This Burns my Heart: It Hurts so Good

this burns my heart cover image
Simon & Schuster, 2011. 322 pages

 Title: This Burns my Heart

Author: Samuel Park

Synopsis: Simon and Schuster already made a video that sums the novel up perfectly.

 

Book Trigger Warnings: emotional abuse, domestic violence, kidnapping, domestic servitude, dystfunctional family

Rating: 5 stars!!

First Impression upon Finishing:   I am completely and utterly destroyed.

 

The Review:   This Burns my Heart delivers on its promise. The story begins with Soo-Ja wanting to get away from her controlling father. In the 1950s and 1960s, South Korea still followed a Confucian family system. Families favored sons over daughters, and daughters were the property of their fathers before becoming the property of the men in their husband’s family. South Korean society considered women who lost their virginity before marriage to be”spoiled.” Women who could not bear sons meant nothing.

 

Soo-Ja had plan to escape her father, but that plan quickly falls apart (in large part due to her father) and Soo-Ja hastily forms a plan B. Her only chance of being recognized as her own person rested in her ability to marry well. However, she makes a rash decision and jumps into a marriage she really shouldn’t have. The marriage continued to be the source of her agony (through various means) until the end of the book.

 

When the reader first meets Min Lee (the “supporting” character of the novel), we’re deceived into believing he’s a sweet, awkward boy. We see the same side of Min that Soo-Ja sees. Very quickly, though, his problematic behavior and his general incompetency come to light. By the time Soo-Ja was ready to marry him, I was bracing myself for the worst. I knew nothing good could come of them being together.

 

I completely understood Soo-Ja’s motivations. After all, I’m doing the same thing right now. Still, I was angry with her lack of planning and her execution. She claimed to be smart, yet she let her desperation get the best of her and made foolish decisions. She assumed she could mold a “guileless” boy to her will, which is a statement to her arrogance at the time. It didn’t take her long to realize her mistake, but she couldn’t divorce Min Lee without losing a part of herself. After realizing her situation was hopeless, she decides to try to love him, but in the process she tangles the rest of her family into her messy life.

 

I was angry with Soo-Ja until the middle of the book, when my hatred of Min Lee took over. Soo-Ja and Min Lee had a daughter to worry about; Soo-Ja couldn’t afford to make mistakes. By then, she had learned to better control her emotions when making decisions. By then, she’d also been tread upon by every one of her family members except her mother and daughter.

 

Min Lee was weak-willed and manipulative. Part of me understood his attitude towards Soo-Ja and Hana had a lot to do with the way he was raised. Min Lee’s father was even more abusive that Soo Ja’s father. While some people grow up unaware of their abuse and are therefore unable to fully heal from it, Min Lee knew his father was a horrible person. However, he’d been so brainwashed into being the perfect Confucian son that his ability to heal was greatly limited.

 

After the midpoint, my hatred softened to pity, and I wholeheartedly wanted to see Soo-Ja finally start winning, but Park did not yield. She experienced massive character growth, but Park kept dealing blows to my soul. He strung my along until the every end, and even the ending felt… wrong. Yet, but the time I got there, I was so happy Soo-Ja got ~something~.  Park took us through tales of fleeing the war, through abusive alcoholic men, through attempted sexual assault, death and bankruptcy before Soo-Ja finally started to “win.” Even still, after being punched in the gut for 300 pages, the last few leaves are a sigh of relief.

 

I HIGHLY recommend reading This Burns My Heart. It was a brutal read, but I literally couldn’t put it down. I read it almost in a single breath. Samuel Park’s posthumous (semi-autobiographical) novel, The Caregiver hit the shelves yesterday (September 25th). Considering Park’s brilliant knack for storytelling, I’m sure The Caregiver will be just as impactful as This Burns My Heart. 

 

I’ d love to hear from any one who’s read Park’s other work. I’d also like to see your recs for similar books. 🙂

 

This Burns My Heart links: Amazon | Thriftbooks | AbeBooks | Goodreads

The Caregiver links: Amazon | Goodreads

Thriftbooks discount code: Click Here

 

 

The Namesake: An Endearing Story of an Indian-American Family

Title: The Namesake

the namesake cover
Mariner books, 2004. 305 pages.

Author: Jhumpa Lahiri

Synopsis: An Indian-American family comes together and discovers their new sense of identity. They create a personal concept of family, and each shapes their lives in and around both Indian and American culture.  Though the story starts off focusing on the parents, it quickly shifts focus to the eldest son.

