Almost, Ami Rao
“Despite the brevity of the story, the conciseness of the language and detail, this is a hugely rich and powerful book that really gets to grips with the idea of grief and the grieving process – again, this is testament to the skills of the author – to convey so much with such economy.”
In her fledgling career to date, Ami Rao has taken on sports non-fiction, contemporary fiction and in her new novella, Almost, literary fiction, but in contrast to the old adage – ‘jack of all trade, masters of none’ – Rao has mastered them all, proving herself not only to be a versatile writer, but a hugely talented and adept one.
The new novella, Almost, is inspired by the author’s love of Roland Barthes – a name that for some may conjure traumatic memories of impenetrable discussions of things such as semiotics (!), poststructuralism (!!) and signifers and signifieds (!!!). But if like me you need a little lie-down to try to get your head around those concepts, do not fear, because whether or not you’re familiar with Barthes, a follower of his or not, Rao’s book is far from impenetrable. Indeed, whilst Barthes words may have inspired and contributed to this novella, the success of it lies wholly in the hands of Rao, who has created a read that is refreshing, inventive and authentic but that is essentially nothing more complex that the exploration of a father’s grief.
Indeed, the impetus of the story is the death of a teenage daughter and the novella follows the father’s attempt to make sense of his new reality, his thoughts and his purpose. Through a very intimate and direct form of narration, the novella really conveys the protagonist’s inner life and the author does an exceptional job of making this voice, this narration, all-encompassing and wholly authentic. The measure of the very best writing is the ability for the writing to be such that the reader forgets there is an author behind it and that is achieved unquestionably in the characterisation of the father. There is no sense in of Ami Rao, just of Johnny – a professor of poetry, a husband and a father. His voice, his thoughts, his internal struggles are so authentic, it is hard to remember he is a character, the author’s construct. The way the narration is delivered too, with short sections of free-flowing, organic thought, as well as poetry, lists, etc., creates such a wonderfully authentic and true inner landscape of the father and of his journey through grief.
As for Barthes, his quotations and meditations juxtapose and interweave with those of Johnny, offering commentary, context and thought for further reflection. There is a chance for readers to explore further if they desire, but the quotations work in isolation and can be read and interpreted as the reader chooses, allowing for the reading experience to be whatever the reader wishes. For me, the snippets offered interesting parallels but didn’t detract from the main impetus of the story, but I’m sure other readers will get even more out of this small but mighty book.
Indeed, despite the brevity of the story, the conciseness of the language and detail, this is a hugely rich and powerful book that really gets to grips with the idea of grief and the grieving process, and again this is testament to the skills of the author, to convey so much with such economy. For me, with this novella Rao proves herself both a perceptive observer of human experience and expression but also an incredible author, or, more accurately to borrow from Barthes, a ‘scriptor’, that is an author who allows the text to speak in and of itself. That is what Rao does, she removes herself, her own identity, her own voice from the story and allows the father, with a little help from Barthes, to convey the experience of grief. It is a truly impressive feat and I encourage readers to give this short novella a chance; who knows, you may even end up looking at Barthes anew.
