Race and Relations in Londonstani

Spoiler Alert!: The biggest surprises of the novel are revealed in this post.
by Courtney Hilden

Londonstani by Gautam Malkani is the story of a young Sikh man named Jas, who, with his gang of Sikh and Hindi guy friends, is running a cell phone scam. After partnering with an older Indian man, Jas is mentored about dating and begins seeing a Muslim girl. The novel presents multiple ideas about race via the many characters, and when near the end of the novel it is revealed that although Jas is actually white and Sikh, the previous assumptions of the readers are upended. The sudden change is stunning, and although frustratingly late in the novel, it forces readers to reassess the ideas about race, gender, religious beliefs and other forms of identity the novel previously presented.
First, there is the issue of Jas's identity and the way it is presented to the reader at various times in the novel. Near the beginning of the novel, Jas self-identifies as Sikh. Later on, when talking about the character named Jaswinder, Jas says he was mad because "I'd got the nickname Jas." When Jas offers to share his nickname, Jaswinder tells him not to be stupid because "It's bad enough havin so many desis at school with the same fuckin nickname." The implication leads us to believe that Jas's full name is Jaswinder, though at the end of the novel it is revealed to be Jason. Jas's father is called a good Indian businessman. Jas has Indian friends and talks about what white people are like in way that indicates he does not see himself as one of them. Though Jas is obviously an unreliable narrator, the reader imagines almost the entire story with Jas being Sikh. Obviously, this comes into question when Jas's medical papers describe him as white and use a stereotypical old-school, elite British name. And although Jas calls himself Sikh, his identity is never completely clear, as his parents obviously do not see him as South Asian, saying that he is not one of them. Mr. Ashwood says that he was once a better person, implying that once he was not one of them. The following interpretation assumes that Jas is a white Sikh convert but one who is passing as South Asian amongst the South Asian community.
Identity is the major focus of the novel. The three sections of the novel are titled different and not necessarily politically correct names for South Asians. Much of the dialogue of the novel is peppered with identity terms, including the most often used one: coconut. A coconut, as the novel defines it, is someone who is brown on the outside and white on the inside, or put more accurately, a South Asian who acts white. Jas goes so far as to say that Arun is semi-coconut, which is to say someone who does not act white but is not truly South Asian either. Coconut gets thrown around frequently in the novel, which is interesting, since Jas himself is the opposite of a coconut: he is a white man who acts South Asian.
The novel presents an unflattering view of South Asian men, especially young South Asian men. The characters have various ugly faults, ones that reinforce ideas about how apparently dangerous and evil young South Asian men are. Ravi and Amit are homophobes, making jokes about Jas's sexuality, mocking men coded as gay at the gym and talking about how much they would like to see a skin magazine featuring Indian lesbians. The gang talks about women as objects, Ravi commenting about he will "get off wid as many fit gyals" as he wants and Sanjay explaining how his teeth are a "thong-removal system." Hardjit is aggressive and often violent. The gang defines their strength by their sexual prowess, Sanjay chastising Jas about his lack of sexual experience by saying he is "so pathetic you'd probably go limp if she let you do any more." The novel depicts the dominant view of South Asian men: they are violent and hateful and dangerous. The novel never subverts this racist perspective of them. The only male characters who make some effort at respecting women are Jas, who is actually white, and Arun, who is defined as being un-South Asian. Although Jas does not completely respect women, the two whitest characters are presented as the protectors of womanhood, a racist and patriarchal idea.
If this was not enough, Londonstani goes farther in its racist view of South Asian men: that they corrupt good white men like Jas. Mr. Ashwood comments several times that Jas was never like this before. And Jas himself often remarks about the time in his life before he was friends with these group. Near the end of the novel, Jas attempts to steal from his own father. His parents say that his friend are a bad influence on him, again, presenting the dominant view about the Other: that they are a menace to society and will hurt even supposedly good white boys, like Jas apparently was before he fell into this group.
Even the character who outwardly represents a model, both in the sense of being a model minority to white characters and a model to the Indian characters, turns out to be dangerous and violent. Sanjay is a slightly older, former student of Mr. Ashwood. Mr. Ashwood sets up Jas and the rest of the boys with Sanjay in an attempt to provide them with a positive role model, because he has a good education and a good job. He who is clearly meant to be a stereotypical model minority, with his fancy apartment, fast car, and cultural capital, but is really a gangster pulling a multi-country scam. He too turns out to be a corrupting force in Jas's life, manipulating him into stealing from his own father. There is no good male South Asian man in this entire novel. All of them are bad.
Economic forces also come into play in the novel. Ashwood discusses, among other things, his beliefs in socialism. But Sanjay the model minority is himself a capitalist, one who believes in "bling-bling urban youth culture." He cuts business deals, including one with Jas and his friends. Many of the characters use materialism through the luxury items they have, as a way of expressing power. Sanjay himself sees traditional work as a problem, using the problematic term "whore" to describe his work. Capitalism is criticized in the book as being the root of many of the problems in the South Asian community since it is a way for South Asians to assimilate into the larger, dominant culture, and Malkani sketches how problematic this connection is, but never goes farther than this.
Gender is also problematic displayed. Samira is the only major young woman in the novel. As a Muslim woman, she is expected to date and eventually marry a Muslim man, even though she spends a significant portion of the novel dating Jas. Samira's father is apparently okay with this, but her brothers are not. Samira is presented at the beginning of the novel as being beautiful, but Jas is surprised to learn she is a virgin, and although he respects her, the things that both his friend and later he himself say about her indicate their desire to control her. As a white man, he has the obvious power advantages over her, but as stated before, he is the only one who can apparently respect women, since his friends spend time discussing the sexual ways they would like to interact with her. Samira dates a white man and no one sees this as problematic, especially given that South Asian men are coded as less desirable within the novel. Meanwhile, the mothers of these young men are depicted as absolute harpies. They are shrill, ridiculous, petty, hysterical, manipulative and insensitive to everyone around them. They are constantly nagging their sons, to the point where one son actually kills himself. One mother constantly tries to control her future daughter-in-law's clothes and behavior. They emasculate their sons and husbands. They are miserable, and this too is never challenged. South Asians mothers are possibly the least likable characters in the novel, and this idea manages to be racist, misogynistic and ageist all at once.
Ultimately, the problem with Londonstani is that is presents a host of racist ideas about South Asians, which, considering the author's background, makes it an even more complicated issue about internalized hatred. While the novel does critically look at capitalism and its role in South Asian assimilation, the novel also presents stereotypes of South Asian men and women while depicting the one white character as being semi-heroic and understanding. The novel asks readers to have empathy for the white narrator, who has been wrongly influenced by South Asian thugs but is good-hearted enough to protect a South Asian woman who apparently cannot rely on men of her own race.

