"The White Tiger" Review

It has been a long time since I wrote about a book without following a rigid set of essay guidelines. This is the first time in five years of writing about literature that I will not be referencing post-colonial or third-wave feminist theories in an effort to explain the hidden meaning of a character’s subconscious intentions. Bear with me as I fight my inner English-major instincts and attempt to review The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga.
Since being awarded the 2008 Man Booker Prize The White Tiger has been nearly impossible to find in Indian bookshops. I had scoured the walls of bookshops from Mysore to Pondicherry in an effort to purchase a copy, but each store could offer only apologies. Fortunately guests visiting my retreat were encountering the same problems so when I finally found a copy in Chennai I was able to read the book with absolutely no pre-conceptions. For the record, if you are hoping for the same luxury this would be a good place to stop reading.
The White Tiger tells the story of Balram as he writes a series of letters to the Premier of China explaining his rise from a humble tea-shop worker in rural India to a successful entrepreneur in Bangalore. It sounds like an inspiring concept for a story, if not particularly original. However, the entire book is filled with such an overwhelming cynicism towards both the “new India” of Bangalore and the “old India” of Balram’s rural upbringing that a reader with little knowledge of Indian culture would be left rather disgusted with the values of the country.
I learned long ago not to suggest that a likeable character is integral to good literature (after receiving a low mark for an essay written about why I hated Wuthering Heights). Balram never once comes across as endearing, but the character was so funny that his questionable morality was not what turned me off The White Tiger. From the beginning of Balram’s story he is absolutely never able to “catch a break” but because the narration is done by the character in retrospect he maintains his sense of humour. He excels at school but is forced to drop out and work in a tea shop to pay off family debts. He is mistreated by the family he is hired to drive and by the other servants they employ, while his family at home demands that every rupee he earns be sent home. Throughout all of this, Balram’s narration maintains a self-deprecating element that kept me laughing.
Adiga demonstrates the hardships of growing up without money or connections in India, and ultimately seems to want his reader to question whether or not Balram is justified in murdering his employers and stealing their money. This crime is revealed by Balram in the first chapter, and this technique works effectively to make the reader view all of the employers’ actions through the lens of this crime. In scenes where it seemed that Balram’s severe mistreatment was inescapable I could not help but support his decision to murder.
However, my issue with The White Tiger lies in the feeling that Balram was meant to represent the hardships and morality of all of “dark India” (the rural and poor) while his employers were meant to represent all of the rich. Adiga writes with an anger that seems intent on deconstructing the portrayal of “India Rising” that we are often exposed to in the West. The text does not allow for an alternative reality to Balram’s. It seems to suggest that all Indians, whether rich or poor, are amoral in their pursuit of the wealth this “New India” promises. No character is willing to offer a helping hand. The only character from the West is completely repulsed by India and the country takes a significant toll on her. This might be meant as a reflection of Westerners’ inability to recognize the beauty of Indian culture. However, when it seems that no other character possesses this ability either, the Westerner’s distaste begins to feel justified.
While Adiga’s writing is viciously humorous, his apparent loathing for modern India seems misplaced. Why does he feel such a strong need to dispel notions of the new Indian prosperity? I have yet to read an article about India’s economic rise that has neglected to mention the poor. India’s rise is not portrayed as being anywhere near complete but there is a growing middle class who are escaping the bonds servitude and poverty. There is absolutely work that still needs to be done to help the poor attain security from hunger and disease but to suggest that all Indians are only self-interested is in my opinion inaccurate and insulting. I see proof of Indian generosity every day when Indian guests tip my staff more than any Western guest. I see proof when my tour-guide will not accept a cookie for himself, but will gladly accept a gift for any of the children who live amongst the staff. I saw proof when I was sick in Pondicherry and an Indian rickshaw driver drove me to my hotel free of charge.
Adiga’s writing style is captivating, as Balram’s narration mixes the aforementioned humour with rising tension throughout the narrative. However, after I finished I was left feeling that Indians should feel deeply concerned that the voters for the Booker Prize chose to have millions of readers around the world be exposed to this biased portrayal of their culture. The White Tiger could have been salvaged if it had offered any sort of solution to the problems it described. But Adiga did not rise to this challenge and The White Tiger, instead of presenting a message of hope to those caught in the system it condemns, came across as a bitter and cynical attack on a nation with a diversity of cultures and traditions that deserved much better.