Literary Safari

I just came across my first “Power of Print” ad in this week’s New Yorker. The title is “Young people do everything online. Like order millions of magazines.”

In case you can’t read the fine print, voila the gist of it:

“Contrary to popular misconception, the phenomenal popularity of the Internet has not come at the expense of magazines. Readership is actually increasing, and adults between 18 and 34 are among the most dedicated readers. They equal or surpass their over-34 counterparts in issues read per month and time spent per issue. What’s changed isn’t people’s affinity for magazines but the means by which they acquire them. Last year, nearly 22 percent of all new paid subscriptions were ordered online. … Some might call it ironic. The medium that some predicted would vanquish magazines is actually helping fuel their growth. And vice versa.”

In case you’re wondering, Magazines: The Power of Print campaign is part of a series of ads paid for by the leaders of five major magazine publishing companies, namely—Charles H. Townsend, Condé Nast; Cathie Black, Hearst Magazines; Jack Griffin, Meredith Corporation; Ann Moore, Time Inc.; and Jann Wenner, Wenner Media.

The goal?

To promote the vitality of magazines as a medium.

Each ad appears on a color spread, accompanied by an iconic image from a well-known magazine. In this instance, we have David LaChapelle’s naked bubbles lady (I don’t really know the title of this photograph) from Rolling Stone, which is quite an unfortunate choice given that the subject of the ad is the reading habits of young people. If I were a teacher and brought this spread in to class as a teaching tool, my head would probably be cut off by many parents. I’m just saying.

(An aside: Funny that the first thing I read this morning in the NY Times looked at how Petit Quotidien, a daily paper for children in France is defying the digital craze.” )

I was listening to a new NPR series not so long ago: The Hidden World of Girls. That particular episode featured Nigerian novelist Chris Abani’s childhood memory of touring the Nigerian countryside with his mother, Daphne Mae Hunt:

My mother became certified as a Billings Ovulation teacher. And her job was to go and teach this to women. … Part of the problem was that her Igbo wasn’t good enough to discuss people’s uterus. She needed an interpreter and mother decided to ask me to interpret for her. I was eight years old. So we would set off, the two of us, and I would have a backpack. … We would go door to door. Everything starts with a greeting … It would be followed by an apology from me because I was about to discuss something sacred, taboo.

These women would never discuss [their period] with their husbands and here’s this eight-year-old boy … [See full transcript.]

The image of a young boy accompanying his mother to strangers’ homes and acting as a middleman stayed with me for several days, and when I recently heard Marina Budhos reading from her new, terrific young adult novel Tell Us We’re Home, I was reminded of it again.

In Budhos’s novel, we meet three young girls, Jaya, Lola, and Maria, all immigrants, who find themselves in a different kind of countryside than Abani — American suburbia — where they act as their mothers’ interpreters and translators.

Their mothers are nannies and housekeepers in Meadowbrook, a picturesque New Jersey town off the commuter rail, and these girls are the invisible teens who help their parents navigate a new culture while struggling to find their own place within it. They go to school with the same kids whose families their mothers work for.

Maria is Mexican. She accompanies her mother on job interviews and acts as a conduit for her employment searches. Jaya is West Indian, from Guyana. She assumes the responsibility to help absolve her mother of the accusation of a theft that in her employer’s home. And Lola is a Slovakian self-appointed revolutionary whose mother is a housekeeper at her classmate’s home and whose father is a depressed former engineer. Each girl’s story–and the story of their friendship–allows us to peer into the hidden world of working class young adult immigrants. Until they meet, each girl believes lives in a lonely bubble of invisibility, but chance brings them together and their friendship saves each of them in some way. Though they are outsiders, they are outsiders together.

I was a fan of Budhos’s first YA novel, Ask Me No Questions, and am glad that this book more than lived up to my expectations. (more…)

I’ve been keeping a morning journal on and off (mostly on) for the past twelve years. Inspired by Julia Cameron’s Artist’s Way, where she invites readers to start their days off by handwriting three pages of stream of consciousness, I’ve found these morning pages an ideal and meditative way to clear the clutter out of my mind.

