Book Review: The Toss of a Lemon

The Toss of a Lemon
by Padma Viswanathan
Random House Canada (2008), 616pp.

In the introduction to her stunning first novel, Padma Viswanathan describes her grandmother’s faltering attempts to recount their family history. “This time, she started farther back,” she writes of one occasion, “with a story I’d never heard: of her own grandmother, married as a child and widowed before she was out of her teens; of that grandmother’s son, childless and embittered; and her daughter, my grandmother’s mother, victimized by her marriage.” After trips to India, enormous amounts of research, and not a little invention, the result is The Toss of a Lemon.

Set within the Brahmin caste in southeastern India, the book opens in 1892 with a marriage proposal between Hanumarathnam, a young man “blessed with the ability to heal,” and ten-year-old Sivakami, a girl who looks “capable of bearing great burdens.” The proposal is accompanied by elaborate astrological calculations, after which Hanumarathnam tells his prospective in-laws he may die in the tenth year of his marriage.

When Hanumarathnam dies after the birth of his first son, Sivakami is left to the cruel yoke of a Brahmin widow. Stripped of her jewellery and dressed in a white sari, she is forced to have her head shaved and is forbidden to touch anyone between dawn and dark. Thus begins an epic family drama that extends into the 1950s and traces the conflicts between the traditional India and the modern, secular one.

The brilliance of The Toss of a Lemon rests not so much in its intricate plotting as in the compressed, poetic precision with which Viswanathan depicts a lost world. “On the riverbank, in a ceremony as old as men and women, her brother tears Sivakami’s blouse at the back, and she is made to remove it,” the author writes of the young widow’s mourning ceremony. “She unties the saffron thread of the thirumangalyam and drops it into the pot of milk her son holds for her . . . She will never see those gold medals of wifehood again.”

21 comment(s)

AnonymousMarch 14, 2008 17:52 EST

Your reviewer must be hallucinating, or paid off by Random House. The whole novel is written in a flattening, deadening present tense which is odd considering the novel "spans" generations (and at over 600 self-indulgent pages it will take a reader a generation to wade through its earnest, dreadful passages). Seems like another one of those novels targeted toward that silver-haired menopausal demographic living in Toronto's Annex, who apparently are the only readers of novels left in the country. The most fascinating part of the book are the Acknowledgments, which seem to thank everyone in the world and their mother. Boo. Don't be fooled. This book is a piece of CRAP.

BernardMacKinnonMarch 17, 2008 14:04 EST

I have to agree with Anonymous although I believe he/she is a bit harsh. The novel does go on and on and tries your patience to the extreme, but does contain certain memorable, well executed scenes. I believe that with this novel there should have been a sharpened red pencil let lose on it.

Amy N.March 24, 2008 15:33 EST

This is a beautiful novel — your reviewer is right on the mark. I'm taking the time to say so only because of the anonymous, sophomoric comment above, which completely fails to describe the book I read. The book I read has a prose style that is restrained but never flat, and the authorial intelligence behind it is serious but far from humourless. And the story it tells is grand in all the best senses of that word — I wouldn't have wanted it any shorter!

AnonymousApril 03, 2008 06:02 EST

Impressive debut indeed, and she'll make a kajillion dollars. The God of Small Things, excuse me, The Toss of a Lemon, is a rich family portrait.

SusanApril 14, 2008 14:24 EST

This is a lovely, moving novel. The pace and the tone match the restrained world of the Brahmin widow who is the central character. The language is exquisite. Please ignore the ignorant comment which leads off this list. That reader seems to have missed the point of the book and further has a very crude way of writing a review.

Gwynne GertzJune 05, 2008 12:04 EST

A good book allows us into a world that we may otherwise never know. A superb book allows us into such a world and momentarily fills us with awe because we temporarily lose our bearings and our faced with something completely new and other and yet we feel a connectedness. This is a superb book. I dare you to enter this book and learn about a country and a time in a way you never have before.

