ENG2230WBLahiriLectureNotesandEssay11.docxLecture notes: Jhumpa Lahiri, The Namesake (covering Modules 1-4) and instructions for Essay 1 (Lahiri)
The explanatory notes below cover the topics outlined in the four modules related to Lahiri’s Namesake (essentially the entire book, in case you wish to read ahead). They include commentary of major themes, characters, plot, point of view, etc. as well as useful contextual information.
Depending on the book edition you’re using, page numbers will vary. To read the novel effectively, divide the total number of pages in four equal parts. You are responsible for reading TWO modules per week. Topics for Essay 1 (Lahiri), due Thursday, November 5th (midnight), are provided at the end of lecture notes. To submit your essay, go to the module where the assignment is posted, open the folder, and click on the assignment link. This will connect you to Blackboard. Send in word file, not pdf., please!
Welcome to post-colonial literature!
Jhumpa Lahiri (b. 1954)
“Postcolonial literature” refers to prose or poetry by writers who come from (or are descendants of) formerly colonized nations. Postcolonial authors question the experience of the empire (i.e. foreign power ruling over territory beyond its borders and a population that is subjected to the political domination of another). They often raise the subtler question of having to write with a “borrowed pen;” in a language that is not not necessary their native tongue because of colonialism. It is the inner conflict, the “split belonging” to a different and complex cultural heritage that makes a writer postcolonial.
Why read postcolonial fiction, might you ask? Or, why take a world literature course, at all? Well, we read these writers because they are the future. Literature “in English” in the 21st century means work by authors from various places around the world: India, Pakistan, New Zeeland, the Pacific Islands, Mauritius, etc. It casts new light on the legacy of English literature. While the canon (Chaucer, Shakespeare, Dickens, etc.) presumably has ‘educated’ or ‘civilized’ the natives it also took over other voices, each with their own vernacular traditions (from Persian poetry, for instance, to Creole Calypso and many others). Postcolonial literature brings new perspective to our conventional understanding of literature – from the lyric poem, to the novel, character, theme, or plot). Moreover, it expands its capacity; infuses and hybridizes English literature, stretching its boundaries and creating something new, enriching.
Also, the reason non-English majors study postcolonial and world literature in general, is because the future of the global society depends on a variety of perspectives! How so? Think about it: industry, government, education, and health care – among others - are already multicultural, multinational, and global. Therefore, leadership, innovation, and progress, based on different perspectives, is absolutely vital. By contrast, functioning in one’s enclave (e.g. in isolation) – can only lead to stagnation, therefore limited ability to compete. Cultural literacy is essential for all of us, not only those entering business, sciences, law, or education. It helps us reshape the way we understand ourselves, the world, and the place we have in it!
Among many, we count as famous postcolonial writers Eduard Said (Palestinian); Chinua Achebe (Nigerian); Salman Rushdie (Indian); Nadine Gordimer (South African), and V.S. Naipaul (Trinidad). Although British-born Jhumpa Lahiri is an American citizen, she is part of the diaspora of writers who may be identified with, and analyzed in, the postcolonial framework. The question of identity in her fiction (particularly expatriate Bengali families living in the United States) invites compelling, critical inquiry. Lahiri frequently addresses conflicted, ambiguous and evolving definitions of family, nationality, home, ethnicity-globalism, but also in the context of neo-colonialism, Americanism, and the capitalist discourse.
Across time, the quest to know oneself is universal (who are we? Where do we belong?). We’ll start with Lahiri’s Namesake, because it captures masterfully this universal quest for selfhood (identity), but in the particulars of American immigration and assimilation.
Here are some relevant terms that will help you contextualize the novel and its characters:
1. Migration: move from one country/or region to another (not necessarily permanently).
2. Emigration (émigré): moving out of/leaving for good one’s native country/homeland.
3. Immigration: moving into a foreign country to live.
4. Exile: forced removal/being barred from one’s native country.
5. Expatriate: a national living abroad (permanent resident of foreign origin).
6. Naturalized citizen: legal citizen of foreign origin.
7. “Center” versus “margin” – dominant culture versus minority culture.
8. “The Other”/” Otherness” – often the center’s perception of the margin – “otherness” implying inferiority, subordination of minority culture to the dominant culture.
