Two members of the same family experience contrasting forms of social imprisonment in Antia Desai's characteristically sharply observed and deservedly Booker short-listed new novel. In fact, this is two books; one set in the strict ordered world of conventional Indian society, the other amid the constraining liberal freedoms of contemporary life in the US. At the heart of both halves, or books, are clever variations on the theme of excess. Desai is a traditionalist; as a novelist she creates stories which are very much character-driven and has never lost sight of the all-too-often overlooked role characterisation and dialogue play in shaping fictional narratives.
Fasting, Feasting, with its collection of oddballs, all human, some sympathetic, others less so, is not only a gentle though dark work as understated as any she has written, it also testifies to the strength of Indian fiction. At its best, represented by writers such as Rohinton Mistry, Upamanyu Chatterjee and Amitav Ghosh, the contemporary Indian novel is truly international, being individual and also universal.
It is also highly sophisticated, witty and often hilariously funny. Its voice is quite formal, the prose is invariably gracious, almost old world, while the comedy achieves a tone of exasperated resignation seldom found outside the punchiest of New York narratives.
Desai, the most subtle of writers, possesses all of the above qualities and more. Cleverly setting the scene of a family which has been dominated by parents so like-minded as to appear almost one - "MamandPapa. MamaPapa. PapaMama. It was hard to believe they had ever had separate existences, that they had been separate entities and not MamaPapa in one breath. . . MamaPapa themselves rarely spoke of a time when they were not one" - she might almost be deliberately - and falsely - lulling her reader, into the sense that this is an Indian version of the Waltons. It is not.
The story shifts gracefully between various episodes from the past. Time becomes irrelevant because what really matters is the way in which events shape a life. The couple are seen as the smug parents of two daughters who have belatedly achieved the ultimate, a son. This birth further reduces the status of the girls. The fact that Mama did not welcome this late pregnancy is swiftly overlooked as the boy child is groomed for future greatness.
And success in this world is secured by one word, education. Papa, now a retired lawyer, has not forgotten studying under the light of a street lamp. One of the daughters is taken out of school in order to serve her baby brother.
No fragment of information in this book is either superfluous or casually given. Each aside is loaded. There are moments of comedy as well as the inspired use of cultural contrasts Desai availed of so effectively in Baumgartner's Bombay. Although quite short, Fasting, Feasting is a much bigger work than many lengthier ones. Few writers write as tightly and avoid stylistic flourishes. Desai is an astute watcher, her insights go far beyond observation.
Uma, the girl who has had her schooling terminated, emerges as a major character. Willing and good-natured, she is also a hopeless pupil and this failure seems set to pursue her through life. Marrying her off brings out the worst in her parents who are snobs and dazzlingly unfeeling. In fairness, their limited patience is tested. In one instance a dowry is provided and accepted by an older man who in fact has a family and is really only interested in funding his ailing factory.
It is a particularly brutal episode and Desai handles it with such discipline, there is no play for sympathy. Another attempt to secure a husband falls through - after Uma's prospective father-in-law has spent the money on extending his own house and then offers to delay the wedding indefinitely - as he feels his son is too young to marry.
Uma is a victim, but her dreams also help keep her alive and she is sufficiently strange in her own right to render herself an untouchable of sorts. Throughout the narrative, other family histories emerge as do various brutalities. Above all, there is the sense of several lives being lived out in parallel. The characters interact, move around each other, snipe and convince as real characters capable of defying the stereotypes they could so easily become. Cool, and detached, Desai stands back, as if she has decided not to take sides.
Almost abruptly the action shifts from India to the US. Here it follows the adventures of the adored son who though at college in the US, the ultimate form of social success, is not quite the winner his father was banking on. Relentlessly pushed as a schoolboy, Arun appears psychologically pulverised. It is a remarkable exploration of a person denied all rights. Cultural tensions and contrasts have always intrigued Desai and here she balances suburban US life against that of India through the eyes of Arun who has already endured one and now appears destined to suffer the other.
Time and again it has been easy to hurl abuse at Booker panels. Regardless of who wins this year's prize, and Coetzee's Disgrace should, the panel has justified its calm, responsible selection by including this book - one of those quietly excellent novels which are so easy to overlook. Previously short-listed for Clear Light of Day (1980) and for In Custody (1984), Desai, one of the most seriously underrated of novelists, is a natural writer who never forces her craft. There is nothing fancy; no showing off, no tricks, although she does take interesting structural risks. This is a well-written, human novel to read and enjoy and remember. If one were giving a master class in the art of fiction-writing, why look further?
Eileen Battersby is a critic and Irish Times journalist
