Maladies of Belonging

An interview with Jhumpa Lahiri by Vibhuti Patel, Newsweek International, 9/20/99

At 32, with the publication of her first book, "Interpreter of Maladies," London- born Jhumpa Lahiri is being compared to old masters of the short story for the elegance of her plots and the clarity of her prose. A child of Indian immigrants, she grew up in small-town America and has won numerous awards for her deft depiction of cultural disorientation. Her title story has been selected for the O. Henry Award and The Best American Short Stories. Now working on a novel, she lives in New York city where she talked with Newsweek's Vibhuti Patel. Excerpts:

Are you surprised by the reaction to your stories?

It's all been a surprise-getting an agent, an editor, a book contract--it was all so fast. I feel extraordinary gratitude and amazement. Writers need time, some money, and a little encouragement. This book has given me just the right amount of all three.

Why short stories?

I felt safer starting small than working on a larger format. Some people feel restricted by short stories, I enjoy paring things down.

When did you start writing?

I was a shy child, uncomfortable in groups so I sought out those with a similar sensibility-quiet girls who liked stories. When I learned to read, I felt the need to copy. I started writing ten-page "novels," during recess, with my friends. Sitting around the sandbox, we'd say things out loud. At playtime, we'd be princesses in a castle in France. Writing allowed me to observe and make sense of things without having to participate. I didn't belong. I looked different and felt like an outsider.

As a second-generation immigrant, are you still an outsider?

I've inherited my parents' preoccupations. It's hard to have parents who consider another place "home"-even after living abroad for 30 years, India is home for them. We were always looking back so I never felt fully at home here. There's nobody in this whole country that we're related to. India was different-our extended family offered real connections. To see my parents as children, as siblings, was rare.

So you felt at home in India?

Not really. I didn't grow up there, I wasn't a part of things. We visited often but we didn't have a home. We were clutching at a world that was never fully with us.

Did the dirt and poverty bother you?

No, India is vibrant, it was stimulating. I was a lonely, only child till I was seven. Emotionally, it was nourishing to be the center of attention with loving uncles and aunts devoted to my every whim. In America, we experienced a malnourished version of family, not the multiple experience my parents had known. In India, it was comforting to see my parents let go of the everyday concerns of being foreigners. There, everything was established-so many homes that we could visit, all family. Generations had been born there and we were connected to them. In the States, to be connected to anything, we had to reach out.

Has your relationship to India changed?

As I grew older, going to India was frustrating, because growing up in America is different-I have my own room, I can shut the door. There, we became a part of other families, lived according to their schedule, did things their way. I was used to traveling around New York by myself but in Calcutta, we had to respect the family's concerns.

Are your characters people you know or are they composites?

The characters are semi-real-most are composites- but the situations are invented. Mr. Pirzada is a man who actually came to our home but I was four then, not 10. I had seen photos of him in the family album but knew only that he was a Muslim. I had no details. Our relationship is imagined. Mrs Sen is based on my mother who babysat in our home. I saw her one way but imagined that an American child may see her differently, reacting with curiosity, fascination, or fear to the things I took for granted.

How do you have such a keen grasp of marital problems?

It's my eternal fascination with trying to imagine things that I'm not part of. I'm not married but being involved in serious relationships enabled me to fill in the blanks. Also, as an Indian, the idea of marriage loomed large in my life. There was always an awareness of who had a "love" marriage, who had a "negotiation" marriage. Marriage had changed my mother's life-she came West as a bride, dealing simultaneously with being foreign and with being a wife.

What role does Calcutta play in your imagination?

A significant yet marginal role. I spent much time in Calcutta as a child-idle but rich time-often at home with my grandmother. I read books, I began to write and to record things. It enabled me to experience solitude-ironically, because there were so many people, I coud seal myself off psychologically. It was a place where I began to think imaginatively. Calcutta nourished my mind, my eye as a writer, my interest in seeing things from different points of view. There's a legacy and tradition there that we just don't have here. The ink hasn't dried yet on our lives here.

Do you see yourself as the interpreter of our maladies of belonging?

It's not a role I contemplated but the title haunted me for years. The characters I'm drawn to all face some barrier of communication. I like to write about people who think in a way they can't fully express. Growing up in two countries, I see things in a way that not everyone around me can. I'd talk to my cousins about what life's like in America and explain, describe, show pictures and still know that they'll never get it because they haven't been here. Talking to Americans about India is the same-it's always partial. As a storyteller, I'm aware that there are limitations in communication.