Годината на бягствата

by Sunjeev Sahota, Санджив Сахота, Надежда Розова (Translator)

От финалиста за Man Booker Prize Санджив Сахота.

Увличащ, задъхан съвременен епос, разгърнат върху мащабно историческо и географско платно. Роман, изумителен със своя колорит, плътност и размах. А също и със силата си да погълне изцяло читателското внимание.

Трима млади мъже и една незабравима жена се озовават заедно в своето пътешествие от Индия за Англия, където се надяват да положат ново начало – да помогнат на семействата си; да се погрижат за бъдещето си; да избягат от миналото. Никой от тях не подозира какво го очаква.

В полуразрушена мизерна къща в Шефилд, която споделя с още десетина свои събратя по съдба, някогашният водач на рикша Тарлочан не е склонен да говори за миналото си в Бихар. Автар и Рандип са младежи от средната класа, чиито семейства постепенно потъват в плаващите пясъци на финансов срив. Автар е пожертвал физическа част от себе си, за да стигне до Англия. Рандип предприема пътуването с брачна виза – в другия край на града живее неговата „съпруга“, непрестанно нащрек за проверка от имиграционните служби.

Нейното име е Нариндер, а историята ѝ е мъчително бродене из лабиринтите на свободата, самоуважението и дързостта да намериш себе си.

„Годината на бягствата“ се разгръща в рамките на една разтърсваща година, в която пътищата на четиримата герои се пресичат и преплитат необратимо. Година, през която те, без да го искат, се оказват принудени да разчитат един на друг така, както никога не са си представяли. Година, в която надеждите им да скъсат с миналото са подложени на сериозни изпитания. Дали ще успеят?

Неимоверно амбициозен и въздействащ роман за това какво означава да започнеш нов живот. И колко струва. За полета на мечтите, за възкресението на нежността и човечността пред лицето на смазващо страдание.

„Пиша за света, който познавам, за света, който усещам най-жив и за който сякаш ще бъде полезно да бъде изобразен в роман.“ (Санджив Сахота)

Genres: Fiction, India, Literary Fiction, Contemporary, Book Club, Novels, British Literature

576 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2015

About the author

Sunjeev Sahota is a British novelist. Sahota was born in 1981 in Derby, and his family moved to Chesterfield when he was seven years old. His paternal grandparents had emigrated to Britain from the Punjab in 1966. After finishing school, Sahota studied mathematics at Imperial College London. As of January 2011, he was working in marketing for the insurance company Aviva.

Sahota had not read a novel until he was 18 years old, when he read Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children while visiting relatives in India before starting university. After Midnight's Children, Sahota went on to read The God of Small Things, A Suitable Boy and The Remains of the Day. In an interview in January 2011, he stated:
It was like I was making up for lost time – not that I had to catch up, but it was as though I couldn't quite believe this world of storytelling I had found and I wanted to get as much of it down me as I possibly could.

In 2013 he was included in the Granta list of 20 best young British writers.

Sahota's first novel, Ours are the Streets, was published in January 2011 by Picador. He wrote the book in the evenings and at weekends because of his day job. The novel tells the story of a British Pakistani youth who becomes a suicide bomber. His second novel, The Year of the Runaways, about the experience of illegal immigrants in Britain, was published in June 2015.

Reviews

[Paul Bryant · Rating 4 out of 5]

THE FACTS ABOUT THIS NOVEL

Number of horrible things that happen to people : 825

Number of nice things that happen to people : 3

Number of times young Sikh illegal immigrants ask shops, factories, take-aways and warehouses for work : 279

Number of times they actually get a job: 7

Number of times they eat roti : 933

Number of untranslated Panjabi words : 24,677

Number of times I thought Oh that's great, I must quote that bit for my review : 0 (it’s just not that kind of novel)

Number of times I thought well, this will do until the next Rohinton Mistry novel, and by the way, what's taking him so long : several

Number of days it took to read : 16, but I had a couple of distractions, like for instance my daughter went off to university (York) and that was a kerfuffle of course, and then I started watching The Legacy – another of those lonnng Scandinavian dramas you know – I’ve nearly finished series 1 and am thrilled to know series 2 is also available, and well you can’t do everything at once

Number of times I changed my mind about the star rating : 3 (I thought ooffff, this book is so earnest, there’s not a laugh to be had here, not even a smile, two stars; then it picked up a little bit more action which unkind observers may could like to possibly describe as moderately soapy; and finally yesterday & today it all came together – I started figuring out who these dadblamed characters were – and it then progressed smoothly through the satisfied three star zone into the frankly impressed - be honest - very impressed four stars it ended with)

Number of times it strikes the Western reader as bitterly ironic that a book like this would be published in the middle of the biggest migration wave into Europe for generations, given that it paints such a uniformly grim picture of immigrant quasi-legal and illegal life in this country : 479, once per page

[Joan Kerr · Rating 2 out of 5]

Edna O’Brien once complained, “There is hardly any distinction between a writer and a journalist – indeed most writers are journalists.” I couldn’t help thinking of this as I read The Year of the Runaways by Sunjeev Sahota, one of the books shortlisted for the Booker this year. This is a closely-observed account of the lives of young Indian men trying to make a life for themselves in Britain, working illegally in the guise of students, contracting fake marriages to qualify for a visa, being exploited by employers without conscience, and living in conditions that would break anyone’s spirit. It is, of course, a comment on the dog-eat-dog culture of modern Britain and the cruel caste system of India. There’s no doubt that it’s a realistic picture of the lives of illegal Indian immigrants to Britain, and we do sympathise with the young men who are its subject.

But it’s a fact that should be universally acknowledged, though it isn’t, that serious material, moving material, doesn’t make a great novel. The Year of the Runaways is interesting in the way that a documentary is interesting; but there’s no transformation through exceptional skill in the writing or psychological depth of characterisation. That’s what makes it so surprising to me that it made it to the Man Booker shortlist.
It’s a big, generous, social-realist novel about young Indians escaping the subcontinent for a perilous existence in Sheffield, trying to wrangle a new life in Britain through student visas and sham marriages, or taking a life-or-death risk with people smugglers, says The Guardian’s article on the shortlist. Yes, it is, but its interest depends entirely on those themes and not their handling.

