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The Hungry Ghosts
In Buddhist myth, the dead may be reborn as "hungry ghosts"—spirits with stomach so large they can never be full—if they have desired too much during their lives. It is the duty of the living relatives to free those doomed to this fate by doing kind deeds and creating good karma. In Shyam Selvadurai’s sweeping new novel, his first in more than a decade, he creates an unforgettable ghost, a powerful Sri Lankan matriarch whose wily ways, insatiable longing for land, houses, money and control, and tragic blindness to the human needs of those around her parallels the volatile political situation of her war-torn country.
The novel centres around Shivan Rassiah, the beloved grandson, who is of mixed Tamil and Sinhalese lineage, and who also—to his grandmother’s dismay—grows from beautiful boy to striking gay man. As the novel opens in the present day, Shivan, now living in Canada, is preparing to travel back to Colombo, Sri Lanka, to rescue his elderly and ailing grandmother, to remove her from the home—now fallen into disrepair—that is her pride, and bring her to Toronto to live our her final days. But throughout the night and into the early morning hours of his departure, Shivan grapples with his own insatiable hunger and is haunted by unrelenting ghosts of his own creation.
The Hungry Ghosts is a beautifully written, dazzling story of family, wealth and the long reach of the past. It shows how racial, political and sexual differences can tear apart both a country and the human heart—not just once, but many times, until the ghosts are fed and freed.
The novel centres around Shivan Rassiah, the beloved grandson, who is of mixed Tamil and Sinhalese lineage, and who also—to his grandmother’s dismay—grows from beautiful boy to striking gay man. As the novel opens in the present day, Shivan, now living in Canada, is preparing to travel back to Colombo, Sri Lanka, to rescue his elderly and ailing grandmother, to remove her from the home—now fallen into disrepair—that is her pride, and bring her to Toronto to live our her final days. But throughout the night and into the early morning hours of his departure, Shivan grapples with his own insatiable hunger and is haunted by unrelenting ghosts of his own creation.
The Hungry Ghosts is a beautifully written, dazzling story of family, wealth and the long reach of the past. It shows how racial, political and sexual differences can tear apart both a country and the human heart—not just once, but many times, until the ghosts are fed and freed.
384 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2012
45 people are currently reading
1946 people want to read
About the author
Shyam Selvadurai
14 books429 followersShyam Selvadurai is a Sri Lankan-Canadian novelist who wrote Funny Boy (1994), which won the Books in Canada First Novel Award, and Cinnamon Gardens (1998). He currently lives in Toronto with his partner Andrew Champion.
Selvadurai was born in Colombo, Sri Lanka to a Sinhalese mother and a Tamil father--members of conflicting ethnic groups whose troubles form a major theme in his work. Ethnic riots in 1983 drove the family to emigrate to Canada when Selvadurai was nineteen. He studied creative and professional writing as part of a Bachelor of Fine Arts program at York University.
Selvadurai recounted an account of the discomfort he and his partner experienced during a period spent in Sri Lanka in 1997 in his essay "Coming Out" in Time Asia's special issue on the Asian diaspora in 2003.
In 2004, Selvadurai edited a collection of short stories: Story-Wallah: Short Fiction from South Asian Writers, which includes works by Salman Rushdie, Monica Ali, and Hanif Kureishi, among others. He published a young adult novel, Swimming in the Monsoon Sea, in 2005. Swimming won the Lambda Literary Award in the Children's and Youth Literature category in 2006. He was a contributor to TOK: Writing the New Toronto, Book 1.
Selvadurai was born in Colombo, Sri Lanka to a Sinhalese mother and a Tamil father--members of conflicting ethnic groups whose troubles form a major theme in his work. Ethnic riots in 1983 drove the family to emigrate to Canada when Selvadurai was nineteen. He studied creative and professional writing as part of a Bachelor of Fine Arts program at York University.
Selvadurai recounted an account of the discomfort he and his partner experienced during a period spent in Sri Lanka in 1997 in his essay "Coming Out" in Time Asia's special issue on the Asian diaspora in 2003.
In 2004, Selvadurai edited a collection of short stories: Story-Wallah: Short Fiction from South Asian Writers, which includes works by Salman Rushdie, Monica Ali, and Hanif Kureishi, among others. He published a young adult novel, Swimming in the Monsoon Sea, in 2005. Swimming won the Lambda Literary Award in the Children's and Youth Literature category in 2006. He was a contributor to TOK: Writing the New Toronto, Book 1.
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February 11, 2021
I literally started this book after chanting a mantra in hopes I would be able to get out the slump I've fallen into. Ironically it looks like it worked.
There were many review for this book where people had complained that the book itself was bleak, always shrouded with sadness but for me this book was the reality that I lived in. This is not the type of book that I generally pick up, the ones that leave me depressed in a state of desolation, yet I loved every passing page of this. This could be due to the fact that I felt familiar with everything. This was the society that I was born into, the one I grew up in, the one I still am in. The book hits closer to home in my heart as I myself still see the turbulent the LGBTQ+ community of Sri Lanka goes through.
There are many heavy aspects that Selvadurai has addressed in this. The book itself is based majorly during one of the worst times in Sri Lanka. According to the timeline Shivan was born around the same years that my own mother has thus I have heard many stories in regards to the atrocities that JVP had done in the name of justice, the atrocities that the government itself had done in the name of safe-guarding the public. No one was safe, no one knew if they'd come back home safely. It wasn't a battle to save anyone, in the end it was just seeking revenge on personal grudges. Everyone knows how the struggles started but I have never heard of how it ended. I have heard the countless stories from my mother, how she had once seen a mother, in utter madness, clearly lost her mind in the chaos, scoring through burning tyres, looking for her son, who most probably was burnt there or forever lost in the sea where they've just thrown their bodies. Next this also addresses the Civil War of Sri Lanka. A war that took up 30 years to finish and whose remnants are still floating around the air of Mother Sri Lanka, like embers ready to be sparked any time. The burning of the Tamil houses, the flee of the Tamils to other countries. I can remember going to an exhibition once held in a hotel once in its glory but now burnt by the Tamil-Sinhala riots, left in its charred shell. It almost looked like a ghost town, with the swimming pool empty of the blue water, walls half crumbled some with mildew growing on. I remember the ending of the exhibition, there was a classical music concert, held at the once great dining room, no bare of all things. There was certain allure in it yet when you think back, to imagine that such a building still survives in the bustling streets of Colombo. This was what everything had left us with, the great heroic war as they put it, has left us with. I for one cannot even imagine what they fought for. What started with a clear motive was so twisted in the end it was just quenching of blood thirst on both sides.
Lastly the major issue in the book, homosexuality. And no, it is not yet accepted and is no where close to being accepted. People hide their homosexuality as if it's a disease and others look at it as if they too would be infected. It is the 21st century and you would think people of our generation and those after us would be more open minded, yet the grim reality is somewhat completely different. I wish as a Sri Lankan living in 2021, a good 30+ years afterwards I can say that the situation would be different to that of Mili and Shivan I am sorry. This kind of thing can happen even now.
In terms of characters, none of them took an image in my head that would stay positive. Daya Nona was not the type of grandmother I had but then again I cannot say that I had not met women like her. Surprisingly my own had a more open mind for things. Both my grandparents were much more sympathetic to the Tamil cause. My mother has recited anecdotes for me on the countless times how strangers would reach their home in the cover of dusk to get help from my grandfather to change their names, their surnames in hopes of surviving another year or even a day. My maternal grandfather himself was more open minded. Being a civil servant he had a certain protection against the JVP cause (mostly as he was already retired by then) and more open minded on the Tamil-Sinhala riots. A true trilingual, I was forever envious of his mastery in all three English, Sinhala and Tamil whilst I struggled with both languages and can only read Tamil without understanding it much. Not that they did not have their faults but compared to Daya Nona they were much free and without burden in their heads. Renu came off as stuck-up, misplaced feminist whilst Hema was just a doormat pretending to be a firecracker. Mili was one of the few I liked and the ending was foretold from the beginning but still I was shocked and saddened enough that I had to leave the book away for a good 30 minutes to collect myself before continuing. Shivan........... I did not know what to feel. The only character I felt anything good was Sriyani. She had her head where it should and at least stuck to her principles till the end.
In conclusion I can say that you might either look at this book like a bland plain rice or devour this as a 'hungry perethi' would. For me it was the latter. Only if my mother knew I called myself that, she'll keel over in shock. I think the biggest obstacle this book brings in the contemporary audience is the inability to relate to some situation but for me this is among the most realistic that I've read. The dirty, hallowed secrets that conservative Sri Lanka is splayed out in its grim reality and in fact that itself is the beauty of this. In the end this will forever stay with me, like a distant memory as Mili and Shivan has already taken root in my heart, within it an anguish for the other Milis and Shivans still in Sri Lanka.
