So I love lists (especially of the year end variety) and thought what would be the best, most interesting kind that everyone would love? I immediately thought of a book review!, of course. Some of these books didn’t come this year but they’re new to me, so they count. They’re not rated from best to worst or anything, but in the order read (real geek alert here).
 
 
#10 Timequake –Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

“I’m wild again, beguiled again, a whimpering, simpering child again. Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I.”

Ok, so technically I read this book in 2008 but it was in December so I’m counting it b/c it was within the year. He was already one of

my favorite authors and this just made me love him so much more. It’s described as a cross between fiction and non, but there’s no real plot per say. It’s so chock full of vonnegutisms, though which makes it such a good read. For those of you who aren’t familiar with Vonnegut’s books or worldviews, he’s a Humanist. Almost all of his novels (this one included) stress the message of taking care of each other and just helping each other out in this crazy thing called life. No afterlife. Now reward. Instant karma I guess? Here are some little gems that pretty sum up why I love this man. RIP 1922-2007.

Many people need desperately to receive this message: “I feel and think much as you do, care about many of the things you care about, although most people don’t care about them. You are not alone.”
 
To put it another way: No matter what a young person thinks he or she is really hot stuff at doing, he or she is sooner or later going to run into somebody in the same field who will cut him or her a new asshole, so to speak
 
Yes, and Trout harped on the human need for extended families, and I still do, because it is so obvious that we, because we are human, need them as much as we need proteins and carbohydrates and fats and vitamins and essential minerals.

 
 
 
#9 Unaccustomed Earth –Jumpha Lahiri

Right before I read this, I read Interpreter of Maladies by Lahiri so I might be jumbling up the stories/themes a bit (I was on a Lahiri roll I guess). At first I was on the fence with this book. Most of the short stories in this collection, as with her last novel, are similar in theme. Bengali or Bengali-Americans adjusting (or not) and assimilating to life in the US or Bangladesh.  By far, though my favorite is part two, the short story trilogy Hema and Kaushik. What makes this book worthy of a Top 10 is Lahiri’s characters. Even though the stories may seem repetitive, it’s worth reading for the characters alone. They’re vibrant, well rounded, smart, funny, naïve, lonely, and make me want to know them more. With Hema and Kashuik we get to see that character evolvement as there’s a time gap between each story.  I also liked the title, a phrase she got from a Hawthorne novel. Something about always putting down roots in unfamiliar places strikes a chord with me. Hmm…

Human nature will not flourish, any more than a potato, if it be planted and replanted, for too long a series of generations, in the same worn out soil. My children have had other birthplaces, and, so far as their fortunes may be within my control, shall strike their roots into unaccustomed earth. (Nathaniel Hawthorne The Custom House)

 
 
 
#8 The World Is What it Is –Patrick French

I’ve been on the fence about V.S. Naipaul for some time now. Like a good Trini, I’ve read Miguel Street, The Mystic Masseur, A House for Mr. Biswas, and they were all good. But then I had to read The Enigma of Arrival for a class, combined with learning (albeit with a cursory interest) about some negative remarks he made about Trinidad, and I wrote him off as just a Nobel Prize winning old curmudgeon. But I was still interested in this authorized biography of his b/c who wouldn’t be right?! (Hello!…are you still reading this? No, alright then, I understand completely) This book made me really like Naipaul. It doesn’t shy away from anything. It shouldn’t. Naipaul gave French access to all of his records I think, even his dead wife’s diaries. But the parts that interested me most weren’t the sections on Naipaul’s affairs w/hookers and Argentineans (it’s not as titillating as you would think) but the how and why he came to hate the world. Ok I’m simplifying a bit, but French gives insight into Naipaul’s worldview and how the more he learned about the world, the more places he went and people he met, the more disgusted he felt about the state of things. Colonization, decolonization, Trinidad, England, Africa, you name it, Naipaul hates it. He just doesn’t fit in anywhere. Can’t connect to his history (both his family’s and as a Trinidadian/Indian). He’s not comfortable in his own skin (or wasn’t). Who’s never felt that way at some point in time? Just imaging feeling like that for your whole life?
 
 
 
#7 A Bend in the River –V.S. Naipaul

Since the last book made me want to read Naipaul so much more, I decided to read this, which is apparently his masterpiece: “A Bend in the River was a mature work of the imagination rather than disguised autobiography; it was the product of assimilated experience” (French).  It takes place in an imaginary country in Africa (but most likely the DRC when it was Zaire) during decolonization and written from the POV of an African Indian, Salim. Pessimistic about the whole time period, the past/present/future of Africa, its people, colonization, decolonization, European imperialism.  “The world is what it is” is the novel’s first words (title sound familiar?) This phrase reminds me of the novel Slaughterhouse 5 and the phrase used throughout “so it goes” every time someone dies. People die en masse, through war, famine, the reshuffling of borders or political restructuring of the world, and so much of it is needless that it becomes pointless to grieve for each loss. So you just have to deal with it. The world is what it is, right?
 