9. Individual dislocation/displacement – being uprooted from native culture and experiencing alienation in the dominant culture.
10. Cultural disorientation/fragmentation – feeling torn between the culture of origin and the new culture; struggle to reconcile past and present; old and new identity.
11. Hybridity: inevitable overlap of cultures/traditions experienced by immigrants.
12. Diaspora: group of expatriates who form a community in the dominant culture.
13. Assimilation: gradual process of integrating minority cultures into the dominant culture.
The novel opens in 1968 with Ashima and Ashook Ganguli, whose Indian past/heritage coexists with their American present. From Ashima, we learn about Bengali marital traditions, living in a communal society, and strong family bonds. Through her vivid descriptions, we witness the complexities of migration (from India to the United States) and the trauma of dislocation – but also the ability to adapt and flourish.
Let’s take a closer look at the new experiences that mark Ashima’s cultural disorientation and fragmentation shortly after her arrival to the U.S. as a newly wed, and in the process, learn something about non-western societies such as Ashima’s native India.
Ashima Ganguli shares national origin, language and culture with Ashook, who “lived three lives by 30.” Like her, he was born in Calcutta (India), “reborn” after a terrible train accident and long convalescence (which triggered his decision to immigrate), and reborn a third time in America. Ashook is highly educated (PhD in fiber optics engineering), not religious but reverent, and grateful to Russian writer Gogol, whose book literally saved his life. When Ashima arrives in America as Ashook’s wife, she observes closely the differences between her adoptive and native country. Some are more tolerable (like strange foods, customs, and social expectations). Others are challenging, such as language limitations and vast distances. American particulars also trigger melancholy and confusion, and even anxiety. For instance, the wintery, desolate American landscape registers strongly. Ashima misses her homeland’s lush landscape and lively streets. The non-traditional lifestyle of her landlords, Alan and Judith, confuse her, and the broad casualness of American culture triggers Ashima’s anxiety and a nostalgia for the life left behind.
Let’s inverse roles for a moment and think from Ashima’s perspective. If in the Bengali tradition, a full, complete life is to share it daily with other people (immediate and extended family, friends, and neighbors) imagine how it must feel for her to sleep alone in the house for the first time. Also, if the hospital is understood by Ashima as “a place where people go when sick” and (sometimes) when they’re ready to die, imagine her anxiety to give birth to her child in one. No family around her, either: no mother, aunties, siblings, or cousins. Consider also, that one’s body is perceived as sacred in Bengali tradition; something to be protected, cherished, and honored. Imagine how difficult – if impossible, would it be to reveal it to strangers; expose it immodestly. Modern American culture permits revealing one’s body, even encourages it by means of fashion (unlike more traditional cultures). Recall the hospital nurse casually commenting on Ashima’s legs, for instance. Essentially, in her adoptive country, Ashima must adjust to new values. American life is casual and emphasizes the individual (his/her wants; freedom of choice). Conversely, Bengali tradition is formal, and emphasizes the collective (i.e. individuals are subject to social norms, decorum, expectation). In this new American culture, so different than her own, Ashima must face her challenges and adapt.
How well does she cope with this unfamiliar territory and still be herself? One way in which Ashima deals with cultural disorientation is through Gogol, her new-born son. To an extent, motherhood buffers the trauma of dislocation and the nostalgia for the life (and self) left behind. The baby is the bridge to the new culture. Equally important, motherhood triggers the need for self-reliance and gives Ashima a sense of purpose. While Ashook is at work (as a professor at prestigious MIT), she must venture out to get food supplies, go to the laundry mat, navigate with the baby in the stroller through the neighborhood. What is the inevitable consequence here? If Ashima can accomplish several tasks on her own, independent of Ashook, she doesn’t need him for everything: she has become self-reliant. In turn, self-reliance leads to a sense of self-worth (“If I can do this, it means that I’m capable). Welcome to individualism; an American value! Ashima is gradually and steadily becoming Americanized! The idea that immigrants remain rooted in their native culture and mindset (or refuse to integrate in the host culture) is a myth!
