Reflections: The Help

Skeeter (as she is called) is an aspiring writer in the small town of Jackson, Mississippi. It is the early 1960s, a time of much social awakenings and upheaval in the United States. Skeeter agrees with the socialist movements, in principle. Everyday she witnesses her clique of snooty white friends settle deeper and deeper into their rigid and narrow ways - insulting, segregating, and oppressing their African-American maids, focusing their time and effort to scale social ladders through superficial parties, and perpetuating the notion that women, that too white women, are too precious to do any hard work. Skeeter finally picks up the courage and determination to write a book from the perspective of African-American maids, with the hope that the book shall bring to light the pitiable lives of such maids and the dynamics between them and the white families they serve. With sharp characters and engrossing writing, this is an honest, simple, and heart-warming story of racial prejudices and social pressures that affect sincere, innocent lives.

Racism is the main subject of exploration in the book. But the parallel exploration that interested me was the relationship dynamics between a maid and the family that she serves. Maids, or rather Domestic Helps, are still part of most households in India. In many families, the Help is an indispensable part of everyday functioning. From cleaning the house, to helping in the kitchen, to running errands, to taking care of children, they are part of all the core elements of the household. In my own family, our Help has been with us for close to 20 years. She has grown to be one of my mother’s closest friends and support systems. Having seen me grow, I am more like a granddaughter to her. Despite such heartwarming closeness, I am aware that there is still a boundary that is drawn on either sides - define it with whatever term, color it with whatever emotion - I can’t articulate the right words for it. The dynamics is dotted with hiccups - of social hierarchy, financial status, educational differences, and overall differences in lifestyle. Perhaps it is unrealistic, given natural work boundaries, for a Help to be fully integrated into a family, but the book makes you wonder and give it more thought. Why doesn’t she ever sit with you at the same table to share a meal - nobody prevents her, there are no official rules or contract - but an implicit set of antiquated rules always hangs in the air. It is sad that in many households this is still a matter of deep-seated prejudice - the rules are imbued very seriously, with the upholders presenting thin, but vehement justifications.

As much as I hate to say this, most times the justification is presented in the name of hygiene. The book brings up this same “justification” and revolves a story around it. It shows that such rationalization is a blow to basic dignity, especially in these times. The characters in the book make an appeal to adopt more progressive attitudes.

The characters themselves are starkly black or white - good or bad. Except for Skeeter’s mom, many of the characters lacked complexity - they were simple, but beautifully portrayed. Despite the wealth of characters, each has their unique voice. Sometimes, it is nice to read stories with such simple characters that tell a basic story of injustice; a refreshing break from the world of greys we live in. The bad pay their dues, the good get blessed with a break. But life is not an ideal fairy tale, even in the most simplest of stories. The characters’ lives fork, twist, and turn, and some renew their faith and goodness to carry on, while some contently resort to their old, rusty ways. In that sense, there is a lot of realism in the story.

The wide array of memorable characters, the thread of suspense, the bristling injustices and prejudices, the rooting feminism and social liberation, make the book a straightforward success. I couldn’t put the book down, despite its length. No wonder a movie was promptly made!

Reflections: The World We Found

Thrity Umrigar’s latest book surrounds the stories of four college friends who drifted away in the currents of life, but come together for one last poignant reunion. Laleh, Kavita, Nishta, and Armaiti were an inseparable, idealistic bunch in college. With fiery beliefs in socialism and secularism, the girls envisaged creating a New India, a new society, a new way of life. Now, after the passage of more than two decades, fate draws all the four women together as Armaiti battles a fatal illness. As they reconnect, they are forced to reflect on their own lives, confront their pasts, their regrets, their simple, touching idealism, and wonder how their worlds shaped in directions almost contrary to the beliefs and ideologies of their younger selves. Faced with this jolt of realization, the women deal with their inner conflicts as they decide what little steps should be taken to resurrect at least a portion of their dreams to build their own world - congruent to their terms. This is a reflective book that juxtaposes idealism with reality, individual forces against political and religious forces, specifically in the context of Indian society in the thriving city of Bombay.

