Family Matters

I was initially attracted to Rohinton Mistry's fine novel "Family Matters" (2002) because its central characters are adherents of the Zoroastrian (Parsee) religion living in Bombay. Zoroastrianism and its practitioners are rarely treated in fiction. The religion is ancient, one of the world's first monotheistic faiths, and small with a dwindling number of adherents. As emphasized in Mistry's novel, Zoroastrianim is threatened by assimilation and intermarriage, and there are currently factions between the more traditional and the more reformist elements of the faith. In reading Mistry's book, I was reminded of a nonscholarly but still good introduction to Zoroastrianism that I read some time ago, Paul Kriwaczek's "In Search of Zarathurstra: Across Iran and Central Asia to find the World's First Prophet". This book is available in paperback, and I recommend it to readers of this novel who may wish to explore Zoroastrianism. It more than merits studying. With that said, Mistry's novel is less about Zoroastrianism per se than about common and intimate human concerns that, in this book, arise in a Parsee family in Bombay but, with allowances for place and culture, could arise frequently elsewhere. I was struck with the painful and in part intractable themes in this book. The story deals with questions of religious intermarriage, problems arising in a "blended" family between parents, steparents, children, and stepchildren, the difficulties of caring for an aged and ailing parent, and questions of guilt and change that can result in a family member as a result of dealing with these dilemmas. The central character of the book is Nariman Vakeel, a retired professor of English, 79 years old at the outset of the story and suffering from Parkinson's disease. In middle-age, Nariman fell in love with a non-Parsee woman, Lucy, but reluctantly gave her up based upon objections from his family. He married instead a widow whom he did not love, Yasmin, with two children, a daughter, Coomy and a son, Jal. Nariman has never lost his feelings for Lucy who haunts and follows him incessantly during the early years of his marriage to Yasmin. At the outset of the book Coomy and Jal, unmarried, live with each other and their stepfather. Nariman and Yasmin have their own daughter, Roxanna, who is married to Yezad with two young boys, Jehangir and Murad. They live in a small flat Nariman has purchased for them with his retirement savings. When Nariman breaks his ankle and become bedridden, Coomy and Jal resent having to care for him -- particularly for the need of tending to his bodily function which are intimately and fully described in the book. They foist Nariman's care onto Roxanna and Yezad. The book deals with the difficulties the couple and their children encounter in their tiny flat in caring for their grandfather and in finding space and money. Roxanna and Yezad begin to quarrel and each member of the family engages in compromising, questionable

This is the first great novel of the 21st Century that I've read. I think FAMILY MATTERS is a masterpiece. I don't use that term often. But this is the real McCoy. The quality of the writing is up there with Tolstoy and Victor Hugo. There is no "magic realism" here. Everything that happens comes out of character and obeys the Law of Cause and Effect. Nothing is arbitrary. This is a novel of karma. Others have summarized the plot. What they don't tell you is how moving this book is. There were several times in the book I found tears streaming down my face. My tears were never for the big moments in the book, but for the small deeds of love among family members: a father for his sons, a boy for his brother, a woman for her father, a small boy for his grandfather. Dickens was really good at writing mean people. So is Mistry, but unlike Dickens, his mean people have a human side, too. You can understand why they are mean and what has made them that way. His good people can be petty and unreasonable at times, too. I ended up loving them all. With his fellow Indians, Mistry shares a kaleidoscopic power of description, but he's also got a strong sense of structure. Whereas all the other Indian books I have read fell apart around ¾ of the way through (GOD OF SMALL THINGS, MIDNIGHT'S CHILDREN, RED EARTH AND POURING RAIN, etc.), FAMILY MATTERS is solidly and logically constructed from beginning to end, making it a work of art. This is a great book by a great writer. I want to read everything Mistry writes. Five stars.

Within Bombay's Towers of Silence, the Parsis expose their dead to hungry vultures-a practice as environmentally friendly as it is macabre. Ethnic Persians who had migrated to India, the Parsis have traditionally led Bombay's commercial class. And though they have become an endangered species due to stagnating birth rates and miscegenation, their Zoroastrianism has largely removed them from the constant squabbling of Bombay's Hindus and Muslims, which a decade ago erupted into carnage and fire. Behind the riots was the Shiv Sena, a Hindu supremacist band of thugs, whose agenda includes abolishing Valentine's Day, razing mosques and, according to writer Rohinton Mistry, "subjecting innocent letters and postcards to incineration if the address reads Bombay instead of Mumbai." Such is the cultural and political backdrop of this exciting new novel by Mistry.Any novel set in Bombay must be as vast as the city. Mistry's knowledge of its customs, locales and languages is encyclopedic, his cast of characters panoramic, and his portrayal of Indian attitudes spot on. Indians perceive the use of toilet paper as unhygienic; they often converse in trite proverbs, and their attitude toward the West is decidedly conflicted. So is their attitude toward India, a great country and a "hopeless" one. Indians writing in English are producing some of today's most inspiring and original fiction, and I strongly recommend this one.

