Three Bapsi Sidhwa novels you need to read

On December 25, Pakistan lost one of its most beloved novelists, Bapsi Sidhwa. To honour her work, we asked members of the Dawn.com staff about their favourite books by her and why they’re important.

She was the author of several published works, but these three novels stuck with us, all for different reasons.

The Crow Eaters

Aniqa Atiq Khan: The Crow Eaters by Bapsi Sidhwa is a witty and heartwarming exploration of the Parsi community in Pakistan, seen through the lens of the protagonist Fareedoon (Freddy) Junglewalla’s life. The novel opens with Freddy’s death, setting the tone for a story that moves back and forth in time, capturing the rise and decline of both an individual and an entire community.

Sidhwa’s eye for the absurdities of human nature shines through, particularly in her portrayal of the Parsi way of life post-World War II. The characters — especially Freddy, a lovable rogue, and his mother-in-law Jerbanoo, whose comical attempts at English and dry-cleaning rituals add layers of levity — are irresistibly engaging. The novel’s humor, irreverent yet affectionate, prevents it from descending into sentimentality, offering a refreshingly candid portrayal of a community caught between tradition and modernity.

The book’s depiction of an era gone by, filled with richly drawn characters and vivid descriptions of Lahore, makes it an utterly captivating read. It stands out not only for its narrative depth but for its ability to laugh at the foibles of the past without losing sight of its cultural significance.

Anushe Engineer: I was 11 or 12 years old when I read The Crow Eaters, and aside from discovering and making Bapsi Sidhwa my favourite author, it became known to me that the tiny Parsi community I belong to has been wonderfully showcased by someone from among us. The feminist lens through which Bapsi Sidhwa writes has added a critical layer to history that is often overshadowed, and the legacy she leaves behind as one of Pakistan’s most prolific writers — and one of the few Parsi literary giants — is monumental.

An American Brat

Siham Basir: I read this book when I was a Pakistani brat, and I remember it hitting home. An American Brat explores politics and religion but I remember being struck by the way it explored family dynamics and the idea of breaking free. In it, the protagonist leaves her home in Pakistan and discovers a whole new world in America, grappling with leaving her family behind and the choices she must make.

The backdrop of Zia’s rise to power, the Islamisation of Pakistan and the impact it had on non-Muslims in the country, was beautifully portrayed as was the conflict in the heart of the main character of the allure of the other versus nostalgia for the familiar.

Zahrah Mazhar: An American Brat signified coming of age in the realm of reading to many in the mid 2000s, and I was one of them. What I still remember is reading the book and then meeting Bapsi Sidhwa at Kinnaird College in Lahore, and being in awe of how smart, successful and down to earth she was.

As a student of journalism at the time, it was powerful to hear her thoughts on keeping simplicity in different forms of writing and amplifying stories of women. There was no air of pretension around her or when she talked about her work, and perhaps that is what endeared her as an author most to me.

Ice Candy Man

Mashael Shah: I brought Ice Candy Man as a teen simply because my friend was reading it, and the bright yellow cover with what appeared to be a leg cast seemed cool. Young me did not know anything about the premise or author. The book sat on my shelve for over a year, gathering dust, barely a glance spared to it.

When I finally got around to reading it, I was deeply struck by the story of four-year-old Lenny, a Parsi girl who recounts her childhood memories after she got polio during infancy. Set against the backdrop of the Partition of 1947, the book delves into the devastating communal violence that unfolds in Lenny’s hometown, Lahore.

What Sidhwa did best, however, was intertwining Lenny’s coming-of-age story with the harrowing experiences of those around her, revealing the human cost of the Partition.

The innocence of Lenny’s perspective juxtaposed with the violence of the Partition, make the narrative even more jarring — Sidhwa’s vivid and evocative prose masterfully depicts the microcosm of a girl’s world amid a crumbling society.

Sidhwa’s passing marks a great loss for South Asian literature. She lives on through her complex characters and profoundly moving storytelling.