Difficult Daughters: Manju Kapur

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I am somehow in the mood for Indian books now. So when I saw Difficult Daughters by Manju Kapur in the library I thought I will give it a try. I had heard a lot about it and had wanted to read it for a long time. Here is the summary from the book jacket –

Virmati, a young woman born in Amritsar into an austere and high-minded household, falls in love with a neighbor, the Professor – a man who is already married. That the Professor eventually marries Virmati, installs her in his home (alongside his furious first wife) and helps her towards further studies in Lahore, is small consolation her scandalized family. Or even to Virmati, who finds that the battle for her own independence has created irrevocable lines of partition and pain around her.

When scandal, rebellion and the fight for independence come together in a novel it will, rest assured, have something to keep the reader hooked. I will say that I was too; I could not keep away from the book for long. Secondly, this is a book by a woman about three generations of women, which was another interesting aspect. It begins with Virmati’s daughter Ida landing in Amritsar to find out more about her mother’s past. As she slowly traces a story laden with tears, struggles and few smiles, we come to know that Virmati’s story ran parallel to India’s own battle for independence in the 1940s.

Virmati dares to enter unchartered and “sinful” territory by desiring a married man. To her the English Professor was a man of progress, of liberal values and of modernization, all the things that India as a whole was looking to achieve then. And it was not just Virmati who used to hang on to the Professor’s words. Kailashnath, Virmati’s brother says while guiding Ida around the college where her father taught,

“This used to be the most crowded classroom in the entire college. Students used to come to Lahore to hear him.”

“But what was so special about what he said?” I was curious. English was English.

“…He brought the subject alive. Most of us had never stepped out of Amritsar. The things he talked about, his expression, his way of speaking, we felt we were in another world.”

All of this charmed Virmati and the Professor was equally taken in by her strong personality and eagerness to learn. But as the book progresses Virmati’s strength, initially running on the high octane fuel of secret trysts and forbidden love, dissolves. As she refuses to marry a “boy” her family had chosen and as they slowly discover the reason for the refusal, Virmati’s life becomes a series of escapes. On the pretext of pursuing higher studies, Virmati goes to Lahore to escape her mother’s wrath. Later she becomes a teacher at a school run by a Maharani to escape from the Professor himself and then finally she is sent to study philosophy by the Professor so that she can get away from the stifling atmosphere in his house.

I felt that it was this dissolution of strength that makes the book a long drawn affair. I wish Virmati had shown a little more spine in putting her foot down firmly to her advantage in many situations. I found it frustrating after a point that the Professor continued to have his way with her while postponing her requests to marry her. Each time Virmati would resolve not to return to the Professor but at the same time she would continue writing letters to him. To Virmati, as for any woman at that time, marriage was the only validation of her femininity and this was the one thing the Professor refused for a long time.

The Professor, again, lacked the willpower and courage of a man truly in love. Despite being educated abroad and that too in a subject like English Literature, which is quite liberating and strengthening at the same time, the Professor dares not to displease his family. Though he worships Virmati with his words, his actions hardly validate them. It takes a lot of persuasion from his friend for him to finally marry Virmati but it again gives way to further furtive fumbling in the dark and hushed voices so that the Professor’s wife does not hear them. At one point I almost felt like shaking Virmati up for continuing to fall for the Professor’s empty words!

Thus it always seems that the more Virmati is gaining her independence on one track, she is being suffocated on the other. There is always a friction as Virmati moves in these two opposite directions at once; while she is the most educated member of her family and even goes to work, paradoxically she has to stay hidden from society at large and her loved ones because of her liaison with the Professor. Even as India is being partitioned, Virmati’s life also develops cracks as she loses her family’s love.

Kapur’s women, including Virmati’s daughter, are a long suffering lot, albeit with a certain fire in them. But that spark is not enough to set light to their innermost ambitions and desire to live life the way they want. So Difficult Daughters is more a chronicle of women and their lives rather than a story with a resolution or results. Shortlisted for the Commonwealth Writer’s Prize for the Best First Book, Difficult Daughters is difficult to put down. But at the same time it’s difficult not to wish that women like Virmati would be stronger, so as not to bring their own downfall.

Verdict: Fast read, peeps into life during pre and post independence India

Rating: 3/5

The Girls from Ames : Jeffrey Zaslow

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It's a surprisingly hot day in Bangalore today. The skies are crystal blue, the air still and dull. And dull is a word that I would also use to describe The Girls from Ames by Jeffrey Zaslow. This book is a perfect example of how you can take a seemingly great story and then reduce it to run-of-the-mill stuff that seriously should not have passed a publisher, let alone reach the best-seller list.

Yes, I am a bit irritated. Make no mistake - I think I would love to know the girls from Ames - they seem wonderful, supportive women who have kept a childhood friendship alive and strong for 40 years now. It's a deep bond that these 11 women share as they pass through life's various vicissitudes. Knowing personally how tough it is these days to find good friends AND keep them - it's an unusual and strange story. Yet, in the hands of a journalist, it becomes a soporific documentary. I found myself just skipping the pages - trying to take in 11 characters is a bit like reading a Russian novel. Without the Russian novel's readability. I found that I had no idea who each of the girls where when the book starts in a rather stuttering fashion, and after sometime, I didn't care.

