Monday, April 8, 2019

Dual Narratives and Tension

This novel is super interesting in the way information is revealed. We have these two opposing narratives side by side, not knowing exactly how they will tie together, and they become increasingly different as time goes on. On one hand, there is a fairly comfortable middle class couple having trouble conceiving. They have the opportunity and resources to try very expensive fertility treatments, and subsequent adoption options. Then there is a migrant character who basically has nothing but the clothes on her back, relying on her wits and the whims of others to get across the border. She is raped on her journey, and doesn't know until the birth if the child was fathered by one of her rapists or Checo, her short-lived love. These dual narratives get more and more intense as the book progresses, and we can guess that somehow Ignacio will end up being the child for Kavya and Rishi, it's a matter of how that will come together. With back-and-forth chapter narratives like this, I think tension has to rise equally in each side of the story in order for the reader to be willing to go from one to another like this. There was no point where I was tempted to skip ahead so that I could stay with Soli's story. It is the job of the novelist to keep each narrative moving forward quickly, and I think Sekaran accomplished that.

I felt strongly in this novel that I had to choose a side. As much as I loved both Kavya and Soli, it was too unfair of a situation to remain neutral about it. I chose Soli because nothing was going her way. The life that was picked out for her wasn't good enough, and she was punished severely for trying to get a better one. Even though I chose Soli to root for, I didn't blame Kavya for anything that she did. Sekaran created such a painful situation for both of these mothers to deal with. And even though their main connection is the child, the fact that they are both mothers was an important axis of identity. Kavya's motherhood was just as valid as Soli's, and even though I felt the ending was super improbable, I felt grateful for it. I needed Soli to have a win.

At the height of action, when Soli and Silvia are running from the cops, I wanted to reach into the narrative and tell them to stop trying to evade them. Maybe they were doomed whether they pulled over or not, but a car chase definitely made them into suspects. It killed me that Soli had one thing that made her life happy, Ignacio, and they took him away. It's this type of action/conflict where an author really destroys the reader. We have had two hundred pages to develop love for a character and the writer ruins her life. It made me pin all my anger and blame on Silvia, for messing everything up for Soli. She was always a slippery entity, acting as if she was generous for getting Soli a job and letting her live with her, yet she required a huge sum in payback and was unkind in other ways. Then it was Silvia's fault for getting them arrested. I was even able to transfer anger about the missing children onto Silvia. If she hadn't been impossible, Soli would have been paying more attention. The way this novel was written set me up for these loyalties and accusations. I think the chapter to chapter switch in narrative contributes to that, as well as the unending bad circumstances for Soli. Silvia was just another part of the machinery that made Soli's life difficult and doomed, simply because of who she was and where she was born.

Part of the revelation of the title, Lucky Boy, was simply that Ignacio was born in America. I think this novel asks the reader to think about that, about borders and boundaries, about privileges and access. It's not fair that Kavya couldn't keep Ignacio, but it was more unfair that Soli would have to pay for a simple mistake (made worse by Silvia) when the children turned out to be fine. It was clear that she was more punished for being undocumented than for the "crime" of losing track of the children. Such important subjects for us to be thinking and talking about in this era of worsening circumstances for migrants.

3 comments:

  1. I totally resonate with this statement: "I think tension has to rise equally in each side of the story in order for the reader to be willing to go from one to another like this."

    I think Rishi's moments in the sun were the times I felt like something "different" was injected, to break the tension and therefore, maintain it. I was interested in his voice as one that could temper the undercurrent of distaste for Kavya (created by my sympathy and empathy towards Soli -- in some ways, this distaste for Kavya wouldn't exist if it weren't for Soli). Being her husband, I looked to Rishi to potentially contrast Kavya.

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  2. The multiple narrative is a tricky thing and although you felt like you had to pick a side, we were given as much empathy as we could for these characters—it was a balancing act!
    E

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  3. I can't speak to authorial intent at all (obviously), but I just never felt to blame Silvia--or really any of the major characters (Soli, Rishi and Kavya, Silvia) very much. Even when they were making bad decisions or doing things that I'd call morally bad, it just felt like they were stuck in this system that was forcing the decisions on them. This was survival stuff. This was how they had to get by. And I felt like the novel did a really good job at pointing out the impossibility of the system.

    I did have more sympathy for the people who were in worse situations, the people the system was giving fewer options to. Kavya and Rishi, for example, could work within the system to achieve their goals (getting a child). Soli and Silvia could not. Their options were taken away by the system. Because they were undocumented immigrants, they could not legally hold jobs within the system, obtain housing within the system, and, once Soli and Ignacio were separated, they could not be reunited within the system because those working for the system were placing barriers in Soli's path.

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