu leaf), defiantly sitting on her lips, radiates rawness and rebellion. On the back, the older, serene-looking woman looks back with a melancholic serenity. Both of these photographs tell more than a thousand words, narrating the path of a life led uncompromisingly and on her own terms. The visual curation is nothing short of brilliant.

The title, Mother Mary Comes to Me, instantly provokes curiosity. Given Roy’s well-known ambivalence toward organised religion, born to a Syrian Christian mother and a Hindu father who later converted to Christianity, one wonders if this is a reference to a mystical vision, a spiritual awakening, or a poetic metaphor. The answer, as one reads on, lies somewhere in between. Roy explains that she never quite belonged to any single religion or practised any religious tradition. This confession flows like a throbbing vein throughout the memoir.

Whereas her name precedes her reputation, backed by her prior win, connections with high-profile TV anchors, politicians, and the movers and shakers in the literary world, what finally pushed me to read her memoir was a combination of profound interest and respect for her writing. Roy's narration of tales is seamless and unafraid. There is no hyperbole, no attempt at veiling or softening truths. She lays bare her soul, drawing the reader into the innermost recesses of her existence with a candour that is disarming, making it hard sometimes to turn away or dismiss what she says.

Fundamentally, Mother Mary Comes to Me is a poignant exploration of mother-daughter relationships: strained, complicated, but strongly binding. But the memoir also branches out to Roy's activism, her public image, her politics, and the personal wounds that fashioned her into who she is today. She writes about childhood abuses, of being emotionally brutalised and neglected, of living on the margins, physically, socially, and emotionally, and of speaking out despite, or maybe because of, the silencing forces that prevailed around her.

Her mother, herself a hard-hitting activist, is at once a role model and a source of pain. A woman who defied patriarchal succession laws in Kerala and won against formidable opposition. She transmitted to her daughter the same combative spirit. And yet, she also transmitted the trauma. In perhaps the most burning chapter, "Her Birth Certificate Was an Apology from God," Roy describes the emotional burden of being an unwanted child, of knowing her mother had tried several times to abort her. It is ruthless in its candour, jolting in its emotional nudity. And still bearing this weight, the daughter is faithful, obedient, to a mother who was never able to really raise her.

This complicated, often heartbreaking relationship forms the emotional backbone of the memoir.

Roy's life, as recorded here, reads like a tattered red-and-white tablecloth, rough around the edges, smeared with use, but sewn together with resolve. From poverty to world fame, from the streets to the spotlight, from camp life in the forests to trial by jury in courtrooms, her path has never been a straight one. She has lived unapologetically, made unpopular choices, and in many cases, paid a high price, in the form of imprisonment, censorship, or demonisation. And yet, her humanity and ferocity are evident in equal proportions. She will not conform, will not apologise for her decisions. And in so doing, she inspires.

The memoir is also punctuated with digressions: accounts of demonstrations, political upheaval, and incarceration. Although they seem to divert from the main theme, they actually are crucial. Roy's activism is not an aside or an appendix; it is the essence of who she is. These parts create tension and urgency in the narrative, compelling the reader to read on and even to gasp in places.

As the pages turn, so do the layers of Roy's personality: fiery yet tender, disillusioned yet optimistic, severely hurt yet deeply self-conscious. She is, simultaneously, her mother's daughter and her own woman. A product of abandonment and a figure of defiance. A paradox she accepts more than she denies.

Having just written/self-published my own individual memoir, I was especially interested in reading Mother Mary Comes to Me. Although Roy and I have had very different lives, there are certainly threads of similarity to be acknowledged, particularly regarding how memory, emotion, and family influence identity. Her direct candour and unapologetic storytelling caused me to think more deeply about the vulnerability and courage it takes to share one’s life with the world.

In short, Mother Mary Comes to Me is a harrowing, uncompromising, and emotionally nuanced memoir about a woman who has never followed the rules. It is more than a chronicle of events; an intimate mapping of the emotional geography of her life. Raw, defiant, and redemptive. Whether or not one shares her vision of the world, it is impossible not to be impressed by the courage it took to publish this book.

A powerful follow-up to The God of Small Things, this memoir deserves both critical acclaim and a wide readership. It would not be surprising if Roy adds another prestigious literary accolade to her name for this explosive and exquisite work of truth-telling.

Verdict: A rousing, gutsy memoir that strips away every veil of the author's public self to show us a woman who is, above all else, human. A must-read.

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Setu, November 2025