 
 
 
 
#6 Generation Kill –Evan Wright

Ok, this book may seem an anomaly compared to the others but what can I say, my tastes are varied. I forgot what made me pick this up, but whilst reading it I was like Hey! I’ve read this before! (funny flashback sounds)  It was my first day of college way back when in 2003 and I had a ton of time on my hands  because I’d missed my very first class. So I went the student union and bought a Rolling Stone to read. Justin Timberlake was on the cover. He’d shaved off that ridiculous mop of hair and was looking kinda good next to  Xtina dirrty Aguilera. So anyways, I got really engrossed in Wright’s article. He’s a journalist who was embedded with a reconaissance marine battalion during the invasion of Iraq. The tip of the spear he described it because often times there were no other forces in front of his unit. He writes from the marines’ pov, rather than the generals or other higher ups,  so readers get a closer look at what it’s like for the people who are fighting the war. This was a series of 3 articles that a year later turned into a book. So, there I am reading about this almost 6 years exactly to when the war started. Except now the war isn’t all shiny and new anymore. Not that Wright described it as such back then. From the outset it was messy and violent.  I’m talking more about the enthusiasm for it amongst the general populace. Also, apparently the book was made into a miniseries last year by HBO (yeah I don’t have HBO so I’m always behind on their shows. I suck. I know. I’m sorry.) So I watched it. Also very good. The creators of The Wire did it and they always strive for a high degree of verisimilitude so it follows the book very closely. No over sentimentality, no sensational action movie hero stuff.  I would recommend reading the book, then watching the miniseries. Then you’ll know what the hell is going on.
 
 
  Stay tuned for the titillating conclusion, Part deux
 
 
 
#5 wide roads
#6 government expediency (this may sound like sarcasm…it’s NOT lol)

I might have mentioned once before in my blog that I am pathetic at reading challenges. Something about them always sets me up for failure.

But, I am also very enthusiastic about them, and participate even when I know I am likely to lose steam somewhere along the way.

I also love to cheer on folks who do manage to successfully complete them. My hats off to you guys!

So, without any more ado, let’s get to the status of the reading challenges I took on this year:

• JM Kaye’s Young Adult Reading Challenge – 9 books out of 12 ( I am really sad about this, as I am pretty sure I will not get to complete this. This challenge ends in December this year)
• JM Kaye’s 1st in a Series Reading Challenge – 10 books out of 12 (slightly better but again not completing the challenge)
• and the most pathetic of them all… the Reliquiae reading challenge in which I managed just 2 books out of 4. Very bad show on my part. This challenge ends on Jan 15, 2010, so I do have a little time to scramble around and find something suitable. But I don’t hold out much hope for this one either

But, that’s not going to stop me from participating in new ones. I have signed up for two new reading challenges and am now on the lookout for more. The reading challenges I have signed up for are:

• S.Krishna’s South Asian Author Reading Challenge – I am from India, but I don’t always pay attention to Indian writers, so this will be a challenge to make sure I read more South Asian writing. I have signed up for the 3 books level, which should be relatively easy to complete. I have yet to decide the books though. Tentatively, I have lined up Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri, and Sea of Poppies by Amitav Ghosh, and one other book. But, that could all change if something new and interesting pops up on my radar.
• Beth Fish Reads’ Sookie Stackhouse Reading Challenge – I have blogged before about how much I love the True Blood series on HBO and I am really looking forward to reading the Sookie Stackhouse series of books (all 9 of them). This challenge gets over by June 2010, but since the books are all quite small and light reading, I am pretty sure I”ll finish this in no time

These are the ones that I have definitely signed up for now. There may be more later. I already know that 2010 is going to be a packed year from me and I am really hesitant to bite off more than I can chew. There’s still plenty of time left for me to decide on additional reading challenges.

I am also thinking of creating a new Reading Challenge page sometime soon, so that I can keep a better tab on the status, so watch out for that coming up some time soon.

Let’s see how I fare

Foto Flicks of the day: Photography a la Ron Haviv

 Ron Haviv is an award-winning photojournalist who has produced images of conflict and humanitarian crises that have made headlines from around the world since the end of the Cold War. 

Many of Haviv’s photos were shot in countries such as Afghanistan, DR Congo, Haiti, Yugoslavia, etc.

This post was inspired by a conversation I recently had with one of my co-workers about what our “dream job” would be. We both mutually agreed that being a photojournalist for the National Geographic, for instance, would be incredibly badass…

This topic in itself reminds me of a fictional but sensible character in Jhumpa Lahiri’s Unaccustomed Earth, (a brilliant collection of stories which I highly recommend reading) who was a photojournalist. Throughout his career, he had captured death, demise, and despair. However, he became numb to the gruesome casualties that he photographed from all over the world, and even those within his own family, because he had built a life from hiding behind a lens…that’s powerful. 

