Submit your Article

If I see a book of short stories by an author I haven’t read, I will definitely buy it. I won’t even have to read the blurb to decide. I just know I will enjoy it. And I’ve hardly ever been wrong. Even if I don’t like all the stories in a particular collection, I will enjoy a few and that will be enough for me to recommend the book to others. The same goes for my recent read ‘Dead-End Memories’ by Banana Yoshimoto. The book has five stories and I more or less like them all. 

Translated from the Japanese by Asa Yoneda, the writing was refreshing. Perhaps it was because I had never read both the author and the translator before. But I enjoyed every bit of it. The stories were beautiful and nostalgic. I could see me and my friends in the characters. All the stories are about women who, after some painful events in their lives, find comfort in small moments of everyday life. 

I was intrigued by the author’s name and I found out that Banana Yoshimoto is the pen name of the author Mahoko Yoshimoto whose father is a famous poet in Japan. She is the prize winning and internationally bestselling author of many works of fiction like ‘Kitchen’, ‘Asleep’ and ‘The Premonition’. In Dead-End Memories, Yoshimoto delves into the lives of women who are grappling with some sort of a transition in their lives. There’s a melancholic undertone to the stories but there’s a fair bit of drama too to keep things interesting. 

The women in the stories discover their strengths and weaknesses through varied experiences in their lives. A woman’s romantic life is shaped by the ghosts of a couple who live in the house of her lover. A hard-working editor has a near death experience that completely changes the course of her life—She’s poisoned at work and that changes her relationship with work and her co-workers. Though the stories involve romance, they aren’t centered on it. There’s also a recurring theme of food in the stories despite the stories never overlapping. It made me realize how much of our memories are shaped by the smell and taste of what we eat. 

Despite being short, I found myself taking time with the book as the themes are heavy, calling for a lot of reflection. They deal with abuse, rape, betrayals, and the end of a marriage. What I like about storytelling in shorter formats is that it leaves a lot of room for imagination and introspection. You can draw up your own conclusions and get many opportunities to question your own beliefs. Dead-End Memories is controlled storytelling. Yoshimoto doesn’t beat around the bush and gives you just the information you need to think about the story and their possible path or outcomes yourself. Some call her writing simple and superficial but I found it to be relatable and fun. I highly recommend this anthology. Read it, weep, smile, and think about some things and memories you have maybe long forgotten. 

Dead-End Memories

Banana Yoshimoto

Translated by Asa Yoneda

Published: 2024

Publisher: Faber & Faber Ltd.

Pages: 221, Paperback

In ‘Sex, Desire, and Taboo in South Asia: Religion, Culture of Ability, and Patriarchy,’ the author Dr Tulasi Acharya delves into the complex interplay of sexuality, societal norms, and religious doctrine that shape the sexual taboos in South Asia, especially Nepal and India. 

With a profound academic understanding, the book explores how historical shifts—particularly the rise of patriarchy and the evolution of religious perspectives—have led to a societal repression of sexuality, despite South Asia’s rich heritage of erotic art and literature.

The author offers a fascinating juxtaposition between the open depiction of sexuality in religious art—such as the vivid erotic sculptures found in temples—and the conservative societal attitudes that repress discussions of sex. This paradox, which has perplexed many scholars and travelers, is tackled with precision. The book explains that historically, South Asian societies were more open to discussions of sex and desire. However, over time, as patriarchal structures tightened their grip on women’s bodies and sexuality, these open expressions were overshadowed by moral and religious frameworks that associated sex with immorality and family dishonor.

The text emphasizes that, in contrast to European traditions where sexual taboos also exist but with a different societal framework, South Asian cultures have a more pronounced disconnect between public restraint and private religious expression. Temples, art, and ancient texts like the Kamasutra celebrate eroticism as a part of human life. But this stands in stark contrast to how sex is perceived in daily life. The author identifies this cultural schizophrenia as a product of both religious reinterpretation and patriarchal control, particularly the imposition of rigid gender roles and the regulation of women’s sexual freedom.

The book also discusses how these sexual taboos evolved. The author suggests that these shifts didn’t stem from economic or capitalist pursuits but rather from patriarchal norms that emerged and became institutionalized over centuries. This transformation is further compounded by religious interpretations that often serve to reinforce male power dynamics. As a result, sex became not a natural part of human existence to be explored and celebrated, but something to be controlled, particularly in relation to women and marginalized groups.

What makes the book particularly compelling is its exploration of the intersections of gender, religion, and power. The author provides a nuanced critique of both religious and secular texts, suggesting that while religion offers powerful narratives that could empower women (such as the reverence of goddesses like Kali and Durga), the dominant religious narratives overwhelmingly reflect male-centric values. 

By drawing on feminist scholars like Gayatri Spivak and exploring local subaltern perspectives, the author offers a refreshing and insightful critique of how patriarchal structures have influenced the perception and regulation of sexuality, despite Foucault’s sexual theory which helps understand the discourse of sex.

