Abstract
Introduction
The literary highlight of the year under review was undoubtedly the publication of Shehan Karunatilaka’s Chinaman: The Legend of Pradeep Mathew. In awarding it the Gratiaen prize, the three judges hailed the book as something that was out of the ordinary while still in manuscript form. The “buzz” that was associated with the work was such that the author was invited to the Galle Literary Festival as a key participant even before it was published. The sensation that attended its actual publication rivalled the media debate that ensued after Carl Muller’s The Jam Fruit Tree appeared. The latter was controversial for its use of language and its depiction of salacious incidents besides its obvious merits as a novel; the former was valorised for a plethora of reasons. Harshana Rambukwella, in reviewing the novel, remarks,
as the text courses through the tumultuous history of Sri Lanka in the last two decades, the discourse of cricket becomes metonymic of the many socio-political concerns dominating public consciousness over the last few decades of the country: bribery, corruption, racism, political chicanery, abductions, bloody acts of terrorism and most tellingly the inability to extricate reality from rumour for points of reference that would resonate with most Sri Lankan readers. (87)
But it is not merely Sri Lankan issues that attend this text. The story of a down-and-out alchoholic journalist trying to make his Lawrentian utterance by tracing the reasons for the mysterious disappearance of the brilliant cricketer whose main call to fame was his ability to bowl the “chinaman” is also a point of departure for Karunatilaka to explore “universal” attributes like obsession, the power of the word, the potential for sport to create harmony and to divide and other concerns. Like Muller, Karunatilaka’s wonderful sense of humour often masks some of the drawbacks of the novel (there are points towards the end when the novelist cannot maintain intensity; the first edition of the novel could have profited from a better editor). Be that as it may, there can be no doubt that Chinaman: The Legend of Pradeep Mathew will become one of the most highly rated novels from Sri Lanka. It is hoped that Karunatilaka does not become a “one-novel wonder” but continues to use his extraordinary talent to further Sri Lankan writing in English.
What was most ironic in the Sri Lankan literary scene in 2010 was that, while Karunatilaka’s sometimes politically incorrect, more often irreverent, novel was lauded without too many reservations by conservative and avant-garde critics alike, the polarization among critics that followed Prashani Rambukwelle’s winning of the Gratiaen Prize the following year spilled over to 2010, as some critics continued to insist that Mythil’s Secret was a book for children and should not have been considered for the Gratiaen while others argued that the novel could be appreciated at several levels. The Gratiaen Prize for 2010 was won by Sakuntala Sachithanandan for her collection of poems On the Streets and Other Revelations. The cruelty shown to animals by human beings, nature (in poems which are almost obsessed with detail) and the appalling conditions in which labourers in tea estates live are some of the themes on which she focuses. Sometimes the writers’ social activism is overpowering and her poetic craft is not sufficiently versatile to handle it but overall this is a compelling, if slim, volume of poetry.
The major Sri Lankan expatriate novel of note to be published this year was The Lament of the Dhobi Woman by Karen Roberts. Her latest offering, though, was published in Sri Lanka. The two major concerns of the novel are the exploitation of servants by the upper middle classes and the inability of Sarla to “communicate” with her third daughter Catherine, the child she did not want. The novel is written in slick fashion and has its moments. That many of the themes explored in the text are hackneyed it must be said. The exploitation of servants has been over-analysed by authors like Rajiva Wijesinha and Elmo Jayawardena to name just two. The story of Seelawathie, Cat’s ayah (nurse) being seduced with promises by Uncle Rick who fails to take responsibility when the servant becomes pregnant, too, has been heard before. Although some critics have identified the breakdown in the relationship between mother and daughter as a unique theme in Sri Lankan fiction in English, this is not totally true because Maude in Michelle de Kretser’s The Hamilton Case is, like Sarla, a socialite who is expressly interested in her social life and has little time for her children. Two odd facets of the novel are the cover which depicts a scantily clad (perhaps Western) woman, who bears no resemblance to any of the protagonists, and the actual title. One does not meet any Dhobi (washer) woman in the story and it would appear that the title has been chosen merely because it sounds exotic. On the subject of exotica, Roberts follows the trend started by Michael Ondaatje in years gone by bringing in exorcism to her narrative. In Running in the Family, reference to such rites is intended to create atmosphere and it is supposed to work in binary opposition to the “meaningless” frolicking of the Burghers. What happens in Roberts’ novel is that Sarla who has begun to lose her appetite, which makes her alarmingly ill, is taken to Father Peter who, having performed some rituals, unearths a pot from beneath the “rainbow” tree. On seeing the pot, Sarla is restored to good health. This and other incidents have little to do with the plot and are indubitably brought in to add “spice” to the work.