I loved Thrity Umrigar’s Bombay Time for the wonderful, memorable characters that she weaved into a complex story that involves people, culture and society merging into one another and influencing each other. This book has a similar theme. The threads are similar, the colors are similar, but the patterns and textures are different. One major aspect that I appreciate in Umrigar’s writing is her beautiful, realistic depiction of how people change, and what causes them to harbor thoughts and execute actions that are socially appalling. The psychological characterization makes it easy for the reader to readily sympathize  and empathize with even those characters whom we resent in our lives. One such character in this story is Iqbal, Nishta’s austere muslim husband. Although I was unable to empathize with this character in the beginning, my heart went out for him by the end. And the most amazing part was I sympathized with both Iqbal and Nishta, felt their emotions as if they were my own, read their thoughts, and connected with their fears and frustrations. I couldn’t view one as the victim and the other as the perpetrator as we so often do while coming to know of real life stories. Both were victims in my eyes, and that was precisely the author’s aim. She convincingly crafted the story to show how forces and powers much much bigger than our idealism crush the essence of our ideals. Religious violence, communal violence, and the accompanying prejudices and discrimination, often turn people to seek comfort in the very arms that slashed them - religion and community. An idealistic, secural Iqbal who was daring enough to oppose his family and community by marrying a Hindu, was pushed to embrace his religion and community to protect himself. My favorite piece in this book is the story of Nishta and Iqbal. It has the most impact and significance to the book.

In addition to the strong thread on Hindu-Muslim rivalry and prejudices, Umrigar also focuses on the subtle but powerful influence of capitalism in our socialistic structure. Money, higher “caste”, and power are the reigning elements in India, despite the extents of good-will, idealism, and socialistic attitude that one tries to wear, and live by. These pieces are tightly strung into every chapter and every scene, making it thought-provoking for the reader to inspect into their own lives.

Another piece that touched me was Armaiti’s thoughts and her slow, gradual reconcilement to her illness and mortality. Umrigar’s writing on mortality was refined, deep, and moving.

These strong and relevant themes carry this book along. I was a bit disappointed with some of the main characters in the book - they seemed a bit cliched and didn’t seem to have distinct personalities that I could remember. I think this is because Umrigar tries to cover a gamut of social themes using more than five primary characters, that some characters don’t have enough room in the story to be entirely fleshed out. For instance, the social issue on lesbianism is part of the book, but it merely exists within a cliched, obvious character and setting.

Umrigar’s writing is beautiful and touchingly insightful in some sections, but some of the dialogues seemed a little unnatural and trite. And knowing the various little hoops one needs to jump through, and the lengthy, arduous rigmarole that Indians go through to obtain their US visa, I felt the visa interview process was not represented in its true light. But, that’s just a quibble in the overall framework of the story.

Except for these few quibbles, I quite liked reading the book. It was deeply relevant and meaningful. I could very easily identify with the young idealistic girls who were slowly pulled by life’s uncertain, inexplicable paths. I already cringe at the unnerving prospect of looking back and pondering how far removed life looks from the idealistic image painted by the younger me. I’m sure to remember this book and its themes for a very very long time. This is an interesting, contemplative read that I recommend. 

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I received an advance-review-copy of this book through a publisher-organized giveaway that was hosted here. Quite exciting! Thanks to the publisher (Harper) for sending me a review copy, and to S. Krishna for organizing this. 

A disclaimer that my thoughts on the book are honest and are not influenced by the free copy.

Reflections: The Splendor of Silence

With this book, I can now say I have read all books written by Indu Sundaresan thus far. With most of her books, excepting her short-story collection, I’ve experienced a love-hate relationship. Hate is probably a harsh word... let’s call it frustration. But because of my adoration for her writing, I keep going back, and continue to alternate between two states of mind (and heart) as I read her book.

The Splendor of Silence had an enticing premise for me. In the pre-Independence times of India, when the Nationalist movements were simmering and bubbling, an intriguing and dashing American with a whole lot of secrets in his bag, enters Rudrakot and sweeps the heart of a well-educated, refined Indian woman. As he sets fire to a series of irrevocable events, hearts get shattered, peace gets violated, but romance lives on. Sorry for the cheesy introduction, but that’s how the book comes across - a little cheesy, but surely entertaining! I am a sucker for such romances no doubt, but there was a part of me that scoffed at the story, as much as another part of me got attached to the idealistic images. If I had written a novel when I was younger (and a romance novel at that), I would have likely written (or conceived) something exactly like this story. It has all the elements that point to the dreamy, naive, idealistic me. In that regard, I feel a special kinship with Indu! She thinks very similar to me, sets the stage and characters in a fashion almost identical to my imagination.... of a younger me.

