Neither romantic love, nor love within traditional nuclear families is at the center of this novel. Set among the Indian community of Trinidad and Tobago, Ingrid Persaud’s Love after Love follows the love between and around three characters whose love lives are out of the norm, for their community at least.
Betty Ramdin is a widow: her husband Sunil was an alcoholic abuser who died a few years earlier, much to Betty’s relief. Her son Solo is now a teenager, and to make ends meet, they take in a lodger, a kind teacher called Mr. Chetan. Over time, Mr. Chetan grows to love Solo like a son, and Betty and Chetan become close, reliable, affectionate friends.
Each of the three has a secret. Betty’s is related to the death of her husband Sunil. Chetan is gay (a ‘buller man’, in Caribbean slang), a state of being that was illegal in Trinidad until 2018, and is still subject to hostility, discrimination, ostracism and violence. And Solo is haunted by his missing father and also going through a teenage rebellion against his single mother.
The charm of this book lies in the dialogue: to my (ignorant) ear, distinctively Indo-Trinidadian, full of inside slang and rhythms and unfamiliar sayings and almost-familiar words.
Go on. Spoil the child. Monkey know which tree to climb.
You know the kind of family she come from? Corbeau can’t eat sponge cake.
I see fellas liming in the projects.
He needs to put on weight or the next hard breeze will blow him away. Yeah. He was always on the maga side.
I always say dog don’t make cat. You is your father’s son through and through.
Don’t take stress.
Some of these become clear from the context, some from familiarity over the course of the book, and some remain a mystery (‘Corbeau’?), but they all add up to a strong sense of place and community.
Chapters alternate between Betty’s, Chetan’s and Solo’s voice, and for me, Betty’s was the strongest. Here’s Betty thinking of her past:
This pain in my arm is the only lasting thing Sunil left me. When he was alive I was too shame to say anything, and once he passed, I was even more shame. What kind of woman does bad talk she dead husband? And Sunil was good-looking. A fair skin Indian with thick, black hair was a catch. […] Why would a hot man like that settle for a mook like me?
Chetan is a remarkably kind person without an apparent character flaw, but as portrayed in this novel, his homosexuality is seen as a horrific defect that has to be hidden at all costs from the rest of society. Persaud manages to make the societal displeasure clear while coming out strongly (in Betty’s voice) on the side of the gay community.
Halfway through the book comes a change of place: from an overheard conversation, Solo becomes aware of his mother’s secret. Angry and furious, he heads off to stay with his father’s brother in New Jersey.
The community in America is very nicely drawn, with plenty of Trini-isms still part of their conversation. These Indo-Trinidad-American families seem to separate or divorce rather than staying together unfaithfully as in Trinidad, but that may be just in this novel. There is a warm sense of welcome and family. Uncle Hari does whatever he can to help Solo, the son of his dead brother. Cousins Katherine and Ian are busy with their own lives, but still friendly and helpful. But life is still tough, for them and other immigrant families, and for Solo.
Solo’s problems were, for me, the least convincing. Simple teenage angst doesn’t quite seem to account for his bitterness towards his mother, or his self-harming period once in America. There are enough excellent coming-to-America novels that it’s not easy to say anything distinctive or original, and the Trinidadian dialogue, while charming, didn’t quite make this section of the novel as interesting as the parts set in Trinidad.
You know what they say: wire bend, story end.
much enjoyed the dialogue you included – delicious!
That was the best part!