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Tuesday, 03 April 2007 15:25 |
| | David Forbes |
So the story goes like this: An impetuous and hot-tempered girl, living in the distant Indian past, has magical powers. She becomes wealthy, then a pirate queen, then the leader of a bunch of water serpents.
Finally she becomes an apprentice to an ancient and powerful sorceress known as the Old One. She learns the potent magical properties of spices, is transformed into an (immortal) old woman and is flung through time and space to the fantasy land known as Oakland, where she solves problems in the local Indian community by methods both magical and mundane.
Then girl meets boy.
Chitra Banerjee Divakaruniís ìThe Mistress of Spices,î (Anchor Books,
338pp. $12.95) is billed mostly as a modern-day fairy-tale romance.
Thatís a shame, because the romance in these pages is, while well
written, somewhat lackluster. But this novel absolutely shines as a
passionate tale of life, changing traditions and that most modern of
themes ≠ó identity.
Tilo, the title character, has strict rules governing her interaction
with the everyday world. Confined to a single, tiny shop with only her
spices for company, she begins to help those around her not just solve
their temporary problems, but break free of the prejudices and
traditions that bind them. In the process, she begins to break her own
rules and traditions, culminating in a romance with Raven, a handsome
and perceptive stranger who wanders into her store one day.
Divakaruniís poetic background shines through in the wild prose.
Sentences will trail off or become more fractured depending on Tiloís
mood.
Her powers of intuition and foresight connect her to her small
community of charges, meaning that the story occasionally branches out
into other viewpoints. Under the authorís capable hand, however, this
makes the book sizzle with all the same color and energy as the spices
it describes.
Donít be fooled by the magical events or tone. Divakaruniís story has
reality increasingly intrude into it, from a savage attack by skinheads
to gangs and abusive husbands. While not exactly a work of magical
realism, as the magic is mostly limited to Tilo, there is some overlap
here with writers such as Isabel Allende and Gabriel Garcia Marquez,
who have also combined tales of real-world ills with supernatural
events.
The realism part of Divakaruniís tale serves her well. Anyone with
preconceptions of India as host to some mysterious culture thatís
transcended materialism would do well to pick up this book. Tiloís
charges love, laugh, fight, curse, work, worry about their children and
spend too much money. Old men complain about how things are never like
they were in the old days while their children go for something new
entirely. In short, theyíre human.
It may be more the fault of the publicity than the author, but for
whatís billed as the turning point of the story, Tiloís romance with
Raven doesnít hold up to the quality set by the rest of the novel.
Raven, whoís half Native American (which tribe is never specified), has
his own share of secrets. Heís an interesting character. His background
and personality are believable and fascinating, with his own take on
tackling old rules and primal power.
But the author never quite manages to make the chemistry between him
and Tilo ring as it should.
Admittedly, this is no easy task: romantic
love is one of the hardest of all emotions to convey successfully the
page.
Still, in not quite rendering their relationship with the fire it
deserves, Divakaruni never quite makes it clear why Raven in particular
opens Tilo up to new possibilities. It seems any attentive lover would
have fit the bill quite well.
Thatís a failing, but ìThe Mistress of Spicesî ends up doing so much
right that itís an easily forgivable one. This is a superb story of the
importance of passion in crossing worlds and breaking boundaries.
Tiloís transformation and her slow quest to become comfortable in her
own skin form a much more vital heart to this book than her time with
Raven. Quite a few books seek to grapple with identity. This is one of
the few that succeed without becoming whiny or pretentious.
In the end, a rule is a rule only as long as it serves a purpose. A
great many evils exist because old orders are followed long after
theyíve stopped making any sense. Finding our own futures, Divakaruniís
story whispers, is worth breaking the decaying edifice that often
constitutes ìtradition.î
Past or present, India or America, thatís a good lesson for all.
ï
I would like to offer my sincere thanks to Bettina Cremer of Cary for recommending this book for review. -DF
ï
David Forbes, who writes book reviews and covers news for the Daily
Planet, may be reached at marauderAVL-at-hotmail.com. Suggestions and
comments are always welcome.
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