I tried to get into this one but it wasn’t for me. I couldn’t connect with the characters or story. I might try again later, but for now it’s a DNF. Thank you NetGalley and the publisher for an ARc in exchange for an honest review.

Set in Madurai in 1992 and Sydney in 2019, the story follows Janani's struggle as a mother and Nila's journey to uncover her family's past. The narrative alternates between Nila's first-person perspective in 2019 and a third-person perspective in 1992.

What I Liked: The premise of addressing female infanticide and exploring the mother-daughter bond intrigued me. The 1992 track had well-developed characters like Subha and Kamala Amma, and the portrayal of midwives, including Kamala Amma, was commendable. The book also incorporated mentions of food, which added flavor to the story.

What Didn't Work for Me: The dual timelines made it difficult to connect with Nila's character in the present day. Her perspective seemed lacking, especially when compared to Janani's compelling journey. The revelation of Nila's secret felt lazy and did not do justice to the potential of the plot device. The excessive descriptions and poetic prose felt out of place, and the second half had an excess of unnecessary drama. The connection between the past and present was underexplored, leaving much to the reader's assumptions. The prologue served as a jarring chapter from later on, lacking subtlety. Additionally, the book presented biased statements as facts, disregarding the progress made in society and failing to acknowledge the safety concerns for women in various countries.

Overall, while the book tackled an important subject, its execution left much to be desired, diluting its impact.

The Daughters of Madurai combined the stories of Janani, who has her daughters taken away from her because all that counts in the society she lives in are sons, and Nila, who knows so little about her Indian heritage. Mostly, however, it is a story about the love between mothers and daughters.

I have to admit that I am pretty split in my opinion on this book. Janani‘s story moved me a lot. It’s not a topic that I knew anything about before going in the story, and I don‘t even think I‘ve read any books that are set in India before for that matter. It was an educating read and I also very much liked how the author clearly knew the locations intimately so it really felt like I was there in the middle of the plot. Janani herself is a very well fleshed-out character with a lot of character growth.

I also very much liked the side character of Kamala who had to deal with her own grief. The writing was, especially when it came to the characters‘ conflicted emotions, very lyrical and beautiful.

“‘I feel like I always knew,’ Kamala continued. ‘I could sense it on her, a sadness - or maybe it was my sadness, that I wouldn’t have as much time with her as either of us would have wanted.’”

That being said, I think I would have preferred if the book was just about Janani‘s story. Every time when the story switched to Nila‘s timeline, I felt like I really had to push through the chapter. I feel like I know much less about her, too, and her character development felt much more shallow than that of Janani.

The plot twists seemed rather obvious to me, especially as I guessed Nila‘s secret very early on. I also didn’t like the ending very much.

On a side note, as someone who read a digital arc of this book, I would have preferred to have the glossary in the very beginning of the book so I would have had a better understanding of who is who.

4/5 stars.

This poignant narrative delves into the lives of India’s daughters, spotlighting the stories of Janani, who endured the heartbreaking tradition of female infanticide, losing her daughters one after another. The lone survivor, Nila, was rescued and raised in Australia.

The tale unfolds across two continents, primarily oscillating between 1990s Madurai in India and 2019 Sydney in Australia.

The writing style is remarkably straightforward and easily accessible, though it occasionally appears to lack in-depth character name research and interpersonal dynamics. Additionally, I wanted more details about Janani’s journey to a new country after her second marriage—a significant aspect only hinted at but never fully revealed.

Thanks to Netgalley and the publishers for sending a digital ARC in exchange for an honest review.

Let me preface this review by saying I'm not Indian, Indian Australian, or in any way related to the diaspora. Rosh is, and left a very informative review.

I read this very slowly, as it deals with a difficult subject matter. Asian cultures prize male children above female children. We all remember China's one-child policy. Of my Vietnamese grandfather's nine children, he would routinely tell people he had four. The four are sons.

This book has two POVs. Janani lives in Madurai in 1992. Nila lives in Sydney in 2019. I guessed the connection long before it was mentioned, but as in other books with two POVs, one was clearly the winner for me. Janani's story captivated me from the first. Nila grew on me.

Janani is very often told by her mother in law that she is useless, because she keeps giving birth to daughters. They allow her to keep one, Lavanika. The others are killed. When other families in the same area give up their female babies to orphanages, they are looked down on, as this is more shameful than killing them.

I can't speak to the truths here. Like I said above, this is not my culture. I also quite enjoyed Kaikeyi, which no other South Asian I know enjoyed. So take this to heart. But this will remain a very special story to me. Books that invoke feeling often are.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher.

