3.5/5
This is a heartbreakingly beautiful narrative of class and caste struggle, exploitation under capitalism and the appalling conditions of colonial India.

You can't help but be grateful for the gift of literacy when faced with something like

The warmth of those words, the comfort of them as they insinuated their way into his soul, as the air, subtly, invisibly insinuates itself into the body, the glow of those words, like the protracted joy of sympathy ringing through the space in soft music unconsciously transmitted by a rapt singer to a dimly aware audience, the magic of those words was an inheritance of this woman, through centuries of motherhood. Munoo never forgot those words, cherishing them throughout his life, cherishing them among all the irrecoverable memories of his childhood, as perhaps the most beautiful, the most painful, and the most delightful.

However, despite being an important pre-independence piece of literature, the novel does fall short in some areas, particularly in its representation of women. It resorts to stereotypes and objectification, which disappoints you and detracts from the novel's otherwise powerful social message. The story initially lags, but picks up pace eventually.

Coolie remains relevant after 88 years for its call for societal reform, with the conditions of the protagonists remaining sickening.