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The Light from Heaven: A Novel
An explosive novel that lays bare the perverse and vitiating effect of caste on Indian Society
162 pages, Paperback
First published April 1, 1990
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November 10, 2019
3.5/5
This is a work that shows what goes into my more whimsical choices of reading more than most, as despite the Penguin imprint (which I admit went some way in convincing me to buy it), this review of mine is the first for it on this site. After having read it, I have to give it high marks for borderline anthropological detail, political awareness, and social justice intent, but low marks for workmanship prose and a blatant refusal to let the reader figure things out for themselves. Out of all the literary types, this is more of an extended moral parable than anything else, with a plot style and character archetypes so fundamental (think Buddha, St. Francis, anyone who gives up wealth/privilege and sojourns amongst the poor and downtrodden for the sake of a higher purpose) that it doesn't have to be that original in order to engage. Ultimately, I think that this is an interesting grapple with the theme of caste in a very specific region of India, and I learned enough from the book's lack of reticence when it came to dropping non-Anglo references and terminology that I feel the better for reading it. As a novel, though, this leads the reader by the nose far too much, and not even the ending's crescendo of pathos can make up for that.
This work's second half is much, much, much stronger than its first, which is a good piece of evidence for why I don't bother with 30-50 page limits for determining whether a work is worth my time. Five or so pages later is when the main character breaks out of domestic hetero bourgeoisie tedium and delves into the promise of a whirlwind, and that is when ideal is pitted against real and comes up with deliciously complex, even philosophical, conundrums of should one be versus what gets one enough food on the table. The plot's resonance with age old religious structures is a strength in my mind, and the author's rather simplistic build ups of hero vs villain was nicely contextualized with postcolonial malaise as union worker clashed with caste and hygienic infrastructure mediates between the evils of the old and the blasé of the new. Unfortunately, all of this is cut down right as it starts get interesting, which saves the author some effort but doesn't leave me more than minimally impressed with this novella as a whole. Still, it deserves a far larger audience on this site than it currently has, so hopefully this review brings some of it in.
In terms of books with no reviews on this site, this one has rather straightforward potential. The writing is nothing new and the plot is nothing unique, but together they have a spark of something of the human condition that still hasn't been reconciled today here in the form of caste, tomorrow in the form of some other hierarchical oppression. Sreenivasan has a number of other works, and I am slightly interested in whether his writing improved at all in the later ones, if only in terms of refraining from holding the reader's hand during every scene of exposition. Outside of that, if your'e at all interested in Indian lit, caste conflict, and new age saint narratives, this work is worth stumbling over. It shows a potential that I think can be put to good use, even if I'm not the one to do it.
This is a work that shows what goes into my more whimsical choices of reading more than most, as despite the Penguin imprint (which I admit went some way in convincing me to buy it), this review of mine is the first for it on this site. After having read it, I have to give it high marks for borderline anthropological detail, political awareness, and social justice intent, but low marks for workmanship prose and a blatant refusal to let the reader figure things out for themselves. Out of all the literary types, this is more of an extended moral parable than anything else, with a plot style and character archetypes so fundamental (think Buddha, St. Francis, anyone who gives up wealth/privilege and sojourns amongst the poor and downtrodden for the sake of a higher purpose) that it doesn't have to be that original in order to engage. Ultimately, I think that this is an interesting grapple with the theme of caste in a very specific region of India, and I learned enough from the book's lack of reticence when it came to dropping non-Anglo references and terminology that I feel the better for reading it. As a novel, though, this leads the reader by the nose far too much, and not even the ending's crescendo of pathos can make up for that.
This work's second half is much, much, much stronger than its first, which is a good piece of evidence for why I don't bother with 30-50 page limits for determining whether a work is worth my time. Five or so pages later is when the main character breaks out of domestic hetero bourgeoisie tedium and delves into the promise of a whirlwind, and that is when ideal is pitted against real and comes up with deliciously complex, even philosophical, conundrums of should one be versus what gets one enough food on the table. The plot's resonance with age old religious structures is a strength in my mind, and the author's rather simplistic build ups of hero vs villain was nicely contextualized with postcolonial malaise as union worker clashed with caste and hygienic infrastructure mediates between the evils of the old and the blasé of the new. Unfortunately, all of this is cut down right as it starts get interesting, which saves the author some effort but doesn't leave me more than minimally impressed with this novella as a whole. Still, it deserves a far larger audience on this site than it currently has, so hopefully this review brings some of it in.
In terms of books with no reviews on this site, this one has rather straightforward potential. The writing is nothing new and the plot is nothing unique, but together they have a spark of something of the human condition that still hasn't been reconciled today here in the form of caste, tomorrow in the form of some other hierarchical oppression. Sreenivasan has a number of other works, and I am slightly interested in whether his writing improved at all in the later ones, if only in terms of refraining from holding the reader's hand during every scene of exposition. Outside of that, if your'e at all interested in Indian lit, caste conflict, and new age saint narratives, this work is worth stumbling over. It shows a potential that I think can be put to good use, even if I'm not the one to do it.
When we start following our saints instead of merely worshiping them, maybe we have some hope of converting his dream into a reality.
Displaying 1 of 1 review