Generations of Strength

THIS IS A BOOK I wish I could have had when I was 15.

While there are numerous (and much needed) stories about the immigrant experience, Mitali Perkins’ young adult novel, You Bring the Distant Near, fully captures nuances of relationships, racism, death, family, feminism, sexism, and love in profound ways. It’s a story that’s not often told with such clarity and depth.

Reading this book was like staring into a mirror and seeing my reflection—sometimes surprised, sometimes in tears, and other times nodding in understanding.

It weaves together the lives of five women from three generations—Ranee, Tara, Sonia, Anna, and Chantal (nicknamed Shanti)—and focuses on Tara and Sonia’s journey from when they were teenagers to when they were mothers with successful careers.

Ranee is a strong-willed, stay-at-home, Indian (Bengali) immigrant mother who comes to the U.S. with her husband for opportunity. She is the mother of Tara and Sonia. Tara is charming, peacemaking, and theatrical in the best ways. She is a shape-shifter of sorts, able to fold into any culture by studying and learning what traits she needs to be the most ideal version of that culture (when she arrives in the U.S. she emulates Marcia Brady). Sonia is fiercely intelligent, outspoken, and a brilliant writer. Anna is Tara’s creative, brazen daughter who is proud of her Indian roots. Shanti is Sonia’s athletic and easygoing daughter who loves math and dance.

Each woman represents a different side of femininity that together shows the reader the importance of multiple, empowering narratives.

The novel alternates first-person narration from each woman, which together with other characters’ observations provides fragments from which we can form a whole, humanizing picture of each character. For example, for Anna, Chantal is a perfect example of an intelligent, beautiful all-American woman. She describes her as an “American goddess.” But as we look at the world through Shanti’s eyes, we see her struggles as a biracial (her father is black) woman in the U.S.—she doesn’t feel black enough around the black community and doesn’t feel Indian enough around Indian communities. We see some of the discrimination she receives from the Indian community as well as her struggles to appease her black grandmother and her Indian grandmother, an analogy of her attempts to balance both of her identities as equally as possible.

The genius of this book is how Perkins uses language. We can almost hear the accents, the anger, the strength, and the sweetness in each woman’s voice. It feels as if we are reading their minds.

This book beautifully fluctuates between light and heavy. Perkins isn’t afraid to tackle hard issues, but keeps the story hopeful enough that readers can leave with their faith intact or even restored. It shows women as the complex people that they are. It makes no excuses and shows young readers how to stand up for what they believe. And for all young South-Asian girls, including a 15-year-old me, it shows us that our stories matter, and empowers us to live gracefully, balancing the cultures that we hold so dearly.

It’s a story of home, of family, of choosing between traditions, of love, and of the multitudes of identities represented in America. It’s a story that is crucial to the heartbeat of this country and its ever-evolving identity in this world.