“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” — William Shakespeare, “Romeo and Juliet” (Act II, Scene 2)

Indeed, what’s in a name? In Shakespeare’s famous tragedy, the young lovers struggle to overcome the mutual family hatred associated with their names and question the relevance of names to one’s moral character.

Centuries later, Pulitzer Prize-winner Jhumpa Lahiri explores similar issues of identity in the Sunday Book Club’s December selection, “The Namesake.”

Lahiri

The immigrant parents of Lahiri’s “namesake,” Gogol Ganguli, face a dilemma at his birth: The hospital requires them to name him before he can be released. Yet Bengali tradition says that the baby’s grandmother must choose his name, and her letter has not yet arrived from India.

When a doctor suggests they name the baby after someone they admire, the baby is named Gogol, after a Russian writer whose work has special significance to his father. Gogol’s parents resolve that this is only a pet name and Gogol’s “good name” — a name used everywhere except within the family, also according to Bengali tradition — will be determined eventually with the arrival of the letter from India.

The letter never arrives, and Gogol’s parents finally settle on “Nikhil,” shortly before Gogol enters kindergarten. This causes confusion for the boy and problems for school administrators, who do not understand the Bengali concept of a “good” name. So despite his parents’ wishes, he remains Gogol both in school and at home.

The novel follows Gogol through his teenage years, as he is increasingly drawn away from Bengali tradition and toward the customs of his American friends. He comes to resent his name and in college insists on being called “Nikhil,” attempting to create a new identity for himself.

After college Gogol/Nikhil enters into a series of romantic relationships with American women who seem to view his name dilemma and Bengali heritage as a novelty, and are curious despite his discomfort with the subject.

At his mother’s suggestion, he contacts a childhood acquaintance from the Bengali community, Moushumi, and their affair leads to marriage.

Gogol’s marriage is a turning point in the novel — it marks the end of his rejection of his name and heritage, for this is what he and his new wife have in common.

Slowly, as his family changes, Gogol finds a comfortable niche, between his Bengali identity — Gogol — and his American lifestyle — Nikhil — and the novel comes full circle.

The beauty of the novel lies in Lahiri’s simple prose, extended metaphors and attention to detail. Gogol’s parents are particularly well-drawn, with their quiet dignity and patience, qualities that often are unappreciated by their son:

At the end of the breakwater, there was a field of yellow reeds to the right, and dunes beyond, and the ocean behind it all. He had expected his father to turn back, but still they had continued, stepping onto the sand. They walked along the water to the left, heading toward the lighthouse, past rusted boat frames, fish spines as thick as pipes attached to yellow skulls, a dead gull whose feathery white breast was freshly stained with blood ... He heard his father cry out — they had left the camera with his mother. “All this way and no picture,” he’d said, shaking his head. He reached into his pocket and began to throw the striped stones into the water. “We will have to remember it, then.” They looked around, at the gray and white town that glowed across the harbor. They started back again, for a while not trying to make an extra set of footsteps, inserting their shoes into the ones they had just made. A wind had picked up, so strong that it forced them to stop now and then.

“Will you remember this day, Gogol?” his father had asked, turning to look back at him, his hands pressed like earmuffs to either side of his head.

“How long do I have to remember it?”

Over the rise and fall of the wind, he could hear his father’s laughter. He was standing there, waiting for Gogol to catch up, putting out a hand as Gogol drew near.

“Try to remember it always,” he said once Gogol had reached him, leading him slowly back across the breakwater, to where his mother and Sonia stood waiting. “Remember that you and I made this journey, that we went together to a place where there was nowhere left to go.”

To contact Regina C. Davis, use e-mail or call 348-7936.