What happens to a family when the brilliant older son
suffers acute brain damage in a swimming pool accident? Now imagine that the family are recent
immigrants to Queens from India. They
straddle their Indian and American cultures as best they can, negotiating the
American healthcare and legal systems, while praying that Indian rituals will
somehow restore their son Birju to normalcy.
The younger son Ajay tells this story with occasional bouts of humor but
always with an overall cloud of survivor’s guilt. To compensate for the tragic turn that his family
life has taken, he tells whoppers at school and uses the pickup line “I love
you” with the girls he thinks would make good girlfriends. Meanwhile, his father sinks deeper and deeper
into alcoholism, which could cost him his job and therefore the medical
benefits that Birju requires. I would
not say that Ajay’s parents are neglectful of him, but certainly they’re not
aware of the toll that Birju’s condition is taking on him. Ajay’s coping mechanisms are alternately
funny and poignant, but his parents quarrel constantly and they often vent
their anger at Ajay, rendering his childhood almost unbearable. The fact that this novel is basically
autobiographical makes it that much more gut-wrenching but also more revealing
in some ways. In one section, Ajay
decides that he could become rich as a writer, without having to study law or
science. He then researches Hemingway’s
style without actually reading anything Hemingway wrote. Then he takes a stab at putting Hemingway’s
techniques to use in his own short story, and I thought the result was pretty
amazing. Reading this book, however, is
a whole lot easier than reading Hemingway.
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