The Impressionist

Rating:
Summary: Great First Impression
Review:

With so many fine novels written during the past decade about the Indian emigrant experience, is there anything new to say on the topic? Hari Kunzru's picaresque tale of an Anglo-Indian boy answers, resoundingly, yes.

Pran Nath is the fruit of an improbable union between an Indian girl and a soldier of the British Empire who are literally thrown together during a flash flood. The soldier dies, and the girl travels onward to Agra and her arranged marriage. There she convinces her unworldly husband that the child in her swelling belly is his own. Pran's mother dies giving birth, and her unsuspecting husband raises Pran as his prized son and heir. Pran's life as a spoiled, upper class youth comes to an abrupt end when he's betrayed by a servant who knows the true tale of his patrimony.

Tossed into the streets, Pran suffers the usual depredations visited upon defenseless urchins. After some months as a captive child prostitute, he's sold out of a brothel into the service of a minor maharajah. Pran's new job is to seduce a British colonial administrator with a taste for young boys so the maharajah can blackmail him. The political and erotic byplay builds to a hilarious climax involving magic potions, drugged tigers, and miscegenation.

The inclusion of "child prostitute" and "hilarious" in the description above hints at the story's accomplishments and limitations. We're captivated by Pran's adventures, but he's more comic book hero than fully fleshed out character. Suspend disbelief, and you'll enjoy the ride. Look elsewhere for more literal emotional truths.

Pran escapes to Bombay, where he's given bed and board by Scottish missionaries. While the colonial edifice in India starts to shudder and crack, Pran shuttles between high minded Protestantism and the brothels of Falkland Road, where he makes a skimpy living as an errand boy and low level pimp. He also takes tentative steps to pass himself off as an Englishman, using his light skin as the ticket out of his Indian self. One evening, Pran serves as night guide to a drunken English youth, raised in India but now orphaned and returning to England. When the English boy gets murdered during a political riot, Pran takes his clothes and his identity and sets sail for the land of his father.

Passing as Jonathan Bridgeman, Pran is provided with a comfortable inheritance and sent first to a boarding school, then to Oxford. Pran becomes an actor and an aesthete, but his real course of study is English customs and manners, which he mimics and dissects in order to discover the wellsprings of British imperial power. While at Oxford, he begins a romance with Astarte Chapel, the daughter of a famous anthropologist. Astarte is the peaches and cream essence of Anglo-Saxon girlhood, and the smitten Pran feels he's sailing toward the very fountainhead of Englishness. But then he discovers that Astarte's tastes run darker and wilder than the prim and proper Englishman Pran's worked so hard to become.

Pran flees to Africa with Astarte's father to study a remote jungle tribe. After an arduous upriver journey, the expedition finds that the long arm of empire has been here before them and upended the tribe's culture. Now truly in the heart of darkness, Pran has to come to terms with the deteriorating situation in the bush and his own wobbly sense of who he really is.

The Impressionist is a remarkably assured first novel. It's a sensual book, not because of the too numerous sexual escapades, but in the rich descriptions of clothes, palaces, brothels and city streets and in the striking and humorous oddities of British and Indian culture seen through Pran's boyish eyes. Echoes of great English writers such as Waugh, Forster, Dickens, and Conrad give the book texture. All the Big Ideas about race, class and identity evolve naturally out of the story. This is a wise, funny, and inventive novel. We can only hope the multi-talented Kunzru will continue working in this particular medium.




Rating:
Summary: Couldn't put it down...
Review: ...the fiction was well-enough written though it was a bit wearisome wading through some of the uncommon names and places, but the history behind the book---the end of Empire and the stirrings of independence in India, the phenomenal arrogance of colonial England, and the horrors of the inflexible caste system---made it all worth it. After a while, its conclusion (shades of Evelyn Waugh's "Handful of Dust") became evident but nonetheless provided an interesting twist on the folly of pretense.

Rating:
Summary: Conrad's "Heart of Darkness" through the looking glass
Review: Although the descriptions of events and the depictions of scenery are realistic, "The Impressionist" is, at heart, an allegory. Its protagonist is a shapeshifter, an empty core of a human being who adopts personalities (and names) like coats and discards each skin as the seasons change. First Pran, then Rukhsana/Clive, then Robert, then Jonathan--he is no more real than Candide. ("In between each impression, just at the moment when one person falls away and the next has yet to take possession, the impressionist is completely blank.") Instead, he represents an implausible idea and a doomed ideal: the conflicted Indian identity in the face of British occupation.

Richly plotted, I couldn't put it down, but many readers expecting a lead character to whom they can "relate" are sure to be frustrated. Half Indian, half English, Pran is caught between two worlds. Expelled from his home when his wealthy Indian father discovers his true lineage, Pran embarks on a journey that will take him from the palace of the nawab to the heart of England. Handsome and exotic on the surface, he becomes, alternately, victim and persecutor, all things to all people.