There were many review for this book where people had complained that the book itself was bleak, always shrouded with sadness but for me this book was the reality that I lived in. This is not the type of book that I generally pick up, the ones that leave me depressed in a state of desolation, yet I loved every passing page of this. This could be due to the fact that I felt familiar with everything. This was the society that I was born into, the one I grew up in, the one I still am in. The book hits closer to home in my heart as I myself still see the turbulent the LGBTQ+ community of Sri Lanka goes through.
There are many heavy aspects that Selvadurai has addressed in this. The book itself is based majorly during one of the worst times in Sri Lanka. According to the timeline Shivan was born around the same years that my own mother has thus I have heard many stories in regards to the atrocities that JVP had done in the name of justice, the atrocities that the government itself had done in the name of safe-guarding the public. No one was safe, no one knew if they'd come back home safely. It wasn't a battle to save anyone, in the end it was just seeking revenge on personal grudges. Everyone knows how the struggles started but I have never heard of how it ended. I have heard the countless stories from my mother, how she had once seen a mother, in utter madness, clearly lost her mind in the chaos, scoring through burning tyres, looking for her son, who most probably was burnt there or forever lost in the sea where they've just thrown their bodies. Next this also addresses the Civil War of Sri Lanka. A war that took up 30 years to finish and whose remnants are still floating around the air of Mother Sri Lanka, like embers ready to be sparked any time. The burning of the Tamil houses, the flee of the Tamils to other countries. I can remember going to an exhibition once held in a hotel once in its glory but now burnt by the Tamil-Sinhala riots, left in its charred shell. It almost looked like a ghost town, with the swimming pool empty of the blue water, walls half crumbled some with mildew growing on. I remember the ending of the exhibition, there was a classical music concert, held at the once great dining room, no bare of all things. There was certain allure in it yet when you think back, to imagine that such a building still survives in the bustling streets of Colombo. This was what everything had left us with, the great heroic war as they put it, has left us with. I for one cannot even imagine what they fought for. What started with a clear motive was so twisted in the end it was just quenching of blood thirst on both sides.
Lastly the major issue in the book, homosexuality. And no, it is not yet accepted and is no where close to being accepted. People hide their homosexuality as if it's a disease and others look at it as if they too would be infected. It is the 21st century and you would think people of our generation and those after us would be more open minded, yet the grim reality is somewhat completely different. I wish as a Sri Lankan living in 2021, a good 30+ years afterwards I can say that the situation would be different to that of Mili and Shivan I am sorry. This kind of thing can happen even now.
In terms of characters, none of them took an image in my head that would stay positive. Daya Nona was not the type of grandmother I had but then again I cannot say that I had not met women like her. Surprisingly my own had a more open mind for things. Both my grandparents were much more sympathetic to the Tamil cause. My mother has recited anecdotes for me on the countless times how strangers would reach their home in the cover of dusk to get help from my grandfather to change their names, their surnames in hopes of surviving another year or even a day. My maternal grandfather himself was more open minded. Being a civil servant he had a certain protection against the JVP cause (mostly as he was already retired by then) and more open minded on the Tamil-Sinhala riots. A true trilingual, I was forever envious of his mastery in all three English, Sinhala and Tamil whilst I struggled with both languages and can only read Tamil without understanding it much. Not that they did not have their faults but compared to Daya Nona they were much free and without burden in their heads. Renu came off as stuck-up, misplaced feminist whilst Hema was just a doormat pretending to be a firecracker. Mili was one of the few I liked and the ending was foretold from the beginning but still I was shocked and saddened enough that I had to leave the book away for a good 30 minutes to collect myself before continuing. Shivan........... I did not know what to feel. The only character I felt anything good was Sriyani. She had her head where it should and at least stuck to her principles till the end.
In conclusion I can say that you might either look at this book like a bland plain rice or devour this as a 'hungry perethi' would. For me it was the latter. Only if my mother knew I called myself that, she'll keel over in shock. I think the biggest obstacle this book brings in the contemporary audience is the inability to relate to some situation but for me this is among the most realistic that I've read. The dirty, hallowed secrets that conservative Sri Lanka is splayed out in its grim reality and in fact that itself is the beauty of this. In the end this will forever stay with me, like a distant memory as Mili and Shivan has already taken root in my heart, within it an anguish for the other Milis and Shivans still in Sri Lanka.
July 25, 2013
a total downer. depressing tone and unsatisfying resolution at the end.
this book is well written technically and the premise initially intriguing. but then the sense of fatalistic doom crept in and stayed till the very end.
I know authors are supposed to erect obstacles for their characters and to keep placing these up. But in this book, the barriers and challenges provided nothing redeeming, consoling, or educational (or remotely satisfying). There was no resolution for the main character, Shivan.
The arguments between Shivan and others seem interminably petty, leave a bitter aftertaste, and (can I say again?!) remain totally unresolved. The setting of Sri Lanka and its unrest feels remote and rarified from the characters. And while the prospect of Buddhist karmic redemption seems possible, the author presents almost all of the characters as unable to shake their negative patterns and rather they succumb to its weight and their shortsightedness. The results are tragic again and again.
And I am so fed up with M/M relationships in books where the struggle of being accepted by society can only mean angst and unhappiness for the men. Oh gees...it's so trite and so untrue.
this book is well written technically and the premise initially intriguing. but then the sense of fatalistic doom crept in and stayed till the very end.
I know authors are supposed to erect obstacles for their characters and to keep placing these up. But in this book, the barriers and challenges provided nothing redeeming, consoling, or educational (or remotely satisfying). There was no resolution for the main character, Shivan.
The arguments between Shivan and others seem interminably petty, leave a bitter aftertaste, and (can I say again?!) remain totally unresolved. The setting of Sri Lanka and its unrest feels remote and rarified from the characters. And while the prospect of Buddhist karmic redemption seems possible, the author presents almost all of the characters as unable to shake their negative patterns and rather they succumb to its weight and their shortsightedness. The results are tragic again and again.
And I am so fed up with M/M relationships in books where the struggle of being accepted by society can only mean angst and unhappiness for the men. Oh gees...it's so trite and so untrue.
February 27, 2013
Note: I was lucky enough to get this book early thanks to a First Reads giveaway! Thanks so much, Goodreads and Random House.
The Hungry Ghosts is a story about karma, the burden of it, and a family whose particular burden is that they always seem to destroy the things they love. The only way to break the cycle, the stories say, is to freely offer kindness to those who need it. Filled with Sri Lankan folklore and allegorical Buddhist stories, The Hungry Ghosts paints a vivid picture of life in Colombo and the immigrant experience in Canada.
Shivan Rassiah is his grandmother's favourite. In his childhood, this means books, bicycles, and the promise of a grand inheritance. It also means being completely under her control. Later in life, after studying in Canada and returning to Sri Lanka, it means taking on a role in the family business: managing real estate properties, dealing with local gangsters, and justifying his shady decisions — essentially becoming the kind of grandson his morally dubious grandmother would be proud of, even if it means hiding his relationship with the man he loves to keep her happy. But when things in Colombo spin out of control, Shivan has no choice but to go back to Canada, alone but for the demanding ghosts of his past deeds.
I really loved all the folklore in this book, especially the parts where Shivan thinks back to the Buddhist stories his grandmother told him, often adapting them to her own purposes. Sometimes a character would have an intense dream relating to one of those tales, deeply identify with one of the characters, or take a cue from one of the lessons to change the trajectory of their life. To be honest, I wish we could have seen even more of that mythological intrigue, because that's definitely what appealed to me most about this book. A lot of disappointments plague Shivan and his family, but the parallel stories add an interesting, even hopeful element to their plight.
It was also interesting to hear about the racial conflicts in Sri Lanka, which are described in detail through Shivan's eyes as events unfold. At one point, we even get a peek into the struggles of a human rights group in Colombo. The leader of the group was probably my favourite character of the book, because she was one amazing lady! (Similarly, I really liked Shivan's sister, who would honestly be my favourite grandchild if I were their grandmother. Girl reads Anita Desai and bell hooks, what's not to love?)
All in all, this was a satisfying book with a deeply striking message. Shyam Selvadurai is back, bringing us yet another tale of family and identity that had me hungrily turning page after page. I hope there won't be quite as long of a wait between this book and his next!
The Hungry Ghosts is a story about karma, the burden of it, and a family whose particular burden is that they always seem to destroy the things they love. The only way to break the cycle, the stories say, is to freely offer kindness to those who need it. Filled with Sri Lankan folklore and allegorical Buddhist stories, The Hungry Ghosts paints a vivid picture of life in Colombo and the immigrant experience in Canada.
