Review: In B’tween: The Wisp by Nandita Banerjee

Otherworldly, thought-provoking, and innovative, In B’tween: The Wisp by Nandita Banerjee is a novel that poetically plunges into the mysterious potential of the afterlife. Picking up after No. 7: They’re Calling leaves off, this sequel finds a dark legacy of magic and morbidity affecting a new generation of the family.

Ravi and Priya have tragically passed on after a fatal fire, leaving their children Sonya and Sunny behind, but death is not the end of life so many of us expect. As young Sonya embarks on a weekend trip with new friends, hoping for some space from her brother and looming decisions about her future, she has no idea that her life has already changed forever.

Her attention is first captured by Randy, the charming but secretive hunk from Montana who seems smitten and similarly separate from the group, and when news of her parents’ death finally reaches Sonya, her new mystery man is there to offer a shoulder. However, his overnight devotion and rash decision to fly to India for their funeral seem suspicious, particularly to the wispy glowing spirit of Priya, who has been following her daughter for days.

From London to India, this story continues the tale of the devilish black book from the first installment of this series, and even with Priya’s spiritual oversight lingering in the shadows, temptation, and trickery threaten her daughter as she navigates a growing minefield of romance and family secrets. Overwhelmed by the events that have upended her life, Sonya turns to a Tantrik priest to remove the touch of black magic that has descended on her circle. Unbeknownst to all but Priya, the devil is out hunting for souls, and has taken a particular interest in this already afflicted family.

Banerjee’s magical realism makes for immersive storytelling that demands readers’ attention, with dense reality and mysticism blurring into a swirling drama of ghosts, curses, forbidden love, betrayal, and hidden agendas. Randy finds unexpected success and a career opportunity in town, the nurse tasked with caring for Sonya’s grandmother seems dangerously distracted, Sunny’s heartbreak is more destructive than he’s letting on, and the nebulous motivations of multiple other characters keep the suspense high and relentless.

The draftsmanship of this character-rich read is impressive, as is the world-building and scene-setting; there are a few minor plotlines that turn into loose ends, but this wildly imaginative sequel is undeniably hard to put down. However, there are some problems with the flow of the prose. Banerjee has a distinctive language style, and while this can bring narrative passages to brilliant life, it can also make some bits of dialogue feel stilted or unnatural, with certain lines seeming more forced than organic, despite the background, culture, and formality levels of the characters. This awkwardness is common throughout the prose, which would benefit from an editor who also understands the colloquial phrasing and language of Kolkata. Additionally, Priya’s role as an omniscient ghost-narrator is a handy tool for progressing the plot, but her self-referential questions and comments can occasionally do more telling than showing for readers.

That said, the novel is wholly inventive from the start, for a read that is singularly original, and richly emotional. Steeped in cultural tradition and the existential desire for salvation, this is a visionary and dramatic piece of contemporary literature.