While some readers have compared the prose style to that of Bowles, the characters to those of Dickens, and the theme to that of Kipling (all true, to some extent), the true source of inspiration is Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness." Another reader notes that the finale of the novel is "far too indebted to Conrad to be considered original." (And I promise to avoid spoilers in my attempt to note the parallels and contrasts.) True, Hunzru incorporates deliberate echoes of Marlow's journey up the African river in search of Kurtz: the haunting drumming of the natives, their ferocity in the face of advancing "civilization," the severed heads on display. But to dismiss this section as mere imitation is missing the point. Much of the book is a negative image of and a response to Conrad's allegory: in "Heart of Darkness," the "civilized" Kurtz becomes a "primitive" monster in a quest to lord over a tribe of natives; in "The Impressionist," Pran/Robert/Jonathan becomes "civilized" and faces in the African hinterlands the vacant reflection of his true self.

Jonathan ultimately realizes that "there is nothing there at all": in his attempt to succeed in one world, he (like Kurtz) belongs to no world at all. "The Impressionist" is as much a commentary on Conrad as it is on British colonialism.

Rating:
Summary: Stunning!
Review: Can't remember when I have been so captivated by a novel. The reviewers who complain that the main character hasn't much depth are right--but they don't really get that this is the whole point. Kunzru is making a comment on the flexibility of identity. Pran's initial identity is a lie (although he doesn't know it), subsequent identities are forced upon him by necessity and others' needs and expectations, and he eventually learns that he can manipulate his own identity to his advantage. An absolutely stunning, yet playful, story that demonstrates the ways in which we perceive ourselves and others and how we shape personal and cultural values. Outstanding--I can't recommend it highly enough and wish I could give it 10 stars!

Rating:
Summary: Stunning!
Review: Can't remember when I have been so captivated by a novel. The reviewers who complain that the main character hasn't much depth are right--but they don't really get that this is the whole point. Kunzru is making a comment on the flexibility of identity. Pran's initial identity is a lie (although he doesn't know it), subsequent identities are forced upon him by necessity and others' needs and expectations, and he eventually learns that he can manipulate his own identity to his advantage. An absolutely stunning, yet playful, story that demonstrates the ways in which we perceive ourselves and others and how we shape personal and cultural values. Outstanding--I can't recommend it highly enough and wish I could give it 10 stars!

Rating:
Summary: Mr. Death
Review: Did anyone who has read this book notice that everyone around this boy soon bags it? This guy seems to have the Grim Reaper sitting on his shoulder...

I kept waiting to see who croaks at the end of each of Pran's adventures. Death seems to become simply a way of tranitioning to the next story. I was especially disturbed with how the Scottish couple dealt with the losses of their two sons. I thought immediately, the author doesn't have kids. He glosses over the ultimate heartbreak these parents would have suffered.

And why didn't we find out what happened to the mother?

But seriously, I had some problems with the main character himself. Is lack of identity equal to lack of morality? I, personally don't think so but the author seems to confuse the two. He seems to use the 'lack of identity' label to justify not developing this character at all. He just becomes a nothing instead of trying to make him a real person for the reader. It's hard to be sympathtic.

I also have a little trouble with the whole question of how he 'passes' everywhere. Why were the English people fooled but not the Africans? It's interesting because the author himself who is both, looks definately Indian but he writes about another mixed-person who passes as white. I wonder what he's exploring here? I would have been more sold on the theme if say, the English boy who takes whose identity was stolen could have been 'Anglo-Indian' too. It would have worked better with the plot. We could have had an interesting perpective of what it must have been like to have been both in both societies. I'm mixed myself (different things) so I find the subject interesting but was dismayed that the theme was so easily abandoned with this hard-to-believe detail. With more and more of us, expect to see this subject tackled in future works of literature, hopefully with more finesse.

The silly tie-in with the engagement doesn't work either.

Rating:
Summary: A Disappointment
Review: Given the high marks many reviewers had given it, I expected more from "The Impressionist" than I got. Kunzru has a graceful writing style and several of his characters, including the title character, are multifaceted and sometimes entertaining. Alas, Kunzru's lively characters are not enough. His story at times verges on incoherency and much of what he writes seemed derivative to me. For example, he tries to use Dickensian wit to make social commentary from a postmodern point of view, a la John Irving. I found these sections of the book disappointing because they were not as funny as the sort of thing Irving does so well. Thus, the storytelling became wearing because there was insufficient humor in it to leaven the brutality and sordidness of the story's settings.

Kunzru sometimes uses language-as-tone-poem, in the manner of Faulkner. These sections lacked the spark of Faulkner, it seemed to me and I sometimes found myself wishing that Kunzru would get on with the story.

Kunzru's protagonist is a young man who is half English and half Indian, but who does not learn of his mixed blood until he is fifteen years old. Thereafter, he spends his time trying to fit in as an Englishman until very late in the book. The young man has no sense of identity and, indeed seems to lack a sense of self-worth, as well. For whatever reason, I could not make myself care about him very much. My lack of interest in the young man's fate was not helped by the unrelenting sadness overhanging the novel. I gave the book two out of five stars. Not recommended.

