Reflections: In The Convent of Little Flowers

Indu Sundaresan’s book of short-stories is markedly different from her other books. She shows a whole new side to her ability and talent as a writer. Through nine short stories surrounding India and its varied forms of customs and traditions, she makes the reader confront some of the most difficult and controversial topics; topics we prefer to brush under the rug, fervently hoping they will dwindle with the following generations that promise to nurture progressive attitudes. In the author’s words, “they all deal with that intense moment in which people confront disturbing events in their lives...”

True to her style, Indu Sundaresan relates these stories with sensitivity, grace, and insight. But her writing style in this book took me by surprise for it was quite different from her other books (the ones on historical fiction). Her prose is clear and sharp, and has a quiet, mystical element to it. All her stories are crafted with an element of impending tragedy, and her writing style works really well with the themes.

Regarding the stories themselves, she discusses the pangs of adoption, the bottomless pit of poverty and struggle for survival, the rigidity and horror of ancient practices such as Sati, caste-system, and dowry, the clash of western ideals with the norm of tradition, the almost imperceptible (but very much existent) notions on the superiority of males, and the complex relationships and expectations between Indian parents and their children. The stories come at you strong, and almost cut your soul. Each one leaves you with an uneasy recollection of a similar story and of real-life characters. Your mind sighs and gasps, wondering and retreating in denial at the incredulity of it all. One story in particular is quite hard to believe and digest - it seemed one-dimensional and a little stretched. But the rest of them, sadly, are not as hard to believe.

The characters are beautifully and meticulously defined. Every character in each story has a personality of their own. The stories yet again demonstrate that people’s intentions are often good, but the numerous constraints and complexities put forth by rituals and customs, shackle their minds from discerning right from wrong. People are lost in their own bubble of self-imposed rules on right and wrong that their judgments are clouded, and their attitudes seem primitive, even barbaric sometimes. But despite so many rules and customs (which are practised in the name of maintaining a morally smooth-functioning society), basic morality and humanity seem to be lacking in many aspects of our social functioning. An irony indeed.

Digested Thoughts: I quite liked the book. I was pleasantly surprised by the writing and characterization. Hope the author explores her talents with more such books!

Reflections: Ceremony

Tayo is a Native-American war veteran who stumbles into his present life after experiencing the horrors of war as a Japanese prisoner during World War II. The violence and morbidness of being in war has left him hanging on the edges of his sanity. His past haunts him relentlessly, and his bitterness grows towards the Army and the Americans who still racially segregate and exploit his people. His family in the Laguna Pueblo reservation try to help him get back on his life through a mystic medicine man. This is a grim narration of Tayo’s journey of healing as he resorts to age-old superstitious rituals and reconnects with himself by establishing his own ceremony to cure his weathered spirit.

The book started off powerfully, but the momentum faltered somewhere in the middle and didn’t pick up pace for me. The tone is morose, and adds to the weight of the subject. Although I was captivated by the writing at first, it became increasingly abstract and disconnected. Silko shifts rapidly between time periods, contexts and characters that half the time it seems like we are in one of Tayo’s disturbed dreams. Silko' s disconnected style of writing, in terms of flashes of memories and threads from the past, doesn’t work well all the time, especially when the narration shifts into the present. The rituals and myths also did not sink into me.... they were far too mystical, abstract and cryptic for me to see how they related to Tayo, or his heritage or healing. In the end, I feel like I haven’t grasped as much as what the author intended to convey, and that’s a disappointment.

I made sense out of Tayo’s main “ceremony” as his way of completing what he had left behind when he had joined the Army. A part of him seemed focused on assuaging his guilt as one way of making peace with his past and facing the present. Silko’s underlying thread throughout the story is the unfairness, hypocrisy and selfishness of the Army and the “white” people, who stoke internal conflicts and misery within isolated Native-American communities, using them when needed and ignoring them and not hesitating to trample on them to meet their ruthless ends.

It’s a powerful theme that could have been fleshed out better if the writing didn’t hover over fleeting boundaries of poetry, and enigmatic mysticism. But as I said, I have perhaps not been sharp enough to pick up on something significant.

 
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Digested thoughts: I am starting this new addition to save readers from the misery of parsing through my review-like-non-review, and wonder what the bottom line is and if it’s worth their time to read this book. So.... I would give this book the following smiley/rating (an elaborated rating scheme is on the side-bar):

 This book did not leave a strong enough impression on me - neither positive nor negative. I liked it for its powerful themes, but the writing, the ancient rituals and allusions to witch-craft were too abstract to hold me down and let me savor the story.