ލޯބި
Love
Language: Dhivehi
Genre: Growing up, Juvenile delinquents, Love, Family, Novel
Summary: Barely 18 years old, Firushaan is in prison, and most people who know him aren't surprised. They would've said that he had it coming; he was bound to end up there sooner or later. However, as the young man tries to stomach prison food for the first time (it seems pointless to protest anymore when there isn't anyone to witness his tantrums or non co-operation), he also stops resisting the past and recollects a series of events which simply explains, unassumingly and without demands, that in life, things are never quite that simple.
Review: Hmm. This went against a lot of (admittedly baseless) expectations, things I've been holding against Dhivehi literature. Contrary to the title (love) which had me expecting dramatic mushy fluff reminiscent of Hindi movies I watched when I was a kid, this is about adolescence, growing up, and family. The more important, less noticeable kind of love.
This paints a pretty accurate picture of the contemporary Maldivian society. [Okay, not quite as contemporary as that. Let me correct myself. What would have been contemporary around 5-10 years ago, before politics and religious perspective became as significant in our lives as it has forced it's way into being now.]
It's a slice of life novel, as it explores the mindset of a child, newly transported into the capital city Mal'e for the sake of education (as has been, is the case with so many others) with only his mother, depending on the kindness of relatives and family ties to get by, while making sure not to depend, impose on too much, because Maldivians are a hospitable, prickly bunch.
It shows how easily a sensitive child's psyche is influenced by the single person he considers the most important in his life; his mother. How he, being neglected emotionally for the sake of his physical and material welfare, starts a series of acts, mainly to get attention, that gradually builds up and gains momentum to become larger and uncontrollable, until he knows no other way and is excluded from society.
One of the more significant scenes in the book was at the very climax, where he, having sunk the lowest he can, develops a sort of detached delusionalism, visualizes himself being broken down and mixed into concrete, becoming invincible, letting him ride on a high that makes him commit the crime which imprisons him in the end. It's sad and strangely moving. Specially when, at the police station, he sees a can of coke being opened and compares himself bitterly, more realistically to that; fizzing forth and frothing on because that was all he could do then, all he could do to sustain himself on false bravado, which only evaporated into nothing later like bubbles do.
What I liked the most about the book is it forgoes the horrible flowery language that most Dhivei writers (well, in the grand total of two books I've read for Dhivehi class) seem to favor, and uses plain, simple words, less false modesty, no mi nikamethi alhaa and more of the power of the words themselves creating wonderful imagery, painting scenes and speaking for themselves.
This also raises the question which intrigued me back when I was reading Equus. Just how much is the society, and the individual to blame for an individual's mistakes and crimes? Granted, of course, its the society, the surrounding that shapes young minds, that sets them on their respective paths. But if we are to blame society, should we keep on sending the blame backwards, where nothing would ever be anyone's fault, and we'd have no one to shoulder the blame in an effort to make it right. We might as well give up and resign ourselves to the eventual destruction of mankind at it's own hands because it's not our fault. Where do we draw the line? How do we weigh and allocate the blame? Can we?
Rating: 8/10 [I'm impressed over the sheer amount of blabbing a Dhivehi book made me do. ^^']
Quotes: Um, hmm, translations, ne... Maybe someday?
Note: Gwaaaah. I should install Dhivehi on this computer. I have Japanese installed, but forgot to install Dhivehi after the last formatting and was forced to randomly scrounge in freaking newspaper articles for the thaana title. >_>
This is the first Dhivehi book I've read of my own free will. Honestly, I decided to read this only because my Dhivehi sucks royally, and I have my last Dhivehi school exam next Sunday, and my (hopefully) last ever Dhivehi exam in May. My plan is to try to at least pick up some level of proficiency by sheer exposure to the language. Hey, it seems to work for English/Japanese, it should be easier since I'm Maldivian and I am surely being exposed to it all the freaking time, right?
Should be, of course, being the operative word. Fact of the matter is, while I can easily devour English books, obsess over song lyrics and enjoy the occasional movie/series/cartoon, and basically adore all forms of Japanese entertainment, Dhivehi is quite another matter entirely. I would rather claw my eyes out than watch a Dhivehi movie (This is actually with valid reason) and most of the Dhivehi music I've heard on tv/elsewhere makes me slightly nauseous (This probably is biased. I'm sure there are good Dhivehi songs around. I've heard tales of such songs, I just don't know any. Who wants to enlighten me? ^___^ I still hold firm to the belief that songs = best way to pick up any language, after all ドラゴン桜 said so!)
It took me around a week to read this, and I actually liked the book too. T_T
I've been using Dhivehi for over 18 years, all my life, and still, even my mother laughs at the way I use it. T_T
まぁ、頑張るしかないんですね。