Another way of coping with cultural fragmentation (feeling torn between the culture of origin and the new) is joining the diaspora (a group of expatriates who form a community in the dominant culture). Ashima joins the Indian diaspora, where other Bengali men and women like herself, equally “homesick and bewildered,” share in the expatriate experience. Together, they navigate through the trauma of dislocation and the nostalgia for the life and family left behind. When Ashima’s father dies unexpectedly, her grief is immense, as is the distance that separates her from India. Many in the diaspora relate, because they too, survived similar experiences.
The proof of Ashima and Ashook’s inevitable hybridity is in their “second” migration – this time from the city to the suburb. Essentially, through home ownership, they set roots in America. This one step (purchasing a piece of the American dream) is evidence of their partial assimilation into the dominant culture. Lahiri’s masterful stylistic touch is at play here. She names the Ganguli’s new address “Pemberton Road,” which is evocative of sound Anglo-Saxon stock. The Ganguli children (Gogol and Sonia) are also examples of hybrid identities and lives (American-born/Indian heritage). In the process, and inevitably so, old customs are lost (Bengali language, socializing with family, Indian food), but others are gained (English, as the dominant household language, American traditions coexisting with Indian ones, etc.).
The move to the suburbs is a crucial point in the novel because it marks Gogol’s first identity crisis. In kindergarten he becomes aware, for the first time, that his name is different. How it sounds, how it is pronounced, how it is also mispronounced, raises his awareness of his “otherness.” Frequently, those who are in the “center” (i.e. dominant culture) perceive the “others” (individuals on the margins) as less, or inferior. In turn, the “others” are therefore “split” or fragmented (torn between the desire to belong and the need to be oneself - which is inseparable from family history, race, ethnicity, culture, traditions, customs, heritage, etc. As an American-born child, Gogol is torn between his (casual) American self and his formal (Indian) heritage. In the dominant culture, he doesn’t fully recognize himself (he’s often teased, bullied, and marginalized). In the latter, he doesn’t fully recognize himself either, because his daily context (society, school, friends, language) is American.
While hybridity lends itself to enrichment it also come with negative consequences. For instance, Americanized kids cannot fully relate to their immigrant parents. Both Gogol and Sonia are somewhat detached from Ashima and Ashook’s suffering (being far from their native country, language, culture, extended family, etc.). They’re also detached from their family in India (grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins). Although they understand their parents’ language, they speak it poorly, and never use it outside their home. One good example of the complexity of hybridity is the Ganguli’s trip to India. While Ashook and Ashima are clinging to their Bengali roots (culture, language, traditions), Gogol and Sonia exist in a hyphenated space (Indian-American). While they appreciate some aspects of Indian history, both feel largely disconnected. Conversely, Ashook and Ashima feel reconnected every time they visit their homeland.
Here’s a paradox worthy of critical examination: returning home, the Ganguli children feel as if they’re in transit : not really belonging anywhere. Just as with their “out-of-place-ness” in India, back home in the States, they’re out of place or lost in the dominant culture. Proof: their friends are happy to see them but not curious about their Indian heritage (how Indian families live, work, see themselves and the world). Clearly, the friendship between the Ganguli children and their peers are superficial, self-centered, not collective or meaningful. Another irony: isolation comes from both cultures: with their Indian culture Gogol and Sonia do not fully connect. Similarly, within their American culture they’re seen as “other” or inferior (the assumption being that given their ethnic origin, as children of immigrants, they’re not fully integrated). To an extent, they remain invisible or unknown to their American friends, community, and society at large (faceless in the dominant culture). Worse yet, by some, they’re perceived as inferior thus unwanted – evident in the racist comments scribbled on their mailbox, when they return from the trip to India. Their response to these comments is both literal and symbolic: as a family they clean up the mess. However, Ashook (the well-aware of racism) is grateful for not being killed, while Gogol is enraged (as an American-born individual, he feels entitled to equality). Ha! Young Gogol has a lot to learn!
Let us take a closer look at names! Have you ever considered yours? What does it mean to you? Where does it come from? Why have your parents settled on this particular name and not another? Have you asked them? It can be argued that names are the umbilical cord to identity. They reveal something about the place a person might come from; his or her family’s history, culture, traditions, customs, etc. For instance, Ashima is called “Didi” only by her brother; no one else. (It means, “older sister,” by the way.) Also, only her family knows her pet name (“Manu”) and can call her so. Names are often personal; the threads that bind us to our kin, to our history.