As Mistry makes clear in this novel, the "one important story [is] of youth, and loss, and yearning for redemption...Just the details are different." With these themes as the bedrock of his story, he depicts the world of a multigenerational Parsi family in Bombay, their world changed forever when Nariman Vakeel, a 79-year-old former professor and sufferer from Parkinson's disease, falls and breaks his leg, effectively ending any possibility of an independent life. His stepchildren, Coomy and Jal, quickly dump Nariman in the two-room apartment of their younger half-sister, Roxana Chenoy, her husband Yezad, and two sons, supposedly for only three weeks, while his leg heals. Beset with financial problems, lack of space, and resentment of Coomy and Jal, who remain in their father's 7-room apartment, the family does its best, but tensions rise and slowly erode their relationships, precipitating intense personal crises for each family member. Concentrating more on the world writ small than on the broader, more expansive views of A Fine Balance, Mistry creates a number of vibrant and fully drawn characters. Nariman Vakeel, recalling his dreams and disappointments, his 11-year love for Lucy Braganza, and his disastrous arranged marriage, is touching in his neediness and in his apologetic helplessness. His grandchildren delight in his stories and seek ways to help out; Roxana makes do in every way possible, tending to Nariman's most personal needs; and Yezad, frustrated by the lack of financial support from Coomy and Jal and a job in which he is underpaid, feels jealous of the old man's claims on Roxana. Mistry's dialogue, the subtle and not-so-subtle undercurrents it reflects, the often humorous interactions, the honest but naïve motivations of some of the characters, and the meticulously depicted and subtle decline of the family are the work of a master. The one jarring note for me was the use of Shiv Sena, a fanatic political/religious group, as a motif thoughout the novel, their threats, extortion, violence, and fundamentalist rhetoric intruding periodically (and often dramatically) on the lives of the characters. While this obviously broadens the scope of the novel and offers a context in which to evaluate Coomy's religiosity, the fears of small businessmen like Yezad and his boss, and Yezad's eventual conflicts with one of his sons, it felt contrived to me, too strong and too obvious in what is otherwise a novel of more subtle interactions. Mary Whipple

Mistry's latest novel, Family Matters, is a flawless gem and is a worthy successor to his equally impressive A Fine Balance. At the heart of Family Matters is the aging Nariman Vakeel who is in rapidly deteroriating health due to Parkinson's. Nariman is haunted by dreams of his ex-girlfriend, Lucy Braganza, a girl his parents forced him to renounce. He is cared for by his children Coomy and Jal. Coomy is a cranky woman with "too much anger" within her to care for her father well. When Nariman slips and hurts himself seriously on a walk, Coomy and Jal transfer custody of their bedridden father to their half-sister, Roxana Chenoy. Roxana's is a happy family with a doting husband, Yezad, and two wonderful sons, Murad and Jehangir. The arrival of Nariman in an already cramped apartment, though, puts enormous financial and emotional burdens on the family. As Nariman puts it, "People have their own lives, it's not helpful when something disturbs those lives." Family Matters portrays the daily play of emotions with remarkable acuity.Mistry paints all of his characters very realistically with real strengths and failings. Roxana cares for her aging father with amazing grace. Yezad, who once dreamt of emigrating to Canada, tries valiantly to keep the cheer. And who wouldn't want to have Murad and Jehangir, two of the most amazing kids, as their own! There are many side players in the story-Daisy, who lives downstairs in Pleasant Villa, and who regales Nariman quite often with her violin. Also portrayed well is Mr. Vikram Kapur, Yezad's boss at Bombay Sporting Goods Emporium.Mistry's love for his old city, Bombay, shines through loud and clear in the words of Mr. Kapur: "Bombay endures because it gives and it receives. Within this warp and weft is woven the special texture of its social fabric, the spirit of tolerance, acceptance, generosity. Anywhere else in the world, in those so-called civilized places like England and America, such terrible conditions would lead to revolution." These words of high praise for Bombay, however, come with a warning against the radical political party, Shiv Sena, trying to gain control of the dynamic city. As with Fine Balance, Mistry uses his platform to make a couple of political statements-a frequent rant against the Shiv Sena and another subtle one against the pro-lifers in America, the "empty talkers" who prevent research into Parkinson's. Mistry warns against fatalism: "In a culture where destiny is embraced as the paramount force, we are all puppets." Despite that, his primary characters often accept fate as the only graceful alternative. Family Matters ends without strong closure and that is just as well. For we have learnt along the way that even in a culture riddled with fatalists, the common man holds his head up high and always emerges from battle, relatively unscathed. At one point in the narrative, Yezad and his boss peer into a mirror and Mr.Kapur asks, "See that? The faces of ordinary family men, not heroes."