Shivan Rassiah is his grandmother's favourite. In his childhood, this means books, bicycles, and the promise of a grand inheritance. It also means being completely under her control. Later in life, after studying in Canada and returning to Sri Lanka, it means taking on a role in the family business: managing real estate properties, dealing with local gangsters, and justifying his shady decisions — essentially becoming the kind of grandson his morally dubious grandmother would be proud of, even if it means hiding his relationship with the man he loves to keep her happy. But when things in Colombo spin out of control, Shivan has no choice but to go back to Canada, alone but for the demanding ghosts of his past deeds.
I really loved all the folklore in this book, especially the parts where Shivan thinks back to the Buddhist stories his grandmother told him, often adapting them to her own purposes. Sometimes a character would have an intense dream relating to one of those tales, deeply identify with one of the characters, or take a cue from one of the lessons to change the trajectory of their life. To be honest, I wish we could have seen even more of that mythological intrigue, because that's definitely what appealed to me most about this book. A lot of disappointments plague Shivan and his family, but the parallel stories add an interesting, even hopeful element to their plight.
It was also interesting to hear about the racial conflicts in Sri Lanka, which are described in detail through Shivan's eyes as events unfold. At one point, we even get a peek into the struggles of a human rights group in Colombo. The leader of the group was probably my favourite character of the book, because she was one amazing lady! (Similarly, I really liked Shivan's sister, who would honestly be my favourite grandchild if I were their grandmother. Girl reads Anita Desai and bell hooks, what's not to love?)
All in all, this was a satisfying book with a deeply striking message. Shyam Selvadurai is back, bringing us yet another tale of family and identity that had me hungrily turning page after page. I hope there won't be quite as long of a wait between this book and his next!
November 21, 2021
What's up with these brilliant novelists from the subcontinent who emigrate to Canada and freeze after 3-4 novels? Rohinton Mistry is similar to Shyam Selvadurai in this aspect.
Funny Boy to me was a pitch perfect novel that offered one of the most rewarding experiences as a reader. So of course mountains of expectations were heaped on the hardcover of this novel by this reader. The specks of dust I brushed away while opening this book might actually just be my expectations that were willed into the material dimension through sheer mindpower.
Boy, oh funny boy, how radically different was this! That's a feat sure but not if you are expecting something specific. This was Arundhati-Roy-in-her-second-novel- level different. Are you sure you are you, Shyam? level different.
It's undoubtedly a good novel, to be clear.
But it was so relentlessly depressing and bleak and people are just mean to each other ALL the time in this bloody story and of course there are dark dark supernatural mythological stories to ground your bleak story into bleaker planes. Members within the same family inflict so much pain on each other and really there should be more novels about how horrible families are. Despite their extensive sketches, I didn't get under the skins of the characters the way i did in Funny Boy. Some characters were getting under my skin instead.
What's the best part of the book? The beautiful beautiful relationship that blossoms somewhere halfway in the story and it is like rain soaking a parched land. I wish the whole book were just about that relationship so that we didn't have to get to know all these awful people.
I liked how the story juxtaposes how people imagine Sri Lankan refugees live in first world countries with the actual reality. Anyone who goes 'oh but they live in Canada/Australia/France/etc' should just read this story. The chasm between the government welcoming the people and the society welcoming the people was brought out so we'll!
Shyam Selvadurai is a top notch writer and you should check him out!
Funny Boy to me was a pitch perfect novel that offered one of the most rewarding experiences as a reader. So of course mountains of expectations were heaped on the hardcover of this novel by this reader. The specks of dust I brushed away while opening this book might actually just be my expectations that were willed into the material dimension through sheer mindpower.
Boy, oh funny boy, how radically different was this! That's a feat sure but not if you are expecting something specific. This was Arundhati-Roy-in-her-second-novel- level different. Are you sure you are you, Shyam? level different.
It's undoubtedly a good novel, to be clear.
But it was so relentlessly depressing and bleak and people are just mean to each other ALL the time in this bloody story and of course there are dark dark supernatural mythological stories to ground your bleak story into bleaker planes. Members within the same family inflict so much pain on each other and really there should be more novels about how horrible families are. Despite their extensive sketches, I didn't get under the skins of the characters the way i did in Funny Boy. Some characters were getting under my skin instead.
What's the best part of the book? The beautiful beautiful relationship that blossoms somewhere halfway in the story and it is like rain soaking a parched land. I wish the whole book were just about that relationship so that we didn't have to get to know all these awful people.
I liked how the story juxtaposes how people imagine Sri Lankan refugees live in first world countries with the actual reality. Anyone who goes 'oh but they live in Canada/Australia/France/etc' should just read this story. The chasm between the government welcoming the people and the society welcoming the people was brought out so we'll!
Shyam Selvadurai is a top notch writer and you should check him out!
April 21, 2017
Reading The Hungry Ghosts is like exploring a lake in a handcrafted canoe. It might not be as easy or efficient as using say, a motor boat, but you can't help but enjoy the slow, steady and deliberate journey that you're being taken on. Selvaduri's craft is in the tiny, perfect grains of literature, planted there intentionally for you to admire and connect, from the distinct language the characters use, that make you feel as if you've met his characters, to the repeated use of stories and phrases.
The Hungry Ghosts is not a quick read. It is something you have to work for, to dig through, but feel all the better for having done it. I'm not sure if The Hungry Ghosts is better than his early work, Funny Boy, but THIS book is what Canadian literature is all about. The Canadian story is not one of Canada, but rather, one of coming to Canada, of leaving something, losing something as a payment for becoming Canadian (despite what people will tell you about Canada being multicultural). Selvaduri's story is captivating, heart-wrenching, and more than anything, important. Canadians NEED to read this novel. Hell, Americans NEED to read this novel.
You NEED to read this novel.
The Hungry Ghosts is not a quick read. It is something you have to work for, to dig through, but feel all the better for having done it. I'm not sure if The Hungry Ghosts is better than his early work, Funny Boy, but THIS book is what Canadian literature is all about. The Canadian story is not one of Canada, but rather, one of coming to Canada, of leaving something, losing something as a payment for becoming Canadian (despite what people will tell you about Canada being multicultural). Selvaduri's story is captivating, heart-wrenching, and more than anything, important. Canadians NEED to read this novel. Hell, Americans NEED to read this novel.
You NEED to read this novel.
November 19, 2013
This is the kind of book that, upon entering the final chapter, the reader takes a deep breath, holds it, and only lets it out when the last word is read. There is so much to anticipate in the last moments of the story, that it is almost unbearable to breathe.
"The Hungry Ghosts" is a gem of a novel centered around an uncommon theme for English literature: making personal concessions to correct the transgressions of others. Selvadurai takes his readers on a tense journey of forgiveness and family ties, juxtaposing how two different cultures, Canadian and Sri Lankan, approach these two notions in very different ways.
At the centre of this story, is the immigrant experience. Shivan Rassiah and his family, Tamil by name, flee Sri Lanka for fear of what could happen to them because of the immense civil unrest in that country at that time. They arrive in Canada, where Shivan's family must adapt, practically overnight, and start anew in a strange land.
At first, this seems like a fairly common retelling of the immigrant experience; however, Selvadurai then flips the immigrant experience around and uses it to explore the coming-out experience in Shivan's homeland. How the two experiences mirror and contrast each other makes for a fascinating and engrossing comparison.
This book broke my heart. Especially in the second act, which for me was the strongest section of the book. The author does such a great job at fleshing out his characters and making them seem real, it is almost too easy to build empathy with them. As with his other books, Selvadurai uses lush, tactile description to illustrate the cultures of both countries he is writing about, to the point that you can almost taste and smell the food that is being eaten. The only issue I take with this book is that the pacing in the third act seems a little choppy, but it is not so choppy that it breaks an emotional connection to the story... it just makes you care a little less about the protagonists (just a smidgen).
This book was quite an emotional ride for me, as were the other two books I have read by this author. It is dense, thought-provoking, and cathartic literature without much effort needed from the reader to be so. Definitely one of the best books I have read in 2013.
4/5
"The Hungry Ghosts" is a gem of a novel centered around an uncommon theme for English literature: making personal concessions to correct the transgressions of others. Selvadurai takes his readers on a tense journey of forgiveness and family ties, juxtaposing how two different cultures, Canadian and Sri Lankan, approach these two notions in very different ways.
At the centre of this story, is the immigrant experience. Shivan Rassiah and his family, Tamil by name, flee Sri Lanka for fear of what could happen to them because of the immense civil unrest in that country at that time. They arrive in Canada, where Shivan's family must adapt, practically overnight, and start anew in a strange land.