The book proposes that the key to breaking these taboos lies in education. A recurrent theme is the necessity for improved sexual education and awareness, especially in South Asia, where societal conditioning often stifles discussions about sex. The author argues that a better understanding of sexuality, its significance for human pleasure, and its role in society could lead to a more informed, tolerant, and accepting approach to sex, even within the religious contexts that traditionally promote its repression.

Despite these enlightening arguments, one question that lingers is whether the shift away from taboo and repression can truly happen within the religious framework itself or if it would require a broader secular movement to challenge these deeply ingrained norms. While the author doesn’t claim to have a definitive answer, he emphasizes that change will likely need to start from the grassroots—beginning with schools and educational systems that promote open discussion and understanding of sexuality. Only then, the author suggests, can South Asia move toward a future where sexual freedom and expression are no longer deemed taboo.

Sex, Desire, and Taboo in South Asia is a provocative and timely contribution to the ongoing discourse about sexuality, power, and culture in the region. It challenges readers to rethink the complex relationship between religion, culture, and patriarchal structures, offering new insights into how societal change may be achieved through education and greater awareness. 

Writer and journalist Sudheer Sharma’s new book, Bhikshu, Byapar ra Bidroha, unveiled in August, offers a comprehensive account of the key figures, issues, and phenomena that have shaped Nepal-China relations. The book spans from the era of King Narendra Dev in the 7th century to 2008, when Nepal’s 240-year monarchy came to an end. Sharma’s other book, Himal Pari ko Huri, published simultaneously, explores new trends in bilateral relations post-2008, though this review focuses solely on Bhikshu, Byapar ra Bidroha.

In the introductory section, Sharma highlights a problem in Nepal’s public discourse about its northern neighbor. He identifies two contrasting perspectives: one group idolizes China and dismisses criticism, while the other harbors deep-seated prejudice. Sharma aims to provide an objective account of this trans-Himalayan relationship, presenting little-known historical facts and anecdotes. He maintains a neutral tone, avoiding personal biases in his analysis.

As a writer and journalist, Sharma excels in meticulous documentation, gathering new insights through his strong rapport with senior politicians and officials, and offering sharp political and geopolitical analysis. These strengths, evident in his acclaimed earlier work, Nepal Nexus, are similarly reflected in this book.

The book delves into the political, trade, cultural, and people-to-people relations between Nepal and China. Sharma credits King Narendra Dev and Princess Bhrikuti with laying the foundation of Nepal-China relations. He highlights the flourishing trade between Nepal and Tibet that began in the 7th century and thrived until the 1950s. Sharma also explores how this trade fostered robust people-to-people connections.

However, he documents the gradual decline of these ties after China took control of Tibet, imposed strict regulations on Nepali residents in Lhasa, and tightened visa rules. A study conducted by China in the late 1950s revealed that a Nepali shop in Lhasa, established a thousand years earlier, was still operational at the time. Three shops were found to be between 500 and 1,000 years old, and four others ranged from 200 to 500 years. Today, the number of Nepali shops in Lhasa has drastically declined, and Sharma notes that Nepal’s trade with Tibet—dating back 1,400 years to King Narendra Dev’s time—is nearing extinction.

In the chapter Bhikshu, Bidrohi, and Bampanthi, Sharma asserts that the foundation of Nepal-China relations is rooted more in cultural, religious, trade, and people-to-people ties than in political connections. He highlights the significant role played by Buddhist monks and nuns in fostering bilateral relations since ancient times. The chapter begins with a reference to an article by Chinese President Xi Jinping, published in Nepali newspapers, where Xi mentions the collaboration between the Chinese monk Fa Hien and Nepali monk Buddhabhadra over 1,600 years ago to translate Buddhist scriptures into Chinese.

Sharma also revisits the well-known narrative of Nepali Princess Bhrikuti’s marriage to Tibetan King Songtsen Gampo and mentions the Chinese monk Xuanzang (Huen Tsang), who visited Lumbini, the birthplace of the Buddha, leaving invaluable written accounts of his pilgrimage. This chapter offers a chronological account of Nepal-China engagements from the 7th century to the 1950s, demonstrating Sharma’s meticulous research and dedication to historical accuracy.

The chapter Mao and Mahendra provides a compelling overview of the relationship between Nepal’s monarchy and China, detailing personal connections between Nepal’s kings and Chinese leaders, which both sides leveraged for mutual benefit. For instance, Mahendra, as crown prince, secretly traveled to Beijing to meet Mao Zedong. The chapter includes several examples of the close proximity between the two sides.

Sharma discusses how the Communist Party of China (CPC) provided financial and other support to Nepal’s communist parties but refrained from supporting armed insurgencies, including the CPN-UML-led rebellion in Jhapa and the decade-long Maoist insurgency. Since the 1950s, China has consistently stated that it does not aim to export its revolution to Nepal. Although the CPC secretly offered financial aid to Nepal’s communist parties in the past, it never supplied arms or ammunition—a lesser-known aspect of Nepal-China relations.