In Indian culture, a name is very closely related to custom and tradition, while in the west, a name is generally inherited from parents or grandparents. Specifically, many Indian children have a “good name” (official) and a pet name (personal, like a nickname). Parents soften up when they hear their child’s pet name. It is endearing and private. For Gogol Ganguli there is a problematic connection with his name, which is inspired by the Russian writer, Nikolai Gogol. For one, Americans cannot pronounce it. From kindergarten to high school he’s constantly asked about it, teased, and embarrassed. Besides, he himself, has no personal connection with Russia or this writer. If in kindergarten he becomes aware of his “ otherness ,” in high school Gogol has a full-blown identity crisis. He hates explaining that his name means nothing in Indian, that he has no connection to Russia, and that even to him “Gogol” sounds strange and irrelevant (even though his father, Ashook, prefers it). In fact, his unusual name, skin color, and his parents’ heavy Indian accents – are all problematic. Recall how cashiers smirk at them, the racist comments sprayed on the mailbox, and the hybrid life in the Ganguli household. Gogol feels neither fully Indian, nor American, and his name cannot be easily altered (or “Americanized”) to please others. Alternately, he feels confused, angry, and isolated.
To belong somewhere, to extricate oneself from the past, obligation, or conformity – is a universal struggle. All of us want to belong, to fit in, right? Yet, fitting in, could also be the greatest barrier to belonging, because it means to adjust to the dominant culture (the “center”), and conform. Genuine belonging is feeling part of something as we are, not sacrificing who we are (therefore erasing our beliefs, convictions, customs, traditions, culture, ethnicity/race, history, past).
However, there is also something positive about Gogol’s name: no one else shares it (and unlike the Russian writer) it’s his first name. His English teacher tells Gogol more about his namesake; Nicolai Gogol. He learns about his talent, peculiarities, his huge legacy to world literature. Also, his father, Ashook, tells Gogol the story behind his name; the life-over-death significance it carried. The story gives his name a new meaning: a link with the past, family, and history, and it anchors Gogol in the present. It also foreshadows his relationship with Maxine, and later, with his profession, and wife-to-be Moushumi.
It’s interesting to note one irony here: Gogol begins to pose with his good name (Nikhil) in order to impress girls (and presumably, to avoid “enduring” their reaction to his pet name, Gogol). It’s ironic because he feels that he has to pose with something is real and “good.” It’s also problematic, because if he poses, he has to navigate between two selves: what he is and what he wants to be perceived. At home, everybody calls him Gogol while in public people start to call him Nikhil, which takes getting used to. While a freshman at Yale, he changes his name legally: Nikhil as first and only name. Clearly, the law allows a name to be changed but identity can’t ever be discarded. To Gogol himself there’s something inauthentic about “Nikhil,” a bit off-key. Nevertheless, the change of name points out to the universal yearning for belonging, for extricating oneself from the past, and for the pressing need to be accepted.
Gogol’s problematic identity extends to his relationships. For instance, he can’t relate to his parents’ values on love, while he sees his first girlfriend, Ruth. He cannot open up to her as Gogol (“the other”). He also avoids other Indian colleagues (“Deshis”/or countrymen), who remind him of his parents. In fact, Gogol is somewhat embarrassed by his home life and gradually distances himself from it once he graduates and begins to work for a New York City firm as an architect.
Let’s examine closer the implications of Gogol’s problematic identity in his relationships with women. We’ll start with Maxine. Here, one can argue that “center” (dominant culture”/aka Maxine) meets margin (“the other”/Gogol). The reason he’s attracted to her is because she represents a social class and position that people like him are generally excluded from. Essentially, he’s seduced by the whole package: the girl and the privilege she represents. Maxine is Barnard educated (Ivy League school), works in the arts (a small, elite field) and is generationally wealthy. She’s the one who takes the initiative to call and pursue him, unapologetically. Maxine has that very attractive confidence and carelessness that is backed up by money. Lahiri describes her as “vociferous,” like her parents; a girl who can be herself in her world (much unlike Gogol, who feels awkward everywhere).