Ramya Chamalie Jirasinghe is a very gifted poet who does not capture the headlines unlike others with equal or less talent. That her slim, beautifully bound collection There’s an Island in the Bone is inordinately expensive could be one reason for this lack of recognition despite the author being shortlisted for the Gratiaen in 2007 for her manuscript “A Map and a Compass Moon”. This is indeed a pity because this volume, which can be read in a single sitting, leaves one yearning for more. Too often in collections, the effect of the best poems is lost when juxtaposed with those that appear to be included to merely make up the numbers. One does not find a single “weak” poem here. Jirasinghe is comfortable in depicting the many worlds that she has encountered in her life. From the poignant “My Parents Home”, which captures the slow disintegration of a once vibrant abode, through the chilling “Fifty Seconds at the Traffic Lights”, in which the poet suggests (by providing a concrete example) that the only way in which the country is efficient is in the manner in which white vans trail and apprehend their victims, to the irate “I Defy”, which takes a stand against those women who pretend that their domestic situations are perfect when they are in effect living a lie, There’s an Island in the Bone shows a dexterity and verve rarely seen in Sri Lankan poetry in English. Ranjini Obeyesekere’s introduction to the volume is indeed refreshing to many of us who have had to skim through polite verbiage that passes for introductions these days. A careful reading of Obeyesekere’s piece prepares the reader for the variegated techniques, themes and strategies that have been utilized by Jirasinghe in producing this very worthy book of poetry.
Another important collection of poetry that appeared in 2010 was Vivi Marie Vanderpoorten’s Stitch Your Eyelids Shut. The winner of the Gratiaen for Nothing Prepares You a few years ago, her second volume was subjected to the same divergent readings and critiques as was her previous effort. In a clumsily rendered review (made obvious by the ungrammatical title “Stitch Your Eyelids Shut: Blank Verse and [sic] Occasional Try”), journalist Ranga Chandraratne complains that she does not have the poetic diction to articulate the variegated themes she has chosen to represent in the poems and even suggests that some of her poetry is prose masquerading as blank verse. Vihanga Perera who was himself shortlisted the year that Vanderpoorten won the Gratiaen, faults her poems, in a personal blog, for promoting a flawed, upper middle class outlook and claims, furthermore, that in introducing politics into her poetry, as a response to the charge that her poetry was too personal, she has done herself a disservice because she does not have the poetic skill to handle such themes. The academic Dushyanthi Mendis, however, praises her poetry for showing a “deep sensitivity to the human condition”. I tend to agree with Mendis. If one believes the old adage that the object of literature is to “richly reveal the commonplace”, the poem “Cadaver” does just that. In this poem, Vanderpoorten shows how one carries both good and negative aspects of dead relationships on one’s person like a corpse, when it is imperative that one should “let memory die/let loving you go”. But it is not a task that the speaker is very confident of completing as is indicated in the choice of the word “should” in the concluding lines:
I should untie you from the back of my heart dig a hole in the dark deep night of my past and bury you, kisses and all.
While some poems are overtly political, there are others that make a damning political indictment through understatement. Such a poem is “Independence Day” which does not celebrate 4 February 1948 when the island received Independence from Britain but (as is suggested from the thrust of the verse) the day that the country was liberated from the LTTE (Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam). The poet focuses neither on the victorious army nor the vanquished Tigers. Her focal point is on the plight of the ordinary people to whom it is supposed to bring deliverance, those who had been victims of collateral damage and had little to celebrate, those to whom “Independence” was “But a slow/dawning/of night”.
