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A review by thaurisil
The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri
5.0
This book follows the life of Gogol Ganguli. It starts with his Bengali parents, Ashoke, who was saved from a train wreck by the page of a book falling from his hand, and Ashima, forced reluctantly to move to America with her new husband. Gogol is born, named after the writer who saved his father's life, the name made official by a cultural misunderstanding. He grows up resentful of and embarrassed by his background, and moves away from his parents when he can, taking up architecture instead of medicine or engineering. He changes his name to the more respectable Nikhil. He gets into love affairs, the first a forgettable one, the second with a wealthy and fashionable girl whose lifestyle could not be more different from his parents'. He remains distant yet emotionally chained to his family until the day his father dies suddenly of a heart attack. Overnight, things change. His mother, for the first time in her life, learns to be independent. Gogol suddenly feels the need to regularly contact his mother and sister. One day, his mother encourages him to contact Moushumi, a Bengali girl from his childhood. They marry within a year, but Moushumi yearns for a non-Bengali, gets into an affair, and they divorce. Gogol returns to his boyhood home in the final scene, and finally reads the book of short stories by Gogol that his father gave to him years ago.
Lahiri captures the identity struggles of Asian immigrants remarkably well. Ashima could not be more typically "Indian", and like many immigrants she clings on to her past, finding ways to incorporate it in a world that has changed. Ashoke is more positive about the move, seeing hope in America, yet his Indian roots betray him such that he never fully fits in. And Gogol represents the typical second-generation immigrant, wanting desperately to fit in, yet thwarted in his attempts by his parents. Lahiri was clear about one subtlety – Gogol doesn't resent his Indian ethnicity, but rather the Indian culture. He changes his name from a Russian to an Indian one, and he enjoys a visit to the Taj Mahal. But it is his parents' attitudes, the large parties, the crowds of relatives, his parents' insecurities and fears, that embarrass him. He is an American in an Indian skin, yet his skin influences his internal nature more than he realises.
But the characters change. Gogol grows, bit by bit, to accept his culture. He remains resolutely American, eating American food, living in New York and maintaining an occupation his mother never wanted for him, yet he embraces his family. When he finally marries, it is ironically to a Bengali lady suggested by his mother, which is as close to an arranged marriage as it can get for him. And when he divorces, it is not of he, but Moushumi, who cannot come to terms with being married to a Bengali. Ashima too miraculously but not surprisingly changes, developing fortitude and stamina, and adapting over twenty-seven years till finally she calls America her home, and when she has a choice, chooses to spend half her time in India and the other half in America.
Lahiri paints a struggle with identity that is nuanced in a way only someone who has experienced the same struggle can write about. But it is not only Indian immigrants who experience these struggles. Many Asians, even in Asia, face the same struggles of trying to honour parents with old-fashioned mindsets while living modern lives in a globalised world. We fight the ties that embarrass us, fight and fight until we don't know what exactly we are fighting or why we are fighting or whether there is any point to the fight. And eventually, like Gogol, we may realise that nobody thinks of us the way we think they do. Slowly, like Gogol, we may realise that being the same as everyone else isn't always an advantage, that there is comfort in casting off your insecurities and accepting your uniqueness.
I enjoyed Lahiri's writing style. It is factual yet melancholic. It tugs at your emotions without being soppy. It is sometimes verbose, sometimes redundant, yet always readable. Her voice is personal and relatable, and I come away wanting to know more about her, about the life she has led that has inspired the characters she has created.
Lahiri captures the identity struggles of Asian immigrants remarkably well. Ashima could not be more typically "Indian", and like many immigrants she clings on to her past, finding ways to incorporate it in a world that has changed. Ashoke is more positive about the move, seeing hope in America, yet his Indian roots betray him such that he never fully fits in. And Gogol represents the typical second-generation immigrant, wanting desperately to fit in, yet thwarted in his attempts by his parents. Lahiri was clear about one subtlety – Gogol doesn't resent his Indian ethnicity, but rather the Indian culture. He changes his name from a Russian to an Indian one, and he enjoys a visit to the Taj Mahal. But it is his parents' attitudes, the large parties, the crowds of relatives, his parents' insecurities and fears, that embarrass him. He is an American in an Indian skin, yet his skin influences his internal nature more than he realises.
But the characters change. Gogol grows, bit by bit, to accept his culture. He remains resolutely American, eating American food, living in New York and maintaining an occupation his mother never wanted for him, yet he embraces his family. When he finally marries, it is ironically to a Bengali lady suggested by his mother, which is as close to an arranged marriage as it can get for him. And when he divorces, it is not of he, but Moushumi, who cannot come to terms with being married to a Bengali. Ashima too miraculously but not surprisingly changes, developing fortitude and stamina, and adapting over twenty-seven years till finally she calls America her home, and when she has a choice, chooses to spend half her time in India and the other half in America.
Lahiri paints a struggle with identity that is nuanced in a way only someone who has experienced the same struggle can write about. But it is not only Indian immigrants who experience these struggles. Many Asians, even in Asia, face the same struggles of trying to honour parents with old-fashioned mindsets while living modern lives in a globalised world. We fight the ties that embarrass us, fight and fight until we don't know what exactly we are fighting or why we are fighting or whether there is any point to the fight. And eventually, like Gogol, we may realise that nobody thinks of us the way we think they do. Slowly, like Gogol, we may realise that being the same as everyone else isn't always an advantage, that there is comfort in casting off your insecurities and accepting your uniqueness.
I enjoyed Lahiri's writing style. It is factual yet melancholic. It tugs at your emotions without being soppy. It is sometimes verbose, sometimes redundant, yet always readable. Her voice is personal and relatable, and I come away wanting to know more about her, about the life she has led that has inspired the characters she has created.