A family drama writ large

Evening is the Whole Day, Preeta Samarasan, London: Fourth Estate, 2008.

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Preeta Samarasan's debut novel Evening is the Whole Day portrays an Indian family in the backdrop of Malaysia's post colonial political and racial strife. The novel is focused intently and often minutely on the strained dynamics of the Rajasekharans, a wealthy Indian family transplanted to Malaysia two generations ago. It unapologetically opens with Chellam, a servant hired as the sole caretaker of the ailing paternal grandmother, being cast out of the family home. Subsequently, the novel's chapters weave backward and forward, uncovering layers of the family's and Malaysia's past, to reveal, among other mysteries, the reason for Chellam's dramatic dismissal.

Samarasan deftly creates the sweltering, and at times other-worldly, atmosphere of a town called Ipoh and the inhabitants of Kingfisher Lane, the most prominent of which are the characters in the Big House. Here lives Paati, the grandmother; Appa and Amma, mother and father; and their three children -- once talented and luminescent teenager Uma, who has become mysteriously sour and sullen; clever and at times compassionate younger brother Suresh; and six-year-old, heartrendingly vulnerable Aasha, who's hit the hardest by family tragedies large and small.

The family also employs several ill-treated servants, and the one who receives the brunt of this abuse is malnourished, seventeen year-old Chellam. Her biggest dream is buying herself a pair of glasses when she enters the Big House and becomes embroiled in this family's jealousies and regrets. Samarsan's omniscient narrator masterfully moves between these diverse characters.

Perhaps the biggest disappointment these characters face is in post-colonial Malaysia itself. In his younger days, Appa dreamed of a Malaya for all Malaysians -- Chinese and Indians included. He watches this dream get squelched in 1969, when his political party's bid for government control is overturned by violent riots. His disappointment turns to disillusionment.

"You should have stayed far, far away from the bloody boat that brought you here," he said to his grandfather silently. "In India I would've had a real chance."

The grander forms of social injustice and unrest manifest themselves in Appa's prominent court case, where he prosecutes a framed Malay man for raping a young Chinese woman. Through these and other public encounters, the suspicions and disdain for the 'other' is brutally apparent throughout all races and classes.

But the bulk of this rich and layered story examines the intricate and delicate relationships of the Rajasekharans. Appa is as disappointed in his wife as he is in his country, realizing that marrying a woman of much lower financial status doesn't mean that she will remain grateful and admiring of him always. Amma becomes the outwardly fashionable rich man's wife, and leads a vapid and vindictive life because of it.

In one twisted night, Uma seals herself up against her family, and becomes a shell of her once vibrant self. And little Aasha, misunderstood and unbearably sensitive, finds solace in her communication with ghosts. At the center of all this is Chellam, who gets unknowingly pushed and pulled by the various vagaries of her masters.

On the outskirts of this family drama is a strand of the magical -- ghosts, possession and superstitions that are at once charming and menacing. Spirits only Aasha can see inhabit the house, Chellam instructs Aasha and Suresh on demons and how to avoid them, and an epileptic neighbour channels his dead sister once a year to foretell the fortunes of extended family members. These elements propel the story in unexpected ways, giving the reader a sense of the ancient and modern beliefs that blend within the characters.

The narrative style is bracingly close. Flits of expression, imperceptible gestures, odors pungent and wafting, are paid great attention, allowing the reader to plunge deeply into these characters' motivations and manipulations. This zoomed-in focus rings shockingly true, particularly in a family that is so attuned to each other, either for protection or to protect oneself.

Samarasan's style is also rich with extended metaphors, intensifying our sense of each character and the author's view of her home country. With long and rhythmic sentences, Samarsan's prose delights while it reveals deep- seeded hurt. The final redemption, while poignant and fittingly small, is not nearly enough to uplift this family, or this young country, any time soon. If this family stands for Malaysia itself, then it is a country still deeply wounded by its past.

Reviewed by Jillian Schedneck