Book: Interpreter of Maladies

Author: Jhumpa Lahiri
Publisher: Mariner Books 1999



Jhumpa Lahiri`s book of short stories, Interpreter of Maladies, has won accolades ranging from prizes for short story writing to the most coveted writing award in the United States, the Pulitzer Prize. Lahiri`s work has been praised by writers such as Chitra Divakaruni and Bharati Mukherjee; Amy Tan says she is a "dazzling storyteller with a distinctive voice, an eye for nuance, and an ear for irony".

Born in London, raised in America, of Indian origin, Lahiri`s background allows her to take a look at India and Indians in a way that is very different from the current trend in South Asian writing. In Interpreter of Maladies, Jhumpa Lahiri writes about India and Indians in a way that no one else before her has done. It’s not that she doesn’t include the usual elements to impress uninitiated Westerners - the stories, ten of them, are replete with exotic images: wafts of spicy curries drifting through the dilapidated apartment buildings in unnamed Indian cities; images of gods and goddesses frozen on the walls of ancient temples in outdated archeological sites; multicolored chiffon, organza, and silk draped around women with dark eyes, dark hair, dark skin.

But what Lahiri does with her stories is something unique: instead of jumping into the passion, drama, and emotionality that characterizes much writing about South Asia, Lahiri takes a different tack. She writes not as a participant, but as an outsider, an observer, someone watching with cool detachment and an ironic air. Lahiri owes more to Kazuo Ishiguro than she does to Salman Rushdie, for when reading her debut collection, you are reminded more of Ishiguro’s careful construction, calm style and quiet tone, than the bombastic, colorful murals that are Rushdie’s novels.

This approach can be refreshing. For example, in the first story, "A Temporary Matter", Lahiri creates a tight, subtle tale of a marriage falling apart. Two Indian-Americans deal with the tragedy of a stillborn birth, and the repercussions this has on their marriage. Yet Lahiri reveals that the unraveling of their bond has been going on for some time, and she does this with marvelous delicacy. Lots of small, well-observed details fit together to create a piece not unlike a Bach cantata, technically perfect, whole and complete from start to finish: "She was the type to prepare for surprises, good and bad. If she found a skirt or a purse she liked she bought two.... He liked to think Shoba was different. It astonished him, her capacity to think ahead. When she used to do the shopping, the pantry was always stocked with extra bottles of olive and corn oli, depending on whether they were cooking Italian or Indian."

At other times, this meticulousness weighs the stories down, makes them somewhat predictable. The title story, "Interpreter of Maladies", is about an Indian American family that travels to India, and the man who is their sightseeing guide. He doubles as an interpreter for a doctor whose patients do not speak the same language as the doctor, and the entire story is about his fantasy of befriending the Indian American wife, starting up a correspondence with her. And yet in this story, you inevitably know that the correspondence is just that: a fantasy. When the wind whips away her address from his fingers and he does nothing to retrieve it, you feel that you knew this was coming: "When she whipped out the hairbrush, the slip of paper with Mr. Kapasi`s address on it fluttered away in the wind". This predictability is, in the end, disappointing.

There is also, in Lahiri’s writing, an element of tight control that is somewhat jarring. You are never quite able to forget that Lahiri is the one in charge here. Their reactions, their feelings, even their rages are neat, well considered. These are not characters and stories that would leap out of the page and do something that surprises both the reader and the author, but sometimes you wish they would.

Lahiri’s strength is in observing what happens to people when they try to step out of their roles: whether cultural, societal, or those of gender. In one of the strongest stories, "Mrs. Sen’s", Lahiri writes about an Indian woman who must adapt to an American life. Told through the eyes of the young American boy that she babysits, the story’s quiet narrative voice allows you to fully absorb Mrs. Sen’s own quiet triumphs and failures. "A car beeped its horn, then another. She beeped defiantly in response, stopped, then pulled without signaling to the side of the road. `No more,` she said, her forehead resting against the top of the steering wheel. `I hate it. I hate driving. I won`t go on.`"

Though there are only two stories that use Indian characters and settings with no Western influence, "The Treatment of Bibi Haldar" and "A Real Durwan", these are the stories that are least interesting. Moralistic and weighty, they lack the airy complexity and the in-betweenness of the others: "Sexy", "The Third and Final Continent", "This Blessed House". Lahiri is on her strongest ground when her characters are on shifting ground: dealing with new environments, uncertain of where they stand. Perhaps Lahiri`s skills are at their most impressive in describing these circumstances, because, for the most part, this is what the human condition is really like.