Literary Safari

I was listening to a new NPR series not so long ago: The Hidden World of Girls. That particular episode featured Nigerian novelist Chris Abani’s childhood memory of touring the Nigerian countryside with his mother, Daphne Mae Hunt:

My mother became certified as a Billings Ovulation teacher. And her job was to go and teach this to women. … Part of the problem was that her Igbo wasn’t good enough to discuss people’s uterus. She needed an interpreter and mother decided to ask me to interpret for her. I was eight years old. So we would set off, the two of us, and I would have a backpack. … We would go door to door. Everything starts with a greeting … It would be followed by an apology from me because I was about to discuss something sacred, taboo.

These women would never discuss [their period] with their husbands and here’s this eight-year-old boy … [See full transcript.]

The image of a young boy accompanying his mother to strangers’ homes and acting as a middleman stayed with me for several days, and when I recently heard Marina Budhos reading from her new, terrific young adult novel Tell Us We’re Home, I was reminded of it again.

In Budhos’s novel, we meet three young girls, Jaya, Lola, and Maria, all immigrants, who find themselves in a different kind of countryside than Abani — American suburbia — where they act as their mothers’ interpreters and translators.

Their mothers are nannies and housekeepers in Meadowbrook, a picturesque New Jersey town off the commuter rail, and these girls are the invisible teens who help their parents navigate a new culture while struggling to find their own place within it. They go to school with the same kids whose families their mothers work for.

Maria is Mexican. She accompanies her mother on job interviews and acts as a conduit for her employment searches. Jaya is West Indian, from Guyana. She assumes the responsibility to help absolve her mother of the accusation of a theft that in her employer’s home. And Lola is a Slovakian self-appointed revolutionary whose mother is a housekeeper at her classmate’s home and whose father is a depressed former engineer. Each girl’s story–and the story of their friendship–allows us to peer into the hidden world of working class young adult immigrants. Until they meet, each girl believes lives in a lonely bubble of invisibility, but chance brings them together and their friendship saves each of them in some way. Though they are outsiders, they are outsiders together.

I was a fan of Budhos’s first YA novel, Ask Me No Questions, and am glad that this book more than lived up to my expectations. (more…)

It has now been six months since the birth of my daughter and I’m a bit behind on my posts. It actually took me a while to be able to get through an entire book for quite a few months. My attention span was diverted to my adorable little girl, her million and one facial expressions, her many pitches of cries, and her daily discoveries of the world.

Then, during one of my daughter’s first long afternoon naps at 14 weeks, the planets conspired to make reading possible again. I surprised myself by curling up on the couch with a cup of ginger-peach tea and Sheba Karim’s first young adult novel Skunk Girl, which I’ve been wanting to read ever since I first heard about it as a work in progress.

A few months ago, I reviewed Rakesh Satyal’s Blue Boy, a sensitive coming of age novel about a 12 year-old Indian-American boy struggling with his sexuality. One of the qualities I most appreciated about the book was its impeccable portrait of the suburban Indian-American family and the ways in which adolescent growing pains tie into it and its complex social webs.

Sheba Karim’s Skunk Girl is another novel that does a fine job of painting such a portrait and of capturing the intricacies of growing up South Asian in this country, this time from the point of view of girl. [Read an excerpt.]

Nina Khan is a  Pakistani-American junior in high school with an impossibly intelligent older sister Sonia and strict immigrant parents. About to turn 16, she is painfully aware of the “no dating, no pork, no co-ed parties” rules in her life which make her feel like “a wounded bird who longs to fly with the others but can’t.” Matters take a turn for the worse when Nina falls hard for Asher, a new boy in school. The two share math class together and, could it be?, Asher actually seems interested in her? Will she or won’t she break the rules and date him?

As Nina gets to know Asher better, she becomes even more aware of how different she is from her classmates. As if matters weren’t bad enough and she’s not allowed to date, Nina also becomes even more self-conscious about her body hair, which has always been an issue of embarrassment (as it is for many young South Asian women). On a class trip to Albany, she finds herself sitting next to Asher on the bus. When she leans over to look out the window, he gets a view down her back.

When I sit up, he turns to me one eyebrow raised in curious amusement. “You have a stripe of hair going down your back,” he says. …

As soon as I make it home I run upstairs to my room and tear my clothes off. I stand naked in front of my full-length mirror and twist my head to get a good view of my back. And that’s when I see it. A wide line of soft, dark hair running from the nape of my neck down to the base of my spine–the stripe Asher was talking about. A stripe right down the center of my back, like a skunk. This brings me to a whole other level. I’m not just a hair Pakistani Muslim girl anymore.

I am a skunk girl.

Lest you think that Nina sinks into the depths of despair after this revelation, let me assure you that she does not. Of course, she indulges in an afternoon of crying, of cursing, and of making wishes for all sorts of ways to never to set foot in school again. But then she steps right back up to the plate and returns to school and realizes that “nothing happens. No one pauses their conversations. No one even notices me.”

Though Nina the character is often frustrated by her circumstances, Nina, the narrator, has a wry sense of humor and a graceful ability to poke fun at herself. As this entertaining novel progresses, we watch as her streak of rebellion surfaces and watch as she struggles with her conscience as she experiments with aspects of “American culture” (yes, alcohol, and yes, dating) that are off-limits to her and that define her very Pakistani Muslim-ness. What you’ll see her conclude will be surprising and yet, so very Nina-esque; a teenage girl who is simultaneously self-confident and unsure of herself.

While exploring the challenges of high school life, author Sheba Karim also sheds light on the extended social life of Nina Khan’s family – the Pakistani family dinners,  the community weddings, the visits from family friends who measure her adherence to cultural norms, etc. Karim’s eye for these little details and her ability to convey universal aspects of South Asian immigrant immigrant life give this novel an added measure of value.

In an interview at Cayenne Lit, Karim says:

I was raised in a small town with very few other desis, a setting similar to the one in Skunk Girl. Being Pakistani made me separate, different, and often annoyed, because of the restrictions placed on me as a teenager. I think your culture is often something you grow into. I also think as wonderful as being a “hyphen” is, it can also be very difficult, particularly for women from Muslim backgrounds. … Skunk Girl was inspired by a monologue I wrote for Yoni ki Baat, a South Asian version of The Vagina Monologues. I realized there were very few books out there about what it’s like to grow up Pakistani in this country, and that I really wanted to write one.

Her writing certainly took me into the inner world of a teenage misfit with grace and reminded me of the parallels of my own once-upon-a-time adolescent angst. Thank goodness it’s past me!

For those interested in using this in the classroom or a book circle, a helpful discussion guide is available here.

Of summer reading, the Presbyterian minister Henry Ward Beecher, once said, “There is a temperate zone in the mind, between luxurious indolence and exacting work; and it is to this region, just between laziness and labor, that summer reading belongs.”

I have to agree. When summer rolls around, I’m always on the lookout for a different kind of book — one that feels like it belongs just as much in a beach cabana as it does it on a park bench, an airplane, a moving train, or my bed; one that makes me think and feel just as much as it allows me to relax and smile; one made for my attention span that alternates between the ability to concentrate and the desire to flit about.

I wrote earlier about how much I enjoyed Gene Yang’s new collection of graphic short stories, The Eternal Smile.

Here, then, are some of my other reading picks for this season:

Rakesh Satyal’s Blue Boy (Kensington Publishing).
Hirsh Sawhney’s Delhi Noir (Akashic Books).
Kwei Quartey’s Wife of the Gods: An Inspector Darko Dawson Mystery (Random House).

While I sit here in steamy New York City awaiting the arrival of my first child and reading lots of non-fiction birthing and pregnancy books, these fictional reads have succeeded in take me through the three places that have been a part of my life so far: Ghana, India, and the US.

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Do you ever find yourself reading one book about a particular topic and then, immediately moving on to another in a similar vein? That has been my experience lately as I find myself on a parenthood books kick. In the case of Michael Lewis’s Home Game: Accidental Lessons in Fatherhood, I have my husband K. to thank for turning me on to it. He sent me an email a few weeks ago with a link, and wrote, “I want to read this book.”

As first-time parents, it starts to get overwhelming to keep reading books such as What to Expect When You’re Expecting, or The Happiest Baby on the Block, or  Secrets of the Baby Whisperer throughout the nine months of pregnancy — books that however well-intentioned can’t help but make you wonder whether you will do the right thing, make the right decisions, be a “good parent.” So much pressure …

Perhaps that is one of the reasons why I so appreciated the frank and comic tone assumed by Michael Lewis in his memoir of fatherhood. A non-fiction author and New York Times journalist best known for his books about baseball, Wall Street, and Silicon Valley innovation, this book is based on his “Dad Again” column in Slate magazine which ran from 2002 to 2008, beginning with the birth of his first daughter and ending with his visit to an operating room for a vasectomy after the birth of his third child, his son Walker.

Lewis makes no pretense to be the model father; one who greets his new role in the world with utter joy and dedication. The book would be a boring tome were he to do so. Rather, through journal style chapters in a book divided into three sections (one for each child), he takes readers through his (sometimes knee jerk) reactions to the arrival of his babies, allowing us to peek into his state of mind (harried, confused, frustrated) and his attempts to figure out the role that no manual can ever fully explain.

One amazon.com review of the book warns that Home Game is a better read for men than women: “Women, or at least my wife, should avoid this book because it does delve into the male mindset enough to make me hide my copy for fear that my she might begin to see some of the absurdities of fatherhood.”

Err, this was not the case with me. My husband read the book on a flight across the pond a few weeks ago and immediately came home and handed it to me. “You have to read this,” he said. He wouldn’t tell me why or what he liked about it, but dropped hints that he saw bits and pieces of me throughout the book and wanted to discuss it when I was done.  Uh-oh, I thought … was this a good thing or a bad thing? 

In this book, Lewis describes the comic turns and twists of family and married life that parenthood brings. He writes about juggling his writing career with childcare responsibilities (so different than his father’s generation – “Obviously, we’re in the midst of some long unhappy transition between the model of fatherhood as practiced by my father and some ideal model,” he writes), going along with his wife’s desire to enroll their infant in swimming classes in Paris, taking his daughter on a camping trip with this toddler daughter in California, his drunken passing out in the delivery room, the responses of teachers to the way he dresses his preschool-aged daughter, or where he decides not to share cake with his daughters [read an excerpt] in a real, human, and humorous way.

There’s this one scene where Lewis’s wife wakes him up in the middle of the night with tears in her eyes. He asks her why she is crying and she has no explanation, which only confounds him more as he attempts to console her. Sound familiar? There have been numerous occasions over the years where I’ve found myself in tears and K. asks “what’s wrong? what is it?”, well, I have no answer. Then, I can’t understand why he is perplexed!  This is just one of the scenes that made me laugh out loud and scare the squirrels in Riverside Park away!

Another one of my favorite chapters was where Lewis tries to slip back into the work routine after the birth of his second child and quickly learns that he is quickly earning the reputation with his wife as a “neglectful father.” How does he remedy it? He agrees to take his wife and infant to a Baby Brigade movie night where he quickly learns rule # 1 of fatherhood: “If you don’t see what the problem is, you are the problem.” Yes, this may be construed as a fingerpointing exercise at his nagging wife by some readers, but to me, it was also a comical, almost caricaturist depiction of married life that permits parties on each side of the table to better see where the other is coming from.

There are threads of insight and introspection sprinkled throughout the book as Lewis discovers the rules of fatherhood:

If you want to feel the way you’re meant to feel about the new baby, you need to do the grunt work. It’s only in caring for a thing that you become attached to it.

The outside world has a lot to tell you about how to be a father and how to raise your children, and its advice no doubt serves some purpose. It fails, however, to get across with sufficient clarity the final rule of fatherhood: If you’re not bothered by it, or disturbed by it, or messed up from it, you’re probably doing something wrong that will mess up your kids. You’re probably doing something wrong anyway but that’s okay … [you'll have to pick up the book to read the rest of this rule!]   

Read more excerpts from Home Game here and here.

Ben Okri, the award-winning Nigerian author has said, “The fact of storytelling hints at fundamental human unease, hints and human imperfection. Where there is perfection there is no story to tell.” So true this is when it comes to Home Game, which though written from the father’s point of view also creates caricatures of motherhood and women (as seen by husbands) that definitely make us examine our reactions and better understand why men sometimes shake their heads in confusion and wonder. I have a feeling that his experiences will surely stick in my mind in the coming months as we enter the world of first-time parenting, helping us to find the humor in seemingly tragic or overwhelming circumstances. They have also given K. and I many scenarios to consider and discuss and … laugh about as we wait for our new arrival.

In the Washington Post, Amy Joyce compares Home Game to Anne Lamott’s Operating Instructions, which I have yet to read. Maybe that’s the next book that should go on my list–and that I should pass on to K. to read. I’m thinking it will make a good companion read since it comes from a woman’s perspective. I wonder if I will find that to be true.

Jim Rogers was a multi-millionaire investor who could afford to retire and morph into a world traveler before he turned 37, but it took him another 25 years to find the courage to become a father. In the introduction to his latest book, A Gift to My Children: A Father’s Lessons for Life and Investing (Random House, June 2009), the best-selling author of Hot Commodities and Adventure Capitalist writes:

I must admit that not very long ago I would have scoffed at even the idea of having children of my own. Growing up in Alabama, I was the oldest of five boys, and much as I loved my brothers, I spent an awful lot of time looking after them! Alas, I couldn’t help but notice what a financial burden having five children had imposed on my parents no mater how keen they were on us. Later in life, I was too busy working and traveling even to think about parenthood, which seemed like an endless drain on the time, energy, and money with which I was pursuing my passions.  …

In his latest book, Rogers takes a break from writing about his travel escapades or providing tips on the best places to invest your money, instead distilling his life experiences into a book of advice for his two daughters, five-year old Happy and Bee, who was born in 2008.  Becoming a father at the age of 62, when he had the “experience, time, and energy” allowed Rogers to take on his new role with “passion” inspired him to put down his life lessons “in one place, with examples of[his] own experience, as a guide to life, adventure, and investing” with perhaps cliché sounding chapter titles such as:

Swim Your Own Races: Do Not Let Others Do Your Thinking for You
Focus on What You Like
Common Sense? Not So Common
Let the World Be a Part of Your Perspective
Learn Philosophy: Learn to “Think”
Learn History!
Learn Languages
Recognize Change and Embrace It
Look to the Future!

But there are surprises and interesting twists along the way, such as Rogers advice to his children that they learn Mandarin (“It is the century of China!”, understand the significance of the BRIC nations (“focus investment strategies on growing economies abroad”), experience the world’s diversity (“I urge you to leave your country for a few years. You can always return, but you will have a new understanding. Of everything.”), or even something as simple as the importance of saving (“As you get older, you will probably have friends who eat at expensive restaurants every night, buy the latest gadgets or fashion trends, and spend vacations at fancy beach resorts. You must avoid the trap of spending money willynilly simply because you can. Not only is this a road to financial ruin, it can cause you to forget what’s important in life.”)

I picked this book up at the library a couple of days ago, and both my husband and I got through most of it the same evening. There’s something about the combination of sentimentality, practicality, and utilitarianism, plus a down to earth approach to living an authentic life, that appealed to both of us — not just as tips that we hope to someday pass on to our soon-to-be daughter, but also as advice we could apply to our own lives.

One gets the feeling that Rogers sat down to compose this thoughts and sentiments for his two treasures with the knowledge that there is no certainty that he may be around when they are in their twenties, thirties, forties, and fifties  … to be able to tell them all this himself. As someone whose father passed away when I was 27, but who was very much a world traveler, a wise investor, a reader, an explorer, and an adventurer, Rogers’ perspective was the perfect father’s day gift that fell into my lap.

While the spotlight shines on Barack Obama’s long-awaited speech to the Muslim World, closer to home, I’ve been seeing lots of posters and advertising for the upcoming Muslim Voices Festival in New York City which begins today, Friday, June 5 and runs through the 14th of this month. Featuring concerts, lectures, film screenings on PBS, and even, a souk, the ten-day festival is designed to celebrate the arts and culture of Muslim societies. It is the culmination of three years of organizing by the Asia Society, Brooklyn Academy of Music, and NYU”s Center for Dialogues.

Below the fold is a listing of a few of the South Asia-related events coming up over the next fortnight. Don’t let your exploration stop there. There’s tons more on the calendar worth checking out.

But first, I want to tell you about a book that I’ve been reading which ties in well to the theme of this festival: Kavitha Rajagopalan’s Muslims of Metropolis which was published by Rutgers University Press late last year.

Muslims of Metropolis is a sensitive and thoughtful examination of international migration and the social construct of identity. Rajagopalan spent nearly 7 years researching and writing her first book which tells the stories of the journeys of three families from majority-Muslim countries to three major Western metropolises. In London, she follows a Palestinian man from Jerusalem and his Syrian wife. In Berlin, a Turkish Kurdish community. And, in post 9/11 New York, and a Bangladeshi man and his daughter who married an undocumented Pakistani man.

As Rajagopalan puts it in her introduction:

These families come from different socioeconomic, political, and ethnic backgrounds, but they are all Muslim. It should be noted, however, that this is not a book on theology or Islamic history. Although the stories in this book will refer to the ways in which characters relate to Islam as they construct their identities, cope with adversity, or understand their roles in the world, this is not ultimately a book about Muslims but about immigrants … I have chosen to write about Muslim immigrants because I believe that the social identity of Muslim immigrants stands under the greatest pressure of misunderstanding and mistrust throughout the world.

Over the past several months, Rajagopalan has been touring the country doing multimedia presentations and readings from her book. I attended one reading right here in NYC and was struck by her ability to weave together multiple human narratives with solid research in a manner that was penetrating and insightful, at once literary, journalistic, and accessibly academic. (more…)

When you’re visibly pregnant and riding the NYC subway with a book titled “Family Planning” in hand, you’re bound to draw stares and curious gazes. Such was my experience earlier this month as I traveled on the downtown 1 with 25 year old Karan Mahajan’s laughter-inducing yet tender first novel in hand. In this Brooklyn-based, New Delhi-born author’s debut work (HarperPerennial, 2008) set in contemporary New Delhi, family life, politics, adolescent love, and prime time soap operas intertwine in entertaining and unexpectedly moving ways.

At the heart of this story is the chaotic household of Rakesh Ahuja, a hard of hearing, America returned engineer who holds a prestigious position as New Delhi’s Minister of Urban Development. Apart from the bureaucratic and political challenges that face him at work (he’s in charge of a laborious flyover construction project and part of a political party that sponsors “intolerable bills such as the Diversity of the Motherland Act which calls for the compulsory resignation of all Muslims “for reasons of diversity and national security”), Rakesh is beset by his own personal dramas at home.

The father of 13 children (and one more en route), he must deal with the trauma of having had his teenage son Arjun walk in on him having sex with his wife in the baby nursery. Understandably, Arjun asks, “Papa, I don’t understand—why do you and Mama keep having babies?”

While he has to figure out a way to explain himself to his son (“Obviously, Mr. Ahuja couldn’t tell his son that he was only attracted to Mrs. Ahuja when she was pregnant” reads the first line of the novel), this is not the only secret Mr. Ahuja has been keeping from his son, master babysitter and eldest of 12 younger siblings and darling of his mother, Mrs. Ahuja, an unattractive woman whose days are spent changing diapers, managing her vast household, knitting, and recovering from the loss of her favorite TV character Mohan Bedi from Zee-TV soap opera, “The Vengeful Daughter-in-Law.” There’s also the bit of information about Rakesh’s first wife, Arjun’s mother, who suffered a tragic death and who continues to haunt his unhappy existence. Meanwhile there’s Arjun, an awkward teen so madly in love with Aarti, a Catholic school beauty who rides the morning bus with him that he’ll do anything to get her attention—even start a rock band with a bunch of classmates.

Yes, there’s a great deal happening in Mahajan’s novel; many competing heartbreaks and dramas. And yet, as a reader, I was pulled in just as much by Mahajan’s observant and sensitive eye as I was by his ability to create satirical scenarios that reflect some of the complexities and paradoxes of social and political life in today’s India.

Read the rest of this review and a Q&A with Mahajan, whose sense of humor is as refreshing in the interview format as it is in his prose, below the fold. (more…)

Here’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a while: indulge in a proper afternoon tea for two, complete with pretty little teapots, finger sandwiches, sweets, and great company. I finally did it, last night–for dinner!

My friend Maria and I found ourselves at Tea and Sympathy, a proper British tea room (their motto is “If you’re looking for anything British, you’re in the right place) in the West Village around supper time, and though I started out eyeing plates such as welsh rarebit and shepherd’s pie, my focus quickly shifted when the two ladies near us received their tea service for two. There’s something about the silver tower piled with sweet and savory tidbits …. it makes me feel like a prim and proper lady and a little kid all at once.

My teapot was short and stout, an olde world map laid out lovingly on her, a little panda in sunglasses sitting atop her lid. Steeping inside were white tea leaves and rose petals. And, on our tea tower were vanilla and chocolate cupcakes, scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam, and an array of bite-sized sandwiches. We got the vegetarian tea platter which came with cream cheese and cucumber, cheese and branston pickle sandwiches, egg salad with watercress, and tomato and cream cheese sandwiches, all on some type of amazing whole grain bread, except for the egg salad ones.

I’m not sure how delicious everything actually was or whether my imagination’s so enamored with the idea of this combination that anything served up on a dainty tower would taste just as wonderful.  Like many Indian children, I grew up on a steady diet of children’s books and adventures by Enid Blyton, all of which were replete with midnight feasts and picnic lunches that spoke of foods that were unfamiliar to my palate. My mouth would water as I read about ginger beer, bangers, smoked trout, scones, macaroons, cucumber sandwiches, crumpets, deviled eggs, and treacle pudding; all culinary possibilities that were far away from my reality (with the exception of cucumber sandwiches and deviled eggs!).

Last night, I was not only reminded of my love affair with the food in my favorite childhood stories, but also of a special little book I received not too long ago from one of my favorite food bloggers, The Gourmet Cartographer. The book, Cherry Cake and Ginger Beer, by British author Jane Brocket, is a treasury of memories and recipes of “foodstuffs and food occasions in children’s literature.” (A mini-review follows below the fold.) (more…)

I wrote last week about a young adult novel that grapples with the impact of 9/11 on the Sikh community. Today, I bring you a review of a new novel published as part of the Modern History Press’s”Reflections of America” series.  Drop a note in the comments section for a chance to win a free copy of this book.

We have read numerous stories in the mainstream media about the widows of 9/11. Not so many about the Muslim victims. In her novel Saffron Dreams, Austin-based Pakistani-American author Shaila Abdullah fills a void in that literature by providing the perspective of a pregnant Pakistani woman, Arissa, who loses her husband–a writer with a masters in literature who worked as a waiter in the Windows on the World restaurant–on September 11.

Inspired by the true story of Baraheen Ashrafi, a Bangladeshi woman who was widowed two days before the birth of her second child, Abdullah’s novel follows her main character on her five-year journey through the five stages of grief as she reconstructs her life in a world that views her as a perpetrator of the violence, not as a victim. Upon discovering her husband’s unfinished novel manuscript, she takes it into her hands and decides to try to complete it — an act of courage that allows her to connect with her deceased partner and acts as the impetus for her healing process.

I read this novel just after I’d wrapped my writing of a curriculum guide for an oral history of Muslim youth in New York City, This Is Where I Need To Be, which was published by Teachers College’s Student Press Initiative. It would make a wonderful read for both a young adult and adult audience interested in further exploring the ways in which America’s Muslim population experienced 9/11. Intertwined with flashbacks to Arissa’s childhood in Pakistan, this novel provides a valuable insight into secular, upper middle class Pakistani society. A much-needed perspective in the void of the American Muslim experience, it is an unflinching and moving look at the societal pressures of widowhood, the role that art can play in the healing process, and the impact of media bias and stereotyping on the Muslim American community in the aftermath of the 2001 terrorist attacks.

Read a brief excerpt from the novel here. Below the fold is a brief Q&A with the author.

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Soon after 9/11, a friend of mine told me that her college roommate’s home had been visited by the local police in their town in upstate New York. The police wanted to search the home of this family because they’d heard they had a picture of Osama Bin Laden hanging in their living room. The cops were mistaken. This was the home of a pious Sikh family and the picture was of Guru Nanak, the founder of the Sikh religion.

I’ve often thought about this story. There are so many more like it — incidents of mistaken identities, faulty detentions, stereotyping, and violent acts in the wake of September 11th. We’ve read about them in the press and slowly, literature is beginning to tackle this dark period of recent American history as well; a time that unfolded in what Pulitzer Prize-winning graphic artist, Art Spiegelman, described so aptly as “in the shadow of no towers.”

A few years ago, Ask Me No Questions by Marina Budhos was one of the first young adult offerings to address the challenge of growing up South Asian and Muslim in an America altered by 9/11. First time novelist Nisha Meminger takes on a similar theme in her new YA novel Shine, Coconut Moon, just published by Simon & Schuster.

When her turbaned uncle appears at the doorstep of her suburban NJ home just four days after the 9/11 attacks, 16 year old Samar is caught off guard. Raised in a single-parent household by an Indian-American mother who cut off ties with her Sikh family many years before, Samar has no connection to her cultural roots and traditions. She is skeptical of this man, Uncle Sandeep, who claims to want to reconnect with his estranged sister because “we’re living in different times now … and I want to be close to the ones I love. The world is in turmoil—we’re at war. Anything could happen at any moment.”

As Samar gets to know her uncle, she begins to learn about Sikhism and gets to know her grandparents. She even visits a gurdwara, Sikh temple, for the first time in her life. This prompts her to start questioning her mother’s decision to raise her to think of herself “like everyone else.” She begins to question her identity; wondering whether she is a coconut — someone who is brown on the outside and white on the inside—someone who may physically appear to be Indian but doesn’t know who she really is. At the same time, she is shocked and saddened by a series of troubling events in her community that affect her personally: her uncle is attacked by a bunch of teenage boys who goad him to “Go back home, Osama!” and the local gurdwara is set on fire.

In his compelling Guardian article “The End of Innocence” Pankaj Mishra writes, “‘Post-9/11’ fiction often seems to use the attacks and their aftermath too cheaply, as background for books that would have been written anyway.” Shine, Coconut Moon does not fall into this category. Most definitively shaped by the effect of 9/11 on minority immigrant communities, this is an ambitious coming of age novel for young adults that seeks to demonstrate the effects of fear mongering on the lives of ordinary minority teens who saw themselves as American before 9/11.

Below the fold is an excerpt from the novel, as well as a Q&A with, Neesha Meminger where she talks about her novel writing process and the real-life incidents that inspired it. And, for those in the NYC area, there is a book launch party and reading this Saturday, March 14th at 7 pm at Bluestockings Bookstore. (more…)

Here’s the second in a series of reviews of books that I think would make great gifts this holiday season. Part II here. Plus, we’re giving away two free copies of this book. Leave a comment here telling us what your favorite children’s adventure books are by Friday, December 26th, and we’ll put your name in a random drawing for a free copy of the book, courtesy of publisher Feiwel & Friends.

I’m a sucker for adventure stories, especially the type that takes me to deserted islands, introduces me to brave children, and enlisst my imagination in solving an intriguing mystery. As a child, I got my fix from the much-loved British children’s author, Enid Blyton.

When I saw the title of Bermuda-based first-time author Nadia Aguiar’s new book, The Lost Island of Tamarind (Feiwel & Friends, ages 10-14, 448 pages)  it stirred up memories of my favorite Enid Blyton books such as The Secret Island  and the Famous Five’s Five on a Treaure Island.  I couldn’t deny that I was experiencing a pang of nostalgia, plus there was the word “tamarind” — it conjures up such tastes and delicious smells of the Indian subcontinent. I was curious and set out immediately to get my hands on a copy.

I’m glad I did. This book was the closest to Enid Blyton’s spirit (minus the sexism or colonist baggage) that I’ve been able to get in a long time. [check out my interview with Nadia Aguilar where she cites Blyton as one her favorite childhood authors. Children of the commonwealth, unite!]

Set in the imaginary land of Tamarind, which lies beyond a blue line on the horizon, this is the story of three siblings who get separated from their parents, ocean biologists, after their ship, the Pamela Jane, is caught in a tremendous storm near the equator. When the children—the eldest, Maya, a shy, somewhat rebellious adolescent; Simon, an adventurous extrovert; and little toddler Penny—get off their boat, they find themselves in a war-torn world where “fish can fly, pirates patrol the waters, jaguars lurk, the islanders are at war, and an evil, child-stealing enchantress rules the jungle.”As they begin to hunt for their parents, they quickly realize that is a place that “outsiders” like themselves can’t easily escape. (more…)

Here’s the first in a series of reviews of books that I think would make great gifts this holiday season. 

Rang (pronounced rung) is the Hindi word for color. It is the word that first came to mind when I began turning the vibrant pages of India: In Word and Image (Welcome Books, 2008, $60) by photographer Eric Meola.

Featuring an introduction by Bharati Mukherjee, this book captures the lively hues and moods of India through more than 200 photos of her diverse peoples, festivals, and traditions, with a special focus on festivals.

Meola’s extensive travels through India (and his keen eye) gift us with an intimate glimpse of subjects ranging from the exquisite palaces of Rajasthan and temples of Tamil Nadu to the simple monasteries of the Himalayas. What makes this book stand out in the company of other photographic perspectives on India, however, is the pairing of images with literary tidbits from a sampling of India’s best (and some of my favorite) writers—Salman Rushdie, Kiran Desai, R. K. Narayan, V. S. Naipul, and more.

If you’re looking for a book about the new India–which looks at the rise of shopping malls, tech parks, gourmet restaurants, and fusion fashions–this is not the book for you. Instead, you’ll prefer Images of a Journey: India in Diaspora, by Steve Raymer. But, if you’re looking for a book that does justice to the the architectural and cultural dazzle of India, then this book is for you.

Whether you’re a first-time traveler to India seeking inspiration, a travel shutterbug, or simply someone like me who occasionally catches the wanderlust virus for the homeland, this is a coffee table jewel worth acquiring. And sharing. In fact, I was going to suggest it as a holiday gift, but I’m afraid that once it lands in your lap, you’ll probably be reluctant to part with it! (So … maybe you’d like to order two?!

A few parting images for you …

 

 

All photos by Eric Meola. Reprinted with permission of Welcome Books.