“On relaxing she was overcome by the rage that seeped into her veins. At times like these she felt inflamed to the point of wanting to tear and scream into her father’s room, of screeching so piercingly that she disabled him, of punching him in his stomach over and over until he cried like a baby, admitted how loathesome he had been and begged hers and Asha’s forgiveness. But at such times her rage was usually muffled by a sudden injection of good sense. The success of an adventure like the one she was embarking upon depended on the control of all her faculties. Anger, hatred and even fear could very easily trip her up. Pohpoh worked on finding that perfect balance between being rigidly alert and dangerously relaxed” (Mootoo 143).
This paragraph is incredibly evocative, beginning and ending with “relax” in some form despite being filled with volatility and pain. It explores how Pohpoh copes with the abuse she is enduring. Especially as she takes on the role of mother for her younger sister, she is learning to be wise, mature, and “alert” as a survival tactic and a trauma response. This continues into her adulthood and the relationship she forms with her younger self; Part Two states “her body remembered” despite the years Mala has lived without her father (Mootoo 175).
The gradual rise of anger in Part Two is fascinating. As it becomes clear to readers that Pohpoh is the same woman who will later be accused of killing her father, more prose is dedicated to Pohpoh’s flashes of anger and resentment. Her desire to “[screech] so piercingly that she disabled him” calls to mind a Banshee. These supernatural creatures in Irish folklore are said to wail the night of a family member’s death—a wail which only the doomed person can hear (Britannica). Given Mootoo’s openness about being born in Ireland, and Cereus’ multiple references to the “Shivering Northern Wetlands,” it is plausible that this allusion was intentional (Mootoo 191).
Next in the passage, Pohpoh daydreams about punching her father, which reminded me of a younger media connection. I would put that sentence—and Pohpoh’s story—in conversation with the Front Bottoms song “Father,” which begins with the lyrics, “I have this dream that I am hitting my dad with a baseball bat, and he is screaming and crying for help / and maybe halfway through, it has more to do with me killing him than it ever did protecting myself” (YouTube). This song also references rape as a mechanism of colonialism, violence, and gender stratification; what I will focus on is emotion, and how Pohpoh processes her feelings in Cereus. To me, the novel seems informed by psychological academia. Pohpoh feels guilt for “betraying” her father despite doing nothing wrong (Mootoo 212). Even Asha says in a letter that Pohpoh worries about her father in a way that seems counterintuitive to the untrained eye (Mootoo 244). These complex expressions of shame, rage, and fear are characterized well for a young girl growing up in a house of abuse. It is no wonder to me that this book resonates with survivors on a large scale.
Gratifyingly, Cereus gives Pohpoh the time to feel horrible and angry and sad, but it also gives Mala the time to feel proud and victorious. I was elated by her sass when she told the constable about “a daughter’s duty” (Mootoo 182). Mala in the present is repeatedly described as defiant, in possession of “an insistence of her own” (Mootoo 182). She built her own life with a lush garden where no one dares to bother her. Mala is living with mental health issues and psychological pain which linger throughout the novel, but on the last page of the book she “[trembles] with joy” (Mootoo 249). She won, and her triumph is shared with Otto and Tyler.
Works Cited
“Banshee.” Encyclopaedia Britannica, Encyclopaedia Britannica, inc., www.britannica.com/topic/banshee. Accessed 2 Apr. 2025.
Mootoo, Shani. Cereus Blooms at Night. Grove Press, 1996.
The Front Bottoms. “Father.” YouTube, 14 June 2020, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xOXJZ9nh9Mw.