As visually and captivatingly awarding this career could be, it takes one with immense strength and courage to do it. Photojournalists make a daring living by portraying scenes that aren’t shown in the everyday media…they illustrate stories through their photos, which look similar to war movie freezes…yet somehow, the blood flows as a brighter scarlet and the facial expressions are deeper than the viewer can fathom; utterly real, unscripted, and inevitably poignant.

Say cheese.
Chetna

Fabulous writing that makes for super-satisfying reading. I love how she focuses on the nuances of everyday life, giving them emphasis and showing how profound they can be. I both liked and disliked the connectedness of the last three stories. However, I didn’t like that i knew what was going to happen in the very last one.

Book Bitch says: Pick it up

Fitting in is something I have been thinking a lot about lately. I just celebrated my arrival anniversary and have now lived in Sweden for five years. Although I love my life in Stockholm, I don’t feel that I truly fit in or belong in this culture. Don’t get me wrong – this does not in any way mean that I am unhappy, however. It’s just more of a reflection of being. On the other hand, Aussie hubby Robert feels that he fits in perfectly and could live here forever. There’s a part of me that wishes I could be more like that. But I have to wonder if it’s a difference between men and women.

In this same vein of thinking, I had a book group meeting at my flat last night for Jhumpa Lahiri’s Unaccustomed Earth. I chose this book of short stories as Jhumpa is a master at depicting how transplanted Bengalis fit into their new lives in America. While Jhumpa’s characters are Indian, the feelings of alienation that she gives them are universal.  So I thought this book would be good conversational fodder for a group of American women who has lived here anywhere from 3 to 35 years. Interestingly, even the woman who has lived in Sweden for 35 years says that she still does not fit in.  “The most difficult part is living my life in Swedish,” she said and the other long termers agreed. (All speak fluent Swedish.) One conducts her everyday life in Swedish, but insists that her Swedish husband speak English to her at home. Another speaks English while her husband answers in Swedish. And yet another does live her home life completely in Swedish.

Jhumpa starts her books with a quote from Nathanial Hawthorne’s introduction to The Scarlet Letter: “Human nature will not flourish, any more than a potato, if it be planted and replanted, for too long a series of generations, in the same worn-out soil. My children … shall strike their roots in unaccustomed earth.”

The quote and the book resonate with me just now. And it seems they did for the rest of this group of transplants felt the same way. As yet another woman commented: “Who would have thought that a book about Indian culture would be so close to home for our semi-diverse group.”

I just finished Jhumpa Lahiri’s “Unaccustomed Earth” and loved it!  Part I was four independent short stories, all uniquely interesting and engaging, but unrelated.  Part II was three short stories that focused on the same characters, from different viewpoints and at different times.

Part II tells the stories of Hema and Kaushik, who meet as children, grow apart as they get older and meet again as adults.  As children they share nothing but proximinty and perhaps a crush, but as adults they learn that a shared childhood may be more common ground then they have with anyone else.

Hema and Kaushik’s stories were unique, entertaining, disappointing, heartbreaking and loving.  The lives they led were very different, but were built on a common ground, which made their reconciliation all the more captivating, but ultimately, all the more heartbreaking.

I’ve been reading Jhumpa Lahiri’s “Unaccustomed Earth” and am loving it.  I finished Part I last night and had some thoughts on the short stories so far:

• The first story, “Unaccustomed Earth,” feels unfinished to me.  I would love for Lahiri to write a novel on this storyline – I need to know what happens to Ruma, her father, her family, Mrs. Bagchi.  I think there is a lot more to explore on this storyline.
• “Only Goodness” broke my heart.  I have a brother who is considerably younger than me and reading about the failing relationship between Sudha and Rahul was heartbreaking.
• The last story, “Nobody’s Business” may have been my favorite.  Lahiri does a fantastic job of illustrating the relationships among the characters.  Sang began as a strong, independent character and it was interesting to see her change throughout the story.

I really like the way Lahiri writes – “The Namesake”  was a fantastic novel and so far I love her short stories.  I love how she focuses mostly on Indian and Bengali families – its pretty foreign to me, but she makes it very interesting and entertaining.

I’m loving “Unaccustomed Earth” and I will post on Part II when I finish!

Read Part II here.

Like I wrote on Monday, I got myself through almost eight books last week.  It was great — slinking around the boathouse, my quilt trailing behind me like a patchwork wedding dress, a book held directly in front of my face.  I purposely packed a mix of guilty pleasures and “literature,” though I’ll happily confess it was an uneven ratio.

•

I started the week off with The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger; the novel is the story of Henry, a librarian who has unwillingly and unpredictably traveled through time since he was a small boy, and his wife Clare, an artist who has known Henry since he materialized in front of her when she was six.  Interestingly, the Henry Clare first meets is in his forties; when the pair meet as adults living in Chicago, he has no idea who she is, though Clare has fourteen years of his friendship and love under her belt.  Niffenegger alternates between both characters’ points of view, helpfully listing the date in the present, Clare and Henry’s ages during that time, the date in the past that Henry travels to, and the couple’s respective ages then.  You see, Henry always finds himself back at the important moments in his life; almost all of those moments revolve around Clare.