Maxine is friendly and generous, but only in her zone of comfort. Like her wealthy parents, she keeps the door open because she can afford it (i.e. she doesn’t go out of her way to accommodate others). Put differently, like her parents, she loves everybody as long as it doesn’t interfere with her pleasure and comfort. For her, Gogol’s “Indian-ness” is exotic, attractive – she takes from him what she needs, and discards or glosses over the rest. For example, when Gogol’s father (Ashook) dies abruptly, she pressures Gogol to go on a trip, to “get his mind off” things. Clearly, Maxine glosses over the magnitude of his loss, or the funeral traditions that Indian families uphold. Like her parents, and other rich people, Maxine is mildly curious about India, but only touristy attractions – not its poverty, heat, or its street beggars, where beauty and meaning can also be found. Predictably, she is not disturbed by the suffering, confusion, or isolation of others – her own life is uncluttered, made easy and comfortable by wealth.
It could also be argued that – to an extent – Gogol’s immersion into Maxine’s family is a betrayal of his own. His parents are not secure but more vulnerable than others, and he is not by their side when they need him. In fact, Lahiri writes that Gogol is in willing exile from his own life. One good example is his father’s trip to Cleveland. In Indian culture, Ashook’s leaving would be acknowledged by family members, as if it would be the last time they see him; not casual or indifferent). Yet, Gogol busies himself with Maxine, vacationing at her parents’ New Hampshire house, and missing the opportunity to say goodbye to his father and wishing him a goo trip. In so doing so, Gogol moves away from his family’s rituals/culture and from what binds one human being to another: family (which in turn, strengthens identity). Tragically, during that very trip to Cleveland, Gogol’s father dies abruptly of a heart attack, and now Gogol has to live with his failure to connect with his father one last time. As for Maxine, she glosses over Ashook’s passing, even though she makes an appearance at the funeral, and later leaves frustrated because does not accept her invitation to get away together.
Worth examining are also the differences between Maxine and Gogol’s parents. Indian culture is not a threat to Maxine. In fact, she treats its customs as entertaining but inconsequential (recall how she fails to ask Gogol what gift would his parents enjoy, when she first visits them). This signals that she’s not really interested in them. Nor are Gogol’s parents’ accomplishments important to Maxine. She doesn’t know, nor wants to, what it means to come with nothing and makes something by working hard; trying to prove to a dominant culture that you’re worthy of being here. Essentially, although Maxine is supping at their table, she doesn’t really see them. Conversely, Gogol’s parents put out the royal treatment for Maxine: Ashima takes three whole days to prepare a special meal from scratch; they shower Maxine with gifts; and wave goodbye to them as they get in the car. For them, she’s not just a girl their son brought home; they take Maxine seriously. What is interesting here, is that Gogol himself feels embarrassed about having to “translate” his life and family to Maxine. This shows that he gradually backs away from his own culture and feels even more relief in Maxine world (where little or nothing is taken too seriously).
Maxine’s friends further reveal the dominant culture’s response to the margin (“the other”). In Maxine’s world, Gogol remains a foreigner despite his Ivy League education (Yale and Columbia) or his professional accomplishments (architect at prestigious NYC firm). It’s ironic, but he has no choice other than adapt. Some of the conversations at the dinner table (or cocktail parties) are occasional reminders of his ethnicity and the center’s assumptions and (ignorant) perceptions of immigrant families. Recall the comments about his adaptability to warmer climates. One might argue that inclusion is a myth and so is assimilation. At the end of the day, we all go home (our neighborhoods, ways of thinking, prejudices, etc.). Despite hanging out with Maxine or being welcomed at her parents’ house, Gogol is essentially alone and tolerated rather than understood. His place among the wealthy and confident is brittle and temporary. To them his presence is neither important nor relevant, as it is to his own parents and community. Ironically, the people to whom he matters most are abandoned (betrayed) by him!
