Posts filed under 'ethics'

Dimensions of Aram: On Jeyamohan’s Stories of the True

December 7, 2022  |  in Reviews  |  by Areeb Ahmad

No matter the forces that amass against idealism—such as weapons raised by pragmatic tradition—it cannot be broken, and always spreads.

Stories of the True by Jeyamohan, translated from the Tamil by Priyamvada, Juggernaut Books, 2022

Aram—this was the original Tamil title of Jeyamohan’s collection of short stories first published in 2011, recently released in Priyamvada’s English translation as Stories of the True. Priyamvada deems aram a complex word, even going as far as to call it untranslatable. In other contexts, aram has been rendered as “virtue” or “ethics,” and while the former is possibly the closest in meaning, Priyamvada notes that “aram seems . . . a far more capacious word than ethics.” The familiar Sanskrit word “dharm”’ might be a near-perfect equivalent, and it has a Tamil variation as well, but Priyamvada resisted inserting Hindi or Sanskrit words in place of the Tamil, even if they would be relatively well-known and understood by English readers. This is in part her way of dissenting against the infamous political project of promoting Hindi as a national language, autocratically imposed in an attack on linguistic pluralism. Similarly, this choice served to geographically, culturally, and linguistically ground the stories in Southern India. She writes, “It wasn’t just the stubbornness of someone from the south of the peninsula, but I felt it takes away from the ‘place’ of the stories to be using terms from a different part of the country.”

In her search for a fitting translation of Aram, Priyamvada allowed herself to be guided by the stories themselves and to explore all the “dimensions of aram” that these narratives depicted, as well as the range of ethical codes they encompassed. However, it would be simplistic to consider them, in her words, “simple expositions of virtue.” She writes: “Reaching beyond the understanding of ethics as dichromatic, immutable codes of conduct, the narratives delve into deeper and more complex internal dilemmas . . . It is in this quest that the stories move from podhu-aram, a collective dharma, to thannaram or swadharma, the dharma of an individual.” In her estimation, the stories in this collection feature a mix of characters, some of whom have already finished their journey of self-discovery and some who are still on the way. Among the former, they are distinguished by “their steadfast adherence to ‘their truth,’” and for the latter, by “these ‘moments of truth’ [that] also stand illuminated.” In a nutshell: “The stories hold in tension a truth realized, and a truth to be discovered.” READ MORE…

Ethical Extremes: On Sayaka Murata’s Life Ceremony

July 25, 2022  |  in Reviews  |  by Ruwa Alhayek

Over and over again, throughout these stories, we are confronted with the question of consumption, literal and figurative.

Life Ceremony by Sayaka Murata, translated from the Japanese by Ginny Tapley Takemori, Grove Atlantic/Granta, 2022

From Sayaka Murata, the award-winning author of Convenience Store Woman and Earthlings, comes Life Ceremony, a debut compilation of her short stories. The collection is unsettling, paved with the disturbances of odd people and new customs nestled amidst familiar words and routines;. Instead of burials, human bodies are recycled—a beloved father-in-law’s skin might be used as a bride’s veil, a person’s hair for a cardigan, human bones for chair legs. Instead of funerals, there are life ceremonies, where mourners dress in “skimpy clothing” to partake in eating the body of the deceased before going off in pairs for “insemination.”  One woman is convinced that she has been reborn into an ordinary family in contemporary Japan, when in her previous (real) life, she was a warrior with supernatural powers from the magical city of Dundilas. Another woman falls in love with her curtain and feels betrayed when she walks in to find her boyfriend (who somehow has confused it for her) wrapped in its folds on her bed.

Sayaka Murata is a master of delivery, and in Ginny Takemori’s translation, it becomes clear that the way to convey these odd stories in all their philosophical force is to do it deadpan, matter-of-factly, and sometimes, coldly. But—there are breaks, moments that aren’t so much characterized by their coldness but by their sincerity, their characters’ confusion, and their loss. When Naoki, who is ethically opposed to using furniture or clothes made of human corpses, faces his late father’s dying wish to have his skin used in his son’s wedding, he is thrown off balance and says vacantly: “I can’t. . . I don’t. . . I really don’t know what to think anymore. Until this morning, I was confident about how to use words like barbaric and moved, but now it all feels so groundless.” We are made to sympathize with him even amidst bombardments of oppositional, universal ideas, derived from a new ethics that says discarding any part of a human is wasteful—one that asks: how is using human hair any different from using another animal’s?

In “Life Ceremony,” Maho can’t bring herself to partake in the ceremonial eating of the dead following an instance, thirty years ago, when she was bullied for suggesting the very thing that everyone does so casually now. She says to her friend Yamamoto, who also doesn’t eat human meat: “It’s just that thirty years ago, a completely different sense of values was the norm, and I just can’t keep up with the changes. I kind of feel betrayed by the world.” I too felt betrayed by the world in Murata’s novel, suddenly becoming painfully aware of how fast change comes via contemporary mediums—how many of our habits and values are dictated by global capital, and how much effort it takes to resist, even if only for the reprieve of a few moments to think and form opinions. How lonely it is both to belong to a world like this, and to be an outlier. READ MORE…

How to Write About Africa: Everything Lost is Found Again in Review

January 16, 2019  |  in Reviews  |  by Alice Inggs

How should a foreigner write about a place, particularly a place in Africa: the continent of ready stereotypes and tired clichés?

Everything Lost is Found Again: Four Seasons in Lesotho by Will McGrath, Dzanc Books, 2018

To recognize one’s own foreignness in a place that is foreign is difficult. To write it is even harder. In Everything Lost is Found Again, journalist Will McGrath’s Lesotho-set travelogue, he does what is almost antithetical to the travel writing genre and acknowledges his foreignness, resisting the impulse to position himself as the default cultural setting and transfer “otherness” to the country and its citizens. The fact that this book is printed in English and primarily sold in the States means that his audience is also foreign to the place he is writing about, making McGrath’s reversal a considerable achievement.

But let’s begin one step back. How should a foreigner write about a place, particularly a place in Africa: the continent of ready stereotypes and tired clichés? In Binyavanga Wainaina’s satirical 2005 Granta essay, “How to Write About Africa,” the Kenyan author advises: “In your text, treat Africa as if it were one country . . . Don’t get bogged down with precise descriptions . . . Throughout the book, adopt a sotto voice, in conspiracy with the reader, and a sad I-expected-so-much tone . . . Remember, any work you submit in which people look filthy and miserable will be referred to as the ‘real Africa,’ and you want that on your dust jacket . . . Readers will be put off if you don’t mention the light in Africa. And sunsets, the African sunset is a must. It is always big and red. There is always a big sky.”

READ MORE…