‘Call Me by Your Name’(the book) made the ‘romantic-me’ feeling vexed
..and this ‘very’ feeling led me to a guilt-trip.
I belong to that part of the world where discussing about same-sex love via any medium, would raise (way too many)eyebrows, an army of trolls and a handful of subpoenas.
Though the predominating and regional film industries of my country is slowly bringing out ‘fringe-love stories’ to the fore, it’s inconceivable to release a movie like ‘Call Me By Your Name’ in Indian sub-continent.
Then what could a hapless woman do, who has stopped Torrenting (okay, here I’m confessing my past sin), yet, was dying to watch the movie on-screen?
To compensate, she picked up the book, devoured it in two days, realized this is not what she had hoped for and is left with a mixed feeling.
The dilemma
Before penning down my thoughts on the book “Call Me by Your Name”, I was in a dilemma.
As it happens with other books related to homosexuality, minority, racism, classics, feminism- I remained in two minds before forming my opinion.
Should I blurt out what I really really felt about the plot?
Or should I let the popular notion ( if it’s a book about under-represented class, it should be lauded) cloud my own judgment?
What my inner-voice was trying to tell me was that- I wish I could have liked this book more.
And this mixed reaction made me all sort of queasy.
What I didn’t like about the book:
a) Purple Prose
If there is one word to describe ‘Call Me By Your Name’, for me, it should be –pretentious.
There are certain elements in the book like- places, foods, idle lifestyle and richness ( in terms of environment and tangible assets) that I could kill for, when I was 17.
But other times, these very same elements make the struggle of Elio and Oliver seems- the rich people’s problem.
The illustrious (and exhausting) descriptions of Italian summer?Check.
Random literary jargon, and a smattering of Proust and Shelly ? Check.
Battery of loyal domestic assistants that would make an upmarket Indian home-maker green with envy? Check.
Lots of dilly-dallying about sexual frustration and coming-of-age trope? Check,check, check.
All of these turned the book into a purple prose literature.
b) The moping around
I somehow connected with Elio when he was 17 and seeking out the company of a man 7 years his senior, and out of his reach.
Irrespective of sexual preference, didn’t most of us go through similar longings and heartbreaks during our teenage?
However, it’s the Elio of mid-30s, who exasperated me much.
When both the protagonists met in the span of 20 years ( and leading alternative lives parallel), it was clear as daylight that Elio had never been over Oliver.
Not yet.
Even after courting many bed-fellows and leading a ‘supposedly’ charmed life all along.
Why Elio why? Or should I ask André Aciman?
I mean, the first love should be the spring-board from which, any functioning adult (like Elio, who otherwise followed the usual-route; getting a job, dating, travelling wide etc.) is expected to take lessons for future relationships.
Then why did Elio mope around (while Oliver moved on) is beyond logical reasoning; unless you say, love is illogical.
c) Character arc of Oliver
Nothing particularly was going in favor of Oliver that would have made him such an object of blind desire and devotion, except his looks.
Other than that, he came across -
- haughty
- indifferent
- manipulative
- liar (how conveniently he forgot to tell the kid bed-fellow that he had a fiancée stashed somewhere in USA).
When you are 17 and experimenting with your own sexual preference, you don’t know anything better.
But it’s irksome to see a grown-up Elio still putting Oliver on a pedestal and massaging his ego.
d) The bizarre sex scenes
I am all for sex-positive scenes between two lovers. And ‘Call Me by Your Name’ has aplenty.
But as much I appreciate the boldness with which the author narrated the sexual encounters (the book published in 2007 when talking about homosexuality was still somewhat hush-hushed), I couldn’t fail to notice that he might have had a streak of perversion during the gestation phase.
Case 1: Elio’s masturbating with a peach (and what Oliver did with the fruit later on- was pukeowrthy)
Case 2: Both the lovers checking out each other’s poop (million times eww) for deeper connections or such mumbo-jumbo.
It would have been so much fun if any of them had a sudden bout of diarrhea.
Or maybe, I am a prude from a close-minded society and a chicken.
Or the cultural differences are too many.
What I loved:
a) Paternal love
The relation between Elio and his father (I wish the author had written some more lines about mother-son bonding as well) is out-of-my -world.
This is the parental guidance we, the children, deserve but don’t receive most of the times.
The conversation Elio had with his father towards the end of the book got me into wistful thinking.
Only if it was a story of a gay son and his father in a conservative society, it could have been more impactful.
b) Quotes
There are some beautiful quotes in this book which I loved so much. Take for an instance-
People who read are hiders. They hide who they are. People who hide don’t always like who they are.
Or
“Twenty years was yesterday, and yesterday was just earlier this morning, and morning seemed light-years away.
And the last paragraph–
I stopped for a second. If you remember everything, I wanted to say, and if you are really like me, then before you leave tomorrow, or when you’re just ready to shut the door of the taxi and have already said goodbye to everyone else and there’s not a thing left to say in this life, then, just this once, turn to me, even in jest, or as an afterthought, which would have meant everything to me when we were together, and, as you did back then, look me in the face, hold my gaze, and call me by your name.
Holy moly André Aciman, see what you did to me.
I sobbed into the pillow at the middle of night, like an idiot.
This is more tear-jerking than all the tear-jerkers Bollywood produced in last 10 years, put together.
Verdict
This is a pleasant- but- somewhat-shallow gay love-story.
You may give it a try if you want to taste a slice of mid-80s idyllic Italian summer and an unusual romance blooming in the backdrop.
For Indian readers, it’s unlikely that “Call Me by Your Name”- the film, would ever release in India (we don’t talk about sex here, let alone gay-sex).
So you might pick up the book as well.
Originally published at jheelamduttaroy.wordpress.com on February 27, 2018.
