In My Beloved Life, Amitava Kumar crafts a deceptively simple narrative, that of a relatable everyman coming of age and discovering himself alongside his country. Much of the story reads Forrest Gump-esque, as our protagonist Jadu encounters explorers, poets, and politicians while bearing witness to societal upheavals in 20th century India. We as readers become quickly comfortable with the storytelling, feeling what Jadu’s wife describes as “an ordinary contentment.” Then the novel takes an abrupt turn not only in perspective, but in narrative distance and tone. What Kumar ultimately creates is a story told through multiple facets, negating the concept of a single truth and clear boundaries between right and wrong. This messiness is emblematic of the true protagonist of this novel, the nation of India itself.
Just as India is known for a rich tradition of myth and folktale, Jadu’s origin story is nothing short of mythic, in which his mother nearly dies from a cobra bite and his young sister is nearly carried off by a fox. Jadunath, born in 1935 (coincidentally the year both my grandfathers were born), is a curious and ambitious villager later given the opportunities of higher education. There, he meets Tenzing Norgay soon after the ascent of Everest, but perhaps more importantly, Jadunath learns about the layers of inequality in his country. Despite the new Indian constitution abolishing the caste system, he makes friends with a young Dalit man and learns that these laws are in name only. The realization is sobering and disrupts Jadu’s idealistic worldview. Kumar shows his talent for character interiority from this moment on. The story often meanders, we are given aspects of Jadu’s life non-linearly. We go from the early days of his marriage to a moment twenty years later, only tangentially connected by a single symbol or motif. Several times we see Jadu consider and reconsider an aspect of his past, such as his meeting with Tenzing Norgay, these narratives always in flux due to his new experiences and worldview at any given moment. We witness the partition of east and west Pakistan, the rise of fierce nationalism, and the complex relationship between India and the West. When it comes to divulging new details, Kumar avoids manipulating the reader by establishing the pattern of memory and digression early. When a disastrous marriage is brought up but not addressed again for many more pages, we read on knowing that our questions will be answered, even if not in the time we anticipate.
However, Kumar is not without his surprises. Midway through the novel, perspective abruptly shifts from the third person limited to a first person, more immediate narrator. Just as India begat its diaspora, Jadu begat his daughter, Jugnu, a US-based journalist and our new narrator. Contrasting her father’s ruminating thought patterns, Jugnu is sharp, declarative, and immersed in the moment. While her digressions later arrive as she explores facets of the same stories and tells new ones, on the whole her approach to narrative is far more immediate. From 20th century India we’re hurled into a moment close to the bone for most modern-day readers, a page of recent history. And instead of an old-world idealist brought to cynicism due to the weight of life experience, we witness a young woman pulled in many directions, often in real time. What she reveals tells us not only of her, but of her father. For instance, Jadu’s wife and Jugnu’s mother is hardly given page time in the novel, despite being Jadu’s sole romantic experience. She is cared for and respected, but not truly loved, and even her daughter can divulge some aspects of her mother’s loneliness but not the entirety of her character, which is lost to time. One wonders how the mother’s perspective would directly contradict the insular father-daughter dynamic, or at least provide greater dimension.
At times, My Beloved Life meanders a little too far, spending pages on unrelated characters and plot dimensions that add little to the narrative as a whole. One can easily see Kumar’s strengths as a historian, but filtered through the lens of fiction there are portions that read didactic when more time and attention could have been devoted to interpersonal relationships. Jugnu’s narrative starts to resemble her father’s towards the end of her section, losing the immediacy of her earlier scenes for more of an observer role. While this is true to her profession as a journalist, it lacks the contrast that made her section a revelation to begin with.
Ultimately, My Beloved Life subverts our expectations more than once to give us the nuanced, deeply historical portrait of a country and family in turmoil, an explanation of the role of history and memory when it comes to taking stock of human life. The novel reads as carefully considered and constructed, and for readers enthusiastic about the craft of writing, it is a book that won’t disappoint.
FICTION
by Amitava Kumar
Knopf
Published on February 27, 2025
