3 out of 5

How to rate a genre you absolutely loathe?  The inclination is to tear the thing apart, because you dislike the genre for, you’d claim, critical reasons, although taking a step back from that ire you can say – through grit teeth – that every style has its merit, especially if there’s an audience for it.  But then there’s the further problem that you definitely don’t read much that could be used for comparison, so, truly, who are you to judge?

Who am I to judge Durga Sweets, the idealized tragic love story?  Romance certainly isn’t my bag, though I do think I can appreciate a good meet cute, especially when it’s dosed with enough reality to make it feel relevant.  But the swooning tragedy – yearning, unrequited love; the strong, single, imperfect woman – leans more toward the romance novel world, which makes me hate my life and that there’s a need for such escapism where it’s “romantic” to want to feel like someone thinks of us, even when we have no desire for them…  See?  Bias.  Add to this the cultural angle, and we slip into a whole subset of the scene where what’s foreign gets to take on particular assumed traits of which the writer can take advantage; in this case, with its Indian setting, there’s a further simplification of feelings and relationships – simple clothes, a simple business, a simple life that oh-so bodice-rippingly contains layers and layers of emotions and drama bubbling just ‘neath the surface…

Bipin Bahari lusts after Sabitri.  Despite other opportunities, he chooses to take a less prestigious job working at her sweets shop, maybe for other reasons, but probably just to be near her.  Where Divakaruni injects some life into the format is in its construction: picking things up at the end of Sabitri’s story – her passing – and jumping back bit by bit through the years, tracing the evolution and source of Bipin’s feelings toward her.  And this is where I must step back from my bias as far as possible and admit that the tale is very well written, and very well paced, and very well designed.  While I’m frustrated by the limitations of the genre, I believe I got exactly the sense of Bipin and Sabitri intended, and the time jumps successfully add just enough extra detail at each step to make the scene, within context, worthwhile.  It would seem forced, though, if I rated this higher, because I don’t know how to.  I don’t know what we’re supposed to gain by story’s end except the hope / vindication that we can be imperfect and die alone and have someone continue to love us.  Sweet.  Cool.  Continue doing that.