rec'd by Kathy

"The Namesake" is a story of identity. Unfortunately, Gogol, the protagonist proves a less interesting character than his father, the man who bequeathed him his complicated namesake. Jhumpa Lahiri writes well, but this novel drags so much one begins to wish it were a short story rather than a novel. Read "Unaccustomed Earth" for multiple stories of Indian-American identity and immigration. ( )

A family chronicle, wherein the parents are far more interesting than the whiny son. Boring... ( )

What a great book! I enjoyed reading about Indian culture, and people. She's a wonderful author. ( )

A likeable enough book but a little simple.

What I liked:
- Perspectives of Indian-Americans from a couple of generations; it gave me insight into another culture.

- The book has a lot of heart. I emphasized with the characters after seeing them in positive and negative lilghts at different points in their lives. I reflected on my own life, my parent's lives, and turning points along the way.

- Lahiri's writing is clean and clear.

- The admiration shown for Gogol, an author I also admire :-)

What I disliked:
- About halfway through it seems the story gets a little boring; it seems too simple a telling of the events in this somewhat ordinary family's lives. Lahiri is a good writer, and I think she follows what Hemingway said in "Death in the Afternoon", "...write when there is something that you know; and not before; and not too damned much after." On the other hand, I do hope that she someday writes about subjects outside of her comfort zone.

Favorite quotes:
On Americans:
"But she has gathered that Americans, in spite of their public declarations of affection, in spite of their miniskirts and bikinis, in spite of their hand-holding on the street and lying on top of each other on the Cambridge Common, prefer their privacy."

On reading:
"'My grandfather always says that's what books are for,' Ashoke said, using the opportunity to open the volume in his hands, 'To travel without moving an inch.'"

On saying good-bye and good luck:
"'Dida, I'm coming,' Ashima had said. For this was the phrase Bengalis always used in place of good-bye.
'Enjoy it,' her grandmother had bellowed in her thundering voice, helping Ashima to straighten. With trembling hands, her grandmother had pressed her thumbs to the tears streaming down Ashima's face, wiping them away. 'Do what I will never do. It will all be for the best. Remember that. Now go.'"

On Venice, one of my favorite cities:
"In the spring he went to Venice alone for a week, the trip he'd planned for the two of them, saturating himself in its ancient, melancholy beauty. He lost himself among the darkened narrow streets, crossing countless tiny bridges, discovering deserted squares, where he sat with a Campari or a coffee, sketching the facades of pink and green palaces and churches, unable ever to retrace his steps." (I couldn't agree more ... the way to see Vencie is to get off the tourist track between San Marco and the Rialto Bridge and "get lost") ( )