The young men, Randeep, Avdar and Tochi (Tarlochan), are representative of aspects of modern India. The early part of the book, after showing us the three at work in Britain, tells us the individual stories that have brought them there. Middle-class Randeep’s government-employed father has had a nervous breakdown and he finds himself carrying the burden of his entire family, who face destitution if the father cannot work; Avdar, a struggling shopkeeper’s son, needs to earn some money if he is to marry his middle-class girlfriend (Randeep’s sister); and the Untouchable Tarlochan has lost his entire family in a caste-based massacre. Randeep has contracted a fake marriage with Narinder, a British girl whose Sikh faith inspires her to help him gain residency in Britain; Randeep hopes Narinder will come to feel something more for him, but it is Tarlochan she falls in love with.

Hammering us with the details of the characters’ experiences, as Sahota does, doesn’t convey their inner life. Their ages and backgrounds apart, Randeep and Avdar are almost indistinguishable from each other, and even the stronger, darker character Tarlochan is largely defined by the cruelty and injustice of the treatment of Untouchables. Narinder is the character with most light and shade, but it was not clear to me what we are to make of the change in her, other than the way it plays into the general theme of loss of innocence as the young characters learn the price of their naïve dreams of life in Britain – as we always know they will, pretty much in the way it turns out in the book.

Sahota’s prose is workmanlike, often pedestrian:

At lunchtime, they found their backpacks and joined the others sitting astride a large tunnel of aluminium tubing, newly exposed for the dig. Beside them, a tarpaulin acted as a windbreak. They slid off their helmets. Their hair was sopping.

Afterwards one or two turned up their collars and sank into a sleep. The rest decided on a cricket match to stay warm. They found a plank of wood for a bat and several had tennis balls handy. They divided into Sikhs and Muslins, three overs each. Gurpreet elected himself captain and won the toss. He put the Muslims in to bat.

There’s a lot of writing like this; it’s as if Sahota has decided that realism demands minute attention to detail, no matter how uninteresting the detail. Yes, the lives of the young men are a grind, often boring, repetitive and exhausting, but the detailing of it puts a serious drag on the book’s momentum.

The narrative reels out a series of events that earnestly demonstrate different angles of the illegal immigrant problem: the dodgy employers, the swaggering British-born Indian thugs who act as standover men, the apparently sympathetic Indian shopkeepers who like and trust Tochi and then turn feral when they realise he’s an Untouchable, the difficulty of getting medical care when you live in fear of deportation. I come back to Edna O’Brien’s comment. Sahota is not a bad writer, and his story is a strong one in terms of human interest. It’s a perfectly OK read. But shouldn’t a novel be more than a group of moving stories, relevant to the problems of our time, bolted together into a narrative? Shouldn’t the whole be more than the sum of the parts? What exactly it is that makes a novel more than the sum of the parts is the question; but you recognise it when you see it. I didn’t find it here. If it wins the Booker it will be further evidence of the fashion for social-realist books in which what you write about is more important than how you write.

[Ron Charles · Rating 5 out of 5]

Granta magazine tapped Sunjeev Sahota as one of the 20 best young writers of the decade, and his new novel, “The Year of the Runaways,” was shortlisted for last year’s Booker Prize, and yet it’s only now reaching the United States. That seems like an intolerable delay for such a celebrated book, but America’s fresh spasm of xenophobia makes this devastating story about the plight of immigrants all the more relevant right now.

“The Year of the Runaways” is essentially “The Grapes of Wrath” for the 21st century: the Joads’ ordeal stretched halfway around the planet, from India to England. By following a handful of young men, Sahota has captured the plight of millions of desperate people struggling to find work, to eke out some semblance of a decent life in a world increasingly close-fisted and mean. If you’re willing to have your vague impressions of the dispossessed brought into scarifying focus, read . . . .

To read the rest of this review, go to The Washington Post:
https://www.washingtonpost.com/entert...

[Rebecca · Rating 4 out of 5]

(Based on past trends, this struck me as the safest, most likely Booker winner.) It tracks the difficult lives of four Indian immigrants in Sheffield. With multilingual slang and several Sikh characters, the novel illuminates aspects of the South Asian experience that might be unfamiliar. Daily life is a struggle for Tochi, Randeep and Avtar: they work multiple jobs to make ends meet, serving at Crunchy Fried Chicken, cleaning sewers, or building a luxury hotel in Leeds. The fourth protagonist is Randeep’s visa-wife, Narinder. Through flashbacks we discover each one’s past. It’s a harrowing read, but you can’t help but sympathize with the four runaways as they make and dissolve connections over the course of a year.

See my full review at The Bookbag.

[Karen·]

What I liked

The opening:
Overwrought and fidgety, Randeep has put thought and care and elbow grease into welcoming Narinder Kaur to this seedy (but scrubbed) flat in the paradoxically named Brightside area of Sheffield. But what are they to each other? No inkling is given. inkling, now there's a word. Is there a verb to inkle? The Online Etymology Dictionary to the rescue:
inkling (n.)
c. 1400, apparently from the gerund of the Middle English verb inclen "utter in an undertone, hint at, hint" (mid-14c.), which is of unknown origin; perhaps it is related to Old English inca "doubt, suspicion, question, scruple." However the earliest record of the word is as a nyngkiling; and Middle English Dictionary offers that this is not a misdivision of an inkling but rather suggests the word is a nasalized variant of nikking "a hint, slight indication," gerundive of the Middle English verb nikken "to mark (a text) for correction" (mid-15c.), from nik (n.) "a notch, tally" (see nick (n.)).
Avtar is handing over money to Bal, who has driven all the way to the fuckin' cold north to collect it at two o'clock in the bastard morning. Avtar knows about the baseball bat in the boot, hands over three more notes. What have they got over him?
The men are in a work gang, Vinny picks them up and takes them to a building site. This should be more familiar ground, shouldn't it, but no; stakes, footings stacked in angles on pallets. In their break, they divide into teams for a cricket match, three overs each, no slips, but an edge is automatic out.
Tochi arrives. A bhanchod chamaar. He's detailed to join Randeep on the milk run. "You've got Tesco". They can't all go to the same place, the gora gets suspicious.
It's a real cracker of an opening, more than merely intriguing, more than a hook to draw you in and solve those puzzles. Sahota drops us into a world we can barely make sense of. Makes us feel what it's like to arrive in a world so unfamiliar that you are permanently living on your wits.