Vihanga Perera, who is both a writer of fiction and a poet, brought out a slim volume called Busted Intellectual, a selection of poetry written during the period January-August 2010. At one level, it touches on some of the socio-political tensions the nation was experiencing during that period, particularly, the post-May 2009 climate including censorship, suppression of voices, disappearances of journalists, cancelling of the “anti-Buddhist” Akon concerts and the like. There is also a thread of poetry along personal lines. These deal with re-visitations to the past, family issues and unfulfilled love.
Information on serious drama performances in English is sketchy at best, which makes a report difficult to compile. However, one serious play that stood out was “The War Reporter”, which was performed at the Goethe-Institut in Colombo in March. This play was written by German playwright Theresia Walser and translated for performance by Asoka de Zoysa. The play was directed by Jake Oorloff and Ruhanie Perera of the Floating Space Theatre Company. Responding to a question at an interview, Jake Oorloff gave the rationale for producing the play thus:
I think, like everybody else, we are concerned of [sic] the systematic curtailing of expression within the country. We wanted to discuss both the impact of paranoia around the protection of a language within a community, as much as look at what happened to forms of expression at a time of war, which we felt very strongly about. We were also interested in how we placed ourselves – or were placed – in the roles of either traitor or patriot, in relation to what we felt and expressed about the war, and what that meant at the time for Sri Lankans who did not agree with the war. As citizens, we felt we had a right to express dissent, and yet, what we consistently confronted was the feeling of absolute impotency, when the right and mediums of expression were being systematically denied.
The DramSoc of the University of Peradeniya remains in the vanguard of university theatre in English and the Inter-Faculty Drama competition continues to thrive. The President of the society for 2010 Leoma van Dort shared with me her thoughts:
The award for Best Play was won for the third consecutive time by the Faculty of Arts for their bilingual play “A Drowning Woman’s Song”, which was an adaptation of Ruwanthie de Chickera’s Middle of Silence. The prologue to the play was an agonizing solo mime of a paraplegic, which foreshadowed the psychological tensions that ran throughout the play. The play captured the mental and physical traumas experienced by the marginalized: the disabled, the unemployed, the social-sex worker and, most importantly, the woman, in both the domestic and public spheres, and highlighted a multitude of “social evils” such as poverty, unemployment, prostitution, domestic violence, and sexual abuse. The psychological tensions of each character were enhanced with the use of rather morbid music. The play was made up of three short but strikingly significant scenes and ended with two powerful and dramatic monologues performed by the two protagonists of the play. “A Drowning Woman’s Song” owed its success to three strong actresses: Leoma van Dort, Angela Perinpanayagam and Rashmi Fernando, and actor Dhanuka Bandara. Arts also won the two prestigious awards for Best Actress (Leoma van Dort) and Best Actor (Dhanuka Bandara). The Faculty of Engineering won six awards for the play “A Time for Farewells”: Best Director (Chamila Gamage), Best Supporting Actor (Nalika Ulapane), Special Performance (Gihan Edirisinghe), Best Lighting, Best Props and Best Stage Management. The Faculty of Science was rewarded with the prize for Best Costumes, for its thrilling and entertaining comedy based on the legendary story of “Don Quixote”. The Arts Juniors’ play “Women in Love” was a blend of several works of literature which aimed not only to create an entirely new story but also to present new perspectives on “classical” literary works. This refreshing and novel performance was rewarded with the award for Best Supporting Actress (Samitha Senanayake).
There was a time when anthologies on Sri Lankan writing in English would appear often, but this enthusiasm seems to have diminished recently. The only person who endeavours to arrest this trend is D.C.R.A. Goonetilleke who brought out Kaleidoscope 2 following Kaleidoscope 1 which was published in 2008. Often, collections that bring together fiction, poetry, non fiction and drama tend to be imbalanced, with some sections dominating others. This collection is an exception. The compiler’s claims that “chronology, content and technique have been taken into consideration in arranging the items” are validated with material covering the colonial to the postcolonial period that includes a range of styles. A reader new to Sri Lankan writing in English will indubitably receive a good idea of its variety and scope from this book.
