Bena’s Summer

Poetic. That’s the first word that comes to mind when I think of Bena’s Summer. It’s a slow, almost languorous read, evoking the in which summer in a small town stretches before us. And this summer, we see through eight-year-old Bena’s eyes. Bena, who is a precious, precocious child, a mix of childlike innocence and equally childlike wisdom.

Bena is short for Benazir. She is innocent, generous, and, in the way children sometimes are, cruel. What makes her special, though, is her courage. Her moral compass points true, and she knows when she must stand up for those who are not as strong as she is. She also knows when she is in the wrong and with all the generosity of her spirit, she reaches out to beg for forgiveness.

With Bena, the reader experiences love that almost hurts. We see life through her eyes; we see her courage, her indomitable spirit, and the complexity of her family. And as helpless readers, we want to protect her. Yet, all we can do is stand back and admire her. When riots break out in Sultanpur, we want to shelter her, but we confront instead the heartbreaking way in which Bena must look at death, communal violence and ugliness of character. Through it all, we wonder at how even in the worst of times, children find things to giggle about and quiet pleasures that fill them up.

Bena’s Summer is a lovely book. Perhaps I would not have read and enjoyed it as a young adult. But reading it as an adult brought me an aching kind of joy.