At first, this seems like a fairly common retelling of the immigrant experience; however, Selvadurai then flips the immigrant experience around and uses it to explore the coming-out experience in Shivan's homeland. How the two experiences mirror and contrast each other makes for a fascinating and engrossing comparison.
This book broke my heart. Especially in the second act, which for me was the strongest section of the book. The author does such a great job at fleshing out his characters and making them seem real, it is almost too easy to build empathy with them. As with his other books, Selvadurai uses lush, tactile description to illustrate the cultures of both countries he is writing about, to the point that you can almost taste and smell the food that is being eaten. The only issue I take with this book is that the pacing in the third act seems a little choppy, but it is not so choppy that it breaks an emotional connection to the story... it just makes you care a little less about the protagonists (just a smidgen).
This book was quite an emotional ride for me, as were the other two books I have read by this author. It is dense, thought-provoking, and cathartic literature without much effort needed from the reader to be so. Definitely one of the best books I have read in 2013.
4/5
September 3, 2013
This is a story about a gay, upper-middle-class Sri Lankan teenager's immigration to Canada with his mother and sister to escape the island's ethnic violence and homophobia.
More broadly, though, it's an exploration of the workings of karma, of how the sins of our past supposedly follow us through this and future lives unless we make amends. The book is well-written and offers suspense, mystery and romance, but the Buddhist parables woven into the narrative were problematic.
The "Hungry Ghosts" is Selvadurai's fourth novel. For readers of his previous three works -- "Funny Boy", "Cinnamon Gardens," and "Swimming in the Monsoon Sea" -- the world he conjures here will likely seem familiar. In an article last year for CBC, Selvadurai admitted his range is limited and he sticks to what he knows.
"With the exception of one female main character, all my protagonists have been gay Sri Lankan men from the Cinnamon Gardens [upper] class i.e. men just like me," he wrote. Some writers are good at imagining people who are nothing like themselves, and others aren't, he says, putting Shakespeare and Dickens in the former category and Flaubert and himself in the latter.
The broad theme of "The Hungry Ghosts" seems appropriate for a book about a country that for decades has been locked in a cycle of violence and retribution. And, overall, Selvadurai seems to take a constructive approach by suggesting we must sometimes find the strength to forgive even those who do not repent if we want peace.
But the Buddhist parables with which he seasons his story send a far less enlightened message. Two of the stories told to the main character, Shivan, by his grandmother involve the spectral beings of the title, "perethayas," which have "stork-like limbs and enormous an enormous belly that he must prop up with his hands ... his mouth no larger than an eye of a needle so he can never satisfy his hunger."
Selvadurai explains: "A person is reborn a perethaya because, during his human life, he desired too much ~ hence the large stomach that can never be filled through the tiny mouth. The perethayas that appear to us are always our ancestors, and it is our duty to free them from their suffering by feeding Buddhist monks and transferring the merit of that deed to our dead relatives."
This message about the dangers of ambition, of trying to rise above one's station, should be relegated to the bad old days and not retold except as an example of how religious and social structures are often used by ruling classes to keep those they are oppressing from rising up and demanding equality.
It appears to have been started by elites and finished by hungry but lazy Buddhist monks. It reminds me of recent news reports about con artists in New York threatening superstitious older Chinese women with curses if they didn't cough up offerings of cash. But the stories about the perethayas are even more insidious: they're designed to rob their victims of both their ambition and their valuables.
One of the parables about perethayas is central to the book. In it, a poor woman steals the clothes off some drunken men she finds passed out on the road, and sells them for money. She knows it's wrong, so when a monk stops by later, she fawns over him in an attempt to avoid punishment for her sins in a future life. It kind of works. She's reborn in a golden mansion on an island with plenty of beautiful clothes and delicious food.
But she apparently didn't give enough to cash and jewelry to the monk, so she's condemned to live as a naked perethi, unable to wear the clothes or eat the food. Eventually, a ship washes up in a storm and the captain pities her and offers to help. She asks him to pay off one of her robed extortionists~ luckily for her, there happens to be a monk on board. Soon, she's happily clothed and eating again.
At least three generations of Shivan's family seem cursed, unable to enjoy their lives because of their past misdeeds. This is, perhaps, an allusion to Sri Lanka, which could be an island paradise, but is instead known for ethno-religious hatred, brutality, and innovations in suicide bombing.
In both the family and the country, old sins and hatreds are neither forgotten nor forgiven and, instead, spin into a cycle of recrimination and violence. While members of the family and citizens of the country might try to flee relatives or emigrate from Sri Lanka, they bring their sorrows with them.
The question then, is how to break the cycle. The Buddhist parables, with their talk of karma and fate and insistence on bribing monks, are dangerous and silly. They may add a Sri Lankan flavor to the book that pleases Selvadurai's Western readers with its exoticism and his Sri Lankan readers with its familiarity. Giving offerings to a temple or paying off a con-man isn't going to bring either national or familial reconciliation.
Aside from these philosophical objections, I enjoyed reading the well-written "The Hungry Ghosts." Selvadurai's style falls somewhere between the spare prose of a Steinbeck or a Hemingway, which I prefer, and the maddeningly flowery obfuscations of poetry, which I avoid. He's a modest writer for the most part, although he sometimes reaches for an obscure word in a way that feels to me like showing off.
At his best he uses simple, beautiful language to conjure complex images, like this one from Colombo after the 1983 riots: "We never went, like others, to ogle the destroyed houses on neighboring streets, but little messengers of the destruction would periodically arrive in our gardens ~ birds feathering their nests with crisped book pages, squirrels carrying cupboard knobs and buttons to bury in our flower beds, or an occasional bone whose provenance we did not want to guess."
Selvadurai -- who is half-Tamil and half-Sinhala -- also incorporates Tamil and Sinhala words into the text without explanation, italicization or any other type of apology. This mix of languages is something I'd like to see more of in the modern literature of our globalized world.
I've never been to Sri Lanka, but I know that on the street in Kolkata, people speak in a mix of languages -- Bengali, Hindi and English -- tangled together in various proportions, depending on the preferences and abilities of the speaker and listener. I suspect it's the same in Colombo. It would seem only natural then, to find thriving code-switching or creole literatures in these places.
Instead -- because of a lack of imagination, linguistic nationalism, or linguistic snobbism -- most writers tend to write differently than they speak, sticking to just Bengali, just Hindi, or just English. Furthermore, most South Asian authors I've read, when writing in English, seem to be striving for the sound of British or North American English, rather than Kolkata, Karachi or Colombo English. These are missed opportunities.
Take Kolkata, for example. Bengali, Hindi and English are three of the world's six most widely spoken languages -- there are millions who are trilingual. Surely there must be a large enough audience to make it worthwhile to publish more books using elements of all three languages. Hopefully, some of Kolkata's many writers and poets will take what Selvadurai has done by sprinkling his Canadian English with Sinhala and Tamil to the next level by writing books the way they speak in daily life.
Note: This review was originally written for The Statesman newspaper in Kolkata.
More broadly, though, it's an exploration of the workings of karma, of how the sins of our past supposedly follow us through this and future lives unless we make amends. The book is well-written and offers suspense, mystery and romance, but the Buddhist parables woven into the narrative were problematic.
The "Hungry Ghosts" is Selvadurai's fourth novel. For readers of his previous three works -- "Funny Boy", "Cinnamon Gardens," and "Swimming in the Monsoon Sea" -- the world he conjures here will likely seem familiar. In an article last year for CBC, Selvadurai admitted his range is limited and he sticks to what he knows.
"With the exception of one female main character, all my protagonists have been gay Sri Lankan men from the Cinnamon Gardens [upper] class i.e. men just like me," he wrote. Some writers are good at imagining people who are nothing like themselves, and others aren't, he says, putting Shakespeare and Dickens in the former category and Flaubert and himself in the latter.
The broad theme of "The Hungry Ghosts" seems appropriate for a book about a country that for decades has been locked in a cycle of violence and retribution. And, overall, Selvadurai seems to take a constructive approach by suggesting we must sometimes find the strength to forgive even those who do not repent if we want peace.
But the Buddhist parables with which he seasons his story send a far less enlightened message. Two of the stories told to the main character, Shivan, by his grandmother involve the spectral beings of the title, "perethayas," which have "stork-like limbs and enormous an enormous belly that he must prop up with his hands ... his mouth no larger than an eye of a needle so he can never satisfy his hunger."
Selvadurai explains: "A person is reborn a perethaya because, during his human life, he desired too much ~ hence the large stomach that can never be filled through the tiny mouth. The perethayas that appear to us are always our ancestors, and it is our duty to free them from their suffering by feeding Buddhist monks and transferring the merit of that deed to our dead relatives."