It’s an enviably fascinating story that Niffenegger creates, but I kept on throwing the book down and complaining to Keith that the level of writing didn’t come close to matching the elegance of the concept.  Clare and Henry’s first-person narratives are so similar that I found it difficult to tell them apart, and the novel’s dialogue was frustratingly forced.  At one point, for example, characters actually lecture on The Music You Must Listen To In Order To Appreciate Punk, listing pivotal bands from the 1970s; it is incredibly preachy and awkward to read, and feels as though it is lifted directly off of the back of a compilation album.  Flaws notwithstanding, I kept turning pages, eager to learn what was going to happen next — something every writer I know dreams of  in their readers.  In that sense, The Time Traveler’s Wife is a complete success.

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A month or so ago, I had read a short article in the New York Times about author Maeve Binchy’s cottage on the Irish coast.  When I was in high school, I went through a Binchy phase, checking copies of her novels out of the library and devouring them.  It’s been years since then, and I hadn’t given Ms. Binchy a second thought until the Times piece, which reminded me of how much I used to enjoy reading about life in 1940s, 50s and 60s Britain.  So back to the library I went, picking up Silver Wedding, Echoes and Light A Penny Candle; I read them back-to-back.  Their plots are similar, but only in the sense that each focuses on Irish families.

In Silver Wedding, Binchy allocates a chapter per character; she uses this space to tell their sides of the story, which circles around a couple’s twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.  Regardless of whether the tale is told by their wayward daughter, the chic maid of honor, the priest who officiated the cermony or the couple themselves, Binchy gives her each of her characters a richly-colored history.

Echoes is set in the fictional seaside town of Castlebay, where Clare O’Brien  — yes, that’s two Clares in one week — struggles to make her family understand why she wants a better life than one resigned to running a shabby grocery store.  Her only way out is via studying and scholarships, so after years of hard work and the aid of her progressive schoolteacher, Clare escapes to university in Dublin.  There she reconnects with a childhood acquaintance, and soon falls in love.  Trouble is, he’s the son of the town doctor, and his snobbish mother has never liked Clare; she likes our heroine even less  once she gets pregnant.  This being both Ireland and the 1950s, Clare and the doctor’s son marry, which leads to even more troubles, the least of which is post-partum depression and infedility.

Unlike Silver Wedding and Echoes, I had read Light a Penny Candle years and years ago; still, I found myself surprised and engrossed in its pages.  It’s World War II; to avoid the trauma of bombings and shortages, Londoner Violet White sends her adolescent daughter to live in the Irish countryside with Maureen O’Connor, an old friend.  Soon Elizabeth White and Aisling O’Connor become the best of friends, and their lives forever bound to both London and the village of Kilgarret.  As they grow older, they together face the drama of boyfriends, sex, and family.

Now that I think about it, Binchy’s bibliography has got to be without a doubt my guiltiest of guilty pleasures, but let’s get one thing clear: her books are not even remotely trashy, no matter how scandalous I’ve made their plots sound.  They are written far too earnestly for that.

•

I’ve got the weakest weak spot for adolescent fiction.  My love of Lois Lowry is well-documented, and I think I’ll be reading books geared towards young adults well into my sixties, especially if writers like Gary D. Schmidt keep on producing work like The Wednesday Wars.

The alliteratively-named Holling Hoodhood dreads Wednesday afternoons; it’s when the rest of his seventh-grade classmates get excused from school early to attend either CCD or Hebrew lessons.  The only lonely Presbyterian in his grade, Holling spends Wednesdays alone with his teacher, Mrs. Baker, who he is convinced hates him.  Indeed, Mrs. Baker is an imposing enough figure, and after she tries fruitlessly to pawn Holling off to a colleague, she resigns to actually, well, teaching.  The path Holling and Mrs. Baker take together isn’t a conventional one — sure, it’s paved with Shakespeare, but it’s also bricked with rats, surfaced with the Yankees (Holling lives on Long Island), and cobblestoned with the Vietnam War (it is the 60s).

Schmidt is clever with his narrative, confidently writing Holling’s thoughts and observations in a way which is both poignant and funny.  And I mean funny — there were times where I sat alone outside on the swing overlooking the cove, laughing my head off, much to the gulls’ confusion.

•

When it comes to books, I don’t discriminate between genres; I’ll read pretty much anything.  It doesn’t even need to be particularly well-written, though clearly that is ideal.  Sometimes, a compelling story holds more weight than the writing…  not that I’m saying quality of writing isn’t important.  It’s just that there are times where a plot can be so gripping that graceful syntax is secondary.

