海角大神

The sense of displacement, of disconnect begins on the cover: The words 鈥淎 Novel鈥� written sideways, unobtrusively stamped along the left side under the title Temporary People, might be considered misleading. Made up of three "books" that comprise eight, nine, and 10 chapters respectively, Deepak Unnikrishnan鈥檚 debut is more accurately a collection of (very) loosely interlinked stories. Look a little more closely at the 鈥淐ontents鈥� page and you鈥檒l see 鈥淐habters鈥� (repeated 27 times) in place of the expected 鈥淐hapters鈥� 鈥� a nod to native Arabic speakers whose mother tongue doesn鈥檛 use the 鈥減鈥�-sound, and replaces such with a 鈥渂鈥�-sound. Then look more at the three repetitions of 鈥榖ooks鈥� and you鈥檒l notice not 1, 2, 3, but 聽伲, 佗, 佟 鈥� the eastern Arabic numbers wholly replacing the more familiar western Arabic numerals.

Before his storytelling has even begun, Unnikrishnan is already slyly, inventively playing with language(s). His chameleonic turns come from personal necessity: His parents are Indian migrants living in the United Arab Emirates, where Unnikrishnan was raised, a country 鈥渨here foreign nationals constitute over 80% of the population,鈥� where its non-native labor force can never ever be granted citizenship, nor their children, as Unnikrishnan explains in his opening author鈥檚 note. His US education, and his current Chicago address (he also teaches at New York University鈥檚 Abu Dhabi campus), has added another layer to his linguistic m茅lange: 鈥淭he book employs an amalgamation of the English language tampered with by [sic] Malayalam slang, finessed in an Indian school on Emirati soil, and jazzed up thanks to American, Arabic and British television,鈥� he writes. 鈥淭he book also explores the mispronunciations and word appropriations that take place when a country鈥檚 main demographic are people from elsewhere.鈥�

And finally, albeit just a few pages in, Unnikrishnan begins to tell his tales of these "people from elsewhere" who live as perpetual foreigners, often in fear, with precarious futures 鈥� always as temporary people who eventually will be forced to leave. Unnikrishnan organizes his migrants into three books 鈥� 鈥淟imbs鈥� (for actual body parts and even lives lost), 鈥淭ongue鈥� (for all the truths and realities that can鈥檛 be told), and 鈥淰eed鈥� (the meaning of which is revealed in Book 3鈥檚 Chabter 4 鈥� 鈥淸t]he English equivalent to veed is home.鈥�)

Among the expendable, replaceable workers whose 鈥淟imbs鈥� have built the UAE, three men flee a labor camp by morphing into a passport, suitcase, and runaway in 鈥淕ulf Return,鈥� a woman who specializes in finding bodies at building sites eases a worker鈥檚 final hours in 鈥淏irds,鈥� the city of Dubai 鈥淸s]prouts workers like sheafs [sic] of corn鈥� in 鈥淚n Mussafah Grew People,鈥� 41,282 men and women in their 60s are ordered to leave the UAE after decades of labor in 鈥淎kbaar: Exodus.鈥�

Of the stories in 鈥淭ongue,鈥� the rampant sexual assault of children is investigated but unsolved in 鈥淢ushtibushi,鈥� Indian teens lose their tongues in 鈥淕lossary,鈥� cockroaches resemble in dress and speech the people whose homes they invade in 鈥淏latella Germanica,鈥� a student鈥檚 temporary job as a clown masks his humanity in 鈥淜loon,鈥� an 80-year-old woman explains how being a foreigner is equivalent to absence in 鈥淣alinakshi.鈥�

In 鈥淰eed [home],鈥� a boy鈥檚 great-grandmother reveals epic family history in 鈥淪arama,鈥� a discarded dog and an elderly man watch the empty house of a dead woman in 鈥淒og,鈥� a man shamefully returns to his native Indian village in Chapter Six with its title redacted (the man鈥檚 name blacked out), a young man attempts to enter the UAE illegally 鈥� his homecountry 鈥� to see his dying father in 鈥淏aith.鈥�

Combining surreal symbolism and linear narrative, wordplay and lists, family history and mythic retellings, Unnikrishnan uses fiction to 鈥淸illuminate] how temporary status affects psyches, families, memories, fables, and language(s).鈥� In a brilliant, subversive move, Unnikrishnan connects his three "books" with a single-word chapter, 鈥淧ravasis鈥� 鈥� Malayalam for migrant, or "temporary people" in Unnikrishnan-speak, which he repeats three times in each book. Book 1鈥檚 鈥淧ravasis鈥� lists words like expat, guest worker, non-citizen, brought, arrived, homesick, ending with a definitive 鈥淭emporary. People.鈥澛� Book 2鈥檚 鈥淧ravasis?鈥� lists two-and-a-half pages of jobs temporary people take. Book 3鈥檚 is a visual stunner, a shocking state of erasure reflected on a virtually empty page, with an unsolvable equation at the bottom right, 鈥淧RAVASIS=." And thus Unnikrishnan鈥檚 "novel" concludes.

With this unsettling, dazzling, astute collection, Unnikrishnan won the inaugural Restless Books Prize for New Immigrant Writing, which awards $10,000 and publication to a first-time, first-generation American author. 鈥淚n giving substance and identity to the voiceless and faceless masses of guest workers in the United Arab Emirates, he not only calls attention to this very particular injustice, but also highlights the disturbing ways in which 鈥榩rogress鈥� on a global scale is bound up with dehumanization,鈥� reads the Judges鈥� Citation (award-winning Ethiopian immigrant Maaza Mengiste was one-third of the judging panel). 鈥�'Temporary People' is a brave, stylistically inventive book that presents a frightening, surreal world that鈥檚 all too true to life.鈥�

Its publication couldn鈥檛 be more timely given the current outcries for and against immigrants, bans, raids, and mass deportations. As an antidote to border politics, Unnikrishnan鈥檚 stories serve as both testimony and oracle to be read with grave urgency.

Terry Hong writes BookDragon, a book blog for the Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Center.