Latest update February 1st, 2025 6:45 AM
Jun 26, 2016 Book Review…, Features / Columnists
Book: Life As Stories: Short Stories Inspired by Women
Author: Burt Sinanan
Reviewer: Dr Glenville Ashby
Short stories are sometimes clothed in culture and politics. But for the most part they entertain. Rarely, though, do they psychoanalyze and peer into the many rivulets of the subconscious self. Who are we? If the psychologist in this captivating labyrinth cannot answer this fundamental question, we too are lost. Quite disconcerting.
Burt Sinanan stretches the imagination with interweaving tales: Flowers for Sale, Birthday Number 9, Galactic Migration, and Market Mischief. Plots twirl through time, tripping over themselves, purposefully demanding our attention. And they succeed.
Not satisfied with mediocrity and literalism, Sinanan injects an inscrutable, Star Wars-like saga that his protagonist, Jan, absorbs. Slowly, we begin to follow Sinanan’s train of thought. As Jan listens and learns, so do we.
Here, axiomatic gems are second to none: “…The estate of inheritance is not only material gain, but emotions as well…this is an ancient psychology. Feelings is psychology. All in the mind then – we will always be psychological extensions of those we inherited from. I want to be truly independent one day. To be independent I must be denied inheritance.” Words that elegantly flow from Surima, an indomitable character and consummate feminist.
And there are tales conjuring repulsive, hideous images of fantastical creatures that spawn the myths surrounding women – poison that we have imbibed in this patriarchal world. Jan is well acquainted with these horrors fomenting in his embryonic mind – subtle images that infect his personal relationships. Degrees in psychology are no match for this pervasive, negative archetype of femininity, although they form part of us. It’s an internal duel with no end in sight.
And turmoil builds within Jan, this young Brit raised by a Caribbean family – an unfamiliar, refreshing scenario. Oh, there’s nostalgia as he recalls timeless oldies; and we feel a sense of pride. He enjoys the best of Caribbean cuisine; and the palpable warmth of the West Indian household radiates spirituality.
But there are some forgivable concerns related to identity. Here, race comes second to nationality – this, a never-ending debate. And the colour of artful writing is displayed in a market scene that resembles more of the islands than the Diaspora:
“One Sunday, someone noticed me (probably not for the first time) tagging along and shouted from across Electric Avenue, “Massa days done ooman. You still mining white people chirren.” Mamie just squeezed my hand and whispered Psalm 23, audible to both of us alone. The stares, glares and shaded conversations of my presence at Mamie’s side died with time but the market was the place for it – a living cemetery where the forgotten tales can be resurrected by the snap of a finger. It was the Caribbean Diaspora’s self-governing ministry of internal affairs, external too.”
The market we learn “was the advanced academy for the practice of gossiping – an art and a social necessity rehearsed by most women – designed against women.”
Fast-forward and Jan, the psychologist, seems out of sorts.
“A forty-three year old psychologist with neurotic behaviors.” And of his experience at a children’s residential home, he writes, “All that time I felt like a tennis ball. My outside got harder but my inside was squished into a fluid dilemma – a concoction of teary night-time emotions and bewildered daytime resentment.”
Sinanan or maybe Jan’s wrestle with feminism takes shape. What does the term mean anyway? There are so many definitions and so many shades. There is a sea of confusion and we too are held at bay. There is no way to separate Sinanan from Jan. They march in lock step, dye-in-wool existentialists. And this intimacy speaks to you almost hauntingly. Can men understand the heart and mind of women? It seems unlikely. Jan is understandably confounded but paradoxically he’s part of a wider group, equally confused. Yes, women too struggle to define feminism. In the foreword, Sinanan concedes his frustration: “Feminists have broken themselves into factions. Liberal; Marxist; Radical; Post-Modern; Third World; Post-Colonial; Social and Cultural feminists; all having different views.”
The most captivating definition could well belong to Indira Gandhi, of which an excerpt reads, “To be liberated, woman must feel free to be herself, not in rivalry to man but in the context of her own capacity and her personality.”
Jan’s profession does not allay his turmoil. He hits the nail on its head uttering, “It is believed that psychologists use scientific methods to explore the factors that influence people’s thinking patterns…The problem is: No one could predict the behavior of human beings in a fast changing environment – an environment where there is no set behavior threshold, and where traditions of morality are quickly being eroded to expose a colorful canvas of a vulgar texture.”
Here, there is a convergence of ideas, an inescapable functionalism ever reaching for meaning, validity and survival. The saga of Mamie, Gwen and Jan continues after an “interlude,” but the raw psychodynamics are never truly relived.
And it is here that the sun sets on Sinanan’s magic as tales such as Let it Burn, Door Number Ten and The Flockless Fowl all but flicker.
But through this engaging experience Sinanan proves he’s no middling novelist. There’s so much more smoldering. Be patient. And listen.
Feedback: [email protected] of follow him on Twitter@glenvilleashby
Life as Stories: Short Stories Inspired by Women by Burt Sinanan © 2016
Available at Amazon
Ratings: Highly recommended
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