The Lowland by Jhumpa Lahiri is a melodrama done well, and I do not mean that entirely as a compliment. Her first novel, The Namesake has been adapted to the silver screen successfully by Mira Nair and going only by the merit of its powerful climax, I won’t be surprised if this book finds itself a similar fortune.

As far as premises go, The Lowland has the most generic one, one which has been dealt on innumerable occasions in Indian milieu, that of two inseparable brothers at childhood, preferring to go in tangential directions due to ideological differences, as they age further apart from each other. But, Lahiri gives this premise an interesting and historical context by letting Udayan and Subhash Mitra grow up during the turbulent period of Naxal uprising and the eventual formation of CPI (ML) party in Bengal. Subhash, the elder and reticent brother choses an academic career and travels to the United Stated while the younger and revolutionary Udayan stays back to participate in the movement. Their relationship takes up the initial quarter of the book and is probably the best thing about it. Yet, this is just not a bromance, as the brothers are involved with strong female characters all through their lives, making this a multi-generational saga of love and longing, bonding and indifference. 

One of the refreshing things about this book is that it refers to actual people and incidents from the history without resorting to their fictitious counterparts.  The hallmark of great fiction writing with a historical context is in depicting how the actions of certain people and incidents of that era shaped up the protagonists’ lives, influenced their decision making, and impacted their vision of the world. It is in this regard, The Lowland scores high and justifies the inclusion of names like Kanu Sanyal and Charu Majumdar in its story. However, this is not a historic fiction as such as the narrative derives its emotional depth equally from the deep personal trauma in enduring, sustaining and appreciating the relationships between themselves.

This is Jhumpa Lahiri’s most ambitious work till date and she writes with exceptional care and motherly doting to each of her characters, especially to Subhash Mitra. However, her handling comes across as too delicate and her one-dimensional vision suffocates the characters, denying them from developing any layers other than what was envisioned. Consequently, their love lives were almost non-existent and they age rather too rapidly, since they do not have much to do apart from facilitating interesting plot points.


Even while the characters seem fragile, their inherent need for independence is never compromised as they choose to drift apart from each other, preferring nostalgia, longing and seclusion. None of their actions seem questionable or radical, even while they don’t conform. All this was done with the trademark sincerity of a writer so confident in both her material and prowess infusing each of her characters with sensitivity that brings them close to the reader, making it a definite page-turner.