The structure:
We then get novella-length, straight-narrative back stories of the three main male characters, how they got from Bihar or Chandigarh to Sheffield, stitched through with scenes of them settling in to a routine, to visits from the immigration officers, raids by the police. The whole thing follows the course of one year, and takes its rhythm from the seasons. And just when it seems this is going to be nothing but gloom and doom and a steady downward spiral, we get Narinder. Thoughtful, clever Narinder, the one character who seems to open out and grow rather than shrink.

Yes, those characters:
It might be old-fashioned to have a rich variety of subtly drawn characters, lovingly endowed with believable psychological foundations. Traditional at the very least in a big novel. That's fine. That'll do very nicely.

The eye for the telling detail:
When Avtar first arrives in London, he finds it impossible to cross the road. He has the college he is aiming for in his sight, but it is on the other side of a huge busy roundabout. The pavements are skirted by metal barriers to prevent pedestrians from attempting the suicidal.
I found that amusing, for surely I cannot be the only Westerner who found that one of the most impressive aspects of life in Indian cities was the traffic. And wondered, frequently, how anyone ever learned to drive in Delhi. And once, but only once, managed to cross the road in a busy city, by dint of staying close, very close to Raj. That Western superiority, thinking that we have the better regulated system. But every system works when you know how. Even in Western cities, the system can be so bafflingly unfamiliar that the only way to learn is by careful observation. That's how I acquired the art of crossing five or six lanes of traffic on the Place de la Concorde in Paris. Then passed that knowledge on to my Mum when she came to visit; mind you, I had to hold firmly on to her so that she didn't break into a panicky run. A potentially fatal mistake, running.

The themes:
All of these characters, the finely drawn ones, you remember, all of them are caught in a network of conflicting interests. Self interest versus loyalty to friends and family; religious orthodoxy versus a more instinctive sense of right; traditional values versus modern individualism; self-fulfilment versus conforming to expectations; building trust versus keeping a wary distance. The maelstrom pulled some down and washed others up to the top, and there were no easy answers, no pat solutions or moralistic finger raising. No conventional happy sappy end. But not desperately tragic either.

What I didn't like

The ending:
Well, it managed to avoid ending in despair, which it could easily have done, but what I didn't like was the ten-years-later epilogue. It was cursory, and to be honest, a bit hokey.

The number of pages:
A bit too many.

There was more than enough here for another book. Years two to ten of the runaways, obviating the need for the epilogue.
I'd read it.

[Helene Jeppesen · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book was highly educating and very interesting to read! It deals with several Indians who all move illegally to London in order to earn enough money for their poor families back home. The characters don't know each other, but gradually their fates entwine.
I knew about illegal workers and about their poor conditions, but this book gave me a really good insight into what their lives and situations are really like. These people live from day to day in a constant presence of fear. They do this with the best intentions - they want to save their families - but life is very tough for each one of them.
Besides from that, this book also taught me about Indian culture such as food, traditions and ways of living which is always very nice. It also comes with some very clever observations which I really admire Sunjeev Sahota for. However, in my opinion it did stretch on for a bit too long, and even though I wanted to continue reading about the characters, I did feel a slight disconnect to them towards the end. BUT it was a great read, and I'm sure it's going to be one of those books that will stick to my mind for a long time to come.

[Barry Pierce · Rating 1 out of 5]

The plot follows a group of Indian men as they try to find work and livelihood in modern-day Britain. This whole novel is a character study of these men as we follow their lives for one year in 400ish pages. Sadly, this novel is so lacking in engaging prose or fully-rounded characters that one does not read this novel, they stare and wait for it to end. I did not care about any of these characters. There was nothing there to care about. And since I didn't care, I didn't derive any enjoyment from this. I was utterly bored from page 20 onwards. Such a pity.

[Shawn Mooney (Shawn Breathes Books) · Rating 5 out of 5]

This novel of Indian immigrants in the UK, most of them undocumented, and the young Indo-British woman so busy trying to help she risks losing her self and forging another—well, it all just ripped my heart out. With as much emotional power and rich characterization as Rohinton Mistry’s A Fine Balance, this is a tale of faith, home, love, and friendship—and what if anything remains when all that gets stripped away. Stunning.

[Hugh · Rating 3 out of 5]

I'm a little in two minds about this bleak tragicomic page turner, set in the netherworld of Indian Sikhs working illegally at the margins of British society, and their hopes, dreams, motivations, problems and impossible choices. If you ignore the moments of comedy, it would be relentlessly depressing but very moving. Sahota is a gifted story teller and succeeds in making you care about the characters despite the horrific nature of many of their experiences. I did feel that given the number of Punjabi and Sikh words and phrases that are liberally sprinkled, a glossary would have been very useful. So thought provoking and moving if a little caricatured, but I'm not sure I could describe it as an enjoyable read overall.

[PorshaJo · Rating 3 out of 5]

What a bleak book. It tells the story of various "runaways" and the story of how they survive one year in Sheffield, UK. It gets into details of various men who are leaving India for one reason or another and go to Sheffield for work for money. It also brings into their lives a female, Narinda. The story jumps back and forth in time initially telling the story of each of the characters and why they are running away from India. It's a very good look at Indian culture. Now I have read a number of books on Indian culture but I still learned a few new things here. Their lives are horrible and they are fleeing from horrible circumstances. They all need work desperately as they all need money. Some of the hardships are just so horrible - is it really common to sell organs for money? I wanted something good to happen to them. Even the end, the very end, left me quite sad.
I listened to this one via audio and I struggled quite a bit. The narrator had a british accent and to me, seemed to talk quite fast. There are many characters in the book to keep track of initially and sometimes with going back and forth between present and past, I had a hard time distinguishing them apart. There are also so many, and I mean many, times punjabi words or phrases are in the book and usually I did not know what it meant. I hard a hard time getting into this at first but then the story picks up.
Overall, I learned a bit more about Indian culture but not sure this is one that will stick with me.

[Amanda · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 stars

I am having a terrible time deciding on a rating for this. I really struggled with it in the beginning and if it hadn't been a group read I most likely would have set it aside. Then after the first part I switched to the audio and listened but read along. The narrator really helped bring the culture alive for me. He was fantastic and if you are going to read this book and you are a fan of audiobooks I recommend that.

The book follows the story of 3 men and 1 woman as they make their way from India to England to find work. They have dreams of stockpiling money and coming back to India to "save" their families. They have no idea of the hell they are in for.

