Ambai's exquisitely written collection of short stories, translated with equal expertise by Lakshmi Holmström, spans themes those are vernacular, yet their humanity appeals to a global readership. Even as the stories are mostly set in Tamil Nadu, Holmström's keen-eyed translation ensures that cultural nuances never get lost in translation. (I realise I may be biased as a reviewer who grew up in Tamil Nadu and I want to acknowledge that some cultural references / quirks can indeed prove to be a stumbling block for international readers). Ambai's women are dignified in the face of patriarchal oppression, religious intolerance, and achieve their own form of self-liberation within the confines of their restricted lives when it comes to expressing love, loss, motherhood and sexuality. Some stories evoke a sense of place so strong I often found myself longing with nostalgia (even though I have no similar experience to speak of).

As a queer person, Ambai"s story of selfhood and its decomposition resonated with me. More often than not, the experience of having a voice becomes something to be coveted, in turn something to be cherished when you have it. This book taught me to relish the moments, even small ones, where I feel like I have pull amid the asymmetry of life. The smallest moments, the fragmented scenes, the aroma of existence, and the arresting voice of the narrator contributed to make the work sparkle. I got a strong sense of the culture from which this book came, now in a translation that makes it accessible to the English-speaking world. The edition I read needed a final copy-edit for formatting and translational support, but the book was a delight overall to spend time with. Thank you, Archipelago and NetGalley, for delighting my mind with this gift of a book.

‘A kitchen in the corner of the house’ is a rare delight, a rich and evocative series of short stories which spill over into one another, informing each other and building up a specific backdrop across generations of Tamil women. The book is a literary tapestry, the language colourful, lyrical and deeply sensual (and addictive) – it makes you want to crawl into the pages and stay there. The quiet tension is built up by a density of language and Ambai’s adept ability to inject flavour and mood into her prose. The themes circle the fate of the female, her body, the physical space she inhabits and the roles she plays. A slow paced read but all the more worthy because of it!

Highly recommended reading...A phenomenal novel by AMBAI. Brilliant. Highly recommended reading. Recommending this for feminist reading groups.

I loved these stories. They are quiet but gripping: it's a collection that will stay with me for years to come. We need more women's stories like these.

Literary fiction at its best.Each story of women searching emerging unique wonderful fascinating.An original voice a delight to read an author to follow.#netgalley#archipeligo

A combination of poetry and prose that brings Jamaica Kincaid to mind. The voice and images are impactful, if not always easy to decipher. Allowing them to gradually build upon each other ends up being a rich experience.

Reading Ambai’s collection, A Kitchen in the Corner of the House, is like being a tourist in the lives of woman across Tamil Nadu, India. These stories, translated by Lakshmi Holmström, take us inside homes where woman are living lives of quiet (more or less) desperation. Many of these women feel trapped by the expectations of being a girl and a woman: being on a fast track to wife and mother; cooking, cleaning, and caring for everyone in the family; keeping silent and biddable. The tension comes from wondering if the protagonist of each story will find some kind of freedom—at least a room of her own for self-expression—or if they will continue to live circumscribed existences.

To be honest, many of the stories in this collection blurred together for me. Part of this is because so many of the stories feature the same themes and the same sort of characters. Many of the stories take place inside rooms that could be anywhere in southern India. Another part of the problem may be the translation or the fact that I was reading a mostly unformatted advanced reader copy. There are a lot of pronouns for which I couldn’t trace antecedents. A better formatted copy might have had helpful section breaks to help. It might also have helped in Holmström had taken the liberty of swapping some of the pronouns for names.

Because I had such a hard time telling the stories apart (aside from section titles), it’s hard to pick standouts. There were some stories that peeked over the parapet (mostly because of their depiction of southern Indian food), but distinguishing them isn’t all that important to the experience of A Kitchen in the Corner of the House. Readers interested in the experience of woman (there don’t appear to be any trans characters) in India should enjoy this book because of it’s fly-on-the-wall point of view. It’s also a book that requires slow, careful reading, which may also appeal to readers who are looking for books that don’t try to give you whiplash with wild plot twists.

While the opening story captivated me, as I went along, I found it more and more difficult to follow the stories. My inclination was to blame the editing or translation over the writer because there are moments of brilliance that shine through the confusing sentence structure and numerous cultural references thrown out without any support for the reader.

Thank you Net galley. As always, Ambai is a delight to read. Having them on my kindle is very convenient.

A Kitchen in the Corner of the House was an intriguing short story collection, especially because of the language and writing style. The stories confronts the construction of gender, which makes it a feminist read, which I enjoyed a lot.

