A first novel usually means the debut of a new voice. Sometimes,
however, the voice may be a familiar one, like that of Pico Iyer,
whose books of travel writing, including "Video Night in Kathmandu"
and "Falling Off the Map," have established him as an astute
observer of a world in flux.
The hero of Iyer's first novel, Cuba and the Night, is Richard,
an American photojournalist on assignment in Havana. There he meets
Lourdes, an appealing Cuban girl desperate to leave Castro's
increasingly impoverished Marxist paradise. It's obvious her
interest in Richard is linked to her desire to marry an American
and his passport. Yet her feelings for him seem genuine. Richard's
doubts and Lourdes's mixed yet sincere motivations for loving him
are believably rendered, and Iyer throws in plenty of authentic
Cuban atmosphere, but the story is overlong and somewhat forced,
lacking the freshness that is a trademark of his nonfiction.
Emigration is also a theme of Romesh Gunesekera's Reef, a
finalist for last year's Booker Prize in England. Most of this
vividly evocative story is set in the Asian island-nation of Sri
Lanka, where Triton, an unsophisticated but eager country boy,
first learns the secrets of what will be his lifelong vocation:
cooking. Working as a servant for a cultivated marine biologist,
Salgado, young Triton acquires a feel for the right way of doing
Salgado's elegantly run household -- like the intricately
wrought coral reefs that are the subject of his scientific research
is a delicately balanced ecosystem: an oasis of harmony menaced by
drastic upheavals in the surrounding world.
Eventually, the rising political unrest forces Salgado and
Triton to emigrate to England, where Triton is able to use his
skills to open a restaurant. "I was learning," he reflects, "that
human history is always a story of somebody's diaspora: a struggle
between those who expel, repel or curtail ... and those who keep
the flame alive from night to night...." "Reef" focuses on the
flame: the solace and satisfaction Triton finds in the civilized
art of pleasing the palate and comforting the soul.
Sigrid Nunez also writes about immigrant experience in her
memoir-like first novel, A Feather on the Breath of God. The
narrator of this incisive, strongly written story is the daughter
of a Chinese-Panamanian father, Chang, and a German mother,
Christa, who met in Germany when he was serving in the United
States Army at the end of World War II. Only after they've married
and settled in a New York City housing project does it become
apparent how ill-suited they are.
Stoical Chang fades into the background of his family's life;
Christa, endlessly homesick for Germany, is the dominant presence.
Their daughter dreams of becoming a ballet dancer, but ends up
teaching English to immigrants. As she tries to piece together the
meaning of her family's meagre history, the reader is struck with a
sense of wonder at the capacity for resilience and poetry amid so
Fred D'Aguiar, a Guyanese-born poet now living in Maine,
explores even starker territory in his complex, yet tautly
compressed novel, The Longest Memory. A series of succinct
chapters, spoken by different characters, tells the tragic story of
a slave whose attempt to flee a Virginia plantation in 1810 results
in his death.
We hear from slaves and slaveholders, family members and
overseers, from those who favor lenient treatment and those who
insist on severity. There is dissension among the slaves as well,
between those who believe compliance is the best assurance of a
long life and those who cannot endure anything but freedom. The
drama of all these conflicts is heightened by the tangled web of
family ties that secretly links blacks and whites.
Unlike the uprooted people in many other of this season's first
novels, the English villagers of Tim Pears's In the Place of Fallen
Leaves have been living in the same valley for generations. …