"Ask that your way be long."

East of the Sun
Julia Gregson

East of the Sun is just the kind of book I like to read: historical fiction, dealing with new and far-off places, set during bygone eras, chronicling shifting tides. It's 1928, and wry, independent Viva Holloway is hired to chaperone two young women, Rose and Tor, to India. They are all in search of new beginnings. Rose is getting married to a British Army officer she barely knows; her bridesmaid, chubby Tor, is hoping to redeem herself after a disastrous London season by snagging a husband of her own. And Viva hopes to bury her tragic past in a bright and ambitious new future for herself.

But none of the women are prepared for what they find when they arrive in Bombay. The India they expected is changing, the British colonial rule losing its grip. Gandhi growing more and more popular, but his way of non-violence seems to be forgotten in riots that fill the streets, in assassinations in faraway provinces, in the little, everyday confrontations among the native Indians and the British colonials.

Tor was just telling Rose that Frank had phoned last week when she had to brake hard to avoid a man with a cart full of oranges who was crossing the road. As the car stalled, the young man's face suddenly appeared in the window on Tor's side. His eyes were large and contemptuous, his purplish lips twisted. He was close enough to touch them.

"Leave India," he said distinctly.

"What?" Rose was gaping at him.

"Leave India," he said again. He looked at them as though they disgusted him.

"I don't want to," Rose said, and as they drove off the man stood in the middle of the road shaking his fist at them...when they were at a safe distance, they both laughed shakily.

Gregson avoids making a judgment against either side--these are the noble ones, these are the wrong ones. Instead, she simply has the violence, the unsettledness, spill over into her characters' lives. Rose finds her husband cold and domineering. Tor's sexual awakening leads her into trouble. The two types of violence, foreign and domestic, unite to overwhelm Viva's chances at forging a new life for herself in India.

Of course each of the women learn something about themselves, something about destiny, something about the world they have come to live in, and their places in it, too. And there's even some nice romance, which is always appreciated.

The plot is engrossing, but the real reason I love this book and will remember it for a long time is because the characters; that is to say, one character in particular. Tor is so heartbreaking, so real, and I identify with her so much. In fact, unless you're the kind of very beautiful girl for whom everything is easy, like Rose, I don't see a way that you won't be able to identify with shallow, generous, good-hearted, lonely Tor as she tries to find her place, her voice. To see her fail, to see her flaws so easily recognized by others, to know that Tor herself doesn't see them...it's heartbreaking.

"Tor's desperate to go ashore," Rose said, sounding anxious... "She had such a rotten time during the season. I don't know why men aren't nicer to her."

She tries too hard, Viva thought. She doesn't mean to, but she does, because she thinks she's not pretty enough.

Oh, the painin'! Oh, the pain! I've writhed with it several thousand times, myself. Viva is meant to be the focal point of the story, but as soon as I read those words--so deadly, so concise, so believable--it was Tor for me from then on.

The second reason I love this book is because it introduced me to a new poem, one that went immediately onto the favorites list. Some books I treasure forever because of the poems they teach me, the poems that I treasure like jewels. Pat of Silver Bush taught me Carman, A Ring of Endless Light exposed me to Sir Thomas Browne. Neither novel is a perennial favorite based on story alone, but I'm grateful for these poems they gave me. East of the Sun I love for its plot and for the poem it's given to me to keep forever.

Have Ithaka always in your mind.
Your arrival there is what you are destined for.
But don't in the least hurry the journey.
Better it last for years,
so that when you reach the island you are old,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to give you wealth.
Ithaka gave you a splendid journey.
Without her you would not have set out.
She hasn't anything else to give you.

"The poem is called Ithaka," Nigel said, "But it might just as well be called 'India.'"