The Namesake

The first thing that struck me about Jhumpa Lahiri's latest novel, The Namesake: A Novel was the odd fact that Lahiri's name is in larger font on the cover than the title of the book. Perhaps being a Pulitzer-Prize-winning author gives her name the right to such prominent placement, but to me, the story is what draws me in, not the name of the author.

That being said, The Namesake is a worthy story of two generations of an immigrant Indian family trying to navigate the strange social and cultural world of America, thousands of miles from home or, in the case of the second generation, stuck between parents from another world and an American childhood. Lahiri writes like an unabashed, snobbish Ivy League graduate, a woman who would be utterly malcontent in a small midwestern town. She's an elite New Yorker at heart and it oozes through the pages of her book, but somehow, I can manage to forgive her for it despite the references to the "universal" teenage experiences that only certain people who grew up in the Northeast seem to share (like a love of Bob Dylan and not Billy Joel).

I suppose Lahiri's work would be more remarkable to me if I hadn't grown up with Indian neighbors who vanished periodically to visit relatives in India. It never really seemed odd to me that their parents spoke a different language, that their mom wore saris and cooked yummy, odiferous Indian food or that they didn't celebrate Christmas. I remember thinking it was weird when my mom told me that their parents had an arranged marriage and I remember being jealous when one of the kids told me that when they went to worship, they didn't have to wear shoes (which made his temple way cooler than my church, where Sunday meant uncomfortable dresses, boring sermons and hard wooden pews). This unique cultural distinction that she's making was very much a satellite experience of my childhood; the immigrant experience is also an American one, a reminder that the very term American is as amorphous as Bill Clinton's definition of sexual relations.

This is one of those books that you finish reading and you're not exactly sure why you read it, but you're happy that you did. The characters are as insecure, accessible, intelligent and quirky as real people, not merely imprints or echoes of actual flesh and blood. I suppose that's Lahiri's true talent. She creates characters that resonate, striking common chords we all know in a story that we don't.

I recommend it.

The Nanny Diaries

Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus put their heads together to write the NYT Bestseller, The Nanny Diaries: A Novel. We follow the passive aggressive exploits of a 21-year-old NYU student, Nanny, as she nannies the 4-year-old child (Grayer) of a wealthy, unlovable Park Avenue couple, the X's.

While most of the reviews that I've read praise McLaughlin and Kraus for their unflinching portrayal of vacuous wealthy Manhattanites who view their children as little more than pampered accessories, I found myself utterly loathing Nanny by the end of the novel, though I'm supposed to sympathize with her plight.

Nanny is the ultimate example of a passive aggressive drama queen, unable to set reasonable boundaries for her time but willing to blame everyone else for the resulting strife. When her employer, Mrs. X, starts making unreasonable demands of Nanny's time, Nanny aquiesces like an obedient puppy and then bitches to her friends and family about what a tyrant her boss can be. She is passively annoyed and affronted by the way Mrs. X treats her, but rather than confronting Mrs. X and setting down reasonable definitions of her responsibility as a nanny, she remains passive and holds her tongue. Well behaved women never changed the course of history...indeed.

I know so many young women like Nan, so many people who will subjugate their own feelings and demands while quietly allowing their resentment to fester. It's a retarded way to live life and by the end of this novel, I was overwhelmed with irritation and sadness. If Nan wanted to be treated well, she should have demanded it from the very beginning. You can't let your dog piss on the carpet for a year and then decide overnight that you want his behavior to change because it's inconvenient or unacceptable.

I suppose this might make for good airplane reading. I wouldn't say it's a book that you HAVE to read, but it's amusing and if you're in the mood to scorn the wealthy, perhaps a bit satisfying.