DARKMOTHERLAND

A sprawling, sinuous novel of life and ideas in a funhouse-mirror South Asia.

Darkmotherland is a Himalayan nation torn by class, age, religion, and politics. At the beginning of Upadhyay’s story, a horrific earthquake has destroyed much of the country. The Big Two, as it’s called, “made people go insane,” he writes. “A well-respected spice merchant was seen around town drumming dhintang, dhintang, dhintang on his madal all day long, making everyone wish he’d died.” Fortunately, in one of the winding storylines of the book, PM Papa, the autocratic ruler, is there to save the day—or so one political faction insists, even as during the newly declared state of emergency, “all political activities were immediately banned.” In a palatial home called the Asylum—not for refugees, but for rich people’s money—a second storyline emerges, with tenuous interactions between a monied young man and a family with a gently intellectual father and a mother so left-leaning that she’s known as Madam Mao. Kranti, their daughter, marries into the Asylum, there to be bound up in intrigue. Meanwhile, while the street is abuzz with talk of a follow-up earthquake that “would decimate humanity as we know it,” a concubine whose gender evolves with each passing day, to the horror of the nation’s increasingly intransigent fundamentalists, gains ever greater political influence. In a novel that might be likened to Pynchon by way of Rushdie, demanding the reader’s close attention, Upadhyay is clearly having a blast playing with names and cultural constructs: One of his players is named General Tso, two disaffected servants are called Cheech and Chong, Allen Ginsberg (“a famous Amrikan homo”) and the Beatles make cameo appearances, and a Grateful Dead leather jacket becomes an object of memory and contemplation.

Dizzyingly complex and dazzlingly written, full of rewards and arch humor for the patient reader.