I think this is an important book especially with the current climate on immigration but most of it is not enjoyable to read. For most of the book I was thinking 2.5 - 3 stars but I really liked the ending. The epilogue offers more hope than the rest of the book put together. I think this is a book people need to read and to wake up to the fact that people - a lot of people - live like this and it's horrible and we should be able to do better.

[Vesela · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Ако има пъкъл за хора като нас, мисля, че го намерихме."

"Годината на бягствата" (Санджив Сахота) е на индийска тематика.
Както неведнъж съм споделяла, обичам книгите за Индия, но конкретно тази ме напрегна, натовари и натъжи в максимална степен със своята прекомeрна суровост и безнадеждност.
След като затворих и последната страница, се чувствах буквално изцедена емоционално от страданията и митарствата на героите (нелегални и полу-легални индийски мигранти в Англия).
Тези 600 страници ме изтощиха от непрекъснато обикаляне в търсене на работа, ядене на роти, спане по мръсни подове, ходене по гурудвари, бедност, мръсотия и мизерии от всякакво естество. И всичко това съчетано с много тъга и трагични предистории..
Героите са тримата млади несретници Точи, Рандип и Автар, чиито съдби се преплитат с тази на една ортодоксална сикхка Нариндер, която за разлика от тях имала щастието да е родена и израснала в Англия.
Светът в романа е тъжен, безмилостен и депресиращ. Свят на нечовешка борба за оцеляване, в който няма място нито за истински приятелства, нито за нормални човешки отношения. Един жесток свят, в който всеки е сам за себе си, безпомощна частица прах, носено от вятъра изсъхнало есенно листо...
Именно мотивът за самотата резонираше у мен изключително силно през цялото време. Всеки от героите е изначално сам и принуден от обстоятелствата да се грижи единствено за себе си и за своето оцеляване, да живее като полуроб в скотски условия, да понася гаври и да приема каквато и да е работа, само и само за да праща пари вкъщи на семейството си, воден от чувството за синовен дълг и преданост.

А финалът .... Ох, финалът е най-слабият момент в целия роман.
Изобщо не се разбира как се стигна до него, тъй като нямаше никакви индикации за подобно развитие на нещата и изведнъж от нищото една развръзка, която те кара да се почесваш в недоумение по главата. Явно авторът все пак е решил да даде на клетия читател поне накрая на тази мъка някаква светлинка в тунела от безкрайни гадости и искрица надежда и затова е прибягнал до този напълно неправдоподобен финал.

Очаквах роман, който да ме развълнува подобно на „Крехко равновесие“, но за жалост не ми се получи.
Крайна оценка - силно завишени 3,5*

[Ravi Gangwani · Rating 4 out of 5]

My second Booker-2015 book :
First of all this was very fast pace book with story running with speed of train.

"All you can do is surrender, happily, to its power," commented by Sir Salman Rushdie for this book. And this is why I was attracted towards this.

The entire book was based on three Sikkh lives: Avtar, Randeep, Narinder and one low caste person from Bihar : Tarlochan. The main issues concerned with this book was : Low-caste differentiation, poverty, illegal immigrants, condescending nature of jobs but more than everything solitude.

Avtar and Randeep, were two characters belonging from middle class Punjabi families. And later circumstances migrate both of them to England for search of Job. The entire episodes like: going through multitudes of Jobs, their memories back home, the subversion of money-less situation etc. were weaved in their stories.

The most likable character of book was Narinder, Girl from God, whose mission of life was to give sacrifice, like Sikkh Gurus, to fulfill happiness in at-least one life. She lived in England and every year went to AnandPur Sahib in India to provide service (Seva) for God. She had got married with Randeep to take him to Europe and helping him to get marraige visa and all.

Last was Tarlochan: An auto-rickshaw driver from Bihar who later lost his entire happy family in one riot and later went to Europe to search for Job.

The writing was brilliantly refreshing. Fast Pace. But what I liked most is the, the description of Sikkhs. Being a Sindhi, I am accustomed during my childhood to go at Gurudwara near my home every week and attend Ardass, though with growing age this thing Vanished. I lived my entire childhood and its memories in those descriptions.

A good book. But I felt not Booker type material again due to fast pace narration and ORIGINATLITY which Booker book contains was missing that I felt.

[Rajat Ubhaykar · Rating 5 out of 5]

This Booker-nominated novel about working-class Punjabi immigrants in the United Kingdom deserves all the praise heaped upon it. The lives and dreams of its principal protagonists are so finely sketched it feels the author has lived through it all himself. Utterly realistic, compelling, heartbreaking, this could be termed 'A Fine Balance' of the 21st century. Highly recommended!

[Jill · Rating 5 out of 5]

Any discussion of illegal immigration these days generates all sorts of complex emotions and outspoken opinions. But the question boils down to this: under what devastating circumstances would someone with good intentions abandon the only life he or she has known and desperately strike out anew in an inhospitable country? And, more compellingly: who are the weakest -- those who stay put and call it a sacrifice or those who take a chance and fail?

Sunjeev Sahota’s searing new novel masterfully answers this question with the back stories of four characters: Tochi, a Chamaar from the untouchable class Avtar and Randeep, whose fates are twined and who come from formerly middle class households, and Naranda, a pious and chaste Sikh woman who is determined to “do good.” How their lives come together and are ripped apart is the plot line of the book.

Synergistically, these four work together to highlight all the way those of Indian descent make it to England: one enrolls as a student, another arranges to marry a visa-wife, yet another sells his kidney in a particularly harrowing scene. Each has high hopes of working hard and claiming a better life back in India, where jobs in their hometowns are incredibly fierce. Each is ground down through the tedium of the struggle to find work, make money, support an overseas family, pay the rent, keep the immigration officials and the bosses at bay, and still be able to save for a sustainable future.

Many themes are explored, not the least the lingering death throes of a cruel caste system that labels people by the family they were born into. Tarlochan’s story of almost gaining it all, only to have everything dashed through an accident of birth, unfolds organically. The fissures between the haves and have-nots, Sikhs and Chamaars, naturalized citizens and immigrants, men and women, strong and weak never feel reductive, clichéd or manipulative. Rather, the narrative creates windows into the hearts and minds of these characters, who feel achingly real.