Formal ties between the CPC and Nepal’s communist parties ended following King Mahendra’s royal coup. While China maintains that it does not export its revolution or ideology, Sharma highlights the irony that two major revolutions in Nepal—the Jhapa communist uprising and the Maoist insurgency—were launched in Mao Zedong’s name, despite receiving no Chinese support once they turned to armed struggle. Instead, the rebels were advised to join the political mainstream.

On the relationship between China and Nepali communist parties, Sharma writes: “China was always attracted to Nepal's communist parties due to two reasons: communism and nationalism. Communism is their shared ideology, and Nepal’s communist parties have viewed China as a protector of nationalism. This is why Nepal’s communist-led governments have historically maintained closer ties with China than other administrations.” He also discusses China’s changing approach to Nepal’s internal politics and its overt efforts to consolidate Nepal’s communist forces, suggesting that China may view Nepal’s communist parties as a potential substitute for the monarchy as a stable political institution.

The Khampa revolt is another major factor in Nepal-China relations. Sharma provides fresh insights into the Tibetan Khampas’ 18-year armed rebellion against China. According to the book, King Mahendra’s death marked a turning point for the Khampas, as his successor, King Birendra, adopted a less supportive stance. Following his state visit to China in 1973, King Birendra began military preparations to suppress the Khampas. Chinese Premier Zhou Enlai reportedly assured Birendra that the United States would not interfere, citing an agreement with President Nixon on the Tibetan issue. Upon returning to Nepal, Birendra initiated joint discussions with China on disarming the Khampas and began providing regular updates on their activities.

The book is a valuable resource for understanding Nepal’s diplomatic relationship with China. It examines key narratives, such as China’s policy shift after Nepal’s monarchy was abolished in 2008, its perception of Nepal as a gateway to India and South Asia, its primary concern with Tibet’s security, and its encouragement of Nepal’s communist parties as a reliable political force. However, critics may argue that while Sharma offers fresh insights and unearths historical documents, much of the book reiterates existing narratives about Nepal-China relations.

Shirley Jackson, who was born in San Francisco in 1916, was famous because of her short story ‘The Lottery’ which was published in The New Yorker in 1948. Readers were scandalized and sent her hate mail. But it didn’t stop her from writing and getting published. Her first novel, ‘The Road Through the Wall’ was published in the same year. ‘The Haunting of Hill House’ and ‘We Have Always Lived in the Castle’ brought her more fame and went on to become all time classics.

She was mostly known for her horror stories but she also published two memoirs of life in Vermont where she lived with her husband and four children. For a writer who died in her sleep when she was 48, Jackson left behind a wide body of work. Two collections of her essays and other writing were even published posthumously.

I had only read Jackson’s famous short story and the novel We Have Always Lived in the Castle. I was actually looking for The Haunting of Hill House when I came across 

‘Life Among the Savages’. The blurb was intriguing, starting with: “Sometimes, in my capacity as a mother, I find myself sitting open-mouthed and terrified before my own children.” I bought the book without even opening the plastic cover to check the size of the font, which I usually do. There was no way I wasn’t reading this masterpiece. The font could be horrible and minuscule for all I cared.

It turned out to be a great read. The font size was perfect too, in the Penguin edition (published by Penguin Classics in 2019). I was captivated by Jackson’s life and her ability to navigate the complexities of marriage and motherhood with an ease that I have never come across. The language is also quite compelling and she doesn’t seem to sugarcoat things, preferring to keep it raw and real. She also doesn’t try to portray her husband, children and even herself in a positive light. She is simply stating the facts and how things are. It’s refreshing, at times funny, and quite relatable, even though the setting is of an entirely different time as compared to today.

The book starts off with Jackson’s family having to look for a new place to stay. Their lease is up and they are asked to move. Their finances aren’t that great and they have two small children to look after. After being shown expensive houses that are all up for sale, they finally settle on renting an old dilapidated mansion of sorts. The rent is cheap, at $50 a month, and the owner even makes a few renovations for them. The family moves and it means a lot of adjustments and modifications.

Life Among the Savages is basically a story of the domestic mundanities that set in when you have to manage a family, your finances, and various other daily activities. Jackson keeps her tone casual but there’s a looming sense of frustration. The book was apparently initially published as a series of stories in various women’s magazines and later put together in a single collection. But it doesn’t read like disjointed writings. There’s a smooth flow to it that makes you ponder about life and how some things never change.

I believe every woman must read this brilliant depiction of domestic life. It will perhaps help us understand how we can navigate our own lives better at a time when our professional lives are starting to overwhelm us, and slow living is the last thing on our minds. But men should also pick this one up because it tells you things women might not always spell out for you by giving you a glimpse of how society can set unrealistic expectations on women and how it can be burdensome.

Life Among the Savages

Shirley Jackson

Published: 1953

Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Young

Pages: 229, Paperback