Scary Similarities

         At dinner the other night, the discussion turned to my dad’s dad, or Grandpa Connolly. He died when I was only three so I did not know him very well, but I vaguely knew the story of his accident. Upon hearing the story anew, I came to the realization that my grandpa led a life startlingly similar to Ashoke’s life. My grandpa grew up in North Canton in the early twentieth century, obviously not a setting very similar to Calcutta. At the age of 21, he enlisted in the army and trained as a pilot for WWII. Before the war, he knew very little of the world outside his home, much like Ashoke at the same age. My grandpa was stationed in Hawaii; he had to transport supplies to aircraft carriers for the navy. On one flight, he had to bring 13 soldiers as well as fuel to the aircraft. My grandpa and his copilot, Fritz, completed all the necessary checks and prepared for takeoff. However, moments after leaving, something went wrong in the back of the plane, causing an explosion. The 13 soldiers died instantly. The impact of the explosion forced my grandpa and Fritz through the windshield and into the water. The fuel in the plane caused the water around them to catch fire so they had to stay underwater, coming up through the fire for air. It took nearly an hour to rescue the two survivors. The doctor said that my grandpa might not survive and he would definitely lose his arm, to which my grandpa replied, “the hell I am.” So, he kept his arm, but his life still hung in the balance. It took two years of rehab but, eventually, my grandpa recovered. Although, he lost half of his ear and his right arm never fully functioned. Just like Ashoke, my grandpa suffered a shocking, almost-lethal accident. They both had to endure an uncertain period, wondering whether they would recovery, or even live. However, they also both had happy ends. After recovering, my grandpa married my grandma, had a successful career at Good Year, and raised eight kids (five girls, three boys). But he still did not like to talk about the tragic accident. I find it really incredible that two people who had such different upbringings could have such similar lives. It makes the world seem that much smaller, and the book that much more relatable.

What Would Happen?

         Obviously I do not know what would happen to the characters of The Namesake after the book ends. However, I have always felt a need for some sort of closure, so I created my own epilogue. Based on the information Lahiri provided, I created fates that I consider plausible for the main characters. I would love to hear what everyone else thinks the characters have in store.

Ashima: She faces a difficult transition to her new life. While in India, Ashima really misses America, so Sonia and Gogol visit her. However, after a few years of her new routine, Ashima begins to feel comfortable with the pattern. She acts as a grandmother of sorts for her brother’s kids in India. But, she still wants to maintain some of her independence in America so she continues to work part-time at the library. When Ashima grows too old and tired to continue migrating back and forth between countries, she moves in with Sonia and her family. Ashima lives the rest of her days under Sonia’s care.

Sonia: Sonia and her husband have a happy marriage. They have two kids, a boy and a girl, with American-sounding names. The children can speak and understand some Bengali but are by no means fluent. Sonia attempts to incorporate Indian culture into their lives, but more out of obligation to Ashima than actual desire. When Ashima moves in with them, she takes over the Bengali lessons. The grandchildren love their grandmother so they tolerate her teachings, but mostly just to humor her.

Moushumi: She returns to Paris and leads the same lifestyle as she did before her marriage to Gogol. She teaches English to French students at a university and rents a small apartment. Moushumi has numerous flings, but no long-lasting or meaningful relationships. She e-mails her parents twice a week and avoids any real contact. Her French friends welcome her back warmly; they always loved how she fit so well into their culture yet had the uniqueness of the Indian/American background. However, after several months, her friends grow tired of the fake careless attitude she uses to hide her emotional distance and loneliness. Eventually, Moushumi realizes that she has self-destructive tendencies, but she has no idea how to change. Given how much she smokes and the cigarette-friendly Parisian attitude, she will very likely develop smoking-related health issues.

Gogol: He is the character that we, or at least I, feel most unsure and curious about. After Gogol finishes reading “The Overcoat,” he does not know what to think at first. The story seems strange to him. However, after weeks of reflection, Gogol decides that he can learn an important lesson from Akaki: Gogol has his whole life ahead of him with so much potential so he should go out and make the most of it. Eventually, Gogol moves to a small architecture firm where he can work on projects more similar to the ones he first dreamed of in college. At his new job, Gogol befriends a woman, Anne, who just moved to New York after graduate school. He introduces her to the city and tries to make her feel more at home. Anne has a very close relationship with her mother, but her father passed away at a young age so she never felt like she had a real family. When Anne cannot afford a plane ticket home for Thanksgiving, Gogol invites her to Sonia’s house. He makes it clear to Ashima that he and Anne are just friends. To Gogol’s surprise, Ashima and Anne get along really well. Ashima does not want Gogol to be lonely and she genuinely likes Anne who loves taking part in the Ganguli’s festivities. After they return to New York, Anne and Gogol start dating, but agree to take it slow. Two years later, Gogol proposes. They marry in Anne’s town and have a Bengali ceremony. Anne takes to name Ganguli; she wants to have the same last name as her children.       

Unfair Expectations?

