Tag: Booker Prize

Kiran Desai: The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny

“Sonia’s heart was a Hopper painting.” The title is blunt about Sonia and Sunny’s loneliness, but it’s this Hopper line that makes one grasp how lonely: A profound loneliness that has something to do with a vulnerable and fluctuating selfhood, an abstract loneliness that is tied to urban and modern life, an existential loneliness craving real connection that cannot be quenched by mere companionship.

Lonesomeness was Edward Hopper’s leitmotif, and Kiran Desai weaves this theme into an unfolding raga: at times beautiful, at times disorienting, at times cruel and repulsive, at times disquieting, at times capriciously meandering.

I have no qualms with the length. Although considered massive in proportion to the contemporary reader’s short attention span, I imagine the typeface and the font size would make Tolstoy say, “Hold my vodka.” But the book often offers clues to Desai’s literary and artistic inspirations and subtly discloses why the author found its length necessary: “How many millions of observations and moments it had taken to compose this book!” Sonia thought about Anna Karenina.

It is not, however, “an unmitigated joy to read” as Khaled Hosseini claims in a blurb. Reading about Sonia’s toxic relationship with Ilan, the narcissistic artist, was nauseating to the point of causing an unpleasant physical reaction that made me want to give up one-third through the book. Although aghast, it was accompanied by the awe of how much the author fathoms an artist’s relationship with darkness. There is no question about this being a work of art, but I will admit that I hoped to love and enjoy this more than I did.

While Sonia and Sunny failed to endear me to them, I was drawn to Sonia’s mother, who kept company with books and understood that there are worse things than loneliness, and Sunny’s father, who desired to break free from the cycle of corruption in the family for the sake of his son, believing that to be honorable is to be free. While I was concerned that portrayals of men beyond the main characters would perpetuate stereotypes of Indian men, it was Desai’s keen eye for psychological and cultural detail, and her vast insight into the plight of the immigrant, that made me continue reading.

To paraphrase a memorable line from the novel: I knew when I saw this book that the story would not be simple. And simple it is not.

Percival Everett: James

The epitome of a retelling. The kind that does not feel contrived or produced to merely appeal to a woke market, the kind that is not more focused on stripping off anything that might offend a hypersensitive audience whilst taking no thought about artistic quality or literary merit, the kind that does not disrespect the original work but ennobles it instead. The kind that’s necessary.

This reader prepared for James by reading the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn; because how can we make the most of a retelling if we don’t know, or have forgotten, what was originally told in the first place? Percival Everett revolutionizes the tale by rewriting Mark Twain’s novel through the perspective of Jim, Huck’s African American companion. Fresh from its antecedent, the contrast between old and new becomes more striking as Everett furthers the adventure by lending it more depth and feeling with layers that contemplate identity, family, sacrifice, the “tidiness of lies” in narratives, and even song lyrics, that justify prejudice.

My initiation to Everett’s work was through his humorous and modern retelling of Medea, For Her Dark Skin. As I delayed the reading of James, thinking that Medea’s story would always be more relevant to a woman, James continued to garner more awards — the National Book Awards, the Booker Prize shortlist, and the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction last month. I had to see why.

Published amidst another era of book bans that include several works that confront racism in the United States while Hitler’s Mein Kampf remains on the shelves, this book is a timely gift that takes the subject by the horns and transforms Jim’s story into a greater call to educate oneself, to master language, to read, and to write one’s way to freedom.