Another collection that should be mentioned is Change – Conflict and Convergence: Austral-Asian Scenarios edited by Cynthia vanden Driesen and Ian vanden Driesen. The papers included were presented at the ASSA conference held in Kandy in 2008. The conference was held despite delegates from a principal university in Australia being denied the official funds they had already been granted to use for the trip by the university authorities because they concluded that the road from the Bandaranaike International Airport to Kandy was a battle zone. The reassurances given by distinguished Sri Lankan diplomats who participated in the conference, senior academics and others, were to no avail. This collection is, in a way, a special tribute to those who thumbed their noses at bureaucratic imbecility, those who participated in the conference using their own funds, or with the help of ASAA, and perhaps those educated others who realized, on their return, that, despite the bad press, Sri Lanka was a very “normal” country after all.
The fifth SLACLALS Conference was held after the lapse of a considerable number of years at the Royal Garden Mall in Kandy. The theme of the Conference was “Postcolonial or Postmodern?” Margaret Daymond’s plenary “Zoë Wicomb: Writing a Postcolonial Condition in South Africa as a Postmodern Strategist” was closely anchored to the conference theme as were Maithree Wickramasinghe’s “Clashing Paradigms or Concurrent Paradigms? Feminist Standpoint Theories of Postcolonialism and Postmodernisms”, Sumathy Sivamohan’s “Contesting Sovereignty: (Post)Modern Nations and Postcolonial Narratives”, Tara Senanayake’s “The ‘Chutnification’ of Postcolonialism and Postmodernism in Midnight’s Children”, Vihanga Perera’s “The Role of the Diaspora As a ‘New Middle Class’ to the ‘Re-Colonization’ of the ‘Orient:’ Observations Made through Sri Lankans’ Writing ‘of Home’”, and Chandana Dissanayake’s “Spittel’s Savage Sanctuary: A Postcolonial Postscript”. Papers were interspersed with readings by writers like Carl Muller, Ashley Halpé, Premini Amerasinghe, Parvati Arasanayagam, Kamala Wijeratne, Sumathy Sivamohan and Lal Meddawattegedera. The Irish poet Richard Murphy, who now lives in Sri Lanka, also participated by reading from his poetry and chairing a session. This SLACLALS conference marked the end of Ashley Halpé tenure as chair of the organization. Having founded it in the 1970s, he was its head for much of the time except during the period when D.C.R.A. Goonetilleke, who subsequently because chair of the parent body ACLALS, was at the helm.
It is hoped that the enthusiasm generated by this conference will result in a substantial Sri Lankan presence at the next ACLALS triennial to be held in the West Indies, although enthusiasm alone will not suffice. The 15th Triennial Conference “Strokes across Cultures” held in Nicosia, Cyprus, did not include any paper by a Sri Lankan resident in Sri Lanka. What is ironic and distressing is that an organization that was intended to bind all segments of the Commonwealth together in promoting literature and language is fast becoming one that caters only to its more prosperous member countries. The high costs of travel and accommodation and the lack of funding make it impossible for Sri Lankans to attend triennials hosted at such exotic venues.
The Galle Literary festival continues to generate extreme responses. This year, Rajpal Abeynayake, one of its foremost critics, was given the opportunity to express his views at a formal session of the festival. His presentation was predictable as was the reaction from festival devotees. Both sets left with their views unchanged. Two of the Sri Lankan writers featured this year were David Blacker and Shehan Karunatilaka. The most prominent among Sri Lankan expatriate writers were Ru Freeman, Michelle de Kretser and Shyam Selvadurai. De Kretser was given centrestage on several occasions and the enthusiastic audiences that attended her sessions were struck by her straightforwardness, articulacy, wonderful sense of humour and genuine concern for the land that inspired The Hamilton Case.