Jhumpa Lahiri - "The Lowland"

The Lowland was my introduction to the works of Jhumpa Lahiri, the London-born, Indian-American author. The novel follows the lives of two brothers growing up in 1960s Calcutta. The brothers are total opposites: Subhash is the more obedient of the two who moves to America to pursue advanced studies, and Udayan is a Marxist who aims at affecting political change at a contentious point in India's history.

The book spans the time period from the 60s until present day (where Lahiri cleverly alters the spelling to Kolkata, the Bengali pronunciation). The settings change from India to Rhode Island and California, varying as Lahiri follows multiple characters and dramas that unfold over the half-century. She subtly engages how globalization has altered India in the span of a few decades. Where tragedy once struck the neighborhood of Tollygunge, now the growing middle class has no recollection of life without a subway system.

I think it's safe to put Lahiri in the collection of writers, like Aleksandar Hemon and Teju Cole, called "bicultural writers." All three have an elegant understanding of two cultures and the bridges that connect them, as well as what keeps them distinct. More important, they all recognize changes that interact within each culture.

Cole in particular writes in both Open City and Everyday is For the Thief about how quickly the collective consciousness forgets. Usually he perceives this as a negative thing, but none of these writers weigh in on the positive. Sure I can argue that since as a white male, I'm always the benefactor of this forgetting, it does allow for cultural interaction. I think of Roger Sterling in Mad Men who refused to work with a Japanese car company because of Pearl Harbor. Is it possible to let bygones be bygones? I'd like to think of my life as richer being able to have a conversation with someone of Japanese descent or Vietnamese (or more personally, German) and not blame the actions of their ancestors on their hopefully more enlightened offspring. It is the topic of an unpublished short story I've written, inspired by Vietnamese students I met when I was studying in Shanghai, who were always friendly with me and other Americans, yet I couldn't help but wonder if there was a deeper-seated hatred bubbling beneath that positive veneer.

But back on topic, Lahiri created a compelling story, that despite some issues I have with her writing style, kept me turning the pages. Which is the most important thing any novel can offer. For some reason I can't convince myself it was a great book, but it had me reading. The story offers a unique perspective, even outside of that of an Indian immigrant living in Rhode Island. There is great internal tension, both domestically and politically which does more than raise the eyebrow. The characters are all well-rounded and the non-linear format allows for their formation to creep in slowly like a gas leak; before you know it, you've succumbed to caring about these characters and knowing how they live out their lives.

Previously: Jhumpa Lahiri featured in my Literary Chicago series.