The collection opens with its provisional main character, middle-aged Vivek Waldekar, who is the poster child for a model of success. His marriage was arranged by his family. His wife remained in India while he made enough money to bring her and their son to the United States, but his goal is to return to India. His relationship with his family is guided by a sense of duty, however unsatisfying that might be. Given his arranged marriage and his allegiance to Indian values, he cannot even come close to the comicstrip relationship enjoyed by Archie and Veronica. If the women fare any better, it is because they desire neither tradition nor stable romantic relationships . From Rebecca, a self-described “Sally sleep-around” in “Waiting for Romesh,” and Rose, a cancer patient in “Brewing Tea in the Dark,” to Krithka, Waldekar’s own wife, in “The Dimple Kapadia of Camino Real,” these women are motivated by physical comfort, a comfort guided by their libidos. This lack of expectation on the part of women is also found in Waldekar’s thirteen-year-old daughter , Prammy, the narrator of “In Her Prime.” Her commentary on her family and the axis of male desire is decidedly jaded. Blaise’s characters occupy hybrid cultural spaces that are neither here nor there, each informing the other, but without integration or reconciliation . Each is tantalizing, but in the end, corrupted by the possibility of the other. Richard M. Henry SUNY Potsdam Robert Olen Butler. A Small Hotel. New York. Grove. 2011. isbn 9780802119872 In this brief but captivating and intense novel, Robert Olen Butler employs an array of narrative skills to tell the tale of an imminent divorce. Set on either side of the Mississippi in New Orleans and in Vacherie, Louisiana , the two halves of the not-quitedivorced couple (she bolted before signing the papers) spend the course of one night living in the present and contemplating the past. Kelly, the wife, holes up at the Hotel Olivier, the scene of her first romantic encounter with Michael twenty-five years earlier , while he is with a new, younger woman dressing up in antebellum costume at the Oak Alley Plantation. From the first pages, the characters are swiftly drawn and become fully rounded in very little time as we read, often breathlessly, to see where the counterpoint of the two stories will lead; there is a large bottle of scotch and a small bottle of pills involved. The premise is not profound—the man, a successful lawyer, cannot communicate his feelings to anyone, not even to those with whom he is most intimate. The kindest thing one can say is that Michael is a man of gestures rather than words, and we are told bluntly that “it is deeply in his nature not to make his inner life visible.” But clearly those close to him long for the words, and that is probably why the most gripping parts of this novel exist in the past and in the reminiscences of these two characters, where Michael can contemplate the feelings he cannot express. The fact that his behavior is inherited from his father, a hunter who had definite ideas of what constituted manhood and with whom he had a difficult relationship, is almost too simplistic and coincidental for a novel that has such pull over the reader. But we forgive the flaws because the interior characterizations of Kelly and Michael are so riveting and so deftly crafted. Butler is a romantic here, creating visceral desires, responses, and regrets that touch the reader deeply— especially in his portrayal of Kelly, whose momentary fall from grace is tempting to understand and forgive. There is also great compassion in the narrative depth to which Butler leads us inside her thoughts and her perceptions of the marriage. Of course, we feel less for Michael, because he cannot speak even to the readers in the language we long for, and yet we never fail to comprehend his behavior. This in itself is a feat worthy of notice, one that Butler pulls off with grace despite some jarring clichés. Rita D. Jacobs Montclair State University 58 | World Literature Today wltreviews ...
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