This isn’t the case at all in Patrick Rothfuss’s The Name of the Wind, which is book one of his Kingkiller Chronicle series.  The story — that of a legendary musician/magician living under an assumed identity, and the past that has caused him to go into hiding — defines the phrase “page-turner.”  At one point during the week, I stayed up until well past three in the morning as too many exciting things were happening in the book, all preventing me from putting it down.

Rothfuss structures the novel interestingly.  The protagonist, Kvothe, is making a living as the proprietor of a backwoods inn; a traveling scribe realizes who the innkeeper is and convinces Kvothe to tell his story.  Kvothe complies, and so the book’s chapters then swing in and out of the present and past.  Obviously, Rothfuss isn’t the first author to pivot a plot through time, but what he does so cleanly is steadily build tension in both Kvothe’s first-person retelling of his own history and the third-person narratives that anchor that which takes place in the present — which is why you too will have a hard time taking a break from it.  Honestly, I can’t heap enough praise on this book, despite its terrible cover art.  If I can’t convince you to give it a whirl, maybe Publishers Weekly will; it listed The Name of the Wind as one of the best books of 2007.

•

My friend Ben turned me on to Jhumpa Lahiri, though it took me a not inconsiderable amount of time to finally read The Namesake.  I still, embarassingly, cannot say the same of Lahiri’s Pulitzer Prize-winning anthology of stories, Interpreter of Maladies (though I will say vehemently that I put in a request at my library ages ago).  I did, however, get my hands on Lahiri’s most recently published book, Unaccustomed Earth.

Like Interpreter of Maladies before it, Unaccustomed Earth is a collection of stories; there are eight of them here, the final three of which are intertwined.  Is that trio the most memorable of the bunch because of it, because of their connection?  My answer to that, even if Lahiri gives the reader more pages to better understand the cardinal characters, is not necessarily.  Equally noteworthy is the smitten grad student infatuated with his new housemate, the daughter trying to reconnect with her widowed father, and the young girl remembering her parents’ circle of friends.

What’s fascinating to me is that while Lahiri tackles similar topics in her works — assimilation, Westernization, the push/pull of tradition — she does so in such a way that instead of seeming redundant, she gives her themes even more depth by expounding upon them.  It is as if Lahiri is gently awakening the reader by tenderly opening the curtains of each window in a house, until the entire building is flooded with a brilliant light.

•

So there you have it, the seven books I completed while in Maine.  The eighth, which I started in the boathouse’s bed and finished on the bus in Cambridge, was Gilead by Marilynne Robinson.  It’s widely and rightly considered to be a modern classic, as Robinson’s deft prose tells the tale of the elderly Reverend John Ames as he painstakingly begins a journal of his life to pass down to his young son.  Robinson fully immerses the reader in Ames’s thoughts, slowing the pace to reflect that of an aging, rural preacher.  Gilead isn’t a fast read, but each page — each word — is worth your time.

Photo: barnesandnoble.com I wasn't impressed with the movie version of The Namesake

Jhumpa Lahiri is the most visible Indian-American writer in the world.  She may even be the most famous person in recent history to write about the immigrant experience in America. I respect her many achievements, including winning a Pulitzer Prize for her first book of short stories, Interpreter of Maladies.  I am happy the Indian-American experience has gained so much exposure thanks to her.  But I have a few issues with the way Indian families are often portrayed in her books and I worry that hers is the only audible voice from a diverse, vibrant, growing community.

After reading all three of Lahiri’s books, I notice a common theme in her portrayal of the nuclear Indian immigrant family: the workaholic, emotionally distant father, the homemaker wife with no life of her own, and a confused, sad child navigating two cultures.

Indian women are devoted to taking care of their family, but that isn’t always their whole life.  Most of my mom’s Indian women friends have jobs.  Many of them are doctors, scientists, professors and have gone back to school in America, holding as demanding jobs as their husbands.  They aren’t as listless as the women in Lahiri’s stories: they are active in their community, assimilate to American culture, and don’t depend on their husbands to take care of their every need.

And yes, Indian men are usually very devoted to work: their career, after all, is what allowed them to immigrate to America.  But they aren’t all unfeeling or fail to appreciate their wives.  Though most of the marriages of my parent’s generation were “arranged” to some extent, it doesn’t mean the couples do not share love. 

I understand Lahiri can only speak for her own experience as the child of immigrants.  But my experience was different, and her work motivates me to write my own story and show the public that not all Indian families are unhappy in their own way.

If there were to be an effortless yet powerful narrative of the profundity of human emotions, this is it. Lahiri weaves magic. No bells and whistles, no fuss, straight from the heart. Her story telling is so honest and simple, and yet so poignant and vivid.