AnonymousJuly 31, 2008 14:26 EST

This is a very wonderful novel that gives insight into Indian culture and customs in a way I don't recall for any other author. It is almost like books written in the last century. Definitely a great read, and gives a very interesting picture of India from the time the British raj ceased up to the modern era of Gandhi and Nehru.

AnonymousAugust 23, 2008 11:50 EST

Where was the editor of this novel? Starting with the unfortunate title (in the UK it would be laughable) and the distancing present tense which makes the entire novel as interesting as a doctor's report, and moving on to the length and the disastrous epilogue. Too bad, because this is a talented writer and this could have been a great novel. As it stands, it's unreadable. I doubt any reviewer actually made it past p. 40. Easier to just say brilliant and be done with it. Could have been brilliant but it's a dud.

DianeSeptember 02, 2008 19:46 EST

I purchased this book for the exact reason Gwynne stated above - to learn of a culture totally foreign to me. The anonymous persons commenting need to chill and slow down and slowly read the book for the educational value as well as the family dynamics. I am half way through and can't wait to continue the next 300 pages. I look forward to Padma's next novel.

Lynn ESeptember 06, 2008 23:04 EST

Hey, I'm not even done yet with the novel and I'm absorbed in it. I like it so much that I searched it on the web to see if anyone liked it as much as I do. It's a very impressive novel and I don't feel bored at all. Wonderful novel.

AnonymousSeptember 09, 2008 05:32 EST

I haven't read the novel yet but may I say, stories that talk about Hindu widows facing traumatic de-construction of their lives are always adored by the Western audience which doesn't know that there were often other brave examples who re-fashioned their lives in less regressive ways after widowhood. Heard of Rani Lakshmibai of Jhansi, anybody? Her life took a similar path but she extended it's reach by becoming a 'Joan of Arc' style patriot.
In my family, my father's young widowed aunt left home in her 30s and travelled the length and breadth of India on pilgrimage, returning home as she pleased. Now there's a tale of intrepid courage to celebrate!
Every society has tales of oppression and of courage - what you focus upon is a reflection of your life's perspective.

RudroNovember 17, 2008 20:13 EST

This is an amazing book and kudos to the novelist for having the courage to write it in the land where Deepa Mehta's films are semi-officially and sometimes officially banned from being shot/filmed. For those who feel threatened by Indian history being documented in the 'unbrahminical' way, your times are slowly but surely coming to a close.

Lynn B.January 11, 2009 14:47 EST

Perhaps our author chose the present tense because the prejudices and political tensions evident in A Toss of the Lemon are not in the past after all. Read the often emotional responses above! Anonymous #1 is not content to simply criticize the book, for example; he seems intent that no one else should like it either. Rudro reveals present-day repression of the Indian media, and warns us of an impending end to Brahminical influence. Anonymous #4 and Anonymous #5 (who, incredulously, critiques a book he admits not having read) directs sarcasm and insult to the readers of Lemon, rather than attempt an honest book review. So forgive me, friends, when I admit to having savored this detail-drenched novel. I am, after all, a Christian woman of Nordic descent, a Westerner of the US variety, and post-menopausal, so what can one expect, eh?

There are flaws however, such as inadequate character development. For instance, Thangam and Goli, presences throughout the book, are never explored in depth. Was Thangam really a healer, or was she simply of limited intelligence, delighting - even in adulthood - in dolls and costume, rather than the responsibility of motherhood. And how to explain this gold dust phenomenon, or the introduced but never revisited (or explained) Siddhas? The theme of responsible fatherhood is clear throughout the generational story, as are the consequences of it's absence.