On a recent visit to the East West Books near Union Square, the universe sent me a not-so-subtle reminder to make time again for my morning pages. Upstairs in the café, hanging on the wall right next to the table where I sat down with my iced red bush tea, was a framed dress entirely made up of morning pages!

Created by artist Caterina Bertolotto, the dress “Morning Pages” is part of a series Dresses of Transformation. Of the dress, Bertolotto says:

I have been practicing “The Artist Way” for over two years, and it has helped me incredibly to get to know myself, what’s important for me, and to be more creative. I love the morning pages. Since I have been writing them, I can collect all the ideas that come to me and no longer forget them. When I want to make art, I have plenty of ideas.

I’m reminded of Cameron’s second reason for suggesting morning pages as a practice for all types of artists. They act as a repository for our creative ideas, perhaps even those that we would otherwise discount if we were to write them down in the light of day (versus in the moments just after we awake) when our inner critiques are most alive and kicking.

Speaking of the creative unconscious, I’m reminded of Carl Jung’s Red Book, which I’ve been meaning to get a copy of.

Being around my 7 month old daughter brings out the poetic force in me. I find myself speaking to her in riddles and rhymes and sometimes I feel like I’m living inside a musical because I burst into made up songs and show tunes so many times during the day. I wonder whether other parents feel that way?

Today, I was watching her roll around on her play blanket (which is decorated with stars), and was amazed at how everything around her went into her mouth. I had filled a brass bowl with bracelets for her to play with – silver, metallic, gold, plastic — and all she wanted to do was eat them.

Eating Bangles

She has a sophisticated appetite this little child
Stars, shiny and bright, at breakfast time
Golden bracelets, sparkling in a bunch, just in time for lunch
Pearls, smooth and inlaid in silver, for dinner
Will diamonds be next, I wonder?

It sounds a bit silly, I know, but these are the types of things that I find myself reciting out loud when I speak to her. I seldom write them down but today I just keep thinking about her licking the stars on the blanket, then one by one, picking up each of the bracelets in the bowl and sucking on them as though they were the most delicious thing in the world!

Today marks the seven year anniversary of the Iraq war. There has been very little coverage in the media.

But I’m still thinking about Nina Berman’s series of photographs “Marine Wedding.” On exhibit as part of the Whitney’s Biennial 2010, they are a poignant reminder of the impact and ripple human effects of the war.

The 2006 photographs on view document the marriage of former Marine sergeant Ty Ziegel, then twenty-four, to his high school sweetheart, Renee Kline, twenty-one. After being severely disfigured in a suicide bomber’s attack while stationed in Iraq, Ty underwent fifty reconstructive operations. … Without any staging or direction, Berman took spontaneous photographs of Ty and Renee in the weeks leading up to their wedding day and accompanied them when they had their wedding portrait taken. Her picture of them at the portrait studio conveys an air of alienation between the couple, who separated a few months after their wedding. …

Read and listen to a PBS interview with Berman here.

It has now been six months since the birth of my daughter and I’m a bit behind on my posts. It actually took me a while to be able to get through an entire book for quite a few months. My attention span was diverted to my adorable little girl, her million and one facial expressions, her many pitches of cries, and her daily discoveries of the world.

Then, during one of my daughter’s first long afternoon naps at 14 weeks, the planets conspired to make reading possible again. I surprised myself by curling up on the couch with a cup of ginger-peach tea and Sheba Karim’s first young adult novel Skunk Girl, which I’ve been wanting to read ever since I first heard about it as a work in progress.

A few months ago, I reviewed Rakesh Satyal’s Blue Boy, a sensitive coming of age novel about a 12 year-old Indian-American boy struggling with his sexuality. One of the qualities I most appreciated about the book was its impeccable portrait of the suburban Indian-American family and the ways in which adolescent growing pains tie into it and its complex social webs.

Sheba Karim’s Skunk Girl is another novel that does a fine job of painting such a portrait and of capturing the intricacies of growing up South Asian in this country, this time from the point of view of girl. [Read an excerpt.]