I’ve heard this novel described as “dark.” Certainly, it’s not for those who prefer sunny characters and look for positive meaning in our human existence. Year of the Runaways will make you feel and think and gasp and understand…and perhaps, just perhaps, question who these people are who compose our shadow world.

[Gumble's Yard - Golden Reviewer · Rating 3 out of 5]

Story of four Indian immigrants to the UK – Avtar, Tarlochan, Randeep and Narinder, all of whom spend most of the book in and around Sheffield, although for the first 3 we have lengthy flashbacks to their previous lives in India and for Narinder details on her upbringing and visits to India.

A difficult story to judge.

The story relies heavily on Sikh culture and makes frequent use of untranslated object names, caste distinctions, expressions and curses – whole paragraphs being rendered close to incomprehensible as a result (and presumably key nuances and plot developments being lost to an English reader).

The ending of the book is underwhelming, particularly a weak epilogue a few years later.

In between these the story is topical and engaging, bringing to live the characters’ lives in both India and England and the contrast and interactions between the two but without really building strong characters (Avtar and Randeep are largely indistinguishable, Tarlochan loses his “voice” when in the UK and Narinder verges on implausible).

Overall a triumph of theme and ideas over execution.

[Maria Yankulova · Rating 5 out of 5]

Една сурова и истинска книга за живота в Индия, за мечтите да избягаш, да намериш спасение и препитание в мечтаната Канада, Америка или (в нашия случай) Англия - с надеждата за по-добър живот. С надеждата да помогнеш на семейството си, с цената на много жертви с огромното желание да печелиш пари, които да пращаш у дома…

Покъртена съм! Една от най-хубавите и истински истории за Индия и за живота на нелегалните индийски емигранти в чужбина! Изумена съм от жестокостта на кастовото разделение и дискриминация! Този мотив е изключително обширно застъпен и в “Крехко равновесие” на Рохинсън Мистри на издателство “Лабиринт”. От мизерията и невъзможността да се намери работа от толкова много индийци, на които им се налага да обикалят села и градове в радиус на стотици километри от дома им и буквално да просят работа!

Определено не е книга за всеки и знам, че много читатели ще я подминат. В историята няма нищо жизнерадостно или весело, няма да крия… Аз съм изключително щастлива, че книгата е издадена в България от издателство ICU! Както винаги художественото оформление на Люба Халева е невероятно. За мен тя е абсолютен фаворит и номер 1!

Купих си романът веднага, когато излезе (малко преди пролетния панаир на книгата) и умишлено го оставих за първите октомврийски дни, когато всичко ще е обагрено в оранжеви листа, като тези от корицата. Съжалявам, че хората прочели книгата са толкова малко на брой тук и се надявам да открие повече читатели, защото определено си заслужава.

Няколко думи за историята - трима мъже бягат от Индия, всеки платил висока цена за това, отправяйки се към Англия с много надежди, а попадайки там удрят дъното на мизерията…Пътят им се преплита и със Нариндер - индийка, която от съвсем малка живее в Лондон със семейството си.
Първата ни среща с главните герои Торлочан, Автар и Рандип е в разнебитена къща в Шефилд, в която тримата живеят с още десетина нелегално пребиваващи индийци и живеят ден за ден. Поетапно авторът ни запознава с историята на всеки един, която започва от Индия и причините довели ги в Англия. Беше ми безкрайно любопитно и интересно да чета за живота на всеки един. А образът на Нариндер и всички нейни постъпки, които целяха да помага силно ме впечатлиха
🧡🧡🧡

В книгата многократно се говори за чамарите (низша каста, към която всички се отнасят с презрение) - опитах се да намеря повече информация, но не намирам много подробности. Ако някой е запознат ще се радвам да споделя.

Ако искате да четете за Индия - книгата е добро начало. Силно препоръчвам!

[Ria · Rating 3 out of 5]

Hi cunts, missed me? No? oh okay. What’s up?... Anyways, I changed profile pic because Larry is my son now and if anything bad happens to him I’m gonna kill you all and then myself :)
Sooooo I started it and then I was too bored to read or watch anything. Still am but two books I ordered arrived and two more are coming so I HAD to finish this. BTW i got it because it was 2€. Not something i would have picked up if it wasn't cheap.
It’s a good book. Yeah... it’s a solid 3.5 for me. Soooo I don’t really remember the majority of the names but that may be because it took me like a month to read summer and autumn *it’s divided in 4 parts based on the season shit takes place in*, my bad? To be honest I don’t really have anything more to say. There are some scenes which I loved that were obviously kinda violent and others I couldn’t care less. May be because I didn’t care about the characters.
I finished it yesterday at like 4am and I should have made this review then because now my period came, I’m dying and I’ve been listening to Hannah Montana for the past 2hours. I don’t think I’m in the right state of mind to review shit. Ugh fuck my eye hurts… did I make any sense in this

[Trish]

At some time in the past I might have sunk into this novel with relish, but I can't help finding it too discursive, micro, and slow-moving for my taste now. This could be completely cultural: I note that art-house Indian movies of the past often had this slow, black-and-white, silent melodrama about them.

Did you notice? There is little sound in this novel. I often felt like I had cotton wool in my ears and couldn’t hear India, or London, or the little shops where Tochi worked, or the restaurants, or the street noise. Everyone seemed to be speaking a foreign language although they weren’t, and I began to tune out even their conversation. And I had little of the sense of heat or cold or smell. We get little color though India is ravishing in its color. As a result, I became fixated on the forward progress of the story and Sahota was painfully slow in meting this out…drip, drip…drip.

Despite all these lacks, Sahota is clearly a ravishing storyteller. Any one chapter might draw me in completely. The micro view is so patiently and accurately drawn that I felt like I was reading in real time. It depends what the author was trying to accomplish, I think, though if he is aiming at the general public he may need to throw out this beautifully written novel and start again with no notes. Just write what he remembers of what he wrote. I guarantee it would be shorter, and probably more readable.

[S.Ach · Rating 2 out of 5]

I normally don't review books, as I don't feel myself qualified enough to provide an unbiased appraisal. In the review section of the goodreads, mostly I put my thoughts while reading the book and, sometimes, quote the lines I like. I won't attempt to review this book either. I will just jot down the thoughts that led me to buy this book and abandon it quarterway.

