12
Apr
2009
Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri
The title story of Namesake author Jhumpa Lahiri’s new collection of short fiction, Unaccostomed Earth, reminds me of Brittish short-storyist Helen Simpson writing about childbirth before ever experiencing it and creating something that sounds absolutely autobiographical. The story centers around parent-loss in Bengali-American culture, but anyone who has experienced the death of a parent could agree that her telling transcends all cultures.
Ruma, the main character is debating whether or not to invite her father to live with her after the death of her mother, as is the Bengali custom. So, O.K., that might not be universal. But the way her grief infects her daily life in the year since her mother’s death is so poignant, I had to search the internet to find out if she had gone through this herself. There are no accounts of her parents dying, and so I must conclude that they are still alive.
My father, however, is not. He passed away two years ago of a sudden heart attack. Like Ruma’s mother in the story, it was unexpected. Also like Ruma, I am married and living in Seattle while my parents live(d) across the country. I’ve been thinking a lot about my father’s death in the last couple of months because I have been trying to give advice to a friend who has just found herself in similar circumstances. So it could be said that I am seeing things that aren’t there. It could be–if it were a different author. However, it is Jhumpa Lahiri we are talking about. She who has made her career writing characters so real, so persuasive, and yes, sometimes so sorrowful, she would have fit well in a circle of 19th century naturalist authors, like Hardy and Zola. Take this passage for example:
“[Ruma]could not explain what had happened to her marriage after her mother’s death. For the first time since they’d met…she felt a wall between them, simply because he had not experienced what she had, because both his parents were still living in the house in Lincoln, Massachusetts, where Adam had been raised. It was wrong of her, she knew, and yet an awareness had set in, that she and Adam were leading separate lives.”
I’m ashamed to admit how true this is. How jealous I am that my in-laws are alive. But that is just what I was telling my friend, when she indicated a need to be alone, to distance herself from her boyfriend. Who could know this without going through this sort of grieving process? I doubt many people who do go through this would even utter such thought to themselves. But Lahiri has tapped into a–dare I say it?–Jungian emotional response, and if you don’t believe me now, hopefully it will be a long time until you will.
If you like this book/author, you might like:
The Namesake (F) by Jhumpa Lahiri
The Inheritance of Loss (F) by Kiran Desai
White Teeth (F) by Zadie Smith
Nana (F) by Emile Zola
Jude the Obscure (F) by Thomas Hardy
Four Bare Legs in a Bed (F) by Helen Simpson
Dear George (F) by Helen Simpson
Hey Yeah Right Get a Life (F) by Helen Simpson
Other works by Jhumpa Lahiri:
Interpreter of Maladies (F)
The Namesake (F)