The book is essentially a collection of six different stories, all with a common underlying theme of Indian expatriates and their strifes and tribulations. The constant battle with emotions, the quest to discover their identity in a new country which is now their home while still being tied to their roots and the fortitude to deal with loss, heartache and pain. For those who have already sampled Lahiri’s work in the Namesake, this theme is not alien. But that does not take away the fact that the Unaccustomed Earth is like a fresh batch of cookies baked by an expert chef. The ingredients may be the same, the recipe might be old but its delightful every single time .The aroma just draws you in and before you realise it, you are craving for more. What sets the book apart is that the author somehow seems to get into the head of the protagonist and speak her thoughts out aloud. Be it Ruma who is trying to come to terms with her father’s newly found love post her own mother’s demise or the life journey of Hema where love eludes her for a long time, only to reunite her with her soulmate and in a flash have it all taken away. The plots are compelling to say the least.

It is one of those books which I would pick up when I am all by myself and raring to get lost in my thoughts away from the bustling crowd. I recommend a steaming cuppa, a snug couch and yes you guessed it right…freshly baked cookies to go with it. Lahiri will make sure you get in touch with your emotions. She is a reader’s delight.

In between everything else, I managed to finally finish reading Jhumpa Lahiri’s Unaccustomed Earth, and it is well worth the wait (her first short story collection, Interpreter of Maladies, won the Pulitzer in 2000).

Fantastic, although I almost couldn’t bear to read the devastatingly sad novella at the book’s end. It consists of three stories grouped together as “Hema and Kaushik” and is told mostly in a rare second-person narrative mode. Which, after the standard Lahiri opening short stories, comes down on you like a ton of bricks and imbues the entire thing with such portent, you can’t help but know from the beginning sentence that something huge is going to happen and it’s more likely bad than good.

The title story is the other stand-out in a collection that provides a very good sampling of the author’s excellent wordsmithery. There’s a bit in it where Ruma’s father teaches her son to garden during his stay with them and the little boy plants plastic dinosaurs and Legos alongside the perennials. What a fantastic way to symbolize inter-generational gaps and the emotional transplanting undertaken by immigrants in general.

As always, Lahiri’s prose is practically effortless; you feel as if she were just shadowing her characters and chronicling their lives faithfully. The beautifully wrought descriptions are essential in her ability to transport the reader, whether it be to a Massachusetts suburb or a marketplace in Calcutta. It explains why I enjoy the stories set in India the most; she manages to make the locations feel exotic and familiar at the same time.

On the other hand, I am now severely craving for Indian food. I guess the passages on dal, lamb curry, fried eggplants, and various Bengali stews were just a little too vivid for me.

Just in the nick of time for my book club that actually reads the books, I finished Jhumpa Lahiri’s short story collection Unaccustomed Earth last night.  Usually when I finish a book, it is out of sight, out of mind–an ability that comes in handy when I want to reread Persuasion for the umpteenth time.  This collection of short stories, however, has been absolutely bothering me ever since I began reading it.

First of all, let’s get Durham County Library’s placement of the barcode over Ms. Lahiri’s face out of the way.

I’m sure the author is an absolutely lovely person, but Durham’s finest have ensured that I will never know.  Either the person doing the intake of books has a fabulous sense of humor and wants my reaction to the short stories to be unsullied by the author’s intelligent gaze or the employee is simply haphazardly slapping barcodes on the backs of hundreds of books at a time.   Hmm, which is it?

The stories themselves, I am afraid, hit too close to home.  Stories about children, moving,  family relationships, career choices, academics.  In every character, you can see traces of yourself and the decisions you did or didn’t make.  The quality for me though that binds these stories together (even more than being tales of children of Indian immigrants) is the quality of holding your breath.  So many of these characters have taken in a breath and are poised on the brink of decisions or are delicately feeling their way forward.  In so many of the stories, I am braced for the absolute worst to happen, and  in some cases it does.  In other stories, I slowly exhale my breath and am amazed at how elated I am by the miracle of someone sending a postcard or a baby happily playing in the tub.

Lahiri’s collection of stories was a downer without being wholly depressing, mundane while being stylish, common while still being breathtaking with its insight.  Or, that’s just my opinion.  Anyone else with a different take?

About half-way through Middlemarch, I put it down and have now reached a point where it’s been so long that it’s probably best to start over from the beginning.  Was it Rosamond and Lydgate?   Dorothea and Casaubon?  Why was it that she wanted to marry him again?  Blast.

It’s going to take a while to muster the energy to dive into those first 400 pages (for the second time), so meanwhile I’ve picked up the work of two other ladies, Jhumpa Lahiri and Lydia Davis.  In the case of Ms. Lahiri, I’ve just finished her most recent work, Unaccustomed Earth, having not yet read her Pulitzer-winner, Interpreter of Maladies,  or other prize-winning work, The Namesake.  Her writing style left me a bit wanting, so I’m not feeling particularly inclined to read the others, though I’m mildly intrigued by the Pulitzer-winner for the reason that it’s a Pulitzer winner.  I’ll put it in the “maybe someday” pile.  The tone of Unaccustomed Earth is somber, but in such a way that it also feels hopeless and lacking any sort of redemptive quality.  I did, however, particularly enjoy this charming moment from the short story of the same name as the collection, where 3-year old Akash has an encounter with his mother:

“What are you up to?” she asked him.