But a few things didn’t come together to make this a cohesively compulsive and impressive book. The book contains plenty of rich history surrounding India’s independence struggle, the class discriminations of the snobbish British Raj compounded with the Indian caste system, and the acute identity crisis suffered by both Indians and British alike. Although this book is hence showcased as a historical fiction, it is basically a romantic story that is couched in a historical context. The background is historical, and some characters symbolize the different kinds of attitudes and mind-sets worn by people of that time. These aspects surely portray the political, social, and culture climate of India accurately, but they don’t weave into the story well. There are paragraphs and pages of narration and explantions on the history and social commentary, and they stand alone from the story and some of the characters. There are many “asides”, digressions, and tangents that delve into facts and history, while the character would have uttered just a sentence. So, it sort of became a frustrating mix of fiction and non-fiction. If there is one scene, one dialogue, it is then accompanied with two whole pages of factual writing, explaining the caste system, the characters’ history, past etc. In essence, most of the book was a narration, a commentary, and it kept switching from one character’s point of view to the next, most of which didn’t fit in line with how the story was delivered - as a letter from a character. So, while the main story did not leap to life until the last 75 pages of the book, the remainder of the book involved a very slow process of setting the stage and providing all the history. I would have preferred if the characters (and the story) related and portrayed the history, rather than it being delivered through detailed, explicit narration, which defeats the value of fiction.

Secondly, the characters, excepting one, were flat. I don’t have the faces of the two main characters in my head. I couldn’t imagine them all through the story - they were caricatures in my head, and did not bloom into personalities with a face and voice that I will remember for a while. Indu Sundaresan writes such gorgeous prose, but she somehow misses out on what details to give shape to, to bring her characters to life. A whole page of beautiful descriptions of the characters’ attire, or the chair in which they are seated does not help define the character. It makes the environment alive and vibrant, but not the core of the characters. Further, it was incongruous to hear all the characters speak the same, impeccable style of English as that of the narrator. How can all characters speak alike? That too speak in such good English all the time? True, people spoke much better elite English in the 1940s, but still! And like me, brevity is not Indu’s forte :). There are so many words, so many pages, tiny text crammed into 400 sheets of paper, but the volume does not indicate depth, unfortunately.

Digested Thoughts: Still, I enjoyed reading the book. I love reading about strong and refined women of the early times, especially one so strong as to break barriers and fall in love with an American. Although the protagonists’ courage seemed a notch too unrealistically scandalous and fickle at times, and the romance seemed amateurish, I still liked reading the book. The prejudices, insecurities, and confusions of the British and the Indians come at you strong. We still face the colonial hangover of those heady times. Although it has its flaws, I have to concede that this is not an easy subject to write about - India's history,  past, society, and culture is far too complex anyway. But more than anything, I loved savoring Indu Sundaresan’s writing and for mainly that reason, I give the book a high rating.

 

Reflections: Emma

Emma Woodhouse is a charming young lady in Highbury. She is a smart, genteel woman, observing all the manners and views of the Victorian “high-bred” society. She believes she has an innate talent to be a match-maker and prides herself on successfully matching couples, until she makes multiple mistakes with her new and innocent friend, Harriet. Emma is generally headstrong, spoilt and a little pretentious in holding onto prejudices of class and status. Multiple characters get introduced, all of whom fall under Emma’s radar as potential mates for Harriet or for herself, resulting in a romantic imbroglio of sorts, not knowing who is truly interested in whom, until Austen slowly unwraps the convoluted romantic jumble.

This work is hailed as one of Austen’s most popular works. One of my friends, who is a trusted literary enthusiast, has often told me that I had to read Emma, for she considered it one of Austen’s most charming books. I went by her words, but I failed to feel her appreciation for the book. Perhaps I have outgrown Jane Austen. The language is no doubt eloquent and beautiful, gently and intelligently drawing the characters’ personalities. But I didn’t see much of a story, or a plot. It was more of a satire to me, on how genteel ladies of that time idled their time on frivolities, prejudices and gossip. But contrary to how much I love and adore Wodehouse’s similar satire on the aristocrats and pompous British, I found this particular story to be meandering and boring.

But if Austen’s intention was to make a statement about the need for a change in society so that women were occupied with more constructive things than indulge in trivialities, and marriage was not seen as a social ambition or financial security for women, then, I truly applaud her for thinking ahead of her times.