My thoughts cannot stray away from Mala Ramchandin, as I have now just finished reading Cereus Blooms at Night. A book like this, one that doesn’t so plainly explain its purpose and meaning, always leaves me feeling the most. What that feeling is, I am not entirely sure of. But, as I read I tried to think critically, alongside absorbing the beautiful prose. My budding ideas and thoughts of the book have me going in circles about the reasonings and motivations of some characters actions. For instance, Chandin Ramachandin and Ambrose E. Mohanty could not love anyone else besides those they had fallen for as children. I think, why? Is there even a point to ask why? Then, there is the state of liminality, or more so, of an unknown in between, brought up in regards to queerness. Tyler is neither man nor woman. His position in life does not have any name to it. Which makes you think about the importance of language and words. I think that was a theme in this book–language–but I can’t exactly grasp it. Overall, this was the first book of its kind of which I’ve read with such trauma and violence and it has definitely affected me greatly. The fact that Pohpoh and Asha’s mother, Sarah, and Lavinia too, could leave them behind like that angers me to no end. With frustration, I often put the book down and exclaimed, “How could a mother leave her children behind in an effort to escape for herself alone!” Yet, I know that I can’t see it that simply. And, that there are people on the earth who live with such horror, as Mala and Asha did, now and in the future, is a tragedy. But, I am glad that, in the end, Ohto was able to churn Ambrose’s thoughts into those of self-reflection. I don’t know why this brings me comfort, given that it does not exactly change the events of the book. But it does. I am excited to discuss the book in greater detail and learn its deeper meanings.