Amazon says, that in order to qualify for a free delivery, I need to buy another book of atleast 100INR
Lemme see…Lemme see…..
Not this one…No…not that one.
How about this one? Well…it is with 70% discount and would make my package eligible for free delivery.
Who is this author? Never heard of him.
British author with Indian origin.
Oh! This book was shortlisted for Man Booker. Good.
The book is about Indian immigrants in London. Interesting plot. Timely
Mr. Rushdie says "All you can do is surrender, happily, to its power". Wow.
Think no more. Ordered.
The book has arrived in nice hardcover. Smells nice.
Starts OK. Nothing great.
10 pages. Not interesting.
30 pages. Dull writing. Poor character build up.
50 pages. Should I go on? Let me read couple of reviews. Mixed reviews.
Can't abandon yet.
20 more pages. Dragging. Patience tested.
10 more. No can't take it anymore.
Abandoned.
Some other day may be…. Or may be not.

[Nandakishore Mridula · Rating 3 out of 5]

India is a beautiful country if you are privileged (read upper-caste, rich and preferably male). Otherwise, it's a sewer pit. The only thing any right-thinking youth (who doesn't belong in the above-mentioned category) will want to do with respect to the country is get out as fast as possible, to one of those "phoren"* paradises like the USA, Canada or Western Europe.

But of course, the prosperity one imagines exists in those countries is also the province of the privileged - something one learns to one's disadvantage after the crossing is made. The grass is always greener on the other side.

This the tale of a handful of young men - two from Punjab and one from Bihar - who reach England, their promised land, only to see their dreams turn into nightmares. It is also the tale of a Sikh girl, a citizen of the UK, whose tale becomes unintentionally entwined with tales of these three runaways.

Tarlochan Kumar (Tochi) is a Chamaar from Bihar - one of the most vilified and victimised castes of India - who has come to England illegally to make money by hook or crook, to offset the disadvantages of birth. His whole family has been murdered by "upper" caste goons. Randeep Sanghera is a callow youth, whose comfortable middle class world has gone up in smoke because of his father's mental illness and an act of sexual indiscretion in college which gets him expelled. He is on a fake marriage visa provided by Narinder Kaur, a pious young Sikh woman who is determined to provide a life to at least one person through this personal sacrifice. And finally, there is Avtar Singh Nijjar, who has sold a kidney and taken money from a loan shark to get to England on a student visa, to earn money and support his family at home as well as carve out a future for himself. He is in love with Randeep's sister.

This is an essentially bleak tale, set in the twilight world of illegal immigrants who, as underpaid workers, support the economy of Britain. There are villains aplenty here in the shape of money-grubbing employers, but no heroes (except for Narinder, whose supremely innocent saccharine-sweet goody-goody nature is sometimes puke-inducing, to tell the truth). These young men fight, cheat and steal to keep body and soul together and to keep their dream of "Vilayat"** alive. But all said and done, they are not totally unlikeable, because in such circumstances, we feel that we would have also done the same.

The story is well-written, and once picked up, the book is hard to put down. But at some point of time, the reader feels that it could all have been condensed into a thinner volume. One does not have to read pages and pages about the hardships of the protagonists to appreciate the inhuman nature of the world out there. And the ending, when it comes, is surprisingly downbeat - it's as though the author said: "Enough! Let me stop this!", put down his pen, attached an epilogue, and send the manuscript on to the publishers.

3.5 stars.
-------
* foreign
** archaic Indian term for England

[Arcopol Chaudhuri · Rating 5 out of 5]

I am not exactly a Booker-whore, so I approached this tome with some scepticism. I wasn't disappointed, thankfully. Everything about the book is depressing - the characters, their desperation, the futility of their dreams and the shocking realities they find themselves in, in land they're not fully familiar with. The good news, though, is that 'The Year of the Runaways' is at its core a pure-blood novel: it's comprehensive, compelling and compassionate. Each of the runaways -- Randeep, Tochi, Avtar and Narinder -- have well-sketched histories and I like how Sunjeev Sahota has been able to make them collide and wrestle with each other in various ways.
Importantly, the book also made me pause and think: about how delusional humans can get about the 'promised land' (life in Britain, in this case), how seemingly ordinary people might have intense and heavy burdens hoisted on them at all times, burdens that we may never fully know about, how kindness and faith can sometimes help people in ways we can never fully fathom.
And that's where, in the age of the quick-fix, the breezy read, the short and quick novels, we must be grateful for tomes like this. By its mere reading over several days, by its generous helping of a plethora of emotions (loss, compassion, heartbreak, contentment, devastation), and by making us travel slowly and surely, the author gives us enough time to pause, reflect and think. At the end of the day, isn't that what good literature is supposed to do: make us think?

[Neil · Rating 5 out of 5]

The UK news has been dominated recently by stories of people trying to get through the tunnel from France to start a "better life". There is a temptation to imagine that that "better life" must, in some small way, relate to the life I enjoy in England. Then you read this. You come to realise that the "better life" is sleeping on the kitchen floor of the restaurant where you wash dishes for 16 hours a day. Or it is dropping everything, including friends or the only other people you know who speak your language, to travel half the length of the country on the rumour of a couple of weeks' work somewhere else. Or is is having to take everything you own, which fits in a bag, with you when you leave your house, shared with 12 or more other men, because the alternative is that it will be gone when you get back. Or it is ... you get the point. Actually, the real point is that this really is a "better life": when you realise this, this book takes on a new poignancy.

The structure works well, I think. We get the back stories for 4 main characters to explain why they are looking for a life in UK. At the end of each, I found myself rooting for the character. And that just makes the life they have to endure in UK harder to take.

Really powerful stuff. As the reviews say, "brilliant and beautiful".

[Nidhi Mahajan · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Dalit Subject in Sunjeev Sahota’s The Year of the Runaways.

While discussing his second novel, The Year of the Runaways (2015), Sunjeev Sahota, in an interview for The Independent, remarked, “If novels can do anything, it is shining a light into the dark tunnel, faces, histories, stories” (sic.). Sunjeev Sahota is a British author of Indian origins. His novel, The Year of the Runaways, was nominated for the Man Booker Prize 2015. The novel tells the story of four main characters. Tochi, Avtar, and Randeep are immigrants from India who travel to the United Kingdom in search of employment. Narinder is a devout “gursikh”, born and brought up in England, who becomes an agent in Randeep’s migration. The characters comes together to form a disjointed family under one roof. Tochi, in Sahota’s novel, can be read as a Dalit subject in a cosmopolitan setting.