This message about the dangers of ambition, of trying to rise above one's station, should be relegated to the bad old days and not retold except as an example of how religious and social structures are often used by ruling classes to keep those they are oppressing from rising up and demanding equality.
It appears to have been started by elites and finished by hungry but lazy Buddhist monks. It reminds me of recent news reports about con artists in New York threatening superstitious older Chinese women with curses if they didn't cough up offerings of cash. But the stories about the perethayas are even more insidious: they're designed to rob their victims of both their ambition and their valuables.
One of the parables about perethayas is central to the book. In it, a poor woman steals the clothes off some drunken men she finds passed out on the road, and sells them for money. She knows it's wrong, so when a monk stops by later, she fawns over him in an attempt to avoid punishment for her sins in a future life. It kind of works. She's reborn in a golden mansion on an island with plenty of beautiful clothes and delicious food.
But she apparently didn't give enough to cash and jewelry to the monk, so she's condemned to live as a naked perethi, unable to wear the clothes or eat the food. Eventually, a ship washes up in a storm and the captain pities her and offers to help. She asks him to pay off one of her robed extortionists~ luckily for her, there happens to be a monk on board. Soon, she's happily clothed and eating again.
At least three generations of Shivan's family seem cursed, unable to enjoy their lives because of their past misdeeds. This is, perhaps, an allusion to Sri Lanka, which could be an island paradise, but is instead known for ethno-religious hatred, brutality, and innovations in suicide bombing.
In both the family and the country, old sins and hatreds are neither forgotten nor forgiven and, instead, spin into a cycle of recrimination and violence. While members of the family and citizens of the country might try to flee relatives or emigrate from Sri Lanka, they bring their sorrows with them.
The question then, is how to break the cycle. The Buddhist parables, with their talk of karma and fate and insistence on bribing monks, are dangerous and silly. They may add a Sri Lankan flavor to the book that pleases Selvadurai's Western readers with its exoticism and his Sri Lankan readers with its familiarity. Giving offerings to a temple or paying off a con-man isn't going to bring either national or familial reconciliation.
Aside from these philosophical objections, I enjoyed reading the well-written "The Hungry Ghosts." Selvadurai's style falls somewhere between the spare prose of a Steinbeck or a Hemingway, which I prefer, and the maddeningly flowery obfuscations of poetry, which I avoid. He's a modest writer for the most part, although he sometimes reaches for an obscure word in a way that feels to me like showing off.
At his best he uses simple, beautiful language to conjure complex images, like this one from Colombo after the 1983 riots: "We never went, like others, to ogle the destroyed houses on neighboring streets, but little messengers of the destruction would periodically arrive in our gardens ~ birds feathering their nests with crisped book pages, squirrels carrying cupboard knobs and buttons to bury in our flower beds, or an occasional bone whose provenance we did not want to guess."
Selvadurai -- who is half-Tamil and half-Sinhala -- also incorporates Tamil and Sinhala words into the text without explanation, italicization or any other type of apology. This mix of languages is something I'd like to see more of in the modern literature of our globalized world.
I've never been to Sri Lanka, but I know that on the street in Kolkata, people speak in a mix of languages -- Bengali, Hindi and English -- tangled together in various proportions, depending on the preferences and abilities of the speaker and listener. I suspect it's the same in Colombo. It would seem only natural then, to find thriving code-switching or creole literatures in these places.
Instead -- because of a lack of imagination, linguistic nationalism, or linguistic snobbism -- most writers tend to write differently than they speak, sticking to just Bengali, just Hindi, or just English. Furthermore, most South Asian authors I've read, when writing in English, seem to be striving for the sound of British or North American English, rather than Kolkata, Karachi or Colombo English. These are missed opportunities.
Take Kolkata, for example. Bengali, Hindi and English are three of the world's six most widely spoken languages -- there are millions who are trilingual. Surely there must be a large enough audience to make it worthwhile to publish more books using elements of all three languages. Hopefully, some of Kolkata's many writers and poets will take what Selvadurai has done by sprinkling his Canadian English with Sinhala and Tamil to the next level by writing books the way they speak in daily life.
Note: This review was originally written for The Statesman newspaper in Kolkata.
March 5, 2013
'The Hungry Ghosts' was quite true to the description on the back cover, yet was still surprising in its own way. I thought it was quite well-written, and the story that weaves through the lives of all of the characters was quite interesting on its own. Yet the guts of the story really lie with the relationships between the characters, and the effects of major issues presented throughout the book on their lives. The historical-fiction backdrop that jumps back and forth between Canada and Sri Lanka was essential to the storyline, but it was the well-crafted characters that really brought the story to life.
While the plot was solid and steady, with only a few unexpected twists and turns thrown in, Selvadurai's talent really lies with his ability to write such remarkable characters. Not only were they multi-dimensional, but they were realistic, raw, and well fleshed-out. Each character was flawed in some essential way that was revealed through the narrative, and in some circumstances, those flaws were large and hideous. Yet, they all had points where some part of their essential goodness was able to shine through, and moments where you could feel empathy for them, with their flaws and all. None of the characters were all good, or all bad, which gave them a realism that is sometimes lacking in other books.
I always believe that a writer has to have the ability to write vivid and well-rounded characters in order to truly write a good book. Selvadurai is certainly able to do that, as evidenced in this book. This is the first time I have read anything by Shyam Selvadurai, but I will now be keeping an eye out for his older work and anything he writes in the future.
While the plot was solid and steady, with only a few unexpected twists and turns thrown in, Selvadurai's talent really lies with his ability to write such remarkable characters. Not only were they multi-dimensional, but they were realistic, raw, and well fleshed-out. Each character was flawed in some essential way that was revealed through the narrative, and in some circumstances, those flaws were large and hideous. Yet, they all had points where some part of their essential goodness was able to shine through, and moments where you could feel empathy for them, with their flaws and all. None of the characters were all good, or all bad, which gave them a realism that is sometimes lacking in other books.
I always believe that a writer has to have the ability to write vivid and well-rounded characters in order to truly write a good book. Selvadurai is certainly able to do that, as evidenced in this book. This is the first time I have read anything by Shyam Selvadurai, but I will now be keeping an eye out for his older work and anything he writes in the future.
June 9, 2014
This is a story about karma! How a single wound inflicted on a young girl can have ramifications through generations. The bitterness and anger, pain and hurt expressed and felt by everyone she touched through her long life. It provides a lesson in letting go, the only way to break the cycle otherwise we are all condemned to live as "Hungry Ghosts" at the banquet of life. It is happening now all around you, you just have to see. The futility and shame of it all is almost too much to bear. Feel it deeply and let go of that one thing, that one wound that defines you. Forgive all and breathe and there will be a transformation. The transformation this boy seeks so avidly without the insight nor the direction to get there. It is so simple but never easy. Let it go! Let it all go!
July 31, 2024
Shivan is caught between two worlds: war-ravaged Sri Lanka, where he grew up and Canada where he lives as an adult after he, his mother, and his sister immigrate to escape the violence of their native country. (the book is also a primer on the violence between and among the various factions vying for power). Shivan goes back and forth both physically and in his mind between Canada and Sri Lanka trying to find some inner peace. Complicating things are the facts that Shivan is gay and he is the favorite of his powerful, bigoted grandmother who still lives in Sri Lanka.
The book is about how we are all human and we must learn to accept our mistakes and forgive the mistakes of others--we must accept the cycles of life.
The book is beautifully written and we learn a lot about Sri Lanka and Buddhist myths, including the myth of the hungry ghosts (my husband is Buddhist and is familiar with this myth).
However, I was a little disappointed in the ending. I really wanted something happy, but I guess the lesson is that we don't necessarily get happiness, until we accept our life and forgive others.
4.25
The book is about how we are all human and we must learn to accept our mistakes and forgive the mistakes of others--we must accept the cycles of life.
The book is beautifully written and we learn a lot about Sri Lanka and Buddhist myths, including the myth of the hungry ghosts (my husband is Buddhist and is familiar with this myth).
However, I was a little disappointed in the ending. I really wanted something happy, but I guess the lesson is that we don't necessarily get happiness, until we accept our life and forgive others.