Nina Khan is a  Pakistani-American junior in high school with an impossibly intelligent older sister Sonia and strict immigrant parents. About to turn 16, she is painfully aware of the “no dating, no pork, no co-ed parties” rules in her life which make her feel like “a wounded bird who longs to fly with the others but can’t.” Matters take a turn for the worse when Nina falls hard for Asher, a new boy in school. The two share math class together and, could it be?, Asher actually seems interested in her? Will she or won’t she break the rules and date him?

As Nina gets to know Asher better, she becomes even more aware of how different she is from her classmates. As if matters weren’t bad enough and she’s not allowed to date, Nina also becomes even more self-conscious about her body hair, which has always been an issue of embarrassment (as it is for many young South Asian women). On a class trip to Albany, she finds herself sitting next to Asher on the bus. When she leans over to look out the window, he gets a view down her back.

When I sit up, he turns to me one eyebrow raised in curious amusement. “You have a stripe of hair going down your back,” he says. …

As soon as I make it home I run upstairs to my room and tear my clothes off. I stand naked in front of my full-length mirror and twist my head to get a good view of my back. And that’s when I see it. A wide line of soft, dark hair running from the nape of my neck down to the base of my spine–the stripe Asher was talking about. A stripe right down the center of my back, like a skunk. This brings me to a whole other level. I’m not just a hair Pakistani Muslim girl anymore.

I am a skunk girl.

Lest you think that Nina sinks into the depths of despair after this revelation, let me assure you that she does not. Of course, she indulges in an afternoon of crying, of cursing, and of making wishes for all sorts of ways to never to set foot in school again. But then she steps right back up to the plate and returns to school and realizes that “nothing happens. No one pauses their conversations. No one even notices me.”

Though Nina the character is often frustrated by her circumstances, Nina, the narrator, has a wry sense of humor and a graceful ability to poke fun at herself. As this entertaining novel progresses, we watch as her streak of rebellion surfaces and watch as she struggles with her conscience as she experiments with aspects of “American culture” (yes, alcohol, and yes, dating) that are off-limits to her and that define her very Pakistani Muslim-ness. What you’ll see her conclude will be surprising and yet, so very Nina-esque; a teenage girl who is simultaneously self-confident and unsure of herself.

While exploring the challenges of high school life, author Sheba Karim also sheds light on the extended social life of Nina Khan’s family – the Pakistani family dinners,  the community weddings, the visits from family friends who measure her adherence to cultural norms, etc. Karim’s eye for these little details and her ability to convey universal aspects of South Asian immigrant immigrant life give this novel an added measure of value.

In an interview at Cayenne Lit, Karim says:

I was raised in a small town with very few other desis, a setting similar to the one in Skunk Girl. Being Pakistani made me separate, different, and often annoyed, because of the restrictions placed on me as a teenager. I think your culture is often something you grow into. I also think as wonderful as being a “hyphen” is, it can also be very difficult, particularly for women from Muslim backgrounds. … Skunk Girl was inspired by a monologue I wrote for Yoni ki Baat, a South Asian version of The Vagina Monologues. I realized there were very few books out there about what it’s like to grow up Pakistani in this country, and that I really wanted to write one.

Her writing certainly took me into the inner world of a teenage misfit with grace and reminded me of the parallels of my own once-upon-a-time adolescent angst. Thank goodness it’s past me!

For those interested in using this in the classroom or a book circle, a helpful discussion guide is available here.

I didn’t know what to expect of the on stage musical adaptation of Uma Krishnaswami’s picture book “Chachaji’s Cup” this past weekend.  The program billed it as “Bollywood style,” a label that automatically leaves me slightly wary. Turns out I was more than pleasantly surprised. The one-hour production, aimed at audiences ages 8 and up, was  lively and entertaining, while it also touched me with its delicate exploration of themes of identity, filial responsibility, and the importance of roots and ties to the past.

