Chew-Bose writes the way I wish I could: lots of commas, full-stops and, short sentences with structures unlike those you learn as a child coming to grips with the use of the English language. Sentences that make more sense now after speaking the language for years. She describes her style of writing as, “Starting somewhere, ending elsewhere. Testing the obnoxious reach of my tangents.” It is true. She pulls you in with writing that provides no closure but touches on so many things in such little time.

I didn’t realise that Too Much and Not the Mood was a collection of essays until I started reading it. This is because it was a purchase inspired by a YouTube favourite’s video and there was somehow no mention of the genre. Despite the speed with which I bought the book, it spent quite a bit of time on the top row of my shoe rack, where I put all the books I want to read but cannot seem to find the time for just yet.

I finally started reading Too Much and Not the Mood on a train after carrying it around in my handbag for several days. It was going to be a long journey and I was beginning to feel like a poser for taking a book I had not even attempted to read everywhere with me. I remember getting to a part of “Heart Museum” where Chew-Bose mentions getting ready for a dinner, trying to find her friend’s address that she had scribbled down somewhere and her boyfriend calling out the address off the top of his head. She mentions not wanting to probe despite the niggling feeling she got. I paused and smiled, just held that moment. The moment in a book that marks the true beginning of that book for you.

Chew-Bose writes of feelings I have not yet felt, songs I haven’t heard by artistes I may or may not have heard about, art and movies I’ve not yet seen, places I’ve never been, written in a way that makes me wish that I’d experienced all of it. She describes Karin Mamma Andersson’s painting Leftovers so vividly. I had looked it up online. The way it captured my ordinary daily activities made me understand why it is one of Chew-Bose’s favourites.

I want to share Chew-Bose’s sentiments about Sharon Stone’s shoulders in Basic Instinct, Giulietta Masina’s face in La Strada, Tom Hank’s Soho loft in Big and her fascination for young Al Pacino. I have no love for big cities because London scarred me; too many people in a hurry to get somewhere. However, reading about Chew-Bose’s travels around New York led me to believe, briefly, that I would like to be a New Yorker too. Or at the very least, be driven around Mumbai in an auto-rickshaw for hours.

In Chew-Bose’s second essay of the collection, she writes, “I am sick … Sick for my body before. Before full-lengths. Before I knew anything about valleyed collarbones, a stomach’s fold, smooth legs, small wrists”. This spoke to me. There’s a summer from my childhood I hold dear. My dad bought me a short jean skirt that I took along with me on holiday with cousins. I wore the heck out of that skirt during summer and beyond. Now, the thought of wearing a jean skirt that short in daylight makes me laugh. A ‘not-gonna-happen’ type of laugh because now, my thighs are too this and my legs are too that. I too am sick for before.

“D As In”, starts with Chew-Bose mentioning her casual acceptance of the mispronunciation of her name. Last Saturday, I was telling a group of people I’d just met at my part time job that they could call me Ari, short for Arinola. Other times, I introduce myself as Arinola but say it in a way that it loses its real meaning, but is easier to pronounce. These are my go-to strategies to save time. I have tried to break my name down into similar sounding English words. It was a futile effort to demonstrate the enormous difference between what I was (or am) allowing and the real version of my name. I have heard people say that the bearers of names may be part of the problem by providing alternatives or not bothering to correct pronunciation. I have never cared. Now, I wonder if this signals a bigger issue. I think about my name, how much I love it, being named by my grandmother. The meaning of my name is ‘middle of wealth’. Somehow, “D As In” evoked a sentiment towards my name that makes me wonder if providing a short and completely meaningless form of my name to strangers matters at all. Does it mean that I am eager to assimilate and have no care or respect for my origin?

The essay, “Summer Pictures,” is really beautiful. It is an ode to one of my favourite escapes, the cinema. You get the idea that this book was written by someone who really enjoyed movies very early on, but the small pieces that make up this essay make you appreciate the why. It communicates– better than I ever could–why I love going to the movies. It makes me want to spend a huge chunk of my summer away from the sun, enjoying the incomparable thrill of escaping into different worlds.

Too Much and Not the Mood seems to span Chew-Bose’s entire life. A child observing the before and after of her parents’ divorce, an adolescent understanding the difference her skin colour makes, an adult navigating relationships with friends and lovers, and introspecting even more than usual. I sense that readers are getting a close, honest look into her life which is narrated tastefully.