4.25
December 9, 2018
#LitWorld2018GB Sri Lanka
#Booked2018 Gay MC (LGBTQIA+ MC)
#Booked2018 Gay MC (LGBTQIA+ MC)
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February 22, 2025dnf
February 7, 2023
I remember picking this up after being drawn to the title which references the hungry ghosts of Buddhism; demonic creatures who suffer the inability to satiate their intense desires, living out the consequences of poor karma gained in a previous life. Indeed, I’m frequently fascinated by books which intersperse mythology into their ‘real world’ narratives—Statovci’s ‘Bolla’ from recent memory being one which bowled me over. But this time around, the civil war within which our protagonist, Shivan, comes of age is the not-so-distant past Sri Lankan conflict between the Tamils and Sinhalese; this hostility compounded by the internal struggle he feels as a result of his homosexuality in a widely intolerant culture, his dual-heritage comprised of both warring ethnicities, and his overbearing, morally-crooked, but gleefully readable grandmother. Beyond this, the novel interrogates the reality of refugee experience in an affecting way after Shivan and his family flee to Canada as the bloodshed in their homeland worsens; a homeland and past whose pull, Selvadurai questions, it is ever truly possible to escape.
March 17, 2019
I won this in a Goodreads First Reads giveaway...thank you Goodreads! This is an incredibly compelling book; I found it difficult to put down. It is a complex, multi-layered, and skillfully-written story that is beautifully interwoven with fascinating and complicated characters. Shyam Selvadurai's writing is vividly clear, exposing readers to the beauty and violence of Shivan's experiences in Sri Lanka, the agony of his complicated relationships with family members, the struggle and disappointment of immigration and a new life in Canada, and the challenges of being gay in both countries. It is a lush, sadly emotional tapestry of a novel, and I loved it! It is a masterpiece. Very highly recommended!
June 6, 2013
I liked the Hungry Ghost, but not quite as much as Funny Boy. I very much preferred the parts set in Sri Lanka than those set in Canada. The main character's relationship with his grandmother and his life in Sri Lanka seemed more multi dimmensional and nuanced than the depiction of his life as a new immigrant to Canada -- that part seemed a bit pat. I would certainly be happy to read another book by Selvadurai.
May 3, 2014
I have loved every one of Selvadurai's other novels but this one, sadly, didn't hold me in the same way. I simply didn't like the main character enough - with his petulance and selfishness - to care about him or the way things would turn out. I found it impossible to understand his decisions or to relate to the way he saw the world. The writing itself was as lovely as ever, though, and I will look forward to his next novel.
May 11, 2017
This is an intricate, intensely compelling novel that handles history with deftness, weaving it into the essential fabric of Shivan's personal reckoning. The characters are so finely wrought, and the plot so engaging, that the author could have been forgiven if his prose was not up to snuff, but that too is like music, ushering descriptions forth to tear at the reader's mind and heart. Even simple descriptions are treated with loving care. "Mili disappeared into the shadows and then, as if emerging out of water, hauled himself up the moonlit gate." So much imagery and everyday magic infuse each line. For me, the only things that keep this novel from perfection are not exactly gripes, but rather personal hang ups. There is a lot of listing that can grow tiresome - items role-called that this reader often couldn't picture because of a lack of knowledge of, above all, Sri Lankan food and clothing (but I am happy to have learned through much googling). And it takes a little while to put together all of the various timelines, which pile on quickly, and make sense often only in retrospect. Also, despite Shivan being necessarily stubborn and desperately haunted, his selfishness grows infuriating, and the tone of the novel, ultimately, mired in depression. This shouldn't be considered a fault, because it matches the theme with exactitude, but it can be hard to root for a character who gives into the destructiveness of his past, even when his nihilism is justified. Regardless of these piddling grievances, I am in awe of what Selvadurai has accomplished, his wisdom about historical and familial interconnections, and his melding together of so many disparate parts that shows the reader how nothing, not the smallest thing, is unimportant in the sweep of time.
January 13, 2020
Another great read from Shyam!
Shyam Selvadurai weaves a certain magic in bringing together the personal and the political. This time around he also adds in this silky thread of Buddhist stories that really adds a lot to the narrative. Other than being very intriguing on their own, these Buddhist myths add a certain gravitas that helps us understand the mindset of the characters. This story is almost a re-imagining of one of those mythical stories - there are many echoes and as the author himself comments, this story is an exploration of how "fate" might work.
The book takes some time to hit its stride and you may question it initially. But once the narrative picks up, it goes on like a breeze. There are many, many things that go wrong with the life of the chief character Shivan and I was often left wondering how he managed to cope with everything. There may have been a bit of dramatization from the author but it works well within the context of the story. The generational conflicts that happen are written so beautifully and all the characters felt fully realized.
There were also some great explorations of what it means to emigrate to another country. The ordeals and the general emotions of someone divorced from their native land are brought and mixed into the general narrative very organically. The journey of each character is touched upon and there is a feel of great authenticity with everything. As the book ends, you are left wondering not just about the character's fates, but also about fate in general - a sign of a good book, without any doubt.
Shyam Selvadurai weaves a certain magic in bringing together the personal and the political. This time around he also adds in this silky thread of Buddhist stories that really adds a lot to the narrative. Other than being very intriguing on their own, these Buddhist myths add a certain gravitas that helps us understand the mindset of the characters. This story is almost a re-imagining of one of those mythical stories - there are many echoes and as the author himself comments, this story is an exploration of how "fate" might work.
The book takes some time to hit its stride and you may question it initially. But once the narrative picks up, it goes on like a breeze. There are many, many things that go wrong with the life of the chief character Shivan and I was often left wondering how he managed to cope with everything. There may have been a bit of dramatization from the author but it works well within the context of the story. The generational conflicts that happen are written so beautifully and all the characters felt fully realized.
There were also some great explorations of what it means to emigrate to another country. The ordeals and the general emotions of someone divorced from their native land are brought and mixed into the general narrative very organically. The journey of each character is touched upon and there is a feel of great authenticity with everything. As the book ends, you are left wondering not just about the character's fates, but also about fate in general - a sign of a good book, without any doubt.
April 28, 2021
Often criticised for being bleak, this book draws in a harsh reality for hundreds of thousands of Tamil migrants to ‘western’ nations during the Sri Lankan civil war. Selvadurai creates characters with such lived-in experiences, allowing you to perfectly visualise each and every interaction that takes place throughout the novel.
Although dense, this novel tackles many topics at once in a way that is completely natural. Themes of race, sexuality, Buddhism, spirituality and corruption are placed with such detail in the book that it creates a heart-breaking mosaic of life as part of the Sri Lankan diaspora. The novel is, however, by no means one can be read lightly. I would recommend this book highly but with strong warnings of very graphic and violent scenes: namely that of homicide, kidnapping, attempted suicide and terrorism.
Although dense, this novel tackles many topics at once in a way that is completely natural. Themes of race, sexuality, Buddhism, spirituality and corruption are placed with such detail in the book that it creates a heart-breaking mosaic of life as part of the Sri Lankan diaspora. The novel is, however, by no means one can be read lightly. I would recommend this book highly but with strong warnings of very graphic and violent scenes: namely that of homicide, kidnapping, attempted suicide and terrorism.
October 8, 2023
One of the most moving books I've ever read — it had me crying uncontrollably in parts. The poignancy of Shyam Selvadurai's writing here cannot be overstated. There's a raw pain to the way he writes and how the story unfolds. This books haunts you, much like the Buddhist tales that are interwoven throughout.
February 5, 2018
I’ve been a fan of the author since his first book “Funny Boy” (still one of my all-time favourite reads). I sat on this book for years, and when I finally started it, I took my time reading this book and savoured each riveting chapter. Bonus points for its depictions of Toronto; always love seeing my hometown reflected (accurately) in literature. Loses one point for what I deem an incomplete story? The book just kind of ends; I guess we’re given allusions as to what happens after the book ends, but nonetheless would have been more satisfying to have a few extra chapters detailing this for the reader. Still highly recommend this one.
September 19, 2013
Shyam Selvadurai has the advantage of catching his readers between the double edged conflict of civil war and ethnic troubles to being gay in a country that still outlaws this lifestyle, his native Sri Lanka.
Shivan, a gay man of mixed Sinhalese and Tamil blood, someone who could be a reflection of the author, grows up in a dysfunctional family ruled by his maternal Sinhalese grandmother. Grandma is a greedy, unscrupulous woman of immense wealth, extracted from the misery of others, including her family – she is the incarnation of the perethaya, the hungry ghost who cannot be satiated. And yet the grandmother has a strong emotional hold on Shivan, for she loves him in a cruel and possessive way to the exclusion of her daughter and granddaughter and showers him with presents as the form of expressing her love. She has plans and dreams for him which he does not share in.
Shivan and his family move to Canada to escape Grandmother, and eke out an existence as “brown immigrants” in Scarborough in the 90’s, a place still not fully multicultural as the labels suggest. But Grandmother’s reach is long and she lures him back to the old country with promises of a better life. Sri Lanka is in turmoil with a Tamil insurgency in the north, a Marxist one in the south, and the unwelcome Indian peacekeeping force messing it up for everyone – a very dark phase in the life of this troubled island. Adding to the drama, Shivan falls in love with his old school mate Mili that culminates in a tragedy, further splitting the family apart and creating a permanent rift between grandson and grandmother.
