By Nathalie EspinolAs a second-generation immigrant, I often have to speak for my parents, ordering for them at restaurants and then asking for the check. I often have to hear patronizing remarks about how well I speak English although I have spoken it, fluently, for nearly 17 years. Most of all, I have to shoulder the inherited guilt that I will never work as hard as my parents did—that so much of my life was given to me and not earned. These same unvoiced struggles are at the forefront of Jhumpa Lahiri’s outstanding short story collection, “Unaccustomed Earth,” released April 2008.
Lahiri gracefully analyzes the lives of second-generation Indian immigrants while questioning—without judgment or condemnation—whether their hybrid lives are any better for their transatlantic moves. As in her first two books (2003’s “The Namesake” and 2000’s Pulitzer Prize winning “Interpreter of Maladies”) Lahiri mines through the immigrant experience with sincerity, calling upon her own individual experiences for inspiration. Of Bengali descent, Lahiri was born in London, grew up in Rhode Island and currently resides in Brooklyn, cultivating the eclecticism evident in her writing.
But unlike her previous works that focused on first generation immigrants, this collection seems more personal, analyzing the immigrant generation which Lahiri herself belongs to. This intimacy with her characters is one of her major strengths, and I often found myself relating to her conflicted and complex characters, particularly as they echoed emotions and struggles I have experienced during my own life.
Divided into two parts, the first collection includes five unrelated stories that focus on domestic scenes, investigating families and their struggles with love, culture, parenthood and death. The uncontested stand out is the collection’s namesake, “Unaccustomed Earth,” which follows Ruma, a Bengali-American and former lawyer, who finds herself reevaluating her relationship with her recently widowed father. Pregnant and living with her American husband and young son, Ruma believes that her father longs to live with her family, only to learn that he is a changed man.
Lahiri shines best with this story, narrowly focusing on the evolving relationship between parents and their children, particularly between Ruma and her dead mother: “Growing up, her mother’s example—moving to a foreign place for the sake of marriage, caring exclusively for children and a household—had served as a warning, a path to avoid. Yet this was Ruma’s life now.” Here Lahiri questions the dissonance between immigrant parents and their children, how different their lives truly are and how much they are the same.
Particularly riveting are these stories (“Year’s End” is also similar) delving into issues of death and the lives left behind. But Lahiri also succeeds in constructing stories that unravel into devastating conclusions that are unnervingly true to life in ways that are moving and ultimately unforgettable. Other notable examples of lives unraveling include “Only Goodness”-relating a sister’s ongoing struggle with her alcoholic brother-and "Hell Heaven," recalling a housewife's unrequited love with a family friend.
The second part of the collection follows the fated love story between Hema and Kaushik, two Bengali-Americans struggling to find their own ideas of home. In a departure from her usual third person perspective, the first story, “Once in a Lifetime,” is told from the first person by Hema; the second, “Year’s End,” from the first person of Kaushik. Although it is refreshing to see Lahiri explore different techniques, these stories ineffectively utilize the first person voice, both sounding like the narrator of Lahiri’s other stories and failing to expand the characterization. Nonetheless, the stories are extraordinary, writhing with the quiet personal tragedies that Lahiri explores so earnestly and elegantly.
Told in her signature “plain” style, there is an easy pace to Lahiri’s vignettes as she reveals each tale slowly and steadily, pulling the reader in until they are completely absorbed in her characters. But Lahiri, like a skilled boxer, gradually distracts with her footwork, leading readers in one direction before landing a one-two emotional punch with devastating (and unexpected) twists that are always enlightening, but often heartbreaking.
Imbibing each domestic sphere with specific details, she builds her characters up with authenticity, lending the book an overall voyeuristic quality. The intimate details she discloses feel so personal and so true, it’s like overhearing a conversation that you know you shouldn’t, or recalling a personal conversation you wish you could forget.
This element of unabashed honesty told with eloquence and grace is what has made Lahiri one of the best and most respected writers today—this collection alone has already garnered a 2008 Frank O’Connor International Short Story Award. Her stories resonate not just with immigrants—although she articulates sentiments of alienation and disconnection with an acute deftness—but with anyone who has felt like they didn’t completely belong. Transcending the domestic conflicts she explores, her characters lives take on an epic quality that also quietly remind us that our own lives can be quite epic as well.
1 comment:
When I was picking out a book to read, this one was in my top three or so - I didn't pick it, but after reading your review, I definitely want to grab it for the summer. I can completely relate to your experiences laid out in the first paragraph - it was a personal way to open up your review - much like the author's writing style, as you said. AWESOMMMEEEE job !
Diane Park
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