What goes on in Gogol’s head, while he’s involved with Maxine? Surely, as an American-born individual Gogol values his independence and self-reliance but seems to buy into it to the extreme: he distances and detaches himself from his own culture. His own parents can’t understand him, but love him unconditionally and accept him as he is and where he is. However, what is the broader consequence of this self-reliance and independence? Ashook, Gogol’s father, dies alone (the “American way”) in a Cleveland hospital, far from his son, daughter, and wife. Predictably, Gogol feels guilty afterwards, and for the first time, relates to his parents’ own grief when they themselves lost their parents. However, Gogol loses that last closeness with his father abruptly and tragically. For the first time, he now understands and appreciates that rituals, customs, traditions do bind people, and also that “independence”/detachment in fact weakens individuals and families. Gradually, he starts to move back towards his own identity. Worth mentioning here: the “proof” of Maxine’s superficial feelings for Gogol is the fact that she exchanges him for another man just months after breaking up. In fact, she gets engaged! This signals the easiness with which she enters into a relationship that should be substantial and serious.
Lahiri further portrays Gogol’s complicated journey through his relationship with Moushumi. Just like him, she’s a hybrid : British-born, from Indian parents, studied and lived in Paris, and now a PhD candidate in French at NYU. She’s also sensual, sophisticated, trilingual (English, French, Bengali), and has modern American views). In short, she seems the ideal partner for Gogol, right? With her, Gogol relates more readily to the Indian part of his identity and also allows himself to manifest it – something that he didn’t feel comfortable to do with any other woman. At the same time, the two share a western upbringing, modernity, and educated sophistication. However, even hybridity can be problematic.
Let’s examine Moushumi first. In Paris, as a British-born student (of Indian heritage), she reinvents herself by assuming a false (exotic) identity. This is something she chooses freely. The French see her “otherness” as distinctive, beautiful. In turn, she enjoys the attention without guilt. In fact, it could be argued that her reinvention is a form of self-exile : a rebellion against Indian traditional values, culture, and expectations. Her education, and moving away from home, is an an escape to French culture (and also multiple, noncommittal relationships). By contrast, in the United States, her “otherness” is imposed on her, and she dislikes it profusely. The American diaspora is the umbilical cord to her Indian heritage – one reminiscent of her fragmented, confused, and self-assumed identity. She avoids it. In the relationship she had with Graham (prior to Gogol) she took initiative, which is not a traditional Indian woman’s role. Nor is it so in the more traditional western culture. This reveals – to an extent, that for Moushumi hybridity is also problematic, and her quest for identity is as complex as it is for Gogol.
The complicated nature of relationships/and marriage is a subject that Gogol has to contemplate most seriously. For the first time in his life, he looks back with admiration to his parents’ (arranged) marriage, which is proof of individual courage (taking a chance with someone else); obedience (to custom and tradition); loyalty and commitment (the basis of matrimony). Lahiri writes that together, Gogol and Moushumi, “fill a collective, deep seated desire” (both have Bengali roots and are struggling to belong in the dominant culture, where they’re actually born). However, individually they have their own ideas about self, the world, and belonging in it (which foreshadows marital conflict, and also the idea that a shared culture is not enough to keep two people together). This is demonstrated by the fact that Moushumi doesn’t even consider taking Gogol’s last name at marriage. She wants to remain free from him, have a voice of her own. What connects them to their Bengali identity, and each other, is family custom and tradition, language, food, their parents’ similar journey of migration.
To problematize things further, Gogol is also “exiled” from Moushumi’s academic crowd and lifestyle (smoking, drinking, cocktail parties). One inescapable irony here is that essentially both are exiled from the western literature Moushumi teaches at NYU! Gogol is what “Mo” (Moushumi) needs rather than wants: she thinks that he’s not as intense as her former fiancée, Graham. One false note in this relationship is in the scene where Mo makes public the personal story of Gogol’s name-change (which implicitly cheapens the meaning of his name). This is a very painful moment for Gogol, and we already sense that something is fundamentally off with this relationship. The first year anniversary scene confirms it. Gogol prepares meticulously for the anniversary, while Mo doesn’t even want to be there.
