Book Review: When you ask me where I'm going by Jasmin Kaur

I picked this up almost by accident in a pile at Barnes & Noble just as my husband rejoined me so we could join the line. We'd done our solo browsing and it was now or never, the moment to commit to whatever book(s) we were keeping. James somehow always has at least five books from which he forces himself to pick two, an agonizing process that he forces me to participate in. I tend to browse for books in the opposite way, bookmarking shelves in my head as I choose my 'maybes', just in case I have to go back and declare that book victorious after all. I don't like to pick up a book and walk around with it, only to leave it at a different table than I found it at the last minute. It feels cruel, unkind. I'm certain the books can feel the rejection. This book compelled me to pick it up almost as soon as I set eyes on it, something about the simplicity of the cover and the gravity of the title. I studied it and thought, 'definitely maybe'. At decision time it was the only book that called me back and seemed to whisper, 'take me, I have things to tell you.' I looked at the picture of the author to help me decide and she exuded a careful cool that also seemed to say, 'you want to listen to the things I have to tell you.' And so it was decided that we were to go home together.

I love this book for the simple way it uses language. Like with the cover, the simplicity delivers something complex, grave and beautiful. Words are used so delicately that it makes it easy to get lost in the story, to shed your own skin and for a time inhabit someone else's: that of an immigrant trying desperately to fit into the new, unwelcoming society they've been thrust into; that of a woman in a culture that blames every ill on her, even when she is clearly the victim; that of a young woman simply trying to navigate life in a prickly, modern world. The use of parts of human anatomy as connective tissue for the different parts of the book is clever and acts as a great foreshadowing tool that also gives the book a nice flow. The poems are easy while carrying depth. Here are two I enjoyed very early on.

However, as with most things, there were parts I didn't quite enjoy as much as the rest. Along with the collection of poems that span the manuscript, she also wrote what I will call a novella in the body of the book. While I did like the story interlaced with the poetry, I suppose the simplicity I love in poetry doesn't always translate directly to what I love in storytelling. I felt that the style should have thus changed slightly to accommodate and it didn't. I think because of this, I found myself in certain settings that felt drawn to create specific emotions, like I was being coerced into feeling something; moments that were perhaps too over simplified that it resulted in a staging rather than a telling; instances where I read the words rather than felt them. It didn't happen often, which is why it stood it when it did.

All that said, I still loved the time I got to spend with this book. I think I also always enjoy witnessing the critical eye turned inward. To experience people who love their cultures question the very foundations those cultures are built on, and to do so honestly. It takes a certain strength and grace, a certain nerve and honesty. It's not easy and I'm always impressed by it. As an author, it's what I live to do, as an artist it's the very fertilizer necessary for my growth. But, as a human, it's the most uncomfortable stretch. It's uncomfortable to brush up abrasively against all that you know, to push back against it and to refuse to give it a free pass. But it is necessary and I enjoyed Jasmin's version of this. I feel richer for it. It made me feel things, good and bad, saucy and grave. It's a look into a different culture that isn't that different at all. It's a commentary on humanity. It's a quick read that I would recommend to anyone who loves words and their honest manifestations.

Official rating: 3.5 out of 5