The Perfect Man-- Naeem Murr

The cruelty in the first chapter of A Perfect Man took my breath away. We see Rajiv as a five year-old boy, dropped into the hands of his aunt and uncle in London. His father, who purchased Rajiv's mother for 20 GBP during his wartime exploits in India, abandons him en route to another entrepreneurial opportunity in South Africa. Eventually, Raj is left in the care of an aging romance writer in Pisgah, Missouri. It seems that everyone is the sum of their weaknesses in this small town; it's classic gothic, Faulknerian awfulness.

Raj and his friends are an interesting mix-- their characters alternately inspire disgust, heartbreak, pity, and affection. The prose is complex and the characters impeccably developed, drawing contrast between adults and children, men and women, inclusion and isolation, guilt and innocence, love and (I have to say it again; there is no better word) cruelty.

The first half of the book is flawless. I actually wrote part of this review in the early stages, saying this was likely my best book of the year. Unfortunately, something goes awry towards the end... the plot becomes diffused and erratic, and the tragic developments are not framed well. This tempers the melodrama and left me with an unsettled feeling, but it didn't do much for the story.

The characters are wonderful (and terrible), but at the very end I felt that Murr failed the character of Raj. Over the course of the book, we everyone's head except but Raj's, leaving the character impenetrable even though we see him from all angles and his actions speak volumes. When we finally hear from him in the last chapter only for the purpose of tying up lose ends, it's anticlimactic and depressing.

The other odd thing about the last chapter is that it reduced the rest of the book-- which is about many things-- to be mostly about one thing, even though that thing is not what stands out most to me. I thought the title of the book didn't seem to fit until that last chapter, but at that point it cheapened what at first felt like a book about the universe. But maybe I missed the point. (Throughout the book, I kept wondering if I missed the point.)

This book is incredibly dark, and it left me with a lead weight in my stomach I am still trying to shake. Recommended for mature readers (late high school, at the youngest).

Dogeaters-- Jessica Hagedorn

OK, I made a mistake here. Dogeaters is probably not a young adult book, despite the fact that one of the protagonists is a 10 year-old girl. I have been reading off the beaten path here, and I knew this was bound to happen at some point—I just didn’t imagine it happening quite in this way.

Dogeaters takes place in the Philippines in the 1950s. Said 10 year-old protagonist, Rio, is a great character. Her relationship with her grandmother (“Lola Narcissa”) is particularly touching. Lola would rather spend her time with the servants, eating peasant food, than attending the family’s lavish dinner parties with powerful businessmen and generals as the guests of honor. Rio’s family enjoys a life of privilege, while other characters do what they need to in order to survive. Their lives intersect in a series of events that explore dynamics of power—political, sexual, and cultural.

There is some content here that I think a mature highschooler could handle: one of the chief protagonists earns his living as a prostitute, and there is a particularly disturbing scene involving abuse of a female political prisoner. Also, the writing style is such that I would probably need to re-read the book to fully appreciate it, preferably after doing some independent historical research.

Despite these reservations, Dogeaters is a concentrated wonder of a book. Hagedorn’s writing is rich and evocative, narrated from multiple perspectives and full of vignettes. Her style brings to mind those of authors Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Salman Rushdie—authors who are frequently read in advanced high school and pre-college curricula. I think Dogeaters might be an interesting addition to the reading diet of such readers, who (like me) will find it challenging but also rewarding.

Blue Boy- Rakesh Satyal

My father is out playing tennis with a family friend. My mother is singing bhajans as she stirs daal. The master bathroom is all mine. Involuntarily, I sputter the theme from Mission: Impossible. But this mission is far from impossible; I have succeeded at it time and again, so the only impossible mission seems to be not wanting to put on makeup.

Kiran’s parents ignore the oddities that, combined, constitute his charming personality; his classmates shun him altogether. Kiran is accustomed to amusing himself: putting on his mother’s makeup, playing with the Strawberry Shortcake dolls he secretly buys with his allowance, and practicing ballet in the kitchen. But when Kiran tires of the painful isolation, he concludes there is higher purpose to his difference—that in fact, he is an incarnation of Krishna, an avatar of the god Vishnu. He decides to emulate the habits of the revered deity and realize his full potential in life-- a noble endeavor that involves blue eyeshadow, a recorder, and a tub of Country Crock.

The writing is delicious--adept, playful, and clever. So much so that you don’t realize your heart is breaking until it’s too late.

We should have seen it coming. Heck, Kiran should have seen it coming. His peers are incredibly cruel. His parents are not perfect, as much as they love their son. Kiran cannot suppress his differences, or his mortal wishes for love and acceptance. But while other books have left me wondering “why the hell did he do that?” after the protagonist does something stupid, Kiran often admits that he should have known better but he just couldn’t help himself. And, frankly, as a sensitive, closeted, second-generation Indian sixth-grade boy at a mostly-white school in the midwest, his survival is such a thing of wonder that one cannot question his methods.

This book is extraordinary, both for the affection-inspiring main character and the assuredness and flair of his narrative voice. I also appreciate the cultural backdrop of the story, which neither exoticizes nor exploits.

Although Kiran is a sixth-grader, this book is recommended for an older audience on account of a description of, among other things, a Hustler centerspread.