Tochi’s identity can be understood in terms of three concentric circles, each corresponding to a subject position. The reader meets Tochi in the very first chapter, titled “Arrivals”, in Sahota’s novel. His caste identity, the first concentric circle, is revealed in the very beginning. “So what are you?” asks Gurpreet (a fellow-immigrant). When Tochi informs him that his “pind” (literally, village) is in Bihar and that his surname is Kumar, Gurpreet responds, “Even the bhanchod chamaars are coming to England.” The label “chamaar” locates Tochi at the very bottom of the Indian caste hierarchy.

The second concentric circle in Tochi’s identity formation is his position as a visa-less illegal immigrant in England, a “fauji” (literally, soldier) as Sahota’s novel terms them. The third concentric circle is that of the ethnic minority constituted by Indian immigrants in England, the “apneh” (literally, one’s own) in Sahota’s novel. Tochi’s status as an immigrant places him within the larger fold of this ethnic minority but his illegal status and his caste identity do not allow his assimilation within it.

This reading of Tochi’s identity in terms of three concentric circle ascribes a certain fixity to it. In the novel, these circles constantly overlap and intermix. It is Tochi’s movement from Bihar to cosmopolitan England that initiates complex process of identity construction through the interaction of these subject positions.

However, I think that his caste identity looms large despite the interactions. An important marker of his caste identity is his surname. “Mera naam he tho hai,” says Tochi to his friend Kishen; “Vho he tho hai mera naam,” Kishen replies. In this “schoolyard phrase” about “their names being all they owned,” Tochi highlights the baggage of the name that he carries. This baggage never leaves him. “My family’s Kumar,” he explains to “English-born” Narinder, “It’s a chamaari name.”

The two most popular models in postcolonial and diaspora studies, today, may be termed as the ‘Diasporic Imagination’ model and the ‘Hybridity’ model. The ‘Diasporic Imagination’ model assumes ‘home’ and ‘host’ to be imaginative categories. In “Imaginary Homelands”, Salman Rushdie describes the experience of travelling to Bombay and encountering his childhood home. Rushdie feels a “physical alienation” from his ‘home’ in Bombay, a ‘home’ which can only be reclaimed through memory and imagination.

In Sahota’s novel, Tochi associates ‘home’ with a horrific past, a past that he does not want to recall. He searches for a point where this ‘home’ ends, beyond which he is no longer bound by his caste: “It seemed amazing to him that there could be an end to India, one you could point to and identify and work towards.” Even in the ‘host’ country, he cannot escape this identity. Therefore, one finds the ‘Diasporic Imagination’ model inadequate in explaining the processes of identity construction for a Dalit subject in a cosmopolitan setting.

One of the most significant theorists of the ‘Hybridity’ model is Homi K. Bhabha. In The Location of Culture, Bhabha rejects the idea of an “originary” subject (taking cue from Michel Foucault and poststructuralism) and highlights the discursive, performative, and hybrid nature of modern subjectivity.

However, in understanding Tochi as a hybrid modern subject, I have asserted that his caste identity looms large. The ‘Hybridity’ model is limited in understanding a Dalit subject in a cosmopolitan setting as it often neglects and negates historical and political specificities (in this case, the caste system) as well as the continuing power relations among hybrid subjects (reflected in Tochi’s interactions with other characters in the novel).

Therefore, there is a need for revision of existing postcolonial discourses and for new and innovative models of understanding the convoluted processes of identity construction of modern subjects in a cosmopolitan world. As for the novel, Sahota has painted brilliant characters in complex situations. A very good book.

[Paul Fulcher · Rating 3 out of 5]

"Do you plan to live over there in hiding forever. But you have no idea how hard it will be. Here you have a job, food, somewhere to sleep. You'll be sleeping on the streets over there. You won't be playing cricket in their parks."

Book 3 of the Booker Shortlist, and my favourite so far - but while perhaps shortlist material, not overall prize worthy.

The writing is relatively straightforward. The author starts the novel with some nice phrases ("he was less sure about the flowers, guilty-looking things he'd spent too long choosing at the petrol station", "In the centre of the greenish tub the hand-held shower lay in a perfect coil of chrome, like an alien turd.") but, unlike the use of Punjabi words, doesn't maintain this beyond the early pages, so the plot is crucial and here Sahota generally delivers.

Sahota's account of life for Sikh Punjabi immigrants into the UK is highly topical, and exposes the hard reality of life behind the tabloid headlines. Sections of backstory neatly sketch how three characters, Randeep, Avtar and Tochi, all have their specific reasons for coming to England, their personal secrets, their different modes of entry (marriage visa, student visa and illegal) and their very different social status in India: but in England they all find themselves crammed into a small house with a dozen men all searching for low-paid, dirty and dangerous and insecure work, fearing the dreaded "raids" by the authorities.

There are two aspects of the immigration experience the author declines to explore.

Sahota spends little time on the racism the characters might face from Anglo-Saxon Brits. The people exploiting the immigrant labour are themselves Sikhs ("our own people are the worst at bleeding us dry") and any hostility arises from within the community e.g. The caste system both in India but also as practiced amongst the community in the UK.

Tochi is a chamaar, an untouchable. When working as a rickshaw driver he refuses, at first, to accept a thug-imposed ban on working.

"Tochi said it wasn't the money.

'What use is your pride if we find you dead in the streets?'

But it wasn't pride, either. Or not just pride. It was a desire to be allowed a say in his life. He wondered if this was selfish; whether, in fact, they were right and he should simply recognise his place in this world."

Secondly, when Avtar and Randeep arrive in Britain they at first stay with a relative of Randeep's, who tells them: "Take my advice and go back now. Before there's nothing to go back for and you're stuck here.". This felt like a plot strand that the author considered then decided not to explore. Randeep and Avtar seem, from day 1, to have no real desire to return despite family back in India, leaving only Tochi, despite having literally nothing to return to, to head back to India.

All of this is wrapped up in the book's weakest part - an Epilogue of the "10 years later they all lived happily ever after" variety, both unnecessary and out of keeping with the rest of the novel.