 

A note:  The Gangulis are culturally Bengali, but I will refer to them as Indian. Bangladesh gained independence from Pakistan in the early 1970s, which means Bangladesh became its own state during the lifetimes of these characters. However, the Gangulis are from Calcutta, meaning they are Indian by nationality. Because I’m writing this review in terms of nationality and citizenship (i.e. American and Indian), I refer to them as either Indian or Indian-American. Some reviews and websites refer to them as Bengali; I believe this is a matter of preference. I failed to find an official reference to the issue. Feel free to comment and let me know if you’ve seen something.

 

Book Trigger Warnings:  train crash and recovery described in detail, PTSD, parent loss, alcohol mentions

Rating: 5 glowing stars

First Impression upon Finishing:   That was so heartwarming!

 

The Review:  The Namesake is a powerful and beautifully written historical fiction novel. Lahiri’s narrative style is easy to read, yet generously (and delicately) decorated. Lahiri provides just the right amount of detail and manages to alter time in such a way that you neither feel rushed nor retarded, despite the obvious quickening and slowing of events in her characters’ lives. Lahiri gracefully switches focus between characters when the situation calls for it, though she mainly writes about Gogol (Nikhil) Ganguli. Gogol eventually changes his “public name” to Nikhil, but Lahiri continues to refer to him as Gogol in the narration, which lends to a sense of familiarity and camaraderie that draws us further into his story.

 

Near the beginning of The Namesake, we see how foreign American culture is to Ashima, and we see her attempts to bridge the gap by cooking (or trying to cook) food she grew up eating. Over time, we see both her and Ashoke (her husband) orienting themselves in American culture, holding fast to their own traditions but in some cases modifying and blending them with new, American habits.  All of this feels organic. Though the elder Gangulis’ integration is sometimes clumsy, it doesn’t come off as a heavy-handed attempt to illustrate immigrant struggles.

 

Gogol and Sonia (the Ganguli children), having been born in America,  are on a quest for assimilation rather than integration. As is often the case with first-generation Americans, Gogol and Sonia reject aspects of their parents’ culture. They speak English between each other and resent their trips “back home” to India. As children they long for french fries and hot dogs more than they crave their mother’s more traditional cooking. Of course, time has a way of changing things.

 

Some people—particularly those who are the first in their families to start a life in a new country—  will find familiarity in Ashoke and Ashima’s story. I, however, found Gogol’s story so relatable it literally hurt. Though my parents and I are all American, we belong to our own southern Black sub-culture. I’m nearly 40 years younger than my parents; I grew up in a very different American than they did. They still retain habits of the Old Days, for better or for worse. Like Gogol, hearing my parents speak anything other than our own vernacular English feels wrong, “off-key.” For Gogol and I, hearing our parents speak our “public names” send shivers down our spine, and it’s impossible not to detect the note of sadness, betrayal and disappointment in their voices whenever they utter them.

 

Having people from outside our cultures meet our parents is another matter entirely. It’s not because we are ashamed, it’s simply because there is usually too much explaining and translating involved. It becomes uncomfortable on our end. By the end of The Namesake, Gogol had progressed further than I have, but he is also about 7 years older than I am.

 

This review is not going in the direction I thought it would.

 

Here’s the thing:  despite the simplicity and straight-forwardness of the plot (Lahiri possesses excellent powers of foreshadowing), The Namesake is an incredibly complicated novel. I can’t recommend it enough because there’s something for everyone. Even if you don’t identify with the characters or the events in their lives, you get to enjoy a heartwarming coming of age story. You get to read an Own Voices novel that doesn’t have much of an agenda. As she has stated in many an interview, Lahiri writes largely as a means to work out some aspect of her own identity. She describes being “culturally displaced… [growing] up in two worlds simultaneously.” While putting this exploration on public display could be interpreted as political action, the politics don’t seem to be at the forefront of her mind.

 

I’d be lying if I said The Namesake will not play with your emotions, but at least it doesn’t leave the reader raw as some stories are wont to do. I felt the ending was a little abrupt, but that’s probably because I really wanted to see Gogol grow further. Nevertheless, the ending satisfied me, and I’m content with this brief but thorough glimpse into his life.

 

I’m not sure whether my review captured both the essence of the novel and my excitement for it, but I highly recommend The Namesake. There’s a movie as well, which I might check out. I loved The Namesake so much that I plan on eventually buying a personal copy so I can access it whenever I like. I’d like to see whether the impact of the novel will change as I myself grow and change.

 

If any of you have read the book, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below. If there’s something I missed, let me know!

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Looking for more stories about people coming to America and trying to find their way? Check out my review of We Need New Names (5 stars) or How to Love a Jamaican (3 stars).

 

Find The Namesake on Amazon (Free with Kindle Unlimited)| Thriftbooks | Goodreads

Thriftbooks coupon (15% of first order): Click here and use within 2 weeks

 

 

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