AngelMonster

by Clare MacGregor
Spoiler Alert!: Some spoilers are revealed in this review

AngelMonster by Veronica Bennett tells the story of Mary Shelley, the author of the classic novel Frankenstein. AngelMonster begins when Mary is sixteen and ends when she is twenty-one. Mary’s life events are interwoven with the lives of her stepsister, Claire Clairmont, and Percy Bysshe Shelley. Throughout the course of story Mary, Percy, and Claire travel from England to France, Switzerland, and Italy. The reader is drawn into the story like a close friend of the characters. Though the novel is based on actual events and follows Mary Shelley’s life very closely, AngelMonster is not devoid of twists and turns that are sure to keep readers on the edge of their seats. During a summer visit to Lord Byron’s villa near Geneva Mary, Percy, Claire, Lord Byron, and John Polidori, take turns telling ghost stories and the beginnings of what would become Mary's Frankenstein-filled mind. Mary’s novel further develops in her imagination as her husband grows more and more dependent on laudanum, she reflects on her own mother’s death, and Claire’s life is torn apart by Lord Byron. Some of these events are conveyed in dream-like intervals sprinkled throughout the story.
Bennett provides such richly vivid historical detail that the reader feels as though they are in the same room as the characters. The story of Mary Shelley’s life is skillfully told by Bennett. AngelMonster is a must read for anyone who loves Frankenstein and wishes to learn more about the author, or any fans of Gothic novels.

Mary Olivier: A Life

Spoiler Alert!: Some details of the novel, like the death of a certain character, is revealed in this review.
by Courtney Hilden

