the id, the ego, & the single misfiring brain cell

First, y'all, this is a fantastic novel. Yeah, I know it's "old." It was published in 1997--the year most of my students who are now reading it were born. 

Imma just let that sink in a minute. 

I'm used to this feeling, but y'all might not be as familiar with it, so I thought it polite and thoughtful to share. 

You're welcome. Don't mention it. 

Anyway. 

This is a book about the Kerala region of India. Sorta. I mean, that's the place. The time is primarily the 1960s, after they declared independence from Britain (1947). Their new constitution abolished the caste system, and everyone lived happily ever after--in the same way the passage of the 14th Amendment to the Constitution of the US created equal rights for all, and everyone lived happily ever after. 

The story is set in Ayemenem (aka, Aymanam): linky. Breathtaking, isn't it? 

So is Arundhati Roy's writing. She's an architect--an architect, y'all!--but her opening salvo is thus: 

May in Ayemenem is a hot, brooding month. The days are long and humid. The river shrinks and black crows gorge on bright mangoes in still, dustgreen trees. Red bananas ripen. Jackfruits burst. Dissolute bluebottles hum vavuously in the fruity air. Then they stun themselves against clear windowpanes and die, fatly baffled in the sun.

She goes on to say that the countryside turns an "immodest green." I love that phrase. Perfect. 

She's a poet, but...one who can spin a tale. In this book, you have a set of fraternal--dizogotic--twins: Ethra and Rahel. 

Oh incidentally. Almost all the names are Syrian Christian, meaning native derivitives of common Christian names. As follows: 

Estha = Ethappen = Estaban = Steven (no kidding)

Rahel = Rachel (pretty easy, this one)

Navomi Ipe = Naomi Joseph (Baby Kochamma)

Chacko = Joseph

Pretty cool, huh? Yeah, I thought so, too. I discovered that when I realized today that I needed to know how to pronounce Estha. That led me to name derivitives of Syrian Christians, then to an explanation of what a Syrian Christian is, and from thence to a discussion of the Indian caste system (which DOESN'T EXIST ANYMORE but nonetheless is different and far more complicated in Kerala than in the rest of India), to a search for Ayemenem, etc. (This is how we can start out looking for something perfectly logical like "where IS Eritrea?" and end up engrossed in a Wiki article about Russian death metal. Ain't technology grand?)

So I've learned a lot about the caste system in general, and it's...fascinating. I'M NOT SAYING we have a similar problem in the US or anything, but...wow. 

So, first. The caste system. I've heard of this and had a (first-grade level) understanding of it, but never really understood what it entailed. It has these basic classes: 

Brahmins = priests, but also teachers and preachers

Kshatriyas = those who serve and protect, as in governors, administrators, and warriors

Vaishyas = merchants, farmers, cattlemen, etc. Pretty much the middle class. 

Shudras = Craftsmen. 

Outside of these classes, we find the Untouchables (not the Kevin Costner kind). These are now called "Dalits," which means  "ground", "suppressed", "crushed", or "broken to pieces," aka "oppressed." Since 1947, the Dalits have presumably had equal rights, but...not so fast. 

Sound familiar yet? 

They are still discriminated against at the grade school level and forward. They have higher rates of incarceration per capita than other castes. Awful things are done to them still with little or no legal repercussions. 

Oh. These are the people who have to touch dead animals or deal with human waste in some way. They may be butchers or leatherworkers*, or sewer cleaners, or street cleaners, etc. 

* Which raises a question. If they are unclean having to work the leather, who wears it? And if they butcher the animal, who eats it? Aren't they unclean for wearing and eating it? Inquiring minds.... 

So. The God of Small Things. The god of small things is Velutha, a member of the unmentionable (unclean) class. He is trained as a carpenter and has considerable skill, even if he isn't in the right "class" to be a carpenter. 

The distinguished Syrian Christian family who employs him is completely jacked in its own way. Every person--except for the twins--seems to hate the rest (but it's beautifully written!). This book is about the nasty underside of the caste system, among other things. 

I find myself being drawn into internet info about Kerala (the southwest region of India where the story takes place) and even how to put on a mundu (that weird thing Gandhi wore). For the record, the garment strikes me as very comfortable and serviceable unless you have the runs. 

The Syrian Christian thing is pretty fascinating. India boasts one of the oldest surviving sects of Christianity in the world, circa 59AD, via St. Thomas. That's according to tradition, of course, but...isn't the origin of every sect of Christianity "according to tradition"?*

* Well, yours is TRUE. Of course. That goes without saying. 

Anyhow. The Syrian Christians of India are among the Brahmin class, as they descend (presumably) from the initial disciples of St. Thomas in the 1st Century. 

What happens in the novel, you ask? Oh, just some stuff. Some Syrian Christian Anglophile (oh yeah...this one is also postcolonial lit) folk have a dalit dude and stuff happens. Read it. 

***

In other news, I did a sleep study Friday night.

I don't know what's normal for this, but since the directions didn't say I should not sleep for a certain amount of hours before the study, I slept as follows: 12 hours the night before, 1 hour the morning before, then 2.5 to 3 hours the evening before. Then I went in, was hooked up with goop in my hair and everything, and went back to sleep for about seven hours that night. They noted that I "wasn't a perfect sleeper."

It seems that the cutoff for them was for me to have at least 15 "episodes" (in which I come back to phase 1 sleep) per hour for two hours before they connect the CPAP* machine. I had ten per hour, so I didn't get the CPAP. We'll see what my doc thinks, though. They may send me back, because seriously?! Something's wrong. I'm exhausted all the time (and can sleep on a dime). 

* Continuous Positive Airway Pressure

That's all for now. Be excellent to each other. 

d