Unaccustomed Earth (summer reading post 5/5)

The pseudo-second person point of view (interrupted sporadically by third person) used by Lahiri throughout Part Two was a mechanic that caught me off guard. Instead of focusing on the narrator as the main character, we see Kaushik entirely from Hema's perspective and vice versa for some chapters. It conveys a heightened sense of perspective that allowed for the pure emotion, which is the crux of this novel's appeal.

Personally, I enjoyed this method of story telling very much and the characters in this presentation felt like genuine friends with whom I have been acquainted with for a very long time. The time skips between chapters gives the illusion of having gone a great passage through time. As Hema and Kaushik address one another as "you" directly, it drives home the fact that their relationship is a peculiar one, having had three separate periods of their lives spent living in close proximity. Despite the fact that their relationship reaches fruition, so to speak, during the shortest of these three periods, they have a bond that was cemented through childhood and adulthood. 

The informal second person address is a perfect way to reflect their informality. They lived under the same roof but were not siblings and spent time together with little regard of Hema's fiancé, Navin. The entire section could be interpreted as a loose conversation. But there was no avoiding the paths they each had led, however much they intersected. In the end, the paths terminated in a rather grim fashion.

Unaccustomed Earth (summer reading post 4/5)

I finished Lahiri's Unaccustomed Earth without ever glancing at the page numbers unless to keep my place, never anticipating the end. And even then, I would soon return to the book, as it captivated me in a way I am incapable of explaining. Each short story felt an eternity, yet too short causing me to yearn for more. I became distraught when the stories changed and the characters changed, as I wanted to learn more of what happens to the characters who've grown and changed under my reading eyes and moving on felt as if I was abandoning them. The cycle would repeat until Hema and Kaushik. It gave me what I was missing from the previous stories: had Ruma's father moved in with his daughter? Did Amit's and Megan's marriage actually remain intact as the ending alludes? In other words: an explicit conclusion.

But in another way, the end of part two was wholly unsatisfactory (as of five minutes after reaching the end). I am accustomed to any instance of romance ending happily for all protagonists involved, even after a period of hardship, struggle, or heartbreak. The abrupt divorce of Deborah and Pranab in the second short story was not ample psychological preparation. As unfortunate of a heartbreak as it was (both with Deborah and Usha's mother), it would not amount to a requited love abandoned at its climax. Even so, this novel ranks amongst the highest of my favorites and I wished it had not ended.

Upon revisitation a few weeks later, the end of the novel presents a harsh reality that can easily happen to anyone. Humans are fragile beings, no matter how much personal development they have gone through (as some authors who give ample character development before scripting their characters' deaths). Everything Kaushik had in his mind as possibilities of a future, whether with or without Hema, would never be realized, and Hema's future is one of lukewarm emotion, something she will apparently have to harbor for the rst of her life. Even for those of us who lead rich and honest lives can have them torn apart irreparably.

Unaccustomed Earth (summer reading post 3/5)

Before this blog post officially begins, I would like to preface that I, born in the US, come from an immigrant family. Although not Bengali as the families are in Unaccustomed Earth, I believe our experiences have thus far been comparable.

A very obvious recurring theme is the comparison between American and Calcuttan cultures.  From the very first short story onwards, a sharp distinction is drawn between the immigrant parents and the fully Americanized children. With all their good intentions, they still fail to understand that the American life they dreamed of can ail their children.

"In their opinion their children were immune from the hardships and injustices they had left behind in India, as if the inoculations the pediatrician had given Sudha and Rahul when they were babies guaranteed them an existence free of suffering" (156).

America, as a society, seeks normality. Immigrant children are expected to grow into that mold but they have to chisel their way into the sought after conformity. Childhood is a distressing time to be standing out, where differences were enunciated by peers who know nothing different from their own lives. "Potato curry sandwiches that tinted Wonderbread green" naturally stand out amongst...well, I'm not entirely sure, myself having been accustomed to similarly "exotic" lunches (143). I can say from personal experience that this invites a curiosity that makes you the center of attention when you are generally unknown. It is uncomfortable and contrary to the usual social neglectment. It is not that we are not unable to eventually adapt, but barriers stand along the path that would typically be trivial.