Jhumpa Lahiri’s Two Lives
Newsweek magazine prepares us for the Bush visit to India by carrying a piece by Jhumpa Lahiri.
“When I was growing up in Rhode Island in the 1970s I felt neither Indian nor American.” Lahiri goes on to say that the sharp division between the two places, and therefore also between her two lives, has ceased to matter so much. Rather than investing too heavily in historical generalizations, Lahiri seeks her truths in more concrete, individual details of her family-past. She writes: “While I am American by virtue of the fact that I was raised in this country, I am Indian thanks to the efforts of two individuals. I feel Indian not because of the time I’ve spent in India or because of my genetic composition but rather because of my parents’ steadfast presence in my life.” There is a sort of safety in such analysis, but also a touching kind of truth. Especially when Lahiri goes on to write about her parents: “Everything will change once they die. They will take certain things with them–conversations in another tongue, and perceptions about the difficulties of being foreign. Without them, the back-and-forth life my family leads, both literally and figuratively, will at last approach stillness. An anchor will drop, and a line of connection will be severed.” We’re back in real history with these lines, the history of two different generations in this country, and, of course, the history bound by birth and death.
Everything will change once they die. They will take certain things with them–conversations in another tongue, and perceptions about the difficulties of being foreign. Without them, the back-and-forth life my family leads, both literally and figuratively, will at last approach stillness. An anchor will drop, and a line of connection will be severed.
You can sense the melancholy of the understanding that Jhumpa Lahiri has of this finality in her work, I feel sure of it - Gogol’s daze, the tenderness and delicacy of her stories. People say these are studied, minimalist, coolly contrived. I don’t think so - I think they are contemplative and have an undertow of steady bewildered sadness. She knows something is passing. Her characters know it too. I think this is what ‘The Namesake’ is powered by, under the surface. All that social detail, cataloguing of things that Gogol notices as he moves into the ‘white world’ - this is his daze and confusion, his simple attempt to apprehend where he is. This is literature about the anticipation of the end of an understood world. Her detail and nuance are so powerful because of this.
Jhumpa Lahiri will write some great books.
Comment by Harpreet — March 1, 2006 @ 3:12 am
I love Jhumpa Lahiri: her contrived poignance, the way she captures so beautifully an image, and etc - I could go on and on.
But, to some degree, I feel as if her characters are too dry, hard to get attached to. I have read Interpreter of Maladies and The Namesake, and, as I recall them in my head, I only remember the settings, the mood, and the narration - I barely remember any dialogue. Her characters are sometimes just void - just a canvas to paint a picture, they are not the principal actors in her work; the principal actor in her books is the narrator.
I would also venture to say her works are existensalist(i don’t believe in classification of literature into categories, the employment is just for kicks) when following this definition:
“A philosophical movement embracing the view that the suffering individual must create meaning in an unknowable, chaotic, and seemingly empty universe.”link
I know I am probably setting myself up for an essay-type rebuttal by Lahiri fans, but what happened to the bright side of life: the laughs, the joy,… I said some of the safe stuff before. So sorry for the repeat, Amitava.
My favorite short from Lahiri is “Sexy” - takes place in Boston which for some reason I associate with weather-driven promiscuity.
Regardless, thanks for the link Amitava.
Comment by Vikash Singh — March 2, 2006 @ 12:44 am