Book review: The Lowland by Jhumpa Lahiri.

Summary

SHORTLISTED FOR THE MAN BOOKER PRIZE 2013. 

From Subhash’s earliest memories, at every point, his brother was there. In the suburban streets of Calcutta where they wandered before dusk and in the hyacinth-strewn ponds where they played for hours on end, Udayan was always in his older brother’s sight. So close in age, they were inseparable in childhood and yet, as the years pass – as U.S tanks roll into Vietnam and riots sweep across India – their brotherly bond can do nothing to forestall the tragedy that will upend their lives. Udayan – charismatic and impulsive – finds himself drawn to the Naxalite movement, a rebellion waged to eradicate inequity and poverty. He will give everything, risk all, for what he believes, and in doing so will transform the futures of those dearest to him: his newly married, pregnant wife, his brother and their parents. For all of them, the repercussions of his actions will reverberate across continents and seep through the generations that follow. Epic in its canvas and intimate in its portrayal of lives undone and forged anew, The Lowland is a deeply felt novel of family ties that entangle and fray in ways unforeseen and unrevealed, of ties that ineluctably define who we are. With all the hallmarks of Jhumpa Lahiri’s achingly poignant, exquisitely empathetic story-telling, this is her most devastating work of fiction to date.

My review

As was the case with The Namesake and interpreter of maladies, The Lowland is a profound text relating the story of India through that of a family, of its difficulties. The changes India has gone through mirror what the protagonists are experiencing: they evolve, try and cling to traditions while escaping them in the most forceful ways, they mature and tear down some of their most important links, those to their families, that to their past. It is also the parable of the prodigal son. It tackles both the complexity and simplicity of life in India, of moving away from India and feeling estranged from one’s own, from oneself. A novel also exploring themes dear to Jhumpa Lahiri such as gender equality, poverty, the importance of studying to reshape one’s destiny, the arch importance of family ties. A masterpiece as usual!

Excerpts

In 1967, in the papers and on All India Radio they started hearing about Naxalbari. It was a place they’d never heard of before.

        It was one of a string of villages in the Darjeeling District, a narrow corridor at the northern tip of West Bengal. Tucked into the foothills of the Himalayas, nearly four hundred miles from Calcutta, closer to Tibet than to Tollygunge.

        Most of the villagers were tribal peasants who worked on tea plantations and large estates. For generations they’d moved under a feudal system that hadn’t substantially changed.

        They were manipulated by wealthy landowners. They were pushed off fields they’d cultivated, denied revenue from crops they’d grown? They were preyed upon by moneylenders. Deprived of subsistence wages, some died from lack of food.

***

He had forgotten the possibility of so many human beings in one space. The concentrated stench of so much life. He welcomed the sun on his skin, the absence of bitter cold. But it was winter in Calcutta. The people filling the platform, passengers and coolies, and vagrants for whom the station was merely a shelter, all bundled in woolen caps and shawls.

        Only two people had come to receive him. A younger cousin of his father’s, Biren Kaka, and his wife. They were standing by a fruit vendor, unable to smile when they spotted him. He understood this diminished welcome, but he could not understand why, after he’s travelled for more than two days, after he’d been away for more than two years, his parents were unwilling to come even this far to acknowledge his return.

To go further