I have just finished reading Jhumpa Lahiri's first novel -- The Namesake -- and would like to recommend it for "thoughtful reading".
The writer -- and her short-story collection, "Interpreter of Maladies" -- was first recommended to me by Sulochona (among other fiction books by Indian writers), when I was designing the headdress of Durga for her; I was unable to interpret (in lace) the little drawing she'd sent me, unless and until I knew a bit more about the Indian culture, way of thinking, etc.
Depressing as the collection was, I liked the book and -- passively -- remembered the author's name long enough to recognise it last week at the library, when I came accross The Namesake. Some aspects of it are depressing still -- but then so is life :) For me, it also had a "gut impact", because it's about assimilation into a foreign culture -- a subject I've been familiar with ever since I remember.
A sparsely written (*very unlike* my own stuff <g>) "history" of 30+ yrs ('68-'00) of an Indian (Calcutta Bengali) family of immigrants in the US (Massachussetts, for the most part). Written in 3rd person, it nevertheless focuses -- *mostly* -- on the mother (the immigrant) and the son (others get their time in the limelight, but not as extensively) Every time the focus changes, you feel like that person is speaking, even though the "she/he" convention is strictly adhered to throughout.
A lot of it I could relate to only through extended imagination. But a lot was of the "been there, done that" kind, even if "by extension". My Mother, as the mother in the book, was the "forever foreigner", even though she never left Poland, the country of her birth; being Jewish (and communist by conviction, not by circumstance) "marked" her ass being different. I was, to an extent, the "son" of the book while in Poland, beginning with a peculiar name. But, once in the US, I am the "mother", and Danek's the "son", though both of us are a "watered-down" version of the situation in the book (my DH is American born-and-bred; we do not speak Polish at home; we don't cook Polish *all the time*; I have Polish-Catholic family, so am familiar with some of the aspects of that religion; etc)
If you've ever wondered about all those peculiar foreigners -- in your midst, yet <g> -- who insist on wearing veils over their faces, or dots on their forheads, people who cook "weird stuff" all week long including Christmas and Thanksgiving, people who've only half-assimilated what you have sucked with your mother's milk... If you've ever wondered why they're so, and what makes them "tick"... Read it. I think I'll make it my Christmas present to several people, including my son.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sulochona started a trend; I began to read other "ethnic" books at about the same time; if I came accross one that had an interesting blurb, I'd check it out. But the majority of the books I check out from the library still come from the mystery shelves -- I've always felt that mysteries are an updated, adult version of fairy tales, and enjoy them for their neat conclusions. So, when I come accross an "ethnic" *mystery*, it's a double treat (comparable, I expect, to chocolate icing on chocolate cake for those who like sweets?)... If the book happens to be well-written *as well*, it's comparable only to placing K, X and Z on a tripple-counted spot in Scrabble (I imagine; never managed) :)
At any rate... For pure entertainment with a totally different "aura" -- a deftly created different world -- read "Bangkok 8", by John Burdett. Homicidal cobras high on meths are but the beginning... :)
----- Tamara P Duvall Lexington, Virginia, USA Formerly of Warsaw, Poland http://lorien.emufarm.org/~tpd/
To unsubscribe send email to [EMAIL PROTECTED] containing the line: unsubscribe lace-chat [EMAIL PROTECTED] For help, write to [EMAIL PROTECTED]
