Deep sorrow rises and ebbs in this haunting tale of four individuals struggling though life during India's Emergency. It made once again marvel at the...moreDeep sorrow rises and ebbs in this haunting tale of four individuals struggling though life during India's Emergency. It made once again marvel at the amount of history in my lifetime that I have missed, and yearn for Wikepedia to investigate further.(less)
After finishing the Namesake, my thoughts were drawn to my last roommate in college, an Indian woman studying for her PHD in Psychology. When I first...moreAfter finishing the Namesake, my thoughts were drawn to my last roommate in college, an Indian woman studying for her PHD in Psychology. When I first moved in, she had just broken up with her white boyfriend. “It never would have worked out anyway…” she had cried. By the end of that same year she was flying of to Houston to be wed to a man she had only seen once, a marriage arranged by their parents. Many nights my other roommate (an exchange student from Berlin) and I would sit out on the balcony smoking cigarettes and marveling at the concept of an arranged marriage in the new millennium. This book made me understand her a little bit better, her choice in marriage and other aspects of our briefly shared lives, like: her putting palm oil in her hair, the massive Dutch oven that was constantly blowing steam, or her mother living with us for 3 months. This is after all the story of an Indian growing up American and the cultural adaptations and clashes that color his life. Perspective shifting from parent to child and back again, it’s an engaging view of an immigrant family in America. Gogol hates his name, and the Bengali traditions that are forced on him since childhood. The reader follows him through adolescence into adulthood where his history and his family affect his relationships with women more than anything else. As much as this book was heralded for its exploration of the immigrant experience, as any truly great piece of literature, its lessons are universal... Anyone who has ever been ashamed of their parents, felt the guilty pull of duty, questioned their own identity, or fallen in love, will identify with these intermingling lives. The pace in which she tells it is exactly equal to looking back on the memories of a life lived. Skimming over the mundane, she punctuates the cherished memories and life changing events that are now somewhat hazy. It is a superb first novel. (less)
Set in a scent rich Bombay (curry, paprika, grasshopper green chutney), this is the life story of a boy born with a face like the sub-continent of Ind...moreSet in a scent rich Bombay (curry, paprika, grasshopper green chutney), this is the life story of a boy born with a face like the sub-continent of India. Would I be putting myself out there too much to say I identified with this physically deformed child with aspirations of changing history? Perhaps. Born at the stroke of midnight, at the very moment of India’s independence (Aug 15, 1947), Saleem Sinai is imbued with certain powers that link him to all of the other children of midnight. They in turn have there own unique powers: A boy who can move through reflective surfaces, a person who switches gender upon touching water, a time-traveler, Shiva of the crushing knees. However remarkable the fantastical aspects of this story are, Rushdie never lets its characters fall into comic book like glory. He never lets their talents lead to a life above human struggle, but instead explores the ruined potential in all people. Rushdie’s heroes are merely children succumbing to the will and movement of time and place. Despite a nose that can smell emotion and ego, and placing responsibility for the rise and fall of Indira Gandhi on the head of a single bandy legged, snot dripping, cucumber nosed, piece-of-the-moon, the story remains true to the feelings and struggles of humanity. Can we not all see mirrored in our own lives, all that has come before us? Do we not stop and take note of our actions in a given momentous occasion, as if to gauge cause and affect? Perhaps what truly struck me (along with the details of Bombay talkies and Pakistani Wars) was the innocence of childhood getting beat out by the mundane realities of life. (less)
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