Tea with Chachaji is based on the picture book story about Neel, a 10 year old, who learns about his family’s place in the partition of India through a story about his great uncle’s favorite teacup. In the stage production, Neel’s mother, Anya (Soneela Nankani) is a hardworking nurse who paints in her free time. His father died when he was a young boy and his primary male role model is his great uncle Chachaji (Tony Mirrcandani) who is a wizard with words. Neel (Raja Burrows) can’t get enough of his stories – family stories, stories about Hindu mythology, and super hero characters like Hanuman, the monkey god. On the cusp of adolescence, Neel finds himself torn between his new friend Daniel (Jose Sepulveda) and the basketball court and his family, dance lessons, and attachment to Chachaji’s stories. When an accident causes the loss of Chachaji’s favorite tea cup, Neel learns the importance of his family history and grows to appreciate it in his new environment. At the same time, Chachaji comes to view his roots and ties to the past from a fresh perspective.

Before the performance, the opening question to the audience was “Raise your hand if you, your parents, or your grandparents were not born in America.” The majority of the audience raised their hands, as might be expected. But there were a few people around me who sat still with their hands in their laps and their heads bowed down, seemingly embarrassed. At that moment, I wished I had a copy of Davy Brown Discovers His Roots, an independently published illustrated children’s book by Keely Alexander and Velani Mynhardt Witthoft, to share. It would have made a fine bookend to any discussion or workshop following the play.

The main character in this book is an all-American boy Davy Brown who goes into a panic attack when his teacher assigns his class to investigate their family’s immigration roots. His classmates all have fascinating backgrounds, Davy believes. They come from Mexico, China, India, and Sudan, and all of them have unique immigration stories. In contrast, his parents don’t know much about his past. It takes a series of events for him to finally dig deep to find his family’s roots.

Davy Brown is a likable character, who pulls some clever antics and tells some tall tales to his classmates in his attempt to get out of the immigration research assignment. (Pirate ancestors, anyone?!) But with the help of his family and the mighty Internet, he finally gets some of the answers he is looking for.

“Tea with Chachaji” and “Davy Brown Discovers His Roots”  have this in common – it is one’s family that helps both Neel and Davy connect meaningfully to their pasts. In an educational setting, stories like these can serve as valuable tools to get kids interested in researching their family histories. Once they are ready to do that, the resources to do so are endless — and in that respect, the appendix of Davy Brown provides a comprehensive list of websites and methods to go deeper, as well as helpful information about immigration laws. (At the book’s website, there is also a sample lesson plan.)

Original post at Sepia Mutiny.

A couple of weeks ago, I tuned in to the Food Network’s The Next Iron Chef to find a sophisticated, soft spoken, skinny desi chef cooking up a storm. His name is Jehangir Mehta and his delicate dishes in every episode and challenge have been distinguished by their creative use of fresh herbs, fruit, and spices and their aesthetic presentation.

Mehta is the owner and executive chef of Graffiti, a Lower East Side NYC restaurant that serves “international small plates that feature his trademark affinity for bold flavors and spices such as chillies, sambhar, turmeric, and star anise.” In cook off after cook off, Mehta—who trained as a pastry chef at the Culinary Institute of America, but who hails from a Parsi family in Bombay — has been impressing the judges with unusual and original dishes such as pickled ginger scallops, bitter melon fritters, and apple and soy caramel skewers. His preparations are like miniature paintings; each one a carefully choreographed mouthful of flavor.

Tonight at 9 PM EST is the season finale where Mehta will battle against the Philadelphia-based Chef Jose Garces. Two very qualified chefs from two ethnic backgrounds with rich culinary traditions; it’s bound to be a close match.

Below the fold is a brief Q&A with Chef Mehta, including his thoughts about reality TV, his take on a South Asian Thanksgiving, and his recipe for his favorite comfort food.

Will Mehta be the next Iron Chef? We’ll soon find out. (more…)

Help preserve what’s left of the weirdness of New York. Submit a Twitter’ish length short (about 60 words or so) in response to the question:

What’s the strangest, craziest thing that you’ve ever seen or experienced in the city?

If you have a gem, it will be featured with a byline in a forthcoming guide book that my friends are writing. The book captures and introduces you to some of the city’s most unusual, outrageous, and subversive places and attractions.

Send your submissions to gonzotourismnyc [at] gmail.com.