The rest of the book shifts between Sri Lanka and Canada with this schism leading to an unsettled period for Shivan; his relationships lead nowhere and he is miserable, until he brings himself to make a life-altering sacrifice for his grandmother in the last days of her life. I wondered whether this inconclusive ending leaves the door open for a sequel, as the author continues to document his life via fictional heroes.
I found the Sri Lankan sections of the book to be well written and dramatic, and they captured the vernacular and the Cinnamon Gardens culture (i.e. the moneyed class) very well. Selvadurai offers no apologies or translations for Sri Lankan words and expressions that litter the text, and I found no glossary to assist the non-Sri Lankan reader. He captures the rudeness, the temperamental natures, the deceits, and the rather coddled behaviour of grown men from the Colombo 7 milieu. The relationships between Shivan and his male lovers are also fraught with petty jealousies, silly arguments and possessiveness, mirroring perhaps the relationship Shivan has with his grandmother.
The Canadian sections were boring in comparison, perhaps indicating how, a safe civilized society, albeit with a few discriminatory practices, can be rather bland compared to a third world country seething with conflict and dysfunction on all sides and providing a writer with rich grist for his mill.
Eventually the family members re-establish their identities in Canada, albeit changed, impoverished in some ways, free in others, just like all immigrants do. And Selvadurai socks it to the guys back home when he declaims (through Shivan, of course) “This is a banana republic. This is a dictatorship. There is no rule of law.” Good for him!
Shivan, a gay man of mixed Sinhalese and Tamil blood, someone who could be a reflection of the author, grows up in a dysfunctional family ruled by his maternal Sinhalese grandmother. Grandma is a greedy, unscrupulous woman of immense wealth, extracted from the misery of others, including her family – she is the incarnation of the perethaya, the hungry ghost who cannot be satiated. And yet the grandmother has a strong emotional hold on Shivan, for she loves him in a cruel and possessive way to the exclusion of her daughter and granddaughter and showers him with presents as the form of expressing her love. She has plans and dreams for him which he does not share in.
Shivan and his family move to Canada to escape Grandmother, and eke out an existence as “brown immigrants” in Scarborough in the 90’s, a place still not fully multicultural as the labels suggest. But Grandmother’s reach is long and she lures him back to the old country with promises of a better life. Sri Lanka is in turmoil with a Tamil insurgency in the north, a Marxist one in the south, and the unwelcome Indian peacekeeping force messing it up for everyone – a very dark phase in the life of this troubled island. Adding to the drama, Shivan falls in love with his old school mate Mili that culminates in a tragedy, further splitting the family apart and creating a permanent rift between grandson and grandmother.
The rest of the book shifts between Sri Lanka and Canada with this schism leading to an unsettled period for Shivan; his relationships lead nowhere and he is miserable, until he brings himself to make a life-altering sacrifice for his grandmother in the last days of her life. I wondered whether this inconclusive ending leaves the door open for a sequel, as the author continues to document his life via fictional heroes.
I found the Sri Lankan sections of the book to be well written and dramatic, and they captured the vernacular and the Cinnamon Gardens culture (i.e. the moneyed class) very well. Selvadurai offers no apologies or translations for Sri Lankan words and expressions that litter the text, and I found no glossary to assist the non-Sri Lankan reader. He captures the rudeness, the temperamental natures, the deceits, and the rather coddled behaviour of grown men from the Colombo 7 milieu. The relationships between Shivan and his male lovers are also fraught with petty jealousies, silly arguments and possessiveness, mirroring perhaps the relationship Shivan has with his grandmother.
The Canadian sections were boring in comparison, perhaps indicating how, a safe civilized society, albeit with a few discriminatory practices, can be rather bland compared to a third world country seething with conflict and dysfunction on all sides and providing a writer with rich grist for his mill.
Eventually the family members re-establish their identities in Canada, albeit changed, impoverished in some ways, free in others, just like all immigrants do. And Selvadurai socks it to the guys back home when he declaims (through Shivan, of course) “This is a banana republic. This is a dictatorship. There is no rule of law.” Good for him!
April 23, 2018
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I was very moved by Funny Boy, however due to some issues I couldn’t recommend it. Here’s my review. However, Shyam Selvadurai’s writing is so beautiful and I wanted to read another book of his, as I hoped that I would be able to recommend it. This is why I chose to read The Hungry Ghosts. It fit into the Asian Lit Bingo challenge as well.
This is #ownvoices for Sinhalese + Tamil and gay representation.
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I am so happy that this book lived up to my expectations. I’m going to already preface the review by saying it’s beautiful, just in case some of you don’t read the whole review.
The characters were all so alive, they were breathing, living people. I felt like they weren’t fictional at all, and I was very invested in Shivan’s (MC) life and also in his mother’s and sister’s lives. Shivan and his grandmother have a very intricate and elaborate relationship, which is influenced by cultural and family values, as well as the fact that Shivan is multiracial (Sinhalese-Tamil) and gay.
Shyam Selvadurai writes in such a way that you are transported into a fictional place but still feel like the events are not fictional at all. The story is gripping. It was an emotional journey and my feelings were all over the place. It’s a very realistic book that will give you different perspectives into the conflicts that shaped Sri Lanka into the country it is today and how historical events impacted the lives of various people.
There are several instances where the text illustrates the necessity for intersectionality. For example, brown gay men feeling like they don’t belong in gay circles, and brown women feeling like they don’t belong in feminist circles.
I enjoyed reading the retellings of Buddhist stories. I hadn’t read them before, so this was a lovely addition to my reading experience.
There are colorist and ableist microaggressions, which are not called out in the text. The word ‘Negroid’ is used to describe the hair structure of a Sri Lankan person.
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Shyam Selvadurai’s novels are sad. They’re difficult to read. However, they are beautiful and heart-wrenching stories that portray realistic situations and people’s reactions to these events.
The Hungry Ghosts has some minor microagressions. Nevertheless, I still recommend this novel as it was a great book.
Trigger warnings: ableism, colorism, war, death, murder.
I was very moved by Funny Boy, however due to some issues I couldn’t recommend it. Here’s my review. However, Shyam Selvadurai’s writing is so beautiful and I wanted to read another book of his, as I hoped that I would be able to recommend it. This is why I chose to read The Hungry Ghosts. It fit into the Asian Lit Bingo challenge as well.
This is #ownvoices for Sinhalese + Tamil and gay representation.
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I am so happy that this book lived up to my expectations. I’m going to already preface the review by saying it’s beautiful, just in case some of you don’t read the whole review.
The characters were all so alive, they were breathing, living people. I felt like they weren’t fictional at all, and I was very invested in Shivan’s (MC) life and also in his mother’s and sister’s lives. Shivan and his grandmother have a very intricate and elaborate relationship, which is influenced by cultural and family values, as well as the fact that Shivan is multiracial (Sinhalese-Tamil) and gay.
Shyam Selvadurai writes in such a way that you are transported into a fictional place but still feel like the events are not fictional at all. The story is gripping. It was an emotional journey and my feelings were all over the place. It’s a very realistic book that will give you different perspectives into the conflicts that shaped Sri Lanka into the country it is today and how historical events impacted the lives of various people.
There are several instances where the text illustrates the necessity for intersectionality. For example, brown gay men feeling like they don’t belong in gay circles, and brown women feeling like they don’t belong in feminist circles.
I enjoyed reading the retellings of Buddhist stories. I hadn’t read them before, so this was a lovely addition to my reading experience.
There are colorist and ableist microaggressions, which are not called out in the text. The word ‘Negroid’ is used to describe the hair structure of a Sri Lankan person.
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Shyam Selvadurai’s novels are sad. They’re difficult to read. However, they are beautiful and heart-wrenching stories that portray realistic situations and people’s reactions to these events.
The Hungry Ghosts has some minor microagressions. Nevertheless, I still recommend this novel as it was a great book.
Trigger warnings: ableism, colorism, war, death, murder.
March 14, 2015
The first few chapters were very good. Grandmother is a fantastic character and the family being half-Tamil added a extra layer of tension given the backdrop. However the book didn't deliver on its initial promise.
While there are sections of lovely prose, I got tired of the metaphor of the hungry ghost (I got it the first half a dozen times) and the idea that people can't escape their fate added another dreary and fatalistic layer. The leif motif 'like rain on a parched land' became a cliche and revealed itself as a lie after the first 2 or 3 times it was used.
