Here is a posting on a South Asian Woman Writer, as promised. Freeze-dried, are you there? :) I must make an excuse here before I post though: this review was done for class. It's from a casual but academic writing I did while taking Dr. A's postcolonial class last semester, and I will make small adjustments, but not much, because I kind of like what I said. Anyways, so here we go. Before I go further, here is a link to her book
amazon link to Markandaya's book
and a link to a very short entry on wikipedia.
wikipedia on Markaydaya needs work!
There. Now, I can talk a little about the book.
First, I should talk about Markandaya’s agenda of writing: she argues that she writes not as an Indian woman writer, but a
“writer”: In an essay entitled“One Pair of Eyes,” she emphasizes that a writer would not forgo
her culture, noting that to “discard such basic material” would lead to a
“drying-up of his work” (15). However, she also argues that there is a
universal “cortex” that exists in every human being, one that has more to do
with the mind (than with specific cultures). Refusing to be ghettoized, she
writes for a global audience rather than a particular group of people who look
to her for to endorse nationalism (or any political movement with a set agenda,
for that matter). Such self-identification as the writer of the world (rather
than of the nation) is nothing unique or extraordinary—many hyphenated writers
today strive to shake off the boulders put on their shoulders. For example,
V.S. Naipal writes beyond the nation, claiming that his writing should not be
taken as a parochial discourse that applies only to a certain culture. He
resists essentialist nationalism/nationality discourse, but works toward
producing “universal” stories. Such a stance is always, as can be seen by the
literary career of Markandaya, is often regarded as Eurocentric, for in many
cases, the so-called “universalism” endorsed by these non-nationalist writers
are often suspected of having stemmed from Western philosophies. However, doesn't such criticism result from simple dichotomies that divide the
world into two easy to stereotype categories, the West and the East, while in reality,
these two set models cannot contain all human experience or writings? I do conceded
to critical readings that point out to the dangers of erasing the specificities
of cultures and histories, for such removal of historical specificities often
lead to distortion or suppression of historical events in which the minorities
were oppressed. However, to castigate writers who resist being contained within
the boundaries of nation state as rootless is rather problematic, for it calls
to the writers to work for a single agenda—to fulfill his/her role as the
political speaks person—failing to admit that literature, while it can function
politically in some cases, is not just a political pamphlet.
And another very interesting topic: Can Kenny and Ruku become friends? Those two characters are interesting, they interact in intriguing ways. Kenny is a doctor who works in India, and Ruku is a native of a small village. They do become friendly, but how far can their friendship go?
Is friendship between a colonial
Englishman in India and an Indian woman possible? Markandaya seems to be
nodding towards this friendship, although she does acknowledge the potential
dangers of being misunderstood by others. Despite the hostile remarks from her
family members and neighbors (even her children will hint that this friendship is more than problematic! They think their mother is doing something wrong/ they feel shame), Ruku never quite forgoes her relationship with
Kenny, claiming that such hostility is uncalled for, as they never engage in
activities that may arouse suspicion or contempt. The relationship is entirely
platonic, or more precisely, intellectual. The man from the civilized West does not simply impart knowledge upon
the unlearned Indian woman; their relationship is not unilateral but interactive, in which Kenny, as well as
Ruku, gains solace and comfort from the act of releasing their emotional
frustration—Kenny’s, of working in a land not his own among people who he
learns to love, but cannot fully understand, and Ruku’s, of having to live as a
peasant’s wife with many burdens upon her shoulders. I say that this friendship between the
two characters is quite intriguing, because they are able to achieve what Forster’s
Dr. Aziz and other British characters are never
able to obtain. Although Kenny, in many encounters
with Ruku, expresses exasperation towards the seemingly passive and defeatist
philosophy of Indians around him, he seems to enjoy her company and the never
ending debate on life both ardently take part of despite their never reaching a
conclusion. When he angrily notes how “people will never learn” (65), and how
the villagers’ hope for a better future, the times that are “better” will never
bring them anything other than more
suffering and death (43), he is speaking these words with compassion rather
than simple contempt. He knows for a fact that his commentaries on the
seemingly foolish behaviors of the villagers will never change their ways,
unless they themselves realize the need to change. Ruku usually retorts back,
emphasizing the necessity to stand as individuals who never stoop low. She
cannot say it eloquently, but she challenges the logical argument of Kenny’s by
pointing out that there won’t be enough
help to go around in times of need. The debate always circles around,
coming back to the same point where they are left standing without a solution
that will dissolve the misery that has overtaken the town. This lack of a simple answer exposes the
subversiveness of the writer who penetrates the untenable logic of progress
that promotes modernization/Westernization as a cure-all that will rid of the
ills of the “undercivilized” nations.
I think I had other things to say about this novel, but right now, my brain has stopped working. So, here it is-- a review! :) It's the first review I post here, so I hope you enjoy.
2. 25. 2013
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