I’ve been on a brief but wondrous hiatus for the past eight or so weeks, celebrating and treasuring the birth of my daughter who made her very special entrance into this world on September 3rd. I’m not sure whether I’m truly back now or whether this is just a brief hiatus from my maternity sabbatical. We’ll see …

But I thought I’d post a brief little update on a few things I’ve been up to over the past couple of months.

This past summer, I acted as lead content developer and managed the relaunch and redesign of the website of the Student Press Initiative. That site is up and running here.

My article “Rising Tide: The Boom in Historical Fiction About India and the Indian Diaspora” was published in the Summer issue of the journal Multicultural Review. Read it here.

The readers guide I wrote for Ann M. Martin’s Everything for a Dog was published as a super cute bookmark.  Read it here.

The blog Cayenne Lit featured an interview with me last month. Read it here.

Of summer reading, the Presbyterian minister Henry Ward Beecher, once said, “There is a temperate zone in the mind, between luxurious indolence and exacting work; and it is to this region, just between laziness and labor, that summer reading belongs.”

I have to agree. When summer rolls around, I’m always on the lookout for a different kind of book — one that feels like it belongs just as much in a beach cabana as it does it on a park bench, an airplane, a moving train, or my bed; one that makes me think and feel just as much as it allows me to relax and smile; one made for my attention span that alternates between the ability to concentrate and the desire to flit about.

I wrote earlier about how much I enjoyed Gene Yang’s new collection of graphic short stories, The Eternal Smile.

Here, then, are some of my other reading picks for this season:

Rakesh Satyal’s Blue Boy (Kensington Publishing).
Hirsh Sawhney’s Delhi Noir (Akashic Books).
Kwei Quartey’s Wife of the Gods: An Inspector Darko Dawson Mystery (Random House).

While I sit here in steamy New York City awaiting the arrival of my first child and reading lots of non-fiction birthing and pregnancy books, these fictional reads have succeeded in take me through the three places that have been a part of my life so far: Ghana, India, and the US.

(more…)

When I received my copy of Gene Yang’s latest graphic novel The Eternal Smile, the bright yellow reminded me of his award-winning and best-selling American Born Chinese, one of my favorite graphic novel reads over the past couple of years. I cracked it open, eager to see what his collaboration with graphic artist Derek Kim (Yang wrote the script) had yielded. And the verdict is: Another memorable read! This collection of three short stories is filled with Yang’s trademark unexpected twists and turns, humor, and unique characters.

Yang has traveled far from the themes of identity and immigration which defined American Born Chinese. The thread tying the three disparate stories in The Eternal Smile together is technology–how it shapes, defines, and even disrupts human existence today.

In the first story “Duncan’s Kingdom,” we meet a  young man seeking to win over a princess’s heart by proving his heroic nature to her by killing off a frog king. Fairy tale collides with fantasy in a story that explores the power of gaming in the lives of adolescents.

In the namesake story “Gran’Pa Greenbax and the Eternal Smile,” illustrated in classic comic fashion with vivid sound effects, we meet a greedy frog intent on creating a swimming hole filled with gold. Nothing satisfies him until he spots a smile in the sky and decides to create a church that people will flock to with their pocketbooks. As our frog protagonist seeks out his most “profitable venture yet,” things go slightly awry and we are whisked into a TV studio where we discover that he is actually a “chip-enhanced character” in a popular children’s show, Frog Tales, that combines “the unpredictable drama of reality Tv with the anthropomorphic fun of Saturday morning cartoons.”

The final gem in this collection is “Urgent Request,” my favorite story about an office worker named Janet whose mundane existence takes an exciting turn when she starts receiving emails from … a Nigerian prince who has chosen her to help him solve his family’s problems! Delicate black and white illustrations on yellow paper give way to a few pages of four-color depictions where Janet’s fantasies transform her into a Nigerian queen … But really the heart of this story is a look at how it is not so impossible to seek out romantic distractions from 9-5 frustrations through traps and gimmicks that make their way into inboxes.

I’ll stop here. I usually try not to give away any spoilers. I’ll just say that if you’re looking for a thought-provoking comic that examines the ripple effects of technology on our lives with a grain of humor, this is a book you won’t want to miss.