I love picking up debuts, and The Things We Thought We Knew had already been sitting on my bookshelf for too long. I loved the premise, had spotted Mahsuda Snaith in The Observer’s ‘Faces of Fiction’ earlier this year, and Emily Glenister (of Goldsboro Books/David Headley fame) had assured me that it was ‘brilliant.’ So on the train home from Hay Festival, I dived in.
Ravine is bedbound by chronic pain syndrome, a condition I cannot begin to get my head around. She lies in bed, ignoring her mother’s spectacular efforts to get her out of the house, until she is presented with a jauntily-named ‘Pain Diary’. Instead of recording pain (for some reason), Ravine remembers Marianne, her best friend when she was eight, and who vanished ten years ago. And as Ravine writes down what she can remember, her endless pain begins to fade.
This is a beautifully written, convincing and heartbreaking novel, about childhood friendships and about buried childhood memories, with a painful reveal guaranteed to bring tears. However, it’s also, often, hysterically funny. Ravine’s dry observations about her life and her mother are laugh-out-loud material: the book opens with Amma inviting the entire neighbourhood round for a birthday party, despite Ravine’s express desire for ‘no balloons, no cake, no party. But somehow Amma’s brain has churned my words into all the balloons she can blow up, the biggest cake she can bake and as many party items as she can fill the room with.’
The Things We Thought We Knew is a book filled with gloriously memorable characters, from the loveable and tragic Uncle Walter, to the grieving ‘Mr Eccentric’ but Amma is a standout. She’s a strong contender for ‘best literary mother’: pairing trainers with saris (in the name of common sense), naming her daughter after a headline she saw on the day she was born (‘Young man drowns in ravine’) and making sarky quips about Gordon Brown (the book takes place during the 2010 election). But she’s also caring and savvy, and determined to help her bedbound daughter live a normal life. Ravine ironically, is equally determined to stay put, even after her pain fades, infantilising herself, as her mother encourages her to grow up.
Even if Ravine’s recovery from chronic pain syndrome feels a little sudden, that doesn’t take away from a compelling read, with a clever and original concept, and packed with terrific, well-drawn characters. A fresh and exciting first novel, and I look forward to reading more from the author.
The Things We Thought We Knew by Mahsuda Snaith is out now.