In fact except for Hema and David (and that only at the very very end of the book - too little, too late), no one is this book is happy or kind or funny or decent. No one is redeemed or consoled. This is a world peopled by the mean, the petty, and the emotionally stupid. Especially Shivan.
Because Shivan himself is biggest problem. Spoiled by his grandmother, he becomes incredibly petty-minded and vicious. He punishes her, his mother and sister, himself, and everyone else in his life. In Sri Lanka he bemoans being his grandmothers favourite. In Canada he bemoans being gay and brown. Back in Sri Lanka he takes advantage of his grandmother's need, enjoys her wealth but still feels superior and resentful. He shows total disregard for Mili's safety despite being warned. In Vancouver he picks fights with Michael and lies about his family. (I also thought Michael's reaction to Shivan's story felt false - he's presented as a nice, slightly spoilt but ultimately decent person. I don't believe he would get so angry after listening to the brutal story Shivan reveals). Shivan's problems lie not in his being brown, nor in being gay but in being, quite frankly, a bit of an asshole. He, as well as grandmother, is the hungry ghost of the title. But grandmother has energy, ambition, energy so at least she's interesting.
In the final analysis this is an utterly depressing read with an unsatisfying resolution. I gave it two stars because I did make it through to the end.
While there are sections of lovely prose, I got tired of the metaphor of the hungry ghost (I got it the first half a dozen times) and the idea that people can't escape their fate added another dreary and fatalistic layer. The leif motif 'like rain on a parched land' became a cliche and revealed itself as a lie after the first 2 or 3 times it was used.
In fact except for Hema and David (and that only at the very very end of the book - too little, too late), no one is this book is happy or kind or funny or decent. No one is redeemed or consoled. This is a world peopled by the mean, the petty, and the emotionally stupid. Especially Shivan.
Because Shivan himself is biggest problem. Spoiled by his grandmother, he becomes incredibly petty-minded and vicious. He punishes her, his mother and sister, himself, and everyone else in his life. In Sri Lanka he bemoans being his grandmothers favourite. In Canada he bemoans being gay and brown. Back in Sri Lanka he takes advantage of his grandmother's need, enjoys her wealth but still feels superior and resentful. He shows total disregard for Mili's safety despite being warned. In Vancouver he picks fights with Michael and lies about his family. (I also thought Michael's reaction to Shivan's story felt false - he's presented as a nice, slightly spoilt but ultimately decent person. I don't believe he would get so angry after listening to the brutal story Shivan reveals). Shivan's problems lie not in his being brown, nor in being gay but in being, quite frankly, a bit of an asshole. He, as well as grandmother, is the hungry ghost of the title. But grandmother has energy, ambition, energy so at least she's interesting.
In the final analysis this is an utterly depressing read with an unsatisfying resolution. I gave it two stars because I did make it through to the end.
April 29, 2013
This is a strikingly beautiful novel, beautifully written. On the surface, this is the story of Shivan, a half-Tamil half-Sinhalese boy who grows up in Sri Lanka and eventually moves to Canada in an attempt to get away from the horrors that he suffered at home. But there are many levels to this book, from the recounted Buddhist myths to the stories of Shivan's mother and grandmother, all tied together into themes of predestination and fate. The characters in the novel are all complex and human, and Selvadurai shows us how they are propelled by the events of their lives to hurt their children in unintended ways, which lead forward into more damage in spite of, or perhaps because of familial love.
Normally, I don't read what I think of as "dysfunctional family" novels, but this was so much more. Selvadurai's writing lifts this above sordid intrafamily dramatics. He has a way of picking out a moment sparely, but with exactly the right observation or sensory detail that evokes the entire scene to mind. His insight into the experience of immigrants trying to fit into a new world is frank and honest (informed by his own experience coming to Canada). And again, his writing is just beautiful -- in my opinion, the best work he's written.
(Disclaimer: I was friends with Shyam Selvadurai before he became a writer, although I have not seem him in a few years. But I would give the same review if he were a stranger.)
Normally, I don't read what I think of as "dysfunctional family" novels, but this was so much more. Selvadurai's writing lifts this above sordid intrafamily dramatics. He has a way of picking out a moment sparely, but with exactly the right observation or sensory detail that evokes the entire scene to mind. His insight into the experience of immigrants trying to fit into a new world is frank and honest (informed by his own experience coming to Canada). And again, his writing is just beautiful -- in my opinion, the best work he's written.
(Disclaimer: I was friends with Shyam Selvadurai before he became a writer, although I have not seem him in a few years. But I would give the same review if he were a stranger.)
October 19, 2013
Hungry Ghosts at it's onset feels like a rehash of Shyam's early work. You'll meet the Funny Boy in Cinnamon Gardens , Swimming in the monsoon sea. And then, the real story kicks in.
Shyam Selvadurai writes about Love, be it Filial, romantic or otherwise, intertwining the Sri Lankan political landscape from 1983 to 1994 , and trials and tribulations of an immigrant's life. For a person who grew up during the mentioned years , the situations and characters in the story evokes nostalgia. One suddenly gets reminded about the real News , that dominated the headlines of newspapers. I actually started thinking of Richard De Zoysa , when reading about Mili Jayasinghe.
This novel also portrays the difficulties faced by Sri Lankans who tried to start a new life in western countries, after fleeing the motherland due to the unsavory political situations.
Then one also gets to ponder about the recurring theme of Karma.
I will not state that this is the best by Shyam, because for me it will always be Funny Boy. But this is a worthy read and recommend to all who has read the author's early work. Don't miss out.
Shyam Selvadurai writes about Love, be it Filial, romantic or otherwise, intertwining the Sri Lankan political landscape from 1983 to 1994 , and trials and tribulations of an immigrant's life. For a person who grew up during the mentioned years , the situations and characters in the story evokes nostalgia. One suddenly gets reminded about the real News , that dominated the headlines of newspapers. I actually started thinking of Richard De Zoysa , when reading about Mili Jayasinghe.
This novel also portrays the difficulties faced by Sri Lankans who tried to start a new life in western countries, after fleeing the motherland due to the unsavory political situations.
Then one also gets to ponder about the recurring theme of Karma.
I will not state that this is the best by Shyam, because for me it will always be Funny Boy. But this is a worthy read and recommend to all who has read the author's early work. Don't miss out.
December 30, 2018
I suspect that this book was nominated for prestigious awards because the committee at the Governor General’s award needed to fill a quota on diversity. There is no character depth, we are told rather than shown how evil the matriarch is, we are told rather than shown the terrible relationship dynamics that the matriarch has with her entire family, the book has all the depth of a puddle. This could have been a very good story had it been handled by a writer less concerned with trying to sound lyrical and literary, to be honest. And as other reviewers have mentioned, this book is relentlessly miserable yet doesn’t evoke any emotion in you: I found myself bored and dispassionate when reading about the murder of Shivan’s male lover, for example, even though it’s billed as a HUGE TURNING POINT. Yea I give this book a pass and don’t think I’ll read anything again by this author.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 8, 2013
This started out ok but got progressively worse and worse. By the final third the characters and their actions had become completely illogical, unsympathetic and, overall, irritating. Michael's reaction to discovering Shivan's past makes no sense whatsoever, and Shivan's whining that he is trying to make things "good again" between himself and Michael is completely negated by the terrible way he treats Michael. The book seemed to completely lose its focus, lagging excessively, and went, strangely, from lucid storytelling to a disjointed retelling of events. Weird and disappointing.
Small pet peeve: the continued use of "alright", which should be spelled "all right". Where was the editor in this?
Small pet peeve: the continued use of "alright", which should be spelled "all right". Where was the editor in this?
September 9, 2014
Having read ALL of Selvadurai's works now, I can say unhesitatingly he is one of my favorite authors ... and just hope he's working on something new. All of his works seem largely autobiographical, maybe because they are so deeply felt and honest. This one is set both in his native Sri Lanka and his adopted home of Canada, and concerns the ongoing struggle of a young gay man in reconciling his complicated familial situation with the burden of a dreadful tragedy instigated by his grandmother. The story flows smoothly, Selvadurai's prose is beautifully wrought, and while the ending is heartbreakingly sad, it is also entirely appropriate.
May 13, 2013
I feel as though any novel by Shyam Selvadurai is worth waiting for with some anticipation. This one certainly was. The character of the grandmother is brilliantly done, as is the narrative of Shivan's continuing attraction to /repulsion from her. A difficult book to have written, I think, given the challenges of narrating the Sri Lankan civil war (see: Ondaatje, Anil's Ghost). And the coming out narrative is fascinatingly caught up with Shivan's continuing relationship both to Sri Lanka and to Canada. Read!! and enjoy.
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