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Review

How ‘Every Room Has a View’ Explores Migrant Narratives

Book Review by Rakhi Dalal

Title: Every Room Has a View — A Novel

Author: Sujit Saraf

Publisher: Speaking Tiger Books

Every Room Has a View — A Novel by Sujit Saraf is a narrative of exceptional dignity and subtle audacity. A dark comedy, a rumination on loss, and an evocative picture of a diasporic life – this book manages to turn what could have been a simple account of bereavement and rites into something much richer – into a luminous examination of identity, remembrance, and ever shifting territory between tradition and revivification.

The author is an engineer by training. His novel, The Peacock Throne, has been was shortlisted for the Encore Prize in London. His third novel, The Confession of Sultana Daku, is being made into a motion picture. He also runs Naatak, an Indian theatre company in America for which he writes and directs plays and films.

In this novel, Naveen Gupta, an Indian engineer who made a life in Silicon Valley over three decades, is dead. His Bay Area home boasts of panoramic vistas of the Golden Gate Bridge, portraying the American dream he managed to make into a reality for himself and his family. Naveen’s final wish is, however, strikingly paradoxical. He wishes to be cremated on seashore in San Francisco with the same rites that his father was cremated in India with. This odd wish becomes the pivot around which the story revolves—divulging not only operational absurdities but innate questions about what it means to belong, or to crave for belonging, in a place that would hardly understand those traditions.

Narrated through the voice of Usha, Naveen’s widow, the novel gives a glimpse into the quiet perplexities of those living between cultures. We witness at once the chaos and comedy that ensues when a circle of well-meaning friends and relatives make attempts to honour Naveen’s wishes in a land where neither permits nor precedent exist for such rites. The absurd painted through images — a pandit in jeans and a backpack, a rented cow brought up through an apartment elevator, and confusions with local authorities who mistake a funeral pyre for a beach campfire — play like a comedy. These images are, however, never frivolous. They reveal how sometimes diaspora may cling to rituals in unsettling times.

The story’s procession brings in focus characters whose dilemmas and idiosyncrasies deepen the central themes. Maaji, Naveen’s mother, at first unsure about how to navigate life in a foreign land, eventually finds solace and community among other seniors in Sausalito. Her ache of displacement replaced by a sense of belongingness in a society. Ajay, the teenage son, is silent and observant. Standing on the edge of two cultures, he carries his father’s legacy in his reticent response to loss and his passionate retreat into music. Through these figures, the author explores different ways in which immigrants may carry and reconcile their heritage while forging new selves on unfamiliar ground.

The most compelling journey, though, is Usha’s own. What begins as confusion over her husband’s last wish slowly progresses into a thoughtful inner quest for meaning and autonomy. She moves through grief not as a passive mourner but as a pilgrim of her own consciousness.

Saraf’s narrative invites us to laugh at the ludicrousness of circumstance, to pause in instants of quiet contemplation, and to wonder at the fault lines between what is reminisced and what is lived. He shows that the immigrant experience is not uniform but a constellation of small, vivid moments — a recollection of a far-off village or city street, a misplaced ritual, a cautious chat in a new language or a yearning for ancestral soil that may never be touched again.

In Every Room Has a View, the titular phrase itself becomes a brilliant metaphor. The rooms in Naveen’s house may offer views of an iconic bridge and sweeping bay—a testament to success and achievement—but the novel invites us to look beyond the literal. Every room in Usha’s life, every memory and every ritual, holds its own view: of history, of loss, of transformation. It prompts the reader to ask: What do our “views” reveal? What do they conceal? And what remains when all the windows have been opened, and all the rituals performed – especially towards the end when Usha comes to know of the reason of Naveen’s reluctance to make a journey back home.

This novel is not a simple commentary on cultural collision nor a mere satire on complications of creed and law. It is a humane narrative of the perennial human quest for meaning. In seeking to honour his father’s rites, Naveen’s family—and through them, the reader—discovers that identity is not something anchored in a fixed geography or grammar of practice, but something that must be negotiated with love, imagination, and an openness to the unpredictable vistas of the heart.

Rakhi Dalal is an educator by profession. When not working, she can usually be found reading books or writing about reading them. She writes at https://rakhidalal.blogspot.com/ .

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