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It is a while since I cared so much about the fate of characters in a story.

(view spoiler)[I really wanted Nikhil (formerly Gogol) and Moushimi to work out. It was a beautiful pairing � it just seemed to be right and I wanted them to be happy ever after. But happiness is elusive, even with the best will in the world, and not long lasting when one of the protagonists is wilfully self-destructive.

The strengths of this intimate family saga are manifold:
� the structure, focussing on the Gogol as he grows up, but establishing the context for his journey through the lives of his parents and grandparents
� the compassion of the author for her characters
� the way she traverses space and time
� her evocation of life in Calcutta, Boston and New York
� her understanding of relationships as they wax and wane; and
� the difficulty of balancing your country with your far off heritage, particularly when Gogol’s Indian heritage is so strong and powerful.

The story is relatively simple, but carefully told. A young recently married couple, Ashoke and Ashima, emigrate from Calcutta to Boston, have a son, accidentally named Gogol, who grows up, goes to university, falls in love, marries, and divorces. And that’s it.

Jhumpa Lahiri allows us to see how Ashoke grows up, the significance of his arranged marriage to Ashima, their family relationships, especially to their parents. Ashoke and Ashima are brave in re-locating to the United States and becoming part of, and actively involved with the local Bengali community, yet they remain insular and indeed somewhat isolated from the wider community. They have a quite traditional relationship (husband at work, wife at home, but without the family support they left behind). Lahiri contrasts Ashoke’s reserve in America with his relaxed bonhomie when visiting with family and friends in Calcutta on their regular trips back home.

Ashoke’s relationship with his son is loving, but also subject to some of the universal dynamic s of father–son relationships; much is unsaid between them, there are misunderstandings and for Gogol, the difficult business of working out who he is, or should be. It is hard for Gogal to grow up as an outsider in a land far away from the country of his heritage. Gogol is ambivalent about his culture. At different points he rebels against his Bengali heritage and his name, and embraces the freedoms in front of him growing up in America. This is particularly reflected in his relations with women. The two key relationships are in complete contrast � firstly with Max and then Moushimi.

Max (Maxine) is the well-educated daughter of urbane, old money, liberal and tolerant (if a little self-satisfied) parents in New York, where Gogol comes to live, literally, in their world of refined privilege and tasteful consumption. Lahiri’s descriptions of their moments together are beautiful. The relationship with Max represents everything that Gogol (by now Nikhil, abbreviated to ‘Nic�) has rejected, or at least set aside, of his heritage.

The sudden death of his father in a far off city precipitates the end of Gogol’s relationship with Max. The days when Gogol flies to Cleveland to arrange the return of his father are quite poignant. Especially moving is Gogol’s dawning realisation of how frugally his father (and his mum) have lived. They have come halfway across the world, which is brave and adventurous, but have not broadened much thereafter in their outlook or activities. Perhaps this is the fate of first generation immigrants. In a sense the event reconnects Gogol with his family; he understands better what his parents went through.

This leads directly to the Nikhil’s relationship with Moushimi, almost against their wills. I really wanted it to work � educated, acclimatised, well–rounded people who shared so many rich links. Moushimi, American-born Bengali like Gogol, and connected to the family since childhood, is well adapted, it would seem, to life in the educated, wealthy first world. The suggestion is that the pairing, to an extent arranged, is better than a love match and in any case they do fall in love. But the seeds of destruction are present, or perhaps self-destruction. Moushimi almost wilfully sabotages the union. At the end of the story Gogol (he has reverted) is on his own, but wiser, older, and has grown more equable.

(hide spoiler)]

Early in the story we are taken through Ashoke’s boyhood in his Bengali family. He is a clever, bookish boy who reveres his grandfather and enjoys the old man’s library. Ashoke reads to the old man. On the train to visit his grandfather Ashoke reads a story by Nicolai Gogol when the train crashes, with many killed and injured. Ashoke is saved because the movement of a page torn from his book attracts the attention of rescuers. The story was The Overcoat.

I read The Overcoat because I was keen to find out the significance of the story to the present narrative. The Overcoat is about a man who makes do with a tatty coat for many years, gets a beautiful new one only to have it torn off him, literally, the first time he wears it. I’m not sure I understand. But what is certain, and the point perhaps, is that by the end of the tale Gogol understands his dad much better, even though his dad is no longer living. But as we know, someone close, like a dad, is never completely gone and you keep learning about him, even though he’s not there to talk to.

I recently mentioned to my wife that I have a book my father gave me when I was about ten years old. I said it was David Copperfield and that I had never read it. She was horrified and said with some vehemence that I should read it next. And I will (later - I did).

-Ian’s Book of the Year 2014