“China Room” begins with a gripping and terrifying situation. In the year 1929 three young women are married to three brothers on a farm in rural Punjab that's overseen by strict matriarch Mai. But newly married teenage Mehar (who has been given this name by her new family) doesn't even know which man is her husband. Conjugal visits take place in total darkness and she's not allowed to interact with the men during the day when she and her sisters-in-law must conceal themselves under veils and perform gruelling chores. She attempts to figure out his identity and becomes embroiled in a dangerous situation. Interspersed with her tale is the story of her great grandson who recounts a time in 1999 when he traveled to this family farm while trying to overcome his drug addiction and escape racism in England. It's so touching how details he encounters such a flecks of paint on a wall or a crumbling disused structure have such a potent meaning when we also see them in this earlier story. It builds narrative tension as well as poignancy as we gradually learn the truth about Mehar's struggle to achieve independence and what she desires. The novel beautifully builds a bridge across time connecting two family members from very different generations whose only physical connection resides in a faded photography.
It's a coincidence that before reading this novel I read “Great Circle” which also features a dual timeline where clues are gradually revealed in alternating stories to show a more complex and nuanced account of history. It's an impactful narrative technique but I think it does make it challenging to balance the accounts so that they feel equally impactful. There were moments in both novels when I resented being drawn out of the urgency of the stories from the past. However, this form of storytelling does make me reflect in a more complicated and dynamic way about my own limited understanding of my ancestors and how little I know about the complex challenges they faced in their lifetime. Therefore I really felt how the narrator of the “China Room” has such a powerful yearning to uncover the truth and connect with a lineage lost in the murky pages of history in order to progress with his own life.
The way Sahota writes about this alienated young man's experiences does make an interesting commentary on issues to do with national identity and the limitations that women face. Though the farm feels quite isolated in 1929, the larger world intrudes when independence fighters arrive looking for recruits. A character named Suraj wryly comments “It's just another idea... That it's better to be oppressed by your own than by the British. It won't change anything for us.” This sadly rings true because although Mehar is horrifically oppressed, the narrator's aunt is also trapped in a marriage where she can't be with the man she truly loves. Equally, though the town is on the brink of the 21st century it is still ruled by gossip that perniciously tries to limit the freedom of a female doctor who the narrator befriends and falls for. This raises meaningful questions about how much progress has really occurred in society – especially when the narrator's father suffered horrific racist violence which prompts the narrator to wonder where he really belongs.
Sahota's style of writing is beautiful and impactful. So many lines of dialogue or description have a resonant meaning. This novel feels like a personal reckoning with the past but also conveys larger universal ideas about levels of power and our connection with history.