Rating:
Summary: A promising debut marred by its poor ending
Review: Hari Kunzru's "The Impressionist" is one of the most promising debuts to have been published this last year and yes, the novel is excellent, though not nearly as assured or accomplished as the hype would have us believe. The premise of the novel is certainly interesting and an ideal vehicle for Kunzru to explore issues of race, culture and identity in an ironic tongue-in-cheek manner through the life of one half-caste, Pran Nath. From the moment he was conceived, Pran needed only nature's endowment, the instinct to survive. Born into a wealthy Indian family, our pampered hero finds himself unceremoniously dumped into the streets one day when his true paternity comes to light. Kidnapped by pimps, he is forced into prostitution, servicing a bent colonialist until his incredible escape into the shelter of a half-demented Scottish missionary and his native friendly wife. But that's only half the story. When fate presents the opportunity for a total makeover, the light skinned Pran seizes it, acquiring the false identity of a young Englishman and before we know it, he finds himself "back" in England living on trust money and the life of an Oxford undergraduate, chasing after an airhead. After many more twists and turns, our young protagonist lands up in Africa.

As we witness Pran's multiple transformation, we come face to face with the realization that perhaps, just perhaps there's no real person underneath the skin and bone. Watching this beautiful butterfly morph into a moth and back again is like watching a snake shedding its skin, an ongoing process powered by nature and instinct. While "The Impressionist" is undoubtedly an impressive and intriguing novel, Kunzru may have overreached himself and the minisaga pays the price of being overwritten. In my opinion, the author seems to have bitten off more than he can chew. Apart from his tendency towards bombastic vocabulary and his occasionally awkward sentence construction, the novel also suffers from eclectic characterisation and a slightly unsteady tone. The madcap resolution in the forest between the Nawab's retinue and the colonialists dissolves into camp and farce, like a scene from "A Midsummer's Night Dream". Major Privett-Clamp and his wife Charlie are cartoon characters to laugh at. The MacFarlanes are eccentrics, though I suspect I've met the demented missionary before in Matthew Kneale's "English Passengers". Star, the heartless bimbo and object of Pran's desire, is clearly the English cousin of Daisy Buchanan (from Scott Fitzgerald's "The Great Gatsby") from across the Atlantic. But most disappointing of all are the final chapters in Africa. Turgidly written, obscure and confusing, they are a terrible letdown.

That said, don't let the overhype surrounding "The Impressionist" put you off. It may not be the realised masterpiece critics claim it is, but it is definitely worth your time reading it. Despite its poor ending, I enjoyed it immensely.

Rating:
Summary: The more things change....
Review: Hari Kunzru's The Impressionist is an intriguing read. While the story focuses on the many re-inventions of the protagonist, Pran, the book itself as a whole is reinvented time and again. I was reminded of many authors as I read this book, not because of a change of writing style, but of the 'genre' changes the story took.

First was John Irving, as the story centered on Pran's ousting from his life of privilege as he is discovered to be a 'half-breed' product of his mother's illicit behavior, and not the true heir of the master of the house. As has been evidenced in Irving novels I have read...the conflict arises from death and loss. After being banished from the house, Pran is summarily taken in at a brothel, then sold into another house where he serves much the same function. He becomes embroiled in a plot to frame a noted military figure who has a penchant for young males, with humorous results.

Then along came Sarah Smith, as Pran escapes his sexual servitude and reinvents himself as Pretty Bobby, desperately trying to escape his past and live under an assumed identity. Bobby insinuates himself into the lives of the Macfarlanes and fit into a society he left behind long ago, but with highly differing results.

Next up was Thomas Hardy, as Bobby morphs into Jonathan Bridgeman, an identity assumed from a drunken schoolboy about to inherit his father's estate and attend school in London. Jonathan falls for Astarte Chapel, and does everything possible to insinuate himself into her life and win her heart. But, in true Hardy-esque fashion, great love ends up great despair. Astarte vacillates and toys with Jonathan's heart time and again, only to break it in the end.

And finally, Rudyard Kipling, as Bridgeman accompanies his true love's father on an expedition to Africa to conduct a study and census of the Fotse, a previously uncharted and unrecorded tribe of African natives. Bridgeman and company find themselves surrounded by an untrusting people, jaded by prior interference of white men, as they came to take the Fotse people as porters and slaves.

The book is extremely well written, and highly original and entertaining for a first novel. The only fault that I find with it is in the ending, which seems a little abrupt. One would expect that after so many transformations, Pran might have reached some epiphany about the need to be yourself, or at least have begun a quest to find the real man inside him....but perhaps I, too, am jaded by the usual Hollywood endings served up in films and much popular fiction. Either way, the book ended on a flat note for such an ambitious debut from a promising writer.

However, don't let that deter you from reading this fine piece of fiction. Hopefully Hari Kunzru is not a one trick pony, and there are many more stories to come from this impressive new talent.

Rating:
Summary: Starts out interesting then turns disgusting
Review: I am not one who can't handle any sort of violence or sexual deviance. However, after half of this book i had to toss it away because there was nothing redeeming about it. Every Character we encounter is wicked and sexually deranged. I need a shred of hope to contine reading especially if i am to endure such explicit rape scenes. ugh!