Despite having 11 women to write about, Zaslow chooses to concentrate on 3 women - Kelly, Karen and Marilyn. There is no in depth retelling of their lives - I am of the opinion that you don't have to lead a fascinating life (whatever fascination is) to be fascinating - but you need to be a fascinating writer to convey the pithy, pathos, bathos, the dredge, sludge, slime and beauty of human existence. Zaslow is not of them. He may be a great journalist, but not the writer who can make you shiver, tremble with awe, and swoon as you read words that seem to come to life all on their own. It appears that he just visited the girls on their reunion weekend - jotted down a few points and anecdotes about their lives, and then just wrote about it. It's what you might do when you have to report for your local suburban newspaper in a hurry. I couldn't obtain a sense of clarity - no progression on how the girls maintained their friendships. I could only come back with a hazy blurry image of a few women - their marriages and their kids mostly - and a lot of information for some reason on Marilyn's father - Dr. Cormack. This book was an utter waste of time - I try to find the good in every book - but there are times when you feel irritated that you gave a few hours of your life, that a 1000 trees gave their lives, just so that you can write in a haphazard disjointed manner about 11 women.

Verdict: Avoid. That's it. 


Rating: 1/5 (And that's only because the book is on a topic I love)

The Postmistress: Sarah Blake

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Learning a language with all seriousness can be exhausting! Especially when your teacher gives you plenty of homework everyday. And this is the reason why I took so long to finish one book. But am enjoying it, I love the process of learning everyday and it refreshes me.

The book in question is The Postmistress by Sarah Blake, which had been on my “to read” list for a long time. Needless to say, I grabbed it when I saw it in the library. First, here is a brief of the story from the back cover –

It is 1940, and American radio reporter Frankie Bard is making a name for herself broadcasting the horrifying truth of the bombing raids from London during the Blitz. Frankie’s dispatches crackle across the Atlantic imploring her countrymen to pay attention. Listening to Frankie is Iris James, postmistress in a peaceful coastal town on Cape Cod. Iris firmly believes that her job is to keep and deliver people’s secrets, to pass along the news of love and sorrow that letters carry. Emma Fitch, the doctor’s new wife, also tunes into Frankie’s nightly bulletins, desperate to hear news of London where her husband is helping out. She counts the days until his return and his letters are a lifeline that keeps her from unraveling. But one night in London the fates of all three women cross when Frankie finds a letter she vows to deliver.

With this interesting premise and being set during World War II, I could not resist it. And I must say that Blake has managed to evoke some really powerful war scenes that made me feel that I was there with Frankie Bard, right in the centre of the maelstrom. There are numerous scenes visualizing a bombing and its aftermath and of refugees being shot at point blank. Frankie Bard is witness to all this and more and despite her tough exterior, she finds that she is emotionally unraveling. One of the hardest hitting vignettes in the book was when Frankie goes to check on her colleagues Harriet and Dowell at her flat after a bombing –

The back of the flat had simply vanished, while the front remained as usual, the lamp on the table, the hooks across from the door on which hung Harriet’s coat, and Dowell’s. It was unreal. No shape. In the first few seconds she stood in the door, looking at Harriet’s coat, seeing that there was no bedroom anymore to the left, while to the right the morning light reached all the way through the glassless windows of the front room, and seeing that letter waited from Harriet’s cousin in Poland, waited patiently by the front door, standing perfectly normally against the wall, waiting for Harriet.

That last sentence was eerie in a way and I kept imagining the scene over and over. I was most attracted to the character of Frankie Bard because of her spirit and determination to do her job. As she travels across Europe recording different voices in her machine, she encounters many terrible moments. But the worst realization that she faces is that most Americans remained unaware of what was really happening to people on the other side of the Atlantic.

The only other person who is remotely aware is Iris the postmistress through whose hands pass letters and postcards.

As the postmaster, she knew everybody’s business and almost everybody’s sins. Some postmasters fell in love with the secrets, and played them out as breathlessly as a bad novel…But she’d give a quick glance at the person handing her their mail, a nice smile, and then she’d turn and toss what they gave her, passing it on. She watched it all. And she never said a word. The whole thing depended on her silence.

However, for once she takes an important decision against her beliefs. When she receives news pertaining to Emma Fitch. She did more than give a quick glance. By placing Iris in this position, Blake explores the moral dilemma of many post(wo)men. Do they shield someone from the truth in order to prevent a bigger disaster from happening or do they do their job as usual? I don’t know what I would have done in Iris’ situation, honestly. Iris gives a nice perspective on the mundane job of delivering letters to people and sets you thinking a little.

Emma Fitch on the other hand is a sweet character, innocent and shy. Yet, she shows her resilience in her silent ways many times, especially when the town doctor and her husband, Will Fitch, leaves for London against her wishes.

