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9780415317856_the_routledge_creative_writing_coursebook

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www.ATIBOOK.irFiction 105Papa is leaning out of a steam train window in a brilliant white shirt, anovercoat slung over his waving arm. The smoke rises like cold-morningbreath around his face. And he is backlit by a rising sun. He is smiling hisgap-too<strong>the</strong>d smile, though his eyes are intense. Mama stands on <strong>the</strong>platform, <strong>the</strong> fingers of one hand slightly raised, as if she is afraid to wavehim goodbye. She is impossibly young and utterly bereft, her long chiffondupetta is frozen in mid-curl, lifted by <strong>the</strong> wind. Even in such a smallphotograph her longing is palpable, <strong>the</strong> way her fingers say what hermouth cannot.This was always one of my favourites, this image of my parents asepic, glamorous figures, touched by romantic tragedy. … My parents in alove story!… But when I confronted mama about her courtship adventuresher face closed up like a fan. Don’t be so silly!’ she sniffed. ‘We wereintroduced by an uncle. It was all done through <strong>the</strong> proper channels.’ Andthat was that(Syal, 1997:31–2)A love story or an arranged marriage? Meena experiences life in England as a clash ofworlds: <strong>the</strong> world of her parents with <strong>the</strong> world of her friends in a village outsideBirmingham:Our gang, which we named <strong>the</strong> Wenches Brigade, soon established aroutine of sorts; we would begin with a leisurely meeting in an old pigsty,<strong>the</strong> one nearest <strong>the</strong> park, in which Anita and I would leaf through <strong>the</strong>current issue of Jackie, doing <strong>the</strong> quizzes on each o<strong>the</strong>r, How Do YouKnow If He Fancies You?… Then we would do <strong>the</strong> rounds of ourkingdom, Anita leading, me at her side, and <strong>the</strong> rest of <strong>the</strong> minions in adisorganised chattering crocodile behind us… There Anita and I wouldfind a space in <strong>the</strong> long grass clear of dog-shit and insects, and munch onsweets and talk, whilst our lackeys amused <strong>the</strong>mselves with teasing <strong>the</strong>horses with ears of corn and conducting interesting experiments such ashow far a two-day-old cow pat would travel when thrown by a smallsnotty-nosed child.(Ibid.: 138)At <strong>the</strong> end of <strong>the</strong> novel, Meena is <strong>the</strong> witness of an incident. She must tell <strong>the</strong> truth to <strong>the</strong>police. Her strict Asian parents insist on it, but can <strong>the</strong>y ever trust what <strong>the</strong>y hear fromher? Now she really is in a story, and for once she resists <strong>the</strong> temptation to exaggerate. Totell a story, to hear one, are events in <strong>the</strong> lives of <strong>the</strong> characters.As a contemporary Asian writer, Syal’s recreation of contrasting worlds depends on<strong>the</strong> techniques of realist fiction, but still leaves room for experiment. Meena’s Indianfamily background and Midlands accent, her British teenage experience and sense ofoutsiderhood, enable her to take as yet unplotted tracks through our cultural life. For her,and for <strong>the</strong> novelist, <strong>the</strong> issue of representation, self, voice and identity will be achallenge, a new kind of complexity. The narrative culture Meena inherits mixes stories

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