Shape of an Apostrophe by Uttama Kirit Patel maps fragile intersections of womanhood
Uttama Kirit Patel’s debut — ‘Shape of an Apostrophe’ — cuts deep with a quiet intensity, articulating the muted edges of womanhood, the weight of grief, and the cost of becoming. The richly symbolic title captures the inner landscape of its protagonist, Lina — a woman navigating the fragile intersections of daughter, wife, and daughter-in-law, while she carries the weight of grief and the inherited guilt of her mother’s death during her birth.
The apostrophe, as a punctuation mark, denotes possession and absence simultaneously: it marks what belongs, yet also what is missing. Visually, its curled shape echoes the form of a womb — an enclosure, a cradle of life, but also a fragile, uncertain space. This resonance deepens the story’s emotional stakes, for Lina first rejects motherhood, then is unable to terminate her pregnancy, only to face the tragic loss of her newborn: “The assumption that all women want to be mothers is just not true. And when men don’t want to be fathers, there’s far less judgment. Women carry this additional burden — what do we owe to our families, partners, or society simply because of our biology?”
Furthermore, living as part of the Indian diaspora in Dubai, she navigates a liminal space — not fully belonging to the homeland or the host land, just as an apostrophe floats in text, connected yet apart. In her in-laws’ house and husband’s family, she continues to be an outsider.
The novel unfolds through the voices of women, primarily Lina, whose perspective anchors the narrative. There are the grounded reflections of Shobha, a domestic worker in India and daughter of Lina’s caretaker; the sharp observations of Meenakshi, the mother-in-law, and the brief diary entries of Payal, Lina’s mother. Each woman offers a distinct lens on life, shaped by class, circumstance and personal struggle, yet their stories resonate, revealing how different worlds can still echo with shared truths.
As counterweights to the women’s journeys, the men — be it Ishaan’s complexity as a loving husband yet tethered to his parents; Aman’s paternal gravity and rooted care; or Raju’s devotion as a caretaker — bring essential ballast to the narrative. Their absence would leave the story adrift and unformed. One of the book’s most powerful insights lies in its exploration of the subtle forms of everyday inequality — those that go unnoticed and are passively accepted as part of daily life — as the author delves into themes of independence, guilt, defiance, and the often-unseen labour carried out by women.
The delicate imagery and metaphor arise naturally, feel lived-in and organic, woven seamlessly into the fabric of the story. For instance, the recurring motif of water, which becomes Lina’s refuge — a constant in her shifting world. The fluidity and weightlessness of water reflects Lina’s emotional state, It also steadies her and allows her to simply be: “She trusted the water, indiscriminate and promising infinity in a way no one else could, beginning and end undated… a sense of belonging unrestricted by surname, property or genetics.”
The novel pulses with emotional clarity and narrative precision — unfolding with intensity, restraint, and quiet power. Its characters are rendered with depth and nuance, their lives shaped by tension, tenderness, and the unspoken. With inventive structure and a keen eye for the everyday, Patel sidesteps sentimentality to offer something far more intimate: a story that doesn’t just unfold, but lingers.
— The reviewer teaches at GGDSD College, Chandigarh
Book Review