This book altered my brain chemistry forever. I will probably never forget this book as long as I live. What an amazing story and theme. It was so easy for me to follow this book and relate to the culture since I am of Indian decent, but to also realize what is wrong with the Indian society. This book was so painful to me as a mother, but I loved every minute of it. Stories like this need to be told so they can be shared with everyone in the world.

"The Daughters of Madurai is a powerful and poignant tale that intertwines a heartrending family narrative with a gripping mystery. Set in two timelines and locations, the story sheds light on the painful reality of female infanticide in Madurai, while also delving into the universal themes of love, resilience, and the unbreakable bond between mothers and daughters. Through compelling characters and an evocative storytelling style, the author skillfully explores the depths of human emotions and the strength of women in the face of adversity. This thought-provoking and emotionally charged novel is an impactful exploration of cultural traditions, secrets, and the enduring power of love."

The Daughters of Madurai is a beautiful story about the strength of women. Their friendships, their grief, their loss and their resilience through such adversity.
I buddy read this story with the lovely Dee and Lucy and our chats have been inspiring and emotional. I think we’ve all loved reading about Janani and Nila and have immersed ourselves and learnt so much about the Indian culture and way of life.
A lot of this story is emotional and harrowing, with horrors of infanticide a major part of Janani’s journey. The love between a woman and her daughter though seems to transcend the horrors and it leaves you with a feeling of hope.
The writing is beautifully descriptive and evoked such emotions and feelings for the women involved.

While I loved a theam and subject. I was very much invested in it, but it was too slow for me and finally I gave up - sorry

What a truly emotional book that focuses on female infanticide. Many moments had me teary eyed. It's a book that will leave an impression on readers

Although this book is well written, it brings nothing new to the table. It is not the first book to address female infanticide, and of course that is not the author's fault, however, she falls short of creating an excellent book and instead we have an average one that borders on good.

A beautifully crafted story of love, loss and the strength of a woman. The beginning is a bit slow but once you power through it, it gets better. Definitely recommend.

Thank you NetGalley and Union Square & Co. for giving me the opportunity to read this!

Variyar has brought a practice to the fore of which I knew not enough about. She has used this story not only to educate whoever come across this book of the tragic fate of too many baby girls in India. But she has also written with compassion showing the strength and endurance of mothers and the choices they may be forced to make.

This one’s such an emotional read about women and the way 1990s society treated women like we were dispensable, like we were curses upon the heads of our families. It’s the story of mothers, daughters, and their relationships. It’s the story of strength, of female willpower to fight against the wrongs, of staying true to oneself through all the horrors inflicted on women, of patriarchy and misogyny, of smashing them, of accepting ourselves, of finding what’s best for ourselves so that we are able to give the world the best despite everything in it that stands against us.

Oh this one just shattered my heart, especially with me being thousands of miles and oceans away from my mother, this cracked open my heart even more. It’s beautiful and the prose flows, even though 1 or 2 of the plot points can feel contrived. There’s a healthy contrast between the tracks while shuttling between timelines. It keeps you invested from the first line to the last. Would recommend!

A story of female infanticide in the 1990s in India that alternates with a modern Indian woman's journey to learn more about her past.

I thought this was an interesting story, but I found it to be very slow. Historical fiction for me tends to be slower in general, and at points, I struggled to come back to this one to finish it. Great story, just will probably take a while to get through.

I received my copy from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

In a Nutshell: A highly relevant topic that loses its impact due to the simplistic writing style and glossing over of key events. Good description of places, but shallow exploration of people.

Story Synopsis:
1992, Madurai, India. Janani knows that unless she bears a son, her future isn’t secure in her husband’s family. She was allowed to keep her first daughter, but the ones who came after were taken away soon after birth and murdered. How long can Janani survive in the face of such a situation, being insecure about herself, her daughter, and her unborn child?
2019, Sydney, Australia. Twenty-five-year old Nila has a secret that she hasn’t told her parents yet. Just when she decides to let them know, her grandfather in India falls ill. On a trip to Madurai, a place she hasn’t visited for more than a decade, Nila discovers that she isn’t the only one with secrets.
The story comes to us in the first person perspective of Nila and third person perspective of Janani.


Where the book worked for me:
🌷 I truly appreciate the topic. I wish I could say it was no longer relevant, but the fact is that many Indians are still crazy about having a boy child. Female infanticide is a shameful occurrence, so full marks for attempting to highlight the issue. I hadn’t heard about the Cradle Baby Scheme of the TN government, so learning about that was enlightening as well.