Mary Olivier: A Life by May Sinclair, is exactly that: the life story (though, interestingly, not necessarily her death) of the title character, who comes of age in Victorian England, struggling with an unsympathetic family, uncaring men, and a passion for intellectual pursuits.
The writing is marvelous. Like The Awakening, the novel begins as the main character is just swimming out of consciousness, and the reader moves through the first part of the book as if in coming out of a dream, becoming more aware of details as the story progresses. Sinclair, who coined the term "stream of consciousness," gives a lovely example of the technique that has so famously become a part of modern novels. The novel is incredibly impressive just because of the writing.
Mary Olivier is often compared to Jane Eyre. Both novels feature smart, meditative young women growing up in Victorian England. Because Jane Eyre is often considered a cult masterpiece by feminist scholars, I wanted to briefly compare the two characters, Mary and Jane, and to write about the issue of control within the novels.
Mary's and Jane's families, especially the women in those two families, attempt to control the main characters. Mary's mother is a Mommy Dearest: passive aggressive, inducing guilt trips, and manipulating her daughter, even when Mary is middle-aged. She disapproves of Mary's love of German, poetry, philosophy, and other subjects, so she takes books away from her. She hates that Mary is an atheist, so she constantly nags her about her beliefs and makes Mary read the Bible to her. She does not want her daughter to get married, so she continually sabotages any relationships Mary has with men. She isolates Mary alone in a home with her for decades, where Mary has little interaction with others, cannot do what she likes, and becomes increasingly cowed by her mother. This is the one of the things that was anti-feminist about the novel: as a young woman, Mary fights this oppression, but eventually allows herself to be controlled. It gets to the point where her mother no longer needs to throw her weight around; Mary makes choices based on her mother's "needs." Like a prisoner who has been watched for too long, she polices herself. Jane, of course, never knows her mother, though other women in her life (such as her aunts and her female cousins) attempt to control her. For the most part, Jane does not let them.
Then, there are of course, the men and how they attempt to control both characters. For Mary, there are multiple men that she considers for suitors: Maurice Jourdain, Lindley Vickers, and Richard. All of them disappoint her in the end. Jourdain likes her as a little girl and pays for her education. He finds that he does not like her with a real mind and that she is too headstrong, and, after being unable to change her, he marries someone else. Vickers courts her while simultaneously sleeping with another young woman in the village. And Richard grows impatient with her and her issues with her mother, so he too marries someone else. And Mary never marries, which to many readers might seem sad, but the novel ends happily, with her, in third person narration discussing how the little things in her life make her happy. Jane's Mr. Rochester infamously treats her with disdain, manipulating her and lying to her about his own marital status. And St. John tries to compel her to marry him and be his sidekick on his suicidal missionary trip. And Jane marries Mr. Rochester, who becomes less handicapped because of her in the epilogue of the novel.
Jane Eyre is a complicated novel when we consider the feminism question. On one hand, it is hard to see her as much of a feminist character or hero because she marries a man who shows her little respect, but one the other hand, she is otherwise fiercely independent when it comes to anyone else in her life. The novel suggests that one should not give up one's independence until the man of your dreams comes along. Mary, conversely, inevitably spurs the advances of all her suitors by being herself, and yet she becomes completely controlled by her mother in her later years. Mary is only happy after her mother conveniently dies. Both Jane and Mary claim to be happy at the end of their novels, and yet I am more convinced that Mary is and will continue to be relatively happy, since she has lost the last controller (her mother) of her life.
Mary Olivier is a fascinating novel in terms of its depiction of women's lives (other female characters make surprising choices not covered in this review). The novel is a great choice not only for Jane Eyre fans, but readers who enjoy Victorian and modernist literature, particularly those who enjoyed The Awakening, "The Yellow Wallpaper" or the works of Virginia Woolf. (The novel was published in 1919 but is set much earlier.)

Little Dorrit

 by Courtney Hilden

Little Dorrit is one of Charles Dickens last (his eleventh, to be exact) and lesser known novels.  It follows the main character, Amy "Little" Dorrit, who, because her father is a debtor, is imprisoned in the Marshelsea Prison of London.  The story is a classic rags-to-riches story, in that the family regains their wealth, but it also twists this storyline by making sure no one is actually happier for it.  Meanwhile, Arthur Clennam, a friend of the family, is discovering that his connection to the Dorrit family is much deeper than he realized.  The novel is famously based on Dickens's own personal experience with debtor's prisons.  (His father having served time there himself.) 
There are a lot of good things happening withing Little Dorrit.  The central metaphor of the novel (the prison as existing in more ways that simply the obvious one) is explored in multiple ways.  When the Dorrit family becomes respectable once again, they become entrapped in the expectations of their class, which of course means that everyone continues to suffer, especially Little Dorrit herself, who finds it difficult to simply forget the entire beginning of her life.  Every character within the novel is imprisoned in some way or the other.  Mrs. Clennam is imprisoned to her chair and her house because of illness and old age.  Arthur Clennam is imprisoned by societal norms and his family's own poor choices.  Mr. Dorrit is imprisoned not only by his debt and later society, but by his own pride and ignorance.  Every marriage (except the last one, of Dorrit and Arthur) is a marriage of convenience, based on money and social standing; no one is in love with one another.  Many of the women within the story are imprisoned by ideas of what women should or shouldn't do.  Those female characters who stand up to those ideas are shot down and those who acquiesce are miserable. 

