Tag: India

Title: The Namesake

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).

 

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