Five months ago, I wrote that women write and I read. Since then, the list has gotten longer. Like Geetanjali Shree's Tomb of Sand. But for Jhumpa Lahiri's translations, I might never have known about and read two Italian novels that were authored by a man!: Ties and Trust. Ah, it is too long a list.
Had I not been laid off but continued on as an academic, perhaps I would have ended up doing a talk on this, like how years ago I presented a paper on using short stories in order to understand the world. (That conference presentation ultimately became a course that I developed and taught. How about that!) But then it is the premature retirement that has given me the luxury of time that is needed to read full-length fiction. Ah, what a Catch-22 situation!
(Most students that I talked with had not read Catch-22 nor had any idea what that phrase really meant even though they were familiar with it. Heck, how many read books anymore, eh!)
It is not that I found all the books by female authors to be fantastic. There were two recent disappointments, both by the same author, Monica Ali. A few years ago, I read her Brick Lane, which I loved. But, I could barely get past 30 or 40 pages in both books. Monica Ali was not like some authors who never disappointed me. My point is that I am not applauding a novel just because it was authored by a woman.
I am now on to yet another book by yet another woman:
I just picked up @vauhinivara's ‘The Immortal King Rao’
— Sriram K (@congoboy) October 12, 2022
After reading her business-related writing in @NewYorker for quite some years, reading her full-length fiction will be a phenomenally different experience ... will find out soon
Vauhini Vara. It might not be easy to guess the geographic origin of the name. Could it be Indian? Thai? Indonesian? Or, for that matter, is it a male name or a female name?
When we encounter an "alien" name, it can be difficult to figure out if that person is a man or a woman. (In the contemporary settings, we also wonder what pronouns to use.) Some cultures offer clues. Like Russian last names that often add an "a" for women: Like Raisa Gorbacheva, who was the wife of Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev. I was, and am, often stumped by Chinese names--I do not have any algorithm to decipher the gender. For that matter, even with a few good old American Christian names. In my teaching years, there were plenty of student names on the roster that said nothing about whom I should expect to see; names like Taylor, Jordan, Robin, ...
So, Vauhini Vara.
For years when I read her financial and business commentaries, I had always assumed that she was of Indian descent. The name just sounded Indian. But I had no idea of where the name Vara was from. I suppose that's what people might think about my last name too, and might be shocked to learn that I invented it! Could "Vara" be related to Varahamihira, whom I referred to in the only letter of mine that was published in The New Yorker?
Vauhini Vara's book jacket and the note by her publisher confirm her Indian roots. And more:
While I, or anyone, might speculate about such an identification, I am glad that she flies her Dalit flag high. How many leading authors from India or with Indian-roots and writing in the English language are from the oppressed Dalit community? (The Tirukkural was authored by Tiruvalluvar, who is believed to be the son of a Brahmin father and a Dalit mother.) Almost by default, the English-language storytellers are from the upper castes and, unsurprisingly, the stories they tell are also not about Dalits.
There's a lot to learn from good literature. Most people have no idea what they are missing out on.
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