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ARTICLES:
Arts & Culture
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Review: By Jolene Therese Klassen September 2002 At first glance, one might assume The Impressionist (Dutton, 2002) to be a theoretical study of impressionism. To the judgmental eye, its cover doesn't help in the dismissal of this idea. And what of the number of pages? When I first picked up the book, the sheer weight of it put me off. Who would read such a thick book for leisure? I thought to myself. Needless to say, as I glimpsed through the first few pages, my reservations were thrown out the window. A world of intrigue and wonder opened up before me with the turn of a page. Nothing in my wildest imagination could conjure up a world that Kunzru did, in those 383 pages. In three words, the overly-used catchphrase "expect the unexpected" may be aptly designated. The story begins simply enough. An English explorer in colonial India, taking a breather from the impassive lifestyle of England. A young Indian girl unwillingly traveling to her uncle's house to be wed. By an uncanny twist of nature, their paths cross amidst a heavy downpour. In the chaos that ensues, a life takes form while another is snuffed out. Our unwitting impressionist, Pran Nath, is conceived. For the first 15 years of his life, he knows nothing of his true parentage. His mother dies at childbirth, and his Indian father grows distant, enclosing himself in his own world of eccentricities. Young Pran, in true spoilt-brat fashion, decides to make the lives of everyone around him a living hell. Then, almost as suddenly as the dark clouds burst with rain, Pran finds himself on the streets; cold, hungry, alone and the son of an Englishman and Indian woman: the unknowing member of the infamous half-breeds that roam the streets outside his lavish house. From then, the adventure which is Pran's life, begins. Driven by pure survival instincts, he learns to weave through the intricate pattern of class distinctions and blurs the line that separates the colonists from the colonized. Through it all, he remains adamant about erasing the life he has known: his Indian heritage which betrayed him at the drop of a pin. He gradually moulds himself into the ideal English gentleman, going through the motions like he has known them all his life. He wines and dines and tips his hat, never once looking back or wishing things had been different. When the love of his life leaves him for being "too English," Pran is torn between confessing his true heritage and upholding the image he has worked so hard to create. Despondent, he joins an anthropology mission to Africa to "get away" from it all, like his English father did two decades earlier. For a moment, it seems that everything directed Pran to walk in his father's footsteps. Deeply engaging and close to the heart, Kunzru's only flaw may have been his over-eagerness to deliver. The first few chapters overflowed with words and there were occasions when I exhausted my dictionary in search of their meanings. Clearly, to delve into this piece would strip it bare of its mystifying elegance and regality and even if one tried, they would barely be able to skim its surface. Delectable to the last word, it was a truly refreshing experience. About
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