Once in while a book arrives, that in its raw honesty and compassionate storytelling evokes both discomfort and gratitude. Discomfort for its unsparing portrayal of the grimy social underbelly of institutional collapse, normalised violence, indigence, and psychological distress. And gratitude for its equally sincere vision of the minor but no less real redemption offered in shared empathy, personal resilience, and the tormented yet indefatigable love that binds broken children to their suffering parents.
Olga Tokarczuk in her Nobel lecture late 2019, had introduced the concept of the ‘tender narrator’ : “a point of view, a perspective from where everything can be seen. Seeing everything means recognising the ultimate fact that all things that exist are mutually connected into a single whole, even if the connections between them are not yet known to us.”