The novel is considered one of Dickens's most radical and severe works, and it's easy to see how much he detests certain institutions within society.  His chapter on the Circumlocution Office (meant to stand in for the British bureaucracy at large) is the sort of writing that would make Sinclair Lewis proud.
But the novel is also has troubling parts.  Little Dorrit as a character is an idealized woman of the 19th century: industrious, loyal and quiet.  She is always working for the men in her life, mostly her father, but later on for her husband, Arthur Clennam.  She never asserts her own needs, always simply doing as they demand of her, regardless of what it does to her emotionally.
The "bad girls" of the novel, the ones that are annoying, selfish, and apparently undesirable, are the ones who are more independent.  Flora, Arthur's once flame, is now a widow, and is independently wealthy.  So she's apparently not good enough for Arthur to desire anymore (or for the audience, who sees much of this novel through his eyes, despite the fact that the title is of a female character.)  Fanny, Dorrit's sister, is undesirable because she is a woman who works for herself and because she is determined to marry whomever she wants, so clearly, she must also be a catty, witchy woman, the kind that the audience is suppose to find detestable. 
Other women are demonized within the novel.  Pet spurs Clennam's affections, so clearly she has to be miserable for the rest of her life with an artist husband.  Tattycoram, a young woman treated as a slave by a family who insists they are good because they have "adopted" her, is mocked in the novel for being stupid enough to run away.  And Miss Wade, another woman, is motivated only by revenged at being jilted by her once lover.  Women are nothing more but examples of "good" and "bad" behavior, the good girls being the ones that do as they are told and the bad girls being those who somehow threaten masculinity. 

Attack of the Killer Albino Whale

Or, a review of Moby Dick
by Courtney Hilden

Moby Dick is the novel that most high schoolers loathe to read, especially since it takes frequent, chapter-long breaks to describe sperm whales, to the point where academics have wondered if there was something homoerotic in Melville's descriptions. Here, the novel has been turned in, rather faithfully, to a movie.
For those of you not familiar with the novel, the story follows Ishmael, the narrator, on his first trip on a whaling vessel named the Pequod out of New Bedford. Ahab, the ship's captain, is obsessed with annihilating the title whale. Ahab had previously lost his leg to the creature and will have his revenge even if it means destroying the ship and himself. As Ahab's quest continues, his insanity spreads to the rest of the crew, who become increasingly crazy like Marlowe in Heart of Darkness.
The land and day scenery in the film is phenomenal and beautiful, loving shot by someone who clearly loves Sargent-like views of nature. Much of the rest of the film is shot like a horror film, with dark shadows closing in the actors and flashes of lightning dramatically illuminating the anti-hero, Captain Ahab. There's something terrible and comic about the mariner church at the beginning of the film. The preacher actually climbs into a mini-ship turned pulpit, even bringing up the ladder. The colors chosen for this movie are beautiful and spot-on considering the subject matter.
Orson Welles gives a perfect, go-for-broke performance in this film as the preacher. He's a chameleon, disappearing behind the massive beard and blending into the role. Gregory Peck, thirty-eight years old at the time of the movie, seems far too young for the role of Captain Ahab. I was struck by how baby-faced he was, and it distracted me from much of his performance. He has one expression the entire movie, a foul snear, making Ahab even more one-note than he was in the novel. Near the climax of the movie, his depiction slides into camp, to the point where he's not so much playing Ahab but a cartoon of Ahab. Unfortunately, Ahab is such an essential part of this film that Peck's performance ruins what would otherwise be a splendid movie.

Unsurprisingly, the movie depicts Queequeeq, the Other of the novel, as a stereotype of every "strange" aspect of native culture. He has his hair in a ponytail and is decorated in designs painted on with black Indian ink. His English is bad; he's uneducated. He's just a cannibal; no attempt is made to explain that his culture may not simply be savage. He simply is a savage. Queequeeq is even a magical Other, since he uses magic to predict the oncoming slaughter and then gives up living. It's too bad but not very shocking that a movie made in the 1950s would have an simplistic portrayal of the one character of color.
The film's soundtrack is filled with the delightfully baroque music older movies loved to employ. In some movies it's distracting, but here it manages to just be another part of the story, as incidental music ideally should be.
It's hard to believe the screenplay was written by Ray Bradbury, the science fiction writer, buhe film is in many ways a success, since it manages to show all the many aspects of the original novel. It's a juggling job that a lesser cast and crew would have never pulled off. Moby Dick as a movie is just like the novel: an epic achievement in American storytelling.