In fact, Moushumi’s view of Gogol, and the marriage itself, is revelatory: mix of sensual attraction, innocence and charm, coupled with the fear of being alone. Put differently, if marriage between two people with similar background was initially a “safe” move for Mo, now it’s down right boring. In fact, for her it’s utter resignation; a breach of her own instinctive will (which naturally bends towards intensity, challenge, and even risk). To an extent, the marriage was Mo’s act of rebellion; she married Gogol against herself (deep down she craves freedom, passion, possibility). The marriage can also be seen as an act of submission to the wishes of her parents (by marrying, Mo makes them happy; fulfilling the collective desire to preserve Indian tradition). Consequently, the anniversary is a failure not because of Gogol or the food. Rather, it’s a failure because of Mo; she’d rather be elsewhere and with someone else; free from a predictable life. Very important to note here: when something essential doesn’t work, nothing works. The result is that now everything annoys her: the restaurant; the menu; Gogol’s very existence.
This is how infidelity begins. Mo, starts looking elsewhere to fill in the emotional void. She even justifies to herself contacting an old lover by old friendship coincidence standards. Unsurprisingly, the affair that ensues – is another escape (or self-exile), made possible because of her own need to not attach herself to anyone; to commit. Gogol’s oblivion to the real cause of her dismay with the marriage, foreshadows a character you’ll read about in the next book: Flaubert’s Madame Bovary.
From Gogol, Moushumi takes only what she needs, but not the “mess” that he comes with: his own struggle with identity, belonging, hybridity, etc. In a way, Mo echoes Maxine here. The fact that Gogol is asking her whether or not she’s happy for marrying him reveals his own doubt.
For a moment, we need to shift back to Ashima, with whom the novel begins. Lahiri tells us that she moves back to Calcutta, six months a year, leaving American identity behind (one that she has incorporated over 30 years). However, America is also present in Ashima. She’ll take to India her own “American-ness:” new ways of thinking and being, and the memories of a life she built with Ashook in her adoptive country. Ashima’s desire to return exposes the fluidity of identity, as well as the complexity of life and the transitory nature of human existence. What is also important here, on the advent of Ashima’s return, is Gogol’s newly found respect for his parents’ courage and dignity (he divorces Mo, following her admission of the affair and is in the process of figuring out his next step). Gogol understands that life is often a confluence of circumstances; contingencies; and even mystery – that no one is fully in control.
The book comes full circle when Gogol retrieves the novel by Nikolai Gogol. This was given to him years before as a gift, by his father, Ashook. This reveals Gogol’s desire for his name to survive, because now it has distinctive and true meaning. We, too, root for him, because his journey is far from over. In fact, it only begins: this time, authentically.
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** Scroll down for writing topics Essay 1 (Lahiri)
English 2230 WB: World Literature
Essay 1 (Lahiri, The Namesake)
Select one of the two topics below and write a three, full-page essay. Support your discussion with at least two quotations (or paraphrase) from the primary source (novel itself). NO material from secondary sources may be used for this assignment!
1. In the second part of the novel, Lahiri describes Gogol/Nikhil as a successful architect working for a midtown firm in New York City. He prefers “the place his parents do not know well, whose beauty they are blind to … and [also] fear.” Examine the differences between Gogol and his parents. Are they a reflection of his cultural assimilation ? A reaction against his cultural hybridity ? Something else?
2. Both Gogol and Sonia, his sister, are examples of hybrid identities (American by birth/Indian by heritage). Considering that American culture encourages individualism and freedom, while Indian culture – being rooted in tradition – stresses conformity, can Gogol and Sonia reconcile the two? Is this even possible? (You can make brief reference to your own hybrid experience, if you relate, but the focus must remain on the novel and characters).
Due date: Thursday, November 5th (midnight).
Format: MLA.
Submit in word file, not pdf.
Worth mentioning: substandard writing is not accepted in ENG 2230 WB. Do NOT submit your essay for evaluation without consulting, point by point, the 15-Steps-to-Writing Checklist to ensure that your document meets basic writing standards. Also, review the MLA sample essay to see how your document should look on paper. These materials are posted in “Module 1.” If you already know that your writing proficiency is not at skill-level, please reach out to the Writing Center, ahead of time, for individualized support. Points will be deducted from the “Academic Professionalism” component of the course, each time the instructions above are not followed. Most importantly: please meet the required deadline. Late papers are not accepted, resulting in a zero grade. Thank you for your cooperation!
