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A review by hazeyjane_2
The Queen of Jasmine Country by Sharanya Manivannan
mysterious
reflective
5.0
**Edited Review 2023**: Upped rating to ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️, having come to appreciate the religious aspects of this book quite a lot more than I did previously.
I expected more of a conventional fictionalised biography; this blew me away. The deep-running links between sex, religious ecstasy and visions/trances. Andal's religious worship - the sort described here, union with God, is profoundly exhibitionist... in every sense of the word. It’s overt, fervent, fanatical; it breaks taboos.
I love the feminist themes that Manivannan’s woven into this book through the eyes of a 9th-century village girl. The book deals with sexual desire (albeit with God), the power of writing to convey spirituality, and a girl who was never destined for marriage like the rest of her village, who lived and breathes divine fervour.
Andal must have been radical indeed for the time and place she was born into, which comes across powerfully in the text. But I also feel like I’m missing a lot of context, never having read Andal’s poems and not being religious in the least, let alone familiar with Hinduism, mysticism, or anything of that ilk. The rich descriptions of the landscape support the full, lush flavour of Khodai’s burgeoning sexuality, femininity and spirituality, of her growth into something purer than herself. Manivannan paints vivid pictures of 9th-century Tamil Nadu in language that makes Andal’s inner world and her outer world come to fragrant, teeming life on the page.
I expected more of a conventional fictionalised biography; this blew me away. The deep-running links between sex, religious ecstasy and visions/trances. Andal's religious worship - the sort described here, union with God, is profoundly exhibitionist... in every sense of the word. It’s overt, fervent, fanatical; it breaks taboos.
I love the feminist themes that Manivannan’s woven into this book through the eyes of a 9th-century village girl. The book deals with sexual desire (albeit with God), the power of writing to convey spirituality, and a girl who was never destined for marriage like the rest of her village, who lived and breathes divine fervour.
Andal must have been radical indeed for the time and place she was born into, which comes across powerfully in the text. But I also feel like I’m missing a lot of context, never having read Andal’s poems and not being religious in the least, let alone familiar with Hinduism, mysticism, or anything of that ilk. The rich descriptions of the landscape support the full, lush flavour of Khodai’s burgeoning sexuality, femininity and spirituality, of her growth into something purer than herself. Manivannan paints vivid pictures of 9th-century Tamil Nadu in language that makes Andal’s inner world and her outer world come to fragrant, teeming life on the page.