“Growing things.”

“Oh?  What are you planting?”

“All this stuff,” he said, his arms full, walking out of the room.  She followed him outside, where she saw that her father had created a small plot for Akash, hardly larger than a spread-open newspaper, with shallow holes dug out at intervals.  She watched as Akash buried things into the soil, crouching over the ground just as her father was.  Into the soil went a pink rubber ball, a few pieces of Lego stuck together, a wooden block etched with a star.

“Not too deep,” her father said.  ”Not more than a finger.  Can you touch it still?”

Akash nodded.  He picked up a miniature plastic dinosaur, forcing it into the ground.

Ms. Davis, on the other hand. (!!!).  I’m enamored by her collection of short stories, Break it Down.  One of many beautiful moments, this is (again, coincidentally) from the short story of the same name as the collection (but I swear I read both books all the way through), the speaker’s thoughts on a love affair that has ended on a tragic note:

Maybe it works out all right, maybe you haven’t lost for doing it, I don’t know, no, really, sometimes when you think of it you feel like a prince really, you feel just like a king, and then other times you’re afraid, you’re afraid, not all the time but now and then, of what it’s going to do to you, and it’s hard to know what to do with it now.

Like Lahiri, Davis deals with melancholy subject matter, but her tone is poignant rather than despairing.  Varieties of Disturbance, Davis’ most recent work, fell just shy of the 2007 National Book Award for Fiction, and this one’s going to the top of my list.  

An audio recording of “Break it Down,” read by Matt Malloy, can be heard on This American Life here.

I also like the cover better than Lahiri’s, and you know what they say about that.

Jhumpa Lahiri’s Unaccustomed Earth is my new favorite book of 2008.  I had previously held Richard Price’s Lush Life as my favorite and it is a terrific novel.  Lahiri’s stories are powerful and there are times when you feel that she’s punched you in the stomach when following the emotional twists and turns that her characters take.  These are not contrived or puppet string-pulling on her part.  They are believable and gut-wrenching.

What I was thoroughly impressed with was the author’s ability to write about attachment and loss.  You not only feel how attachment and loss play a part in the characters’ development but also in yourself.  Lahiri writes about Indian immigrants and the cultures they came from and the cultures they recreate or create here in the U.S.  These cultures are crucial to the characters and to your own understanding of the stories.  But, like the old ad once stated, “you don’t have to be Jewish to love Levy’s rye bread.”  All immigrant groups have experienced or are experiencing the loss of attachments that make them who they are.  I would even include those who emigrate to different parts of the same country in this same category. 

How do immigrants  make homes here in America?  How can immigrant parents relate to their rapidly westernizing children?  What will those children remember most about their parents?  Jhumpa Lahiri explores these questions some times gently, some times probingly.  Hearts are broken and, at other times, crushed.  The stories in Unaccustomed Earth are powerful and provide a revealing look inside all of us who are from someplace else.

“Jhumpa Lahiri is the kind of writer who makes you want to grab the next person you see and say, ‘Read this!’”

— Amy Tan

Unaccustomed Earth is one of the five fiction selections of  New York Times Best Books for 2008.  Jhumpa Lahiri’s debut work, Interpreter of Maladies, a collection of short stories, won the 2000 Pulitzer Prize for fiction, and later received the PEN/Hemingway Award, the New Yorker Debut of the Year award,  American Academy of Arts and Letters Addison Metcalf Award, and was translated into twenty-nine languages.  Her next work was The Namesake, a novel which was turned into film by acclaimed director Mira Nair.  Unaccustomed Earth is her third book.

Jhumpa Lahiri was born in London, England, to Bengali immigrants.  Her family later moved to the United States and settled in Rhode Island where she grew up. Lahiri went to Barnard College and received a B.A. in English Literature.  She furthered her studies in literature and creative writing and obtained three M.A.’s, and ultimately, a Ph.D. in Renaissance Studies at Boston University.  So, she knows her subject matter well.  In Unaccustomed Earth, characters are Bengali immigrants, mostly academics, their second generation who are born in foreign soil and their non-Indian friends or spouse.  The stories deal with the entanglement of cultural traditions, incompatible values, failed hopes and expectations, and the subsequent internal strives that haunt them all.

But why would we be interested in stories like these?  Herein lies Lahiri’s insight.  While the viewpoint of these characters might be parochial, Lahiri’s stories bring out the larger universal significance.  Who among us doesn’t belong to a community, and at one time or another, question his/her conformity in that very community?   Regardless of our ethnicity, who among us isn’t born into a family with its own peculiar traditions and values?  Who among us doesn’t feel the distance separating generations in our world of rapidly shifting paradigms, be they cultural, social, or spiritual?   And who among us, as one in the mass diaspora of drifting humanity, doesn’t want to lay down roots in fertile soil?