Perhaps it's the author's attention to the details of daily and celebratory Brahmin life that ultimately kept me absorbed, permitting me a window into a culture I know little about. It is a story about how women cope, and how tradition is used to both altruistic and repressive ends. For many it imposes a yolk of burden; for most it's a tie that binds, even justifies. America has it's legacy of slavery, India it's history of a caste system. While the injustices of each are clear, Viswanathan's primary purpose doesn't seem to be political. In a changing world, she seems to say, for better or worse, this is my heritage. I invite you to explore it with me.

AnonymousJanuary 12, 2009 09:13 EST

I come from Tamilnadu and hail from an orthodox Iyer Brahmin family. I think the rule about not being allowed to be touched by anyone from dawn till dusk applied to all who worked in the kitchen, not just widows. It comes under the madi protocol. Those that worked in the kitchen had to keep strict quarantine, in order to make sure there was no contamination of the food, in the tropical weather. Only they were allowed to cook, serve and handle the food. They took shower early in the morning and wore clothes that had been hung on clotheslines at a height. The clothes were untouched by anyone while they were drying and the women took them out and wore after their shower. Once they wore these clothes, they were madi (not to be touched by anyone who did not wear similar madi clothes). Not unlike the sterile scrubs surgeons wear. Extending that practice to modern day living is of course unnecessary. However, I think it is incorrect to say that only widows were forced into that kind of quarantine.

I have worked in operating rooms as a medical physicist, assisting during radioactive seed implants for prostate cancer. The surgeons holding their sterile gloved hands up, never bringing them down below waist level and the whole sterile field often reminded of my childhood home and the kitchen with my mother, grandmother and the cook (a male in maternal grandmother's house), all of them chasing us children away because we did not wear madi clothes. They were all sumangalis (husbands alive), not widows, but we were not allowed to touch them.

Janaki Krishnamoorthy

Lynn B.January 12, 2009 13:50 EST

Thank you, Janaki, for your personal clarification. You have enriched Viswanathan's images by giving them scientific context. But you've written more than a dry accounting; Instead your words flow like those of a story-teller. Perhaps a novel or resource book lies within you, too, just waitng to be written!

I'm a 57 yr old retired teacher, and if you're interested, would like to exchange more emails. Can you think of a way to share our addresses without posting them on this message board?

Janaki K.January 12, 2009 23:23 EST

Thank you Lynn. To post comments on this message board, we both needed to give our email addresses to the host. Do you think they can help us?

NathanielApril 02, 2009 16:49 EST

What struck me most about this novel was the structure of the Brahmin culture and the importance of family - aspects sorely lacking in modern western culture. Not only was it entertaining but also educational. However, I must admit that halfway through my interest began to wane. An edited version would have been more efficient.

AnonymousAugust 09, 2010 12:33 EST

I am always fascinated by stories of other cultures and this book was no exception. I knew nothing of the Brahmin way of life and I found all of their traditions interesting. My only complaint is - I think there should have been a Glossary to explain a lot of the Indian words used, I had to use my imagination in quite a few instances. I was also at a loss regarding the "gold dust" shed by Thangam, what could have caused that phenomenon? All in all a totally compelling read.

AnonymousSeptember 17, 2010 19:44 EST

I am a 22 year old, that was fascinated by this novel. It wasn't only beautifully written but it was full of life. It left me researching Indian culture and traditions.

AnonymousJanuary 20, 2011 15:37 EST

Have to agree with the comments regarding the length of this book. While I think it is a worthwhile read, it could easily have been limited to 300 pages maximum. Certainly tries your patience.

LeslieJune 23, 2011 00:07 EST

A most amazing book! I've read many books about India, and always marvel at the beautiful language of Anglo-Indian authors. This one is definitely one of my favourites! I couldn't put it down, and am shocked by those who say it was tedious. The story was interesting and intricate and dealt with the caste system in such an interesting way. I loved all the characters, and, even though Sivakami and Vairum both had irritating characteristics, they both loved their families, in their own way, and went through great difficulties to preserve the family—hard to do in a huge time of change in politics and culture.
Brava to the novelist!

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