'The Inheritance of Loss', Kiran Desai

One of my (occasionally futile) approaches to expand my literary horizons is to buy whatever most recently won the Booker, Whitbread, Orange, or suchlike. I know it’s not the most learned method, but it’s arguably better than Waterstones’ 2-for-1 table. Thus I bought the most recent Booker winner, ‘’The Inheritance of Loss’’ in a recent Amazon binge (which has resulted in my bedside table doubling in height and perilously endangering my cups of tea), without really knowing what it was about.

So it was with childlike glee that a few chapters in that I realized that it’s set in exactly the area of rural India to which I’ll be traveling in 2 months time. Not only is it based in the Darjeeling region, but more precisely in Kalimpong, a small town in the Himalayas which, on consultation with my tour itinerary, I will be visiting. My tickling at this coincidence largely offset the fact that the novel is not exactly a good advert for the place – it’s mostly set in the damp and gloomy monsoon season during a period of political unrest where militias are lurking in the undergrowth and destroying the local communities.

The story revolves around a young woman, Sai, who lives with her uncle and his cook in a dilapidated mansion in Kalimpong, and in a parallel story, the cook’s son, Biju, who has emigrated to New York. Grand themes regarding post-colonialism, immigration and the search for identity (national or otherwise) abound. In the context of current political rows regarding economic migration, I found the New York sections the most interesting, documenting the practical impossibility of crawling out of a hand-to-mouth existence as an illegal immigrant in America, no matter how good one’s intentions. Personally, I see little problem with economic migrants (just as well, given I’m one myself); it’s the laws in place which so restrict such people that create the poverty which in turn creates problems. The realization that India, although poor, might actually hold more promise than the Land of Hope, was also a blunt reminder that one’s choice of location should not or perhaps can not be made on the basis of future opportunity alone. It’s a dilemma I face right now: a trade-off between what might, or might not, be best career-wise vs. personally; an opportunity of adventure vs. security; a risk of isolation vs. boredom. But before I feel too sorry for myself I’m reminded that at least I have the options available. Unlike Biju.

Hence I liked ‘’The Inheritance of Loss’’ but perhaps not for the reasons that I was supposed to. Regarding the Booker, however, I would have given it to ‘’Mother’s Milk’’ by Edward St Aubyn. Maybe I should give John Sutherland a call and let him know.