I wasn’t sure what to expect from The Bandit Queens by Parini Shroff; it promised dark humor in the face of horrific abuse, and that can be a hard line to walk… and one that can go catastrophically wrong very quickly if the balance gets tipped off even for a moment. Still, the premise and cover sounded interesting enough that I was willing to go in with solid expectations even though I’ve gotten a bit skeptical of Barnes and Noble’s book club selections.
Seriously, though. Look at it. That is a fantastic cover. It’s visually striking, its vibe matches that of the novel itself, and it does not closely resemble any other books out there.
What’s it about?
After her drunken, abusive husband disappeared one day, Geeta has been treated with fear and suspicion by the others in her village. Although she had nothing to do with his sudden absence, everyone is convinced that Geeta murdered Ramesh. This reputation makes for a lonely existence, but it isn’t without its advantages: Geeta is now free from physical abuse, able to provide for herself without the money going to illegal alcohol, and people are scared not to buy her products. The problem arises when Farah, a member of Geeta’s local loan group, takes Geeta’s reputation a step farther and asks for Geeta’s assistance in killing her own violent husband.
What’d I think?
I really enjoyed The Bandit Queens. Don’t get me wrong: it is very dark and I suspect it could be quite triggering to some readers as the murder is really the tip of the iceberg. The Bandit Queens engages with alcoholism, sexism, domestic and sexual assault (including, briefly, of children), casteism, colorism, violence, and animal abuse. The humor, in my opinion, is used as a sort of coping mechanism, allowing Geeta—and, through her, Shroff—to address these subjects without being drowned by them. It can be a bit irreverent at times, but not (at least in my opinion) irreverently so. The novel and its tone never undercut the horrors by attempting to make them seem less horrible. Geeta’s humor is, like the career she makes of making widows, a direct if over-the-top response to abuses she suffers. When dealing with content like this, it’s all about the tone and the gravity. The Bandit Queens uses humor, but it never makes light of any of it. That’s the difference between something like The Bandit Queens and something like The Paper Palace (which was also a BN book club pick that engaged with sexual assault and pedophilia) which made me actively sick to my stomach.
The banter between the characters is really fantastic, though. At our book club discussion we had lots of tangents where someone just said “remember when Saloni said such-and-such” or “oh my gosh that scene at the police station!” and we all took a minute to chuckle.
That being said, all potential readers should go into The Bandit Queens with their eyes open. If you are triggered by any of the above subjects, or if you would be upset by dark humor being utilized as a way to process trauma, this may not be a novel you want to engage with. There are lots of books out there, and life is too short to read ones that will distress you!
This is an incredibly good debut. A lot of authors have a ton of potential with their first book but only fully deliver on it in subsequent publications, but Shroff does a great job right off the bat. With the exception of a single scene—the climax in Geeta’s house goes on too long and the tone, which had previously been exactly what it needed to be without ever getting too dark or too flippant, wavered—The Bandit Queens is an exciting ride, with each event no matter how seemingly small spiraling out of control until Geeta finds herself in an ever-expanding web of insanity. Every few chapters brings a new surprise, and the result is that there aren’t any lags where the reader might get bored and set the book aside. It flows quickly enough that there’s always something new, but never so quickly that the reader is unable to digest what came before. The characters are all a lot of fun. Everything in this novel is slightly overblown, so at first glance some of the characters seem a bit stereotypical, but by the end they have all revealed themselves to be more three-dimensional than they first appeared. Also, the recurring theme “be a bonobo” is delightful.
Arguably that’s the main idea of this novel: that women are stronger together, that they should look out for each other, and that structures of oppressive power can only be challenged or broken when the oppressed put aside petty differences and stand together. The friendships that Geeta rekindles and forges—and specifically the friendships with other women—are arguably the best part of The Bandit Queens, and I love how Shroff took the singular historical Bandit Queen and used her as an inspiration for this group of women working together, the plural Bandit Queens.
The overarching plot of the novel is basically crusty outsider gets folded back into the community in an unusual way, and as a result The Bandit Queens belongs in conversations with books like A Man Called Ove or Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine (although for what it’s worth, I disliked A Man Called Ove and feel it comes decidedly on the wrong side of the ‘dealing with sensitive subjects delicately’ line, particularly regarding suicide). If you liked either of those two books, you should give this one a shot.
One major thing that The Bandit Queens has going for it is the setting and culture. It is set in a small village in India, and Shroff weaves the story of real-life Bandit Queen Phoolan Devi into her own story. I loved learning a little about India while reading this, and both the geography and the culture of Geeta’s village gave the story a decidedly different feel than a similar story set in a more familiar (to me) setting would. The religious tensions between the Hindus and the Muslims, as well as the caste structure, created a fascinating backdrop. I just loved the little touches that made the setting pop (the woman playfully refer to the murdering of husbands as ‘removing their noserings’). Shroff also does a fantastic job of making her novel accessible to those who aren’t familiar with Indian culture, geography, and history without pandering to us. There were things that she fully contextualized for me, and there were things that I had to look up because it was a major gap in my knowledge that Shroff is not responsible for. The balance there was great, and the other members of the book club agreed. I often unintentionally get in a rut of reading only books set in America and England, and whenever I read something like The Bandit Queens I’m reminded of how shortsighted and limiting that is.
It’s not often that my whole book club agrees on a book, but we did for this one: The Bandit Queens is a winner.
What’s the verdict?
This is the sort of book that will likely split opinions. I’m on the side that found it a compelling and, yes, funny book that nevertheless handles difficult subject with nuance and tact. Others may find it triggering or insensitive for the way it uses humor alongside said difficult subjects. Ultimately, The Bandit Queens surprised me. It isn’t the sort of book I usually read, but it is intriguing and well written. The dark humor makes for a novel that is both full of potentially upsetting material (sexism, classism, domestic and sexual assault, etc.) and a fast-paced, enjoyable story about a woman being thrust into a delightfully weird situation. It’s an odd combination, but it is balanced well and I found it a rewarding read from a talented debut writer.
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