Will himself is an interesting character. Through him Blake presents another choice. Would you try and help other people who are suffering in the war or be home with your new wife, who is also new to town and who is also pregnant? Will never knew that Emma was pregnant but paying no heed to the dangers of the war zone, he chose to be true to his profession and leave Emma promising to return soon.

All these elements make The Postmistress an interesting read. But at the end of the book I felt everything had happened the way I had expected it to be. There were no other secrets divulged, no twists and no relief. Yet, three women’s lives had been changed forever. It is this quiet understanding that lends an edge to the book. For those who can see beyond the stereotypes that are definitely present in it, The Postmistress is a satisfying read.

Verdict: War novel enthusiasts will love the atmosphere and for others the three women at the centre of the novel are definitely worth a read

Rating: 3.5/5

The Girl Who Played with Fire : Stieg Larsson

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It's been a little more than 10 days since I blogged here, yet my life has turned a series of little somersaults. I find myself in a new job with a well-known German company and the resumption to full-fledged work status has been a bit jarring. It's funny the things we sometimes do make a living - I am not looking forward to Mondays or any weekdays, yet we tell ourselves that we must endure what we must, if only to keep ourselves sane financially and insane emotionally.

After Jo over at Bibliojunkie recommended the second of Stieg Larsson's best-selling series, I told myself to give it a try. I was not too impressed with Larsson's first book in the series -The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, but Fire turned out to be a surprisingly better read. Yeah Jo, you can breathe in relief now. ;-). I agree with the Independent when it gushed that Lisbeth Salander was the "most original heroine to emerge in crime fiction for many years." I haven't read much of crime fiction, but I can see the reason why the Millennium series has been such a success - it's because of Salander. Book Two here is just as much of a roller coaster ride the first, except that the plot here is more tightly structured, and more gripping. There is still a lot to digest though - Larsson moves his pen through almost all aspects of Sweden's dark underbelly - from drug trafficking to human trafficking to guardians abusing children to psychopaths and sociopaths - there is nothing that doesn't escape the wrath of his writing. The plot moves at furious pace, and I had problems comprehending some of it. In the end, I decided not to. I just read, going with the flow and trying not to piece together ends and pieces - and once I did that, the reading of Fire became much better.

This is not high literature, but in the genre of crime fiction the critical thing is to tell a story so well that your readers just want to turn the next page. And Larsson does a brilliant job with that. I will probably go ahead and pick up Book Three in the series as well...if not out of anything, but out of sheer curiosity. Actually, the only reason I would pick up the next book would be for Salander - she is certainly an almost unreal heroine - yet fascinating nevertheless.

Verdict: Racing thriller that delivers what it promises.

Rating: 3/5

The Last Brother : Nathacha Appanah

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I don't think I have ever read a book by person of Indian origin, who grew up in Mauritius, lives now in France and writes in French. The Last Brother by Nathacha Appanah was a book that I was drawn to because the blurb on the cover promised to take me into David and Raj's world as "they flee through sub-tropical forests and devastating storms," and "forge a friendship that only death could destroy." Ah, friendship again! Age old favorite topic of mine! Don't I ever get tired of it?

Set in Mauritius, the book is a visual feast. Lush and rich is the language. There we have Raj, a 70-year old man, narrating with emotion the year when he was 9, the year when life changed forever for him, the year that caused more cataclysmic upheaval than most people go through in a lifetime. The use of memory as a literary narrative device is a popular one these days. Often, memory lends to itself a poignancy - we are often sad when we think of the past, even if the past was happy, only because the past simply by being the past creates in us a sense of what-was and what-can-never-be. The past has that quality - elusive and hunted we are by it. Either we are trying to escape our past, or we are trying to live in the past. As human beings, I see no other choice. Raj too has no other choice. His memories of THAT year are tainted with grief, yet there is a beauty in it. It was also strangely one of the happier times he had known - a time when he met David, a white boy of his age, blond curls flowing. A time when he met David at the Beau-Bisson prison camp for Jews. Wait a minute, did I say Jews? Yes. The Mauritius played its own little part in the internment of Jews during the Second World War. It's but a little footnote in history - 1,584 Jews, who Britain rejected as illegal immigrants, and instead deported them to its little colony of Mauritius. They weren't mistreated there, but suffered from tropical illnesses, malnutrition and the agony of watching their dreams turn into dust.

For a brief while Raj and David form a friendship that would forever change both their lives. Raj's life is pitiful - beset by loss, abused by an alcoholic father, his only respite in life is his mother. And David. It's a respite that you know is short-lived because the narrator is already choked with regret and grief when he narrates his story.

For a book that is so rich in descriptive language, I found the pace of reading a tad slow. Yet, there is undoubted beauty in this book. It's instructive, as good books are meant to be. And it's sad - as good books are also meant to be. I wouldn't classify this is a classic,  but it's an interesting read into a forgotten chapter of history. Read it though, and tell me your thoughts. 

Verdict: An intriguing read.

Rating: 3/5