The room sat on the ground floor, neat but overcrowded. Four bunk bed were arranged, three on each wall and the fourth in the middle of the room. The ends of the bunks overlapped, leaving barely enough space for the occupants of the room to wriggle through. All but one of the roommates had gone for lectures. The young woman, a habitual truant, sat cross-legged on the lower bed of the bunk placed parallel to the window, a hardcover notebook between her thighs. Her eyes shifting from one end of the book to the other, she struggled with her focus, trying in vain to make sense of the block of letters staring back at her. The words swam in her head, drowning helplessly in the cacophony of voices that distracted and held her attention.
I like the way Ayim used amnesia to discuss relationships and the way we interact with each other.
Ayim knows what she writes about and mostly gets the small things right—descriptions, sensory descriptions, sub-plots, places, names, pacing, street scenes.
A novel with a highly-relevant psychological
outlook, Twilight at Terracotta Indigo invites the reader to join the female protagonist Marlene in regaining memory through an encounter with art.
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