Milkman by Anna Burns [winner:Man Booker Prize 2018] (book review)

Title: Milkman
Author: Anna Burns

Milkman: Never Dare to Hope, Only Hope to Live

Do not let the diminutive size of this novel mislead you because each page pulsates with vigour and intensity.

Milkman pivots on the premise of a shady paratrooper/double agent's advances on the narrator who is pragmatically identified as "middle sister" (because she is the middle female sibling in her family).This novel is a caricatured reflection of society in times of duress where some social codes are tightened, others are loosened and almost everyone functions with the motto of "Dont-Ask-Wont-Tell-And-If-I-Tell-It-Will-Be-Exaggerated-Drivel". It exhibits the suspension of rational thinking, liberty and progressiveness as people seek sanctuary within the confines of prejudice and persecution.  Pretty bleak stuff. Remarkably, the author manages to maintain a wry tone in even some of the darkest moments. One such moment is when the boy who assaulted the narrator is finally taken away by the authorities. The narrator explains that the boy was punished not because he had assaulted her but because he had dared to enter the women's toilet (at a pub/bar) therein violating the fragile and delicate sensibilities of the women-folk! 

The novel is enmeshed in the time of the Troubles in Northern Ireland. The Troubles were a three decade polito-ethnic warfare in Northern Ireland that raged between the nationalists (and mostly roman catholic) and those who were loyal to the British rule (and mostly protestants). These clashes eventually gave way to the dominion of paratroopers which only heightened the tensions in the area.

To describe the novel in one word: It is the anthropomorphism of "Heartbreak" i.e., when hopes are dashed and being let down is par the course accompanied by feelings of rationalisation, disappointment, diffidence, irrelevance and eventual indifference. This is reflected at every level in how society reacts to the betrayal by the institutional machinery in which they are all ensconced, from which none escape unscarred be it the dogs who are shot en-mass, the ladies group that wishes to benignly discuss women's equality over a cup of tea, the narrator's maybe-boyfriend whose parents decided to just up and abandon him in the house or the cats who are decapitated in the bombings. An instance where this broken heart is illuminated is when the french teacher tries to convince the class that the evening sky is not merely blue (to no avail). The narrator explains that for them to even acknowledge that the sky is anything but blue would eventually extrapolate to having to accept the existence of alternate possibilities that might lead to a segway from the predictable path of thought. It was feared that the presence of more than one monolithic perception would eventually percolate down to hoping for a life that was better than the one they had in front of them. Indoctrinated, via the permeation of the instances of death and chaos in their surroundings, that such hope would never reach fruition, that they could not escape the fate of those around them, even the slightest hint of cognitive wandering towards an indication of optimism was met by a paralysing fear manifested as obdurate denial. 

The author skilfully brings out the tenor of hysteria and desperation woven into the social fabric. This is manifested in the ever increasingly arbitrary binary of "Us v. Them" in terms of the right v. wrong names (decided by a register comprising of banned names), the right v. wrong neighbourhood, the right v. wrong street, the right serials v. the wrong serials and so on. Most of these are imposed by the political machinery and are aptly described by the narrator as more of an "owners and users manual"to distinguish between those who prescribe and those who must obey. Ironically, in the flurry of the ever-new rules, regulations and law, a character like tablets-girl (she slips tablets into people's drinks, etc and poisons them at her discretion - hence the moniker) remains un-apprehended while she goes about doing her business. On some level she is considered to still be a member of society who must not be ceded to the draconian authorities.  In some ways, for me, this signalled the epitome of heartbreak and disillusion that the people have with those who rule them and a complete breakdown of any trust or expectation between the rulers and the ruled.

The situation of the narrator - who is also the protagonist - is akin to being in the eye of the tornado i.e., in a zone of relative calm that is surrounded by bombings, shootings and the odd poisoning from time to time. The wall of the tornado is breached when the Milkman speaks to her as this unleashes a pandora's box of power dynamics and socio-moral hysteria. 

Stylistically some might experience unease at reading a book where none of the characters are named. However, I believe that this brings out the sheer feeling of irrelevance that permeated through society during this time. To name someone, anyone, is to imply that they may have a sense of identity and perhaps some consequence.

The reams of pages that the author dedicated to the musings and observations of the protagonist made me reminisce about the keenly observant works of Henry James (albeit possessing a completely different style of writing), especially his novellas Daisy Miller and Madame De Mauves which revolve around a female protagonist.

  

                                           

On a political spectrum, a mild comparison may be drawn between Northern Ireland and the problems in Kashmir, which is a state in India. Kashmir too, mired in geo-political strife and theological machinations has found itself quagmired in insurgency and successive governments that have let down the Kashmiri people.

Milkman is a literary sociological masterpiece but it is not for the faint-hearted. Before you pick up the book, simply ask yourself if you can read about the narrator cradling the head of a decapitated cat?