The fourth main character, Narinder, introduces a rather different strand to the book. She is a more deeply drawn character, entering into a "visa marriage" with Randeep for complex reasons of her own. She enables Suhota to explore some more complex themes - religious faith especially in the face of suffering, duty and responsibility (she thinks of those who oppose arranged marriages "did these women not understand that duty, that obligation, could be a form of love" but then repudiates her own) and the meaning of sacrificing oneself for others (she eventually decides "she'd always had it wrong, imagining that they were the weak ones, the ones who took their chance. No. The weakest are those who stay put and call it sacrifice, call it not having a choice. Because, really there was always a choice"). However, Narinder doesn't entirely convince as a character, she is a little too naïve and unworldly in her views.

Another key authorial decision is that the novel makes heavy use of Punjabi words, including slang, and Sikh religious terms. For example on page 1 "so even in England she wore a kesri. A domed deep-green one that matched her salwaar kameez" or a few pages later "Tochi could avoid the bulk of the afternoon mandir rush and the old lady would be at the gudwara well before the ardaas".

A glossary would have been helpful as otherwise the reader has the unwelcome choice between letting large parts of the text wash over them, or pausing to find out from the internet what the terms mean. I'd advocate the former course as the internet wasn't even that helpful - google failed me on the first phrase I looked up on page 2 ("and this isn't an area with lots of apneh") and the second ("bhanchod") I wished I hadn't.

This was presumably a deliberate decision by Sunjeev Sahota, and the only artistic justification that occurs to me is that he wanted to re-create the sense of disorientation in the reader that his characters themselves experience on their arrival in England.

Overall, a worthwhile read, although perhaps of more socio-political than artistic merit.

[Katherine · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was describing The Year of the Runaways excitedly to a friend this weekend after she asked me if it was good. She seemed interested, or at least roped in by my wide eyes and flailing arms. I asked her after I took a breath what she typically likes and she said: "It has to be happy." It made me think about what happy means in this book. The pursuit of it's characters is not as simple as happiness, nor is the word really used.

The Year of the Runaways is a stressful book to read, but an important one. Not only is it relevant, it's also necessary. I'll admit now, I don't think I would have picked this book up if it hadn't made the Man Booker Prize longlist (and now shortlist). I think that means as a reader I needed to experience it the most. So I'm relaying that thought to those who might feel the same. This book is Mariana Trench filled with struggle and life - and it will make you see the world a little differently. That is why it's important.

The story is page turning and hard to put down, but The Year of the Runaways is pretty straight forward in it's writing. With some books you have to take a minute before you begin the next chapter after reading something written so perfectly. With others, an event occurs or it's characters are thrown into a new dangerous plot that forces you take a minute to process. This is definitely a case of the latter. I think this has it's pros and cons, but I would have liked to see more of a balance as I hardly ever considered the writing.

Sahota has written something exciting and memorable. Whether you read it in a day or a month, the stories of this book won't leave you.

[Bookmaniac70 · Rating 4 out of 5]

Доста сурова книга, която почти документално, без разкрасяване, разказва за съдбата на индийските имигранти в Англия. Трима млади мъже напускат Индия, за да помогнат на семействата си, и стигат буквално до дъното. В името на оцеляването си и примамливия успех те заплащат много висока цена - заплащат с телата и достойнството си. Техните съдби се преплитат с тази на младата Нариндер, която се опитва да изкупи своя вина, като им помага. В суровите и несправедливи условия на нелегалния имигрантски живот приятелството, лоялността, обичта изглеждат като невъзможен лукс, но все пак съществуват, дори и когато се проявяват по доста своеобразен начин.

На пръв поглед - много безрадостен, депресиращ роман, труден за харесване, и все пак тази суровост, автентичност увличат, разкриват свят, до който малко от нас са се докосвали. Предполагам, че предизвиква полярни читателски реакции - или успяваш да се настроиш на неговата вълна и историите те увличат, или зарязваш отегчено книгата към стотната страница. Действието е тясно свързано с религията и културата на сикхите и читателят се сблъсква с доста чужди думи и понятия, което не улеснява четенето, но пък кой е казал, че всичко трябва да е лесно смилаемо? :-)

В по-широк план "Годината на бягствата" е и книга за това как си представяме успеха и какви избори правим в името на (много често) илюзорните представи за щастие. Финалът изглежда малко нагласен, но на мен ми хареса, че светлинката на човешкото остана да свети, въпреки всичко.

[Práxedes Rivera · Rating 3 out of 5]

Do you know what the following words mean? golguppe, waheguru, chunni, darbar, gurbani, janaab, zindagi, tamasha, hafiz, etc.

If you don't and feel like a challenge, go ahead and read this novel that shines by its astonishing absence of a glossary! I couldn't even tell if the vocabulary was punjabi, hindi, tamil, bengali, or slang. This gross oversight cost it a star, since the writing itself was quite good.

This is a story about the cruel plight of illegal Indian immigrants in England; it is rather timely as we see similar stories taking place in present-day Europe. In a word, their lives are dismal. Torn between religion, family, poverty, and despair, these reluctant crusaders stride into a hostile environment in order to improve their circumstances and those of their families back home.

As with most Indian novels, this one features multiple leading characters and how their lives intertwine. Everyone has a specific reason for taking on this challenging interruption in their lives, but the common denominator is duty.

It is an interesting read but would only recommend it for those with the patience to look up multiple words per page!

[Kamil · Rating 4 out of 5]

The ending a bit disappointing, but overall fantastic hence 4,5 stars. Moving, smart, very current and extremely engaging. Impossible to put down. Longer review on the way.

[Doug · Rating 4 out of 5]

More like a 4.5 (why doesn't Goodreads allow 1/2 stars?!!). Given my penchant for South Asian literature, I actually anticipated liking this a lot more than I ultimately did. I found the beginning slow and hard to get into, but at about the halfway point it really took off for me. My qualms come with the unrelenting bleakness of the storyline, and the difficulty I had (initially) keeping all the characters straight - especially when one or another would disappear for significant amounts of time and then commandeer a long section. Also, a glossary would have been of immense help - although I know a fair smattering of Hindi, the Punjabi expressions and words liberally sprinkled here, although about half the time decipherable due to context, necessitated a lot of running to the computer for definitions. I DO think it stands a fair chance of making the Man Booker Shortlist, due to the subject matter (the Indian immigrant experience in the UK) and the fact it shares the multi-character saga characteristic of several of the other recent nominees (i.e., The Lowlands, The Lives of Others)... although I would prefer Sleeping on Jupiter fill the Indian 'slot'.