Filed under: Books
Months ago I was online googling “bibliophile” and exploring links to kindred geeks. “These are my people,” I proclaimed. It felt like discovering a long lost tribe of others in love with the written word & the very process of reading/writing. Though we never met and did not even chat, I’ve made bookmooch and bookcrossing buddies. I’ve sent books to new owners and homes in New York, Kentucky, Texas, Illinois, Ireland, and Canada. And I’ve savored the joy of packages arriving at the office which are gifts of books from strangers.
This day I noticed the “Creative Minds Series” at the San Jose Museum of Art. P and I passed that museum several times on our way to eat lobster corn dogs at Arcadia, see dissected/plastinated humans at the tech museum, gorge on churros at Christmas in the Park, and after the Rock ‘n Roll half marathon. I always did want to check it out one of these days… But what immediately caused me to whip out the credit card for tickets?
Jhumpa Lahiri.
Jhumpa of the clear, luminous, owl eyes and heart-wrenching prose. Author of Interpreter of Maladies, and The Namesake (adapted in movie form by Mira Nair.) Her stories are largely peopled by Bengali Americans or immigrants. But as she stated, ‘I don’t see my writing as being about Indians and immigrants. Of course I know, I’m aware that’s what most of the characters are. But what I write about is the human condition.”
When a friend passed me a copy of her book a year ago – I was floored. At the accuracy with which she captured the ache and silliness, silent tragedies and irrational longings which pepper humanity. So much history and love and absurdity, with repression, betrayal, and discovery. I bear compassionate witness to such dramas played out within the safety of the therapeutic space all year long. These stories captured all the crazed mixed up feelings of choosing and living and choosing to live. As well as the particular brand of exasperated being that shades the lives of bi-cultural families such as my own.
The museum notes, “Lahiri’s bittersweet stories avoid sentimentality without abandoning compassion.”
Wed. afternoon I bolted out of the office at warp speed. Dr. C, bridesmaid ‘o mine drove down from Walnut Creek (and showed up sporting a bouncy new ‘do having cut off her hair and donated it to Locks of Love.) We met at my place & set off for a much needed mid-week art & womyntalk holiday. Got briefly lost (Do you know the way, to San Jose..?)Dinner of salad & éclair at Bijan bakery (does the fat bomb cancel out the benefits of the harvest salad?)
3 minutes after 7, the velvet rope is removed and a polite stampede streams up the stairs to the “open seating” gallery for the book reading.
“Sweet!” Dr. C and I, both not-so-closeted comic book sci fi fans, are thrilled to catch glimpses of the current exhibit featuring Robots. Better yet, Jhumpa will be speaking on the makeshift stage with an impressive 20 foot tall giant robot behind her constructed from recycled Styrofoam. Robot art adorns the walls beside the rows of chairs. (The next Creative Minds series speaker, BTW is the author of the book "How to Survive a Robot Uprising"). We jostle our ways to the third row, and later turn and see that it is a full house.
After the introduction made, sponsors thanked, and lights dimmed, Jhumpa Lahiri emerges from the shadows. She does not appear as stunningly beautiful as she does on her book jackets. On those glossy covers, all her striking features are highlighted, her hair slicked back, wardrobe fancy. One has to beat back the misogynistic, reflexive disbelief that one so pretty is so sharp of mind and pen. Tonight she’s dressed simply, an iridescent silken tunic and black slacks, medium length hair neither curly, nor straight, parted in the middle. She doesn’t smile much, but indeed bears eyes that are alternatingly beautiful and piercing. Jhumpa is one of those people who looks at least a decade younger than she is. She seems a tad nervous, and doesn’t waste time on excessive pleasantries. She mentions being honored to speak in the beautiful gallery, and cracks a smile sharing what a kick her kids would get out of this giant robot.
A friend asked me today ‘how was the reading, what she was like?”
My answer – so interesting. She was so open and honest about personal issues, yet also very closed and protective of certain boundaries. She struggled to articulate lifelong feelings of “not being right, not belonging”, of being loved yet “wishing my parents could just ‘get over’ India”. A woman asked how her family and friends feel about scenes of their lives appearing in books. Jhumpa laughed briefly that ‘My sister has already warned me that if she ever catches me writing about her…!”
She talked movingly about art and writing and the characters she creates and lives with for years at a time, yet also spoke of being a “cold mother” to her “paper children”, these books. Someone asked if she re-read her work, re-visited characters or felt protective and proprietal when Namesake was made into a movie. “No. I trusted Mira to take her vision and I did not want to be involved in the process. With my work I am kind of like those animal mothers who give birth and then..just walk away. They must stand on their own.”
She talked about always feeling shy, quiet, observant. Of her mother pushing her at parties to play with others. Of how it feels for immigrants to live in a new land and “be related to nobody else.” Of her latest book title, she notes that “in a way ‘Unaccustomed Earth’ could be the title of all the things I have written.”
A man asks for her thoughts about the coming generation that is so obsessed with Youtube and video games etc., about whether there is a future for the written word. She responds that books will always exist in some form, and comments that she is an anomaly, a person who watches little TV and who had never even seen Youtube until just a few weeks ago. This confession in the heart of Silicon valley, drew peals of laughter.
The line for book signing stretches and curls through the lobby, where massive curliques of blown glass in brilliant colors hang overhead.
“In the interest of time, no personalizations, just book signing” explain the Kepler’s books and museum staff. Jhumpa is efficient. Says Hello. Thank you. Mostly unsmiling. Not unpleasant at all but quite a contrast to my last book signing at Commonwealth Club. Former White House Press Secretary Deedee Meyers was a chatty, laughing, sparkler of political and personal energy.
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