This is a solid compendium of 21 stories, translated from the Tamil by Lakshmi Holstrom. They have been published in groups in 1992, 2006 and 2012 and reflect the changes in local, Indian and World politics and realities. Some are not very long and reflect an incident or a thought – the simple vicissitudes of a bus trip for instance, or a swim in the river - but others are much longer and deeper explorations of Tamil family life and culture. They are brilliant and compelling tales, but taken together they open a new window on Tamil life and are a truly extraordinary collection.
They are strong stories, creating a strong sense of place, leaving lingering thoughts and memories so selecting a few to highlight would be difficult. But the title story gives an idea of what the reader might expect. A seemingly simple description of a house – but what is then a much deeper exploration of family power politics and the relative relationship between men and women and across generations as well. Control of the kitchen indicating the most powerful woman in the household- a deeply established historical and cultural practice.
Most of the stories are told from the woman’s perspective – although the men are not of course lacking and there is sympathy for them too, but never forgetting the power they hold – and might abuse. Seemingly simple stories showing families of varying wealth allow the exploration of Tamil literature, poetry and dance – but beyond that the extent to which most people saw their lives as bedded into a stronger background of myth and ancient religion. As well, of course a substantially rural background at one with animals, plants and the landscape – all depicted vibrantly in these stories ( In the Forest A Deer, or Forest for example).
But a cluster of the longer stories depict the political struggles – through independence, the battle for women’s rights in education and safety in the streets. And then finally as some of the middle class women are entering the working places – depicting the compromise, the breadth of difference with those left behind and scarily the inter-religious struggles and violence that has since evolved and overshadows the earlier discussions on women’s rights and threatening to reverse the advances. We see a cluster of strong women working hard for rights and the price they will pay in the short and medium term – and then the review of the older survivors of what they have achieved personally and their response.
But of course, the important thing for most people is the realities, and often minutiae, of their day to day life. That is inevitably relationships, families and communities – with all their good and bad. Ambai never forgets that. So this is an important collection of stories that will speak to people across countries and cultures. But it is also an important marker of both its times and values and life styles that are changing as the world (and peoples) moves on and culture centralises. A wonderful read to browse, contemplate and enjoy the deep depiction of another culture and place.

The title story is the highlight of this collection and its a nice read. Collection bored me after a while as it had the typical tropes of feminist/modernist stories that comes out in Indian magazines and literary journals which feels like a thing of the past as far as story telling techniques are concerned (this was particularly bad in story about a singer, that story seemed straight out of an Indian movie) - and the retelling of Puranic stories, give me a break (there is a flood of such books in Indian market now with the advent of nationalistic politics). There were too many stories to read too. I bailed half way through. I haven't read Ambai before, but I guess she writes well, The title story was well translated. Many thanks to NetGalley for the opportunity to read and review the book.

These stories about the life of Tamil women cast a spell on me. They are quiet; like the ebb and flow of a calm river in a serene forest, but contain so much intelligence and heart, with unusual female characters. I love her writing and its references to Hindu myth and Tamil classics.

Ambai's melancholy, poignant, yet life-affirming stories are very attuned to their landscape and to nature. Thoughtful women in her stories are always seeing things differently from everyone else, feeling differently, and attempting to live on their own terms. The writing is beautiful and atmospheric.

I'm grateful to Netgalley and the publisher for giving me the opportunity to read this book. I'm always curious about foreign culture and customs, and whilst the stories in the anthology succeeds in offering the reader a glimpse into the lives of everyday Tamil people, the translation and editing does the book a huge disservice. Simply put, it is badly translated; and the prose is jarring. I would gladly read it again if these issues were corrected.

This is an exceedingly rich compilation of short stories by the revered writer, C. S. Lakshmi under her nom de plume, Ambai. Twenty-five pieces, all regarding what it means to be a woman in a Tamil family. While there are many cultural differences, it is the similarities that provoke and spark interest, areas such as reaching maturity, dealing with the natural maturity of the female body, and the importance of holding sway in the kitchen. This definitely will resound with women readers.

This book was full of lush imagery that let my brain travel when it worked, but sometimes I got lost in a bad way, culturally, perhaps. If the Kindle version didn't have shortcuts to looking up terms in a dictionary or Wikipedia, I may have not bothered to finish this book, but even so having to look things up to know what it is and what purpose it served in a sentence got tiresome.

A slow burner because the many cultural references were so unfamiliar to me. I started out looking up the references but became so bogged down that I lost track of the stories, so let them go and went with the flow. This is a celebration of women of all levels of wealth and education in the Indian Tamil community, the way they are encouraged to embrace security along with limitations. Many of them are heartbreaking stories of aspirations and love thwarted by close-knit families and traditional society. We also see women taking control of their own lives as soon as they get the chance and these touched me particularly.

‘…when the entire family is engaged in creating the head of the household, a man, she has to find the nooks and crannies where she can create herself out of the evidence of her own being.’

‘“Why are you at the window?” is the question underlying her life. The window is the symbol of the world outside. Her freedom lies outside the window.’

‘She was overcome with weariness at the thought that she had lost forever the security of accepting everything with closed eyes, that from now on she must walk through paths which she herself had to clear of stones and thorns.’

What might seem to be a gloomy collection is offset, though, by the penultimate one where a woman decides not to emigrate after all and stay to continue her friend’s work.

A very interesting read, beautifully translated, and I’d recommend it.

I really didn’t know anything about Ambai before I read A Kitchen in the Corner of the House but now, I am truly enlightened. I have read a lot of literature written in English by Indian writers but Ambai’s work was a first for me to read Indian, specifically Tamil literature, in translation. Ambai’s work can be considered feminist literature as many of her stories examine what’s it’s like to be a woman in India, particularly regarding how the female body is portrayed and treated in Indian society. In one story, adults regard one woman’s body as one that never “blossomed” because she never bore children even though children see her differently. The author also explores the traditionally female space of the kitchen as one where women think they hold power. She also re-examines the story of Sita, Rama’s wife, whose faithfulness to her husband came into question after she was rescued from her kidnapper. Sometimes, I found Ambai’s stories difficult to follow because they were peppered with local references but overall, her work carries a somber tone and is sure to resonate with female readers.