Despite the somber themes, reading Lahiri is an enjoyable ride.  Herein lies Lahiri’s talent.  She is a sensitive storyteller, personal in her voice, subtle in her description, meticulous in her observation of nuances, and stylish in her metaphoric inventions.  Her language is deceptively simple.  The seemingly lack of suspense is actually the calm before the storm, which usually comes as just a punchline in the end of each story, leaving you with a breath of  “Wow, powerful!”  But it is for that very line that you eagerly press on as if you are reading a thriller or a page-turner.

The book is divided into two main parts.  The first contains five short stories.  The second, entitled “Hema and Kaushik”, consists of three stories but can be read as a novella on the whole, for they are about two characters whose lives intertwine in an inexplicable way.  While the characters and their situations are contemporary, their quest is the age old longing for love and connection.

I have enjoyed all the stories, but the most impressionable to me is the title one.  In  “Unaccustomed Earth”,  Ruma is married to an American, Adam, with a young child Akash, and pregnant with another.   Her recently widowed father comes to stay with her in Seattle from the East Coast, just for a visit.   During his stay, Ruma’s father builds up a bond with his grandson Akash.   The two create a little garden at the back of the house, a relationship thus flourishes as the flowers and plants blossom.  Ruma struggles with the idea of whether she should welcome her father to live with her for good to fulfil her filial duty, but by so doing, she would be adding a burden to her nuclear family.  What she does not know though is that her father has his secret and internal conflict as well.  He too wants a life of freedom and love.  The story ends with a dash of humor and a little surprise, reminiscent of a Somerset Maugham story.  I will not say more, or the spoiler will lessen your enjoyment.

I have read all three of Lahiri’s work.  And this is my query:  If her first book garnered the many literary awards including the Pulitzer, I just wonder what else could she win with her newest creation, which I enjoy far more.

Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri, published by Alfred A. Knopf, NY, 2008.  333 pages.

~ ~ ~ Ripples

****

Hello all,

So I’ve started my copy of Unaccustomed Earth (from the  library) and am really getting into it. In addition to normal booksellers, Amazon is selling copies for about $14.  The Strand had copies as well.

Enjoy,

Linnea

Our first meeting if the second Sunday of the month, in this case Febuary 8 at 5pm! Address to come, but it will be at Lorrie or my apartment.

In the future, we’ll vote on books to read for the month ahead. If you have any novels that you’re excited about, go ahead and share them with us here, and maybe provide a link  to them and explain what they are about.

For this month, Lorrie suggested Unaccustomed Earth, Pulitzer-prize winning author Jhumpa Lahiri’s collection of short stories. It’s rather long, but I suggest reading the title story at least and as much of the rest as possible, if only too avoid spoilers. Enjoy!

Looking forward to seeing you all soon.

Unaccustomed Earth, a collection of stories and a novella  (the latter worth the weight of the whole stellar collection) by Jhumpa Lahiri, made several top ten lists this year, including the New York Times (read what they said here).  The laurels are piling up with good reason.  A longtime fan of short stories, my interest in them had waned over the past few years.  While the ones I read weren’t bad, per se, many of them seeemed, well, a bit precious.  And then along came Unaccustomed Earth.  And my faith in the form was reborn.

We have some winners for the Book Giveaway to announce  If I don’t have your address (Cindi, don’t worry, I have yours) please email it to me at stephv@uca.edu post haste.  Drawn by my youngest son who has been needing something to do since we’ve been housebound by an ice storm all day, they are:

Randy Pausch’s The Last Lecture Deb

Scholastic Books Children’s Illustrator Calendar Deb

Scholastic Books Children’s Illustrator Calendar Oztegake–are you out there Oztegake?

PermaBound Children’s Books Calendar Monda Fason

Get Crafty Poster Cindy Hoppes

Congratulations to all the winners and

Bye ya’ll

SV

Do you ever find yourself in the middle of a wonderful reading streak where you just can’t put your book down? For weeks, you fly through books and feel so relaxed and entertained. Until, BOOM, it hits you. You’ve finished the books you set aside to read and now what?! All you want to do is open another book, but which one!?  

(I hope this happens to other people – otherwise I just feel crazy!)

My most recent book marathon included, among other things, the following three fabulous books: Three Cups of Tea, Unaccustomed Earth, and Disobedience.

They were all beautifully written, interesting, and thought provoking. If you’re looking for holiday gifts – I highly recommend them. But now I just can’t seem to find another book that looks as good. It can’t be too sad because it’s the holiday season. And I want to be inspired! It can’t be too long, or difficult, because there is so much going on! But I just can’t decide.

I’ll have to read through all the Blogger Book Love entries at The City Sage. I have to find inspiration there!

Alright, heading home to another night of reading Domino Magazine – also a joy, but not as much the third time!