“A woman has a lifetime for reading. A whole week every month!” Mrs. Sodawalla said. Perveen didn’t quite know what she meant by that... [p. 132]
Perveen Mistry, daughter of a prominent Parsi lawyer, is the only woman solicitor in Bombay. It's a heavy responsibility, and she is fettered by patriarchal conventions and pervasive misogyny. India in 1921, with its multiple ethnic and religious groups -- Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, Buddhists, Zoroastrians and others -- comprises a bewildering array of laws, customs and loyalties. There are initiatives to educate women (though Perveen had a miserable time at a Bombay law school, eventually studying in England) and more women entering the professions: but even a well-educated woman of good family cannot avoid sexist behaviour and ancient, oppressive traditions.
When a woman's signature appears to have been faked, Perveen is ideally placed to intercede: the woman in question is one of the three widows of Omar Farid, and they are purdahnashins, women who stay 'behind the veil' and don't speak with men. A lady solicitor? No problem -- at least for the widows. Their estate trustee, Mr Mukri, seems to have his own ideas about the dead man's wealth and the widows' assets: he is hostile to Perveen. And she is the one to find him dead ...
I enjoyed this very much, though the backstory of Perveen's relationship with a dashing young Parsi fellow, Cyrus, is a brutal depiction of tradition at its worst. Perveen is a sensible, courageous and somewhat headstrong young woman, who's determined to see justice done and sympathetic to the widows (and their children) who have little power now that Mr Farid is dead. We also meet her friend from Oxford, Alice, who's the daughter of a high-ranking British functionary, and who is queer. I'm hoping she turns up in the other novels in this series.
Fulfils the ‘buddy read’ rubric of the 52 books in 2024 challenge: I read in sync with N.
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