"There is no crime in anyone’s blood any more than there is goodness in the blood of others. Criminals are not born. They are made by hunger, want and injustice"

A truly harrowing tale of a harmonious town swept and spun into conflict as a result of partition. Neighbours who'd previously called each other brothers, filled the river and trains with death. In the end, a sacrifice was made to save the lives of refugees moving into Pakistan.

With such vivid descriptions and a myriad of characters, we come to understand how the peasantry / peasant class always loses. They are the ones who do the dirty work, who have the most to lose, and always will. The bureaucratic decisions made by the British and the magistrates lead to fractured communities and genocidal actions.

"Why shouldn't someone want more?"

I think this is an incredibly well-balanced story, delicately handling the characters and the 2004 Morcambe Bay Cockling Disaster. The afterword by Hsiao-Hung Pai and Julia Rampen provided further insight into the hidden labour of people who feel trapped in hidden labour, without protection, in a society that crumbles around them and forces them to remain invisible.

This book brought my attention to this particular disaster, the exploitation of undocumented Chinese labourers, but how novels can bring about understanding, fiction creates and heightens empathy. I will always hope for a more empathetic world, and the more people read and understand their neighbours, or the invisible people on the shores of a bay, can we built a more caring society.

The relationship that developed between Suling and Arthur was incredible to witness, and Arthur softened his views and welcomed someone new into the fold - a gang of misfits with Electric Auntie.

I think this book felt like butter left out for seasons, the beginning hard, the middle melted with the summer of friendships blooming and realities challenged, and as the story came to the climax, it hardened in the winter. But when the heating turns on, as it will, the butter softens again and our characters remain sweet, rich and smooth.

"The morning weighs on my shoulders with the dreadful weight of hope and I take the blue envelope which Jacques has sent me and tear it slowly into many pieces, watching them dance in the wind, watching the wind carry them away. Yet, as I turn and begin walking toward the waiting people, the wind blows some of them back on me."

Shame as a central subject to a novel always feels incredibly difficult to navigate, as a reader who is walking along with these characters, wanting to save them from their constraints.

Baldwin is still a severely underrated writer. The beautiful way in which he takes us through the tumultuous and desperate, deep and fiery relationship between David and Giovanni is intoxicating to read. His exploration of bisexuality, homosexuality, masculinity, femininity, poverty and post-war French society is done so exquisitely in under 150 pages.

Everyone at some point in their life, perhaps when you feel melancholic like I was, should get comfy and wait for the sun to set, and step into Giovanni's Room.