🌷 The author clearly knows both the locations and it shows in her writing. I don’t know Sydney, but I do know Madurai, and and it felt like she captured the pulse of the ambience without denigrating it. The crowds, the travel, the cityscape,… all felt genuine. (Mind you, this point applies only to the past timeline and only to the portrayal of location, not that of the people.)

🌷 Unlike many contemporary Indian-origin authors who are no longer residents of the country, and unlike many debut writers, this author doesn’t attempt to dump everything and the kitchen sink in the plot. Her focus is on two-three primary issues (priority towards sons, caste & wealth discrimination, and a minor but relevant topic connected to Nila’s secret) and she sticks to these.

🌷 Janani’s character growth is interesting, especially in the past timeline. She isn’t shown as perfect, but as someone who knows her limits and tries to push them to the fullest. I also liked the author’s choice of name for her. ‘Janani’ means ‘mother’ in Sanskrit, so it felt like an apt name for a character whose entire identity stems from her ability to be the mother to sons while all she pines for is her lost daughters. Even Shubha and Kamala were good characters. I wish there had been more of them in the book.

🌷 A part of the narrative also deals with the pressure on men to choose ‘viable’ careers such as medicine or engineering, and continue the ‘family name’. Most Indian fiction novels focus only on the women, so it was a pleasant surprise to see this being included.

🌷 I am not sure if this a good point or bad, but all the references to South Indian cuisine kept me salivating. My stomach kept growling, but my heart was happy to see all those references. (I love South Indian food!)


Where the book could have worked better for me: (Oh boy! Here we go!)
🌵 When there are two timelines and one of them is in first person, we automatically expect to know more about that character’s feelings. In this book however, we know more about Janani than Nila. Nila’s arc is very underwhelming, and her emotional trajectory seems more surface level. The contemporary timeline is too simplistic and brushes aside any scene where there was a scope for deeper introspection of the characters.

🌵The representation of the Indian locations in the contemporary 2019 timeline felt like wishful thinking than realistic. I don’t know if this was to cater to the American market, but bowling isn’t a popular pastime activity in India at all. So to see characters choose bowling as their option one made me laugh. And please, what in the world is ‘Thank Bhagavan!’ Phrases aren’t translated verbatim across languages. There are many cultural inaccuracies as well. I wish authors didn’t bend facts so much just to cater to the target market.

🌵 The prologue has got to be among the worst I have ever read. Doesn’t add to the story, doesn’t connect to a relevant scene, is brushed aside with a quick reference later in the narrative. Its only purpose seems to be to create shock value. The data therein would have served better as an introductory note than as a prologue.

🌵 There are too many unnecessary descriptions, especially in the initial chapters of the past timeline. This pulls down the pace.

🌵 The connection between the two tracks is obvious within the first few pages, and even what's supposed to be a mystery (Nila’s secret) is quite obvious. So we already know the whats when we are reading the book, we just need to wait to discover the hows and whys. Unfortunately, the hows aren’t revealed even until the ending. There is this huge buildup to the Sanjay-Janani track, and then bamm…Everyone is in Australia! What? How? What happened in between? Such a flimsy ending!

🌵 Without going into spoilers: Lavanika is five and had no living siblings. Nila is two years older than Rohit. This data won't make sense to you now, but if you read the book, you'll realise that this simple maths will reveal much in advance, a supposedly surprising twist. I am one who likes characters’ ages being mentioned, but in this case, they were a spoiler to what should have been a ‘Oh my!’ moment.

🌵 This will be a doozy of a point, so please bear with me. We Indians have distinct relationship words for almost every relation. Unlike English that has a simple grandmother, grandfather, sister-in-law, uncle, aunt, younger sister, and so on, most Indian languages have a specific word for each relationship. So a dad's sister and a mom's sister and an uncle's wife--all "aunts" in English--will be called by different words as per the specific relation. The issue is further complicated by the fact that India has a multitude of languages. So an elder brother will be called ‘Chetta’ in Malayalam, ‘Anna’ in Tamil, ‘Dada’ in Marathi and so on. So imagine throwing this complicated network of relations on unsuspecting Westerners! Forget Westerners, even I felt lost at times amid all the Acchachas and Veliammas and Ammayis and Kochachans. Having words from two languages—Tamil and Malayalam—added to the difficulty. I wonder how the intended readership in the US will cope with these.

🌵 I must add that there is a glossary at the end of all the Tamil and Malayalam words, but I discovered this after struggling through the whole book! In digital editions, people can’t flip through the pages, nor do they necessarily read the table of contents. So it is always helpful to have the glossary at the start, or to provide the meanings as footnotes. Even a mention of the glossary towards the start would have been better.


All in all, I can just sum up by saying that this was a disappointing experience to me. While the topics were relevant, the approach was bland. It was a simple story needlessly convoluted. As it is a debut novel, I am truly sorry this was a dud for me, and I wish the author the very best for her future works.

This might work better with those who know just a little about India. So yeah, the target market can still try this out.

My thanks to Union Square & Co. and NetGalley for the DRC of “The Daughters of Madurai”. This review is voluntary and contains my honest opinion about the book.

*Outliner Opinion* *possible spoilers*

2 Stars

One Liner: A book with an important topic, but the below-par execution ruins the impact

1992, Madurai
Janani is a poor and young mother ordered to bear a son. She can keep her first daughter, but the others are taken away and killed. What happens when she decides to take control of her life?
2019, Sydney
Nila has little knowledge of her parents’ past lives in India. When the news of her dying grandfather reaches them, they decide to come to Madurai for the final visit. Nila is excited and dreads the trip in equal measure. Does she want to know the past? And how does she intend to reveal her secret to her parents?
The story comes in Nila’s first-person POV in the 2019 track, and third-person POV in the 1993 track.

What I Like:
I requested the book for its premise. Female infanticide has been a cause of concern in the country, and a book dealing with it while also presenting the bond between a mother and daughter intrigued me.
The past track is comparatively better-etched characters like Subha, Kamala Amma, Priya Ammai, etc., Even though some of it reads like a boring TV drama, it does tackle the core issue.
Kamala Amma is a midwife and my favorite character in the book. Midwives have since long held a subtly powerful position in our society while being victims in some instances. I like how the character handles different issues with grace.
There are a lot of mentions of food. Idli, dosa, sambar, pongal, chutney, etc., are recurring and some of my favorite parts of the book.

What Didn’t Work for Me:
The issue with dual timelines is that it is very easy to lose interest in one track, especially if it is not executed properly. Here, the present track is set in 2019, and Nila is the narrator. My biggest issue was the lack of connection with her throughout. There wasn’t a single instance I could feel for her. Despite the 1993 timeline having a limited third-person POV, Janani stands out and controls the plot. Reading Nila’s whiny POV when Janani went through so many hardships in the other timeline was annoying, to say the least.
Nila’s secret and the big reveal were lazy. Iphigenia deserved better. Heck, the entire rep deserved more than being a badly used plot device.
I understand the need for descriptions in non-Western books. Readers alien to the culture will need this information for authentic feeling. However, this one was overly descriptive. A few bits of poetic prose felt odd, given the setting and backdrop.
The second half has a little too much drama. Some of it seems more like a way to justify Janani’s decision (which was easy enough to guess). It’s not like we don’t know what happened.
And here is another big issue. The part that connects the past and present isn’t even explored! Most of it is left to the readers’ assumptions. Come on! When you talk about caste differences, family dynamics, and stuff, how come all of it is brushed off when needed the most?
And then the prologue… I love prologues and epilogues because they enrich the plot. But what use is a prologue that’s just one of the chapters from later on? It just shocks the reader and tries to introduce the core topic with zero subtlety.
I am all for highlighting issues in society. However, I don’t appreciate bias presented as facts. What does it mean to say when Indians haven’t seen women joggers or runners on the roads? And what does it mean when a character says India is not like the US or UK, where a girl can go for a run without being teased or assaulted? It’s set in 2019, for god sake! I go to supermarkets, bookstores, and bakeries in my PJs and no one bats an eyelid.
Also, can someone please tell me which country is absolutely safe for women? Shall we look at the stats in the countries mentioned in the book? Here’s what the reports say about violence against women in the US, UK, and Australia (where the MC lives).
https://www.rainn.org/statistics/victims-sexual-violence (US)
https://criminalinjurieshelpline.co.uk/blog/sexual-assault-data-stats/ (UK)
https://www.ourwatch.org.au/quick-facts/ (Aus)
Andhra is spelled with an ‘h’. It is not Andra. I hope this gets corrected in the final copy. I hate to see my native state’s name misspelled.
And please… thank Bhagavan is NOT the desi version of ‘thank god’. It sounds so cringe! I literally winced each time this phrase appeared in the book.
Personally, I haven’t heard Indian women comparing themselves to cows, especially someone from a village (pig, bandicoot, donkey, monkey; yes). I’ve only read Western books where women joke about looking fat and unappealing like a cow.

IMO, the book would have worked a lot better if the entire story focused on Janani. A first-person or third-person POV where Janani’s past and present are shown in alternate chapters. This would also help us see Nila through Janani’s eyes.
Her overprotectiveness, the desire to hide the truth and its consequences on her daughter’s attitude, the pain she feels seeing her daughter pull away due to miscommunication, etc., will compel the readers to cry for her. Most importantly, it would have shown what Janani felt when she finally has a son. What was her first thought? How did this affect the upbringing of her children (because it clearly did)?
This could have been spaced out with a few chapters from Sanjay’s POV (which are already present in the book). There is such potential in the premise, and most of it is left unexplored.

To summarize, The Daughters of Madurai has its moments but fails to impress as a package. It might appeal to readers who know little or nothing about the setting and like books that claim to deal with social issues.
Thank you, NetGalley and Union Square & Co. - A subsidiary of Sterling Publishing, for the eARC. This review is voluntary and contains my honest opinion about the book.

The beautiful cover grabbed my attention, the description had me requesting immediately and crossing everything that I got approved. And I am so glad I did - one of my favourite books of the year so far!

This book had me absolutely sobbing on several occasions, and any book that can melt my heart in that way deserves all the praise in the world.

We have dual timelines, and three different perspectives. The way they all weave together is seamless.

The 1992/3 chapters start in relation to time before and after conception, and we have a snippet of a developing pregnancy. Even those few lines at the start of each section are powerful and filled with love.

I won't spoil anything for you but this book takes you on a journey and we face some huge topics. All are handled powerfully but sensitively. Even the 2019 Sydney chapters have difficult issues around love, family and duty. As you can expect from the title, the role of women in society is a dominant theme in this book, and there are some equally strong characters who tell their stories.

The imagery is gorgeous and you can fully see all the scenes taking place, with wonderful descriptions for all the senses.

I just want to hold this phenomenal book forever, or place it on a shelf next to my bed so I can look at it and remind myself of it (sadly it was an ebook so I will try to rectify this soon!)

There are parts that are harrowing, other parts that are bittersweet, but it is empowering, impactful and such an important read.

P.S. I've read some reviews saying there are a lot of relations making it complicated. I didn't find this at all, and for anyone who did, there is a glossary at the back.

— 3.9 stars

Reading The Daughters of Madurai was like no other experience I’ve ever had before. It was deeply personal; intimate in a way that venturing too far only results in the unravelling of certain wounds concealed deep within. Rajasree Variyar creates a striking contrast between the two timelines scattered across the novel—present and the past. This isn’t a tale for the faint-hearted but a tale of the deeply woven misogyny in the minds of the people in India, an issue that was more than just an issue decades ago.

The Daughters of Madurai illustrates the lives of two women; of Janani, in 1992, and of Nila, in 2019. Janani is cursed—she brings nothing but girl children into her family at a time when girls were considered a burden. She is married off into a family that’s highly prejudiced and abusive. She finds no love but has a daughter to live for, her eldest one. Nila is keeping a secret, one that threatens to spill. But as her grandfather dies, she’s to leave for India with her family along with the looming threat of her history menacing to reveal itself.

Traversing through the streets of Madurai, the novel poses a delicate question of womanhood, infanticide and misogyny. Caught in the vicious cycle of patriarchy, countless women like Janani undergo oppression and believe it normal. Where there should be a celebration of a girl child, there’s nothing but intolerance.

Variyar weaves her poignant themes seamlessly into the story, like the remnant of an echo left unsaid. Gritty as it is, the book hits a little too close to home—which left me tossing and turning uncomfortably because there it was. All the unspoken feelings and emotions that had built up in, reading this was giving voice to them.

The only issue I had with the book was the middle. At times, it felt that things were unnecessarily long and were straying far from the heart of the story. And some parts of the writing felt a little clippy, mixed with some slang that didn’t go well with the narrative.

But nevertheless, The Daughters of Madurai is a poignant and enduring tale of mothers and daughters and all the secrets and struggles shadowed in between. A relationship that promises complexities, especially in Asian households, this book is for the women who look for their moonbeams as a guide in the dark.

This book grapples with a painful subject, the practice of female infanticide. Some cultures don’t value girls so the babies are taken upon birth.
That happens to the main character who never recovers from her losses.
I am very interested in this topic., but I had difficulty with this book. There are so many characters it was hard to keep them straight. The glossary in the back would have been more helpful at the beginning of the book.