         Thanks AP English. Really, thanks a lot. Now, because of you I can no longer appreciate crappy writing, whether in a book, movie, TV show, magazine, or whatever else. I used to be content with the most vapid material, but now, I just keep thinking what is the author's purpose? Who does he/she want to address? The answer always leads to a group of people I do not want to be grouped in with. Take for instance the magazine Us Weekly. My mom had subscribed to movie magazine that went out of business so instead of receiving a refund, we started getting the fantastic tabloid featuring segments such as "The stars, they're just like us!" This particular section pictured celebrities doing "everyday people" things; apparently we are supposed to be surprised that celebrities do in fact need to eat and get haircuts. I once found that type of writing entertaining. But now, I can barely get through an article dissecting Brangelina's relationship problems. After spending 22 pages analyzing a book, one cannot help but notice that a tabloid piece does not contain too many sophisticated literary devices. The only tone the author used was shock, as evidenced by the excessive exclamation points. Audience and purpose for the article: people who want to know about Brangelina and to tell them about Brangelina. That's it, seriously, no deeper hidden meaning. I know that I cannot have the same expectations for a tabloid article as I did for In Cold Blood. However, I cannot help but compare them. I am scarred for life.

Hold All Judgements

         Near the end of class today, eighth period got into a heated discussion about Ashima. Some claimed that she should have adopted the American culture sooner or not at all, rather than flip-flopping her values at the end. First of all, I really do not think Ashima drastically changed any of her values. Secondly, we cannot fault her for taking such a long time to adopt and appreciate select American practices. When Ashima and Ashoke first moved to the United States, Ashima did everything in her power to hold on to Indian culture. She felt scared and isolated within American society, thinking that the only way for her to maintain her culture was to reject ours. By then end of the book, after Ashima begins working and socializing with Americans, she realizes that she can somewhat assimilate into American culture without losing her own. I do understand why people wish she could have accepted that fact earlier, rather than suffering for so many years in America. However, it took her just about 32 years in America to realize that she could compromise. Throughout most of the book the only emotion I had felt towards Ashima was pity. Now, for the first time, I admire her. The fact that she has already gone through so many significant life changes, yet, is still willing to learn new lessons and adapt really impresses me. She could have locked herself up in her house after Ashoke's death. She could have completely written off American culture and refused to open up to new ideas. Instead, she took baby steps and eventually came around to compromising between the two cultures, such as serving Bengali food at a Christmas party. I think we sometimes forget how greatly Ashima’s upbringing differs from that of a typical American. Just to put her situation into context, Ashima has never even had her own bedroom before. Therefore, she naturally feels frightened about starting a whole new stage in her life and about facing a whole new culture. For that reason, now, more than ever, Ashima's character requires not sympathy, but empathy.

Dimitri Desjardins

            Obviously most, if not all, people disapprove of Moushumi's affair with Dimitri. However, I have several issues with her actions in addition to the fact that she completely betrayed Gogol. First of all, her attraction to Dimitri totally bewilders me. When they met on a bus the way to Washington D.C., Dimitri, twenty-seven years old and Moushumi still in high school, sat next to this innocent girl and "slowly, began to unbutton [her] skirt" (258). Moushumi recalls her first meeting with Dimitri with a wistful tone. I just find the whole situation quite creepy. A strange man, ten years her senior, came pretty close to molesting her on a bus. Then Dimitri goes gallivanting across Europe with a another girl yet continues to send Moushumi letters and books even though he really does not know he very well. The fact that he continues to pursue her from thousands of miles away seems strange. Eventually the two lost contact, but, due to the death of a coworker, Moushumi happens upon a letter containing his resume. The circumstances leading to her rediscovery of Dimitri are not the most romantic. However, I can understand why she would want to get in touch. She had her first serious crush on Dimitri and I find no fault in her having lunch or coffee with him. Yet the fact that she purposefully hid her chance discovery from Gogol tells me that she never planned on having just lunch. So when she arrives at their meeting and finds a "small, balding, unemployed man," why does she not stop right there (266)? The negative diction, such as "unemployed," leads to a critical tone which indirectly characterizes Dimitri as pathetic. Moushumi cheats on Gogol with a man living in an apartment with all his belongings in cardboard boxes and he uses inheritance money from his grandparents to pay the rent, rather than getting a job. This man has even more issues with growing up than Moushumi does. Gogol, on the other hand, has a steady job and from the narrator’s descriptions the reader can guess he is a least somewhat attractive. So, Moushumi destroys her marriage to a respectable man in pursuit of a pathetic man. Moushumi’s actions, to me, say that she does not care who she has an affair with, she just wanted any escape from her marriage.

      

What's In a Name?

      Throughout reading The Namesake, one of the topics that resonated with me the most is Gogol's embarrassment over his name and embarrassment in general due to unwanted attention from a unique name. I have a pretty common name so I never feel singled out because of it. However, I have always enjoyed others' unique names. Whenever I go to the movies, my friends and I always stay until the very end of the credits so that we can pick out the most unusual names. I owe many hours of entertainment to Skip Longfellow, Missy Poppageorge, Lance Kerfuffle, and  Yolanda Snowball, among others. But after reading how much Gogol suffers from his unordinary name, how people called him "Giggle" and "Gargle," I started to feel a little guilty (67). Obviously I would not walk up to Skip Longfellow and say, "you have a really funny name!" Still, what if he suffered in childhood because of his name? What if Skip was ridiculously short and people called him Skip Shortfellow? Maybe he had to spend years in therapy to get past the many traumatic experiences of his young life. Skip has no idea that I sat in a movie theater one evening chuckling over his name, but should that make a difference? I hope I can appreciate others' unique names without seeming offensive or completely ignorant. Reading The Namesake has made me wonder when one crosses that line between enjoying something and mocking it.


I googled Skip Longfellow; he works as a sound editor and has an impressive resume. He certainly did not allow any traumatic experieces due to his name hold back his professional career
 http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0519309/