Naag Mountain’s every word and every line is constructed in such a way that leaves no doubt in the reader's mind of Manisha Anjali's gift of writing. The poetry bleeds off the page in a rhythm of culture and history and captures readers as they listen to the tale of a displaced and exploited people. Naag Mountain is a connection of dreams, history, faith and pain reflecting the struggles of a community and depicting the harrowing violence of the indenture system. Through mastery of language and rhythm, Anjali constructs a narrative poem coloured by the surrealism of dreams. Historical figures, folk characters, a mysterious reel of film and the naag, the thousand-mouthed snake, all feature in this work. Naag Mountain is an insightful presentation of cultural recovery and displacement blurring the lines between dreams, messages and realities, the past and the present, the myth and the magic.

//Natalia Casement

Katie Goes To KL by Su-May Tan is an intriguing and culturally enlightening slice of life that carried the reader through the lively streets of Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. The novel draws the reader into a diverse, interesting, and joyful world through the lens of Katie – a young Australian girl who travels to Kuala Lumpur to attend her grandmother’s funeral. Over time, and with her mother acting as a tour guide, Katie gets to explore the city and makes strong bonds with the inhabitants, who help her understand the beauty of Malaysian culture.

Su-May Tan skillfully conveys the soul of each district, from the vibrant Chinatown to the vibrant Malay quarters, defining the diversity of Kuala Lumpur in the best possible way. The rich descriptions and vignettes of Malaysia’s multicultural landscape ensure this novel stands out from the rest.

Katie’s own journey of self-realisation and growth, while interacting with different characters and sceneries, allows for the reader to embrace the unknown and feel inspired to delve deeper into their own ancestral roots.

//Mansi Mattoo

Women’s care-work, their making of a home, is a theme that unites the bibis with any reader who has ever cooked or cared for others. It is a way to build a bridge between women, between people. The feminist credentials of the book are overt, the authors noting that: ‘Seeing the bibis through Khadija’s (M. Farah, the East African photographer) lens reminds us how important it is not only to highlight women’s stories but also to consider who captures and narrates them.’ An illuminating diversity of perspectives on gender issues is drawn out from the bibis as the book progresses. To read them feels like listening to elders in person, promotes deference and reflection. Sometimes we think of being in the kitchen as being trapped, both historically and as a lived experience across countries and cultures in the present day. This first-world-feminist dissatisfaction is challenged by the straightforward, assertive pride of the bibis in being mothers, grandmothers, homemakers, and generous caterers for their communities. There are also tales of small businesses, with women as both the entrepreneurs and the workers, doing it all. There is a familiarity in this creative competence and common sense which the book celebrates as strengths of women who uphold the structure of their families and communities. Part of the beauty and much of the resilience honoured here comes from an acknowledgement that the effort in preparation and provision of food is a daily one, rhythmic and endless. Who better than grandmothers to proffer the wisdom of just carrying on?

//Karen Lee