Synopsis:
Colombo, 1990. Maali Almeida—war photographer, gambler, and closet queen—has woken up dead in what seems like a celestial visa office. His dismembered body is sinking in the serene Beira Lake and he has no idea who killed him. In a country where scores are settled by death squads, suicide bombers, and hired goons, the list of suspects is depressingly long, as the ghouls and ghosts with grudges who cluster round can attest. But even in the afterlife, time is running out for Maali. He has seven moons to contact the man and woman he loves most and lead them to the photos that will rock Sri Lanka.
Review:
Chosen as a book club novel after it won the 2022 Booker Prize, TSMoMA was an unexpected read to say the least. Diving into Shehan Karunatilaka’s version of the tragic events of the Sri Lankan civil war, this book was an eye-opening read for me as someone born in the second half of the war. Maali Almeida’s experience as a queer war photographer at the height of violence, corruption, and underworld activity shone a light on some ugly truths and deceit.
We are taken on his journey in the afterlife to find his killer in seven moons time. If he succeeds, he is able to move on from this world. Maali’s quest takes us through the various settings integral to the progression, maintenance, and horrors of this time period from the early 80s to late 00s. Littered with comedy, spirits, tragedy, and heartbreak, TSMoMA tackles the futility and hypocrisy of war. With causalities piling up on both sides and lies being fired through the media like bullets on the fields, Almeida’s learnings throughout the book highlight how those who have the least to lose tragically suffer the most. With war breaking out in the rural regions of the countries, villagers whose homes have turned into battlefields lose it all, whilst city goers can only view the images Almeida’s captured and shake their heads.
To elaborate on this as it struck a chord, the juxtaposition of displaying images of a conflict occurring only kilometres away in an art gallery in the city centre was not lost on me. Though Maali had witnessed these life altering events and tried to capture them to show the world what was happening in the gulf, those in the capital city of even the country itself, simply held their breath and moved onto the next picture. I suppose this is Karunