This book is amazing. Amazing! It's a coming-of-age story about identity and family and growing into one's own. It follows a boy named Gogol (as in Nikolai Gogol the Russian author) growing up with Indian parents in Boston and his struggle for identity. Are you hooked yet? I was so impressed with Jhumpa Lahiri's use of language. Her words flow over you like, hmm, what paltry simile can I use? Like a warm summer breeze on your face, water lapping up on the shore, hot fudge over a bowl of ice cream? None seem right. It's just beautiful. That's enough.
I was especially taken with the tradition of naming babies in the family's culture. The grandmother was going to name the baby. And that each child has a "good" name that is on official documents, and another name that family and friends use. Like a nickname but more important -- a symbol of devotion from loved ones.
At the same time I was reading this book, I was taking care of a little boy from India here for treatment with his parents. I wondered if he had a pet name that his parents called him and we all used his "good" name in the hospital. I wondered if the parents followed the tradition of grandmother naming their child. I wondered what his name means.
Read this book. Read it. You will love it.
30 March 2007
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