From Amazon
Following the critical acclaim which greeted
In the City by the Sea,
Salt and Saffron is Kamila Shamsie's second novel. It's a book which, from its opening lines, attempts to engage the reader in the fabulous world of the "House of Dard-e-Dil": "All right, don't scoff, mock or disbelieve: we live in mortal fear of not-quite-twins". Who "we" are, and what this strange fear might be, is one of the many enigmas of this tale. "Of course, reduce all stories to their basic elements", the narrator continues, "and you'll see all families are possessed of prejudice--that alternative name for 'fear'". The confidence--and wit--of this voice runs right through the book: Salt and Saffron is as much a novel about the ability of a good storyteller to beguile her audience into listening to her as it is a chronicle of the aristocratic and cosmopolitan, Dard-e-Dil family: "Samia, it appeared, had become one of those who drink Pepsi in Pakistan and lassi in London". Sharply observed and grounded in its different landscapes, from London to Karachi, Shamsie's novel is also elusive, evoking a vast cast of characters--the family tree included at the beginning of the book may be some help--whose complex relations to one another are gradually unfolded through the love story which runs through the novel: a chance encounter between Aliya, Shamsie's narrator, and the "tanned, possibly multi-racial" Khaleel.
Evocative, suggestive, sometimes frustrating, Salt and Saffron is a monument to the complexity of family lore and family scandal--the stories, and silence, which become the stuff of myth and history.--Vicky Lebeau
--This text refers to an alternate
Paperback
edition.
From Publishers Weekly
Clever, witty and inventive, this engaging novel tackles the challenges of reconciling one culture's progressive values with another's allegiance to family and tradition. Shamsie, well-known in her native Pakistan for a prize-winning first novel, In the City by the Sea, writes about Anglo-Indian culture clash with a subtlety and wit that recall Rushdie. Aliya, just graduated from an American college, heads home for the summer to her family in Pakistan for another kind of education, this one focused on the dynamics of class and love and directed by her well-heeled but intolerant relatives. While lively, likable characters with a shared passion for relaying stories from the family's colorful past, Aliya's kin annoy her with their disdain for those who do not share their distinguished lineage. The storied family curse of "not-quite-twins," relatives close in age who share a cosmic connection and disgrace the family's name, becomes more threat than myth when an aunt labels Aliya and her beloved cousin, Mariam Apa, as "not-quites." Indeed, Aliya has been bitterly estranged from a number of her relatives, especially her grandmother Dadi, since their scornful rejection of Mariam, a near-mute who eloped with the family cook. When Aliya finds herself drawn to a Westernized Pakistani whose parents hail from the slums of Karachi, her disillusionment with her family's snobbery and her identification with the unfortunate Mariam intensifies. However, as Aliya leans more about her family's tangled history, especially her grandmother's life and the three men at the center of it brothers divided by India and Pakistan's separation she learns that she, too, has been quick to judge. Her family turns out to be more passionate and complex than Aliya assumes, just as this winning novel resonates more deeply than its lighthearted tone would suggest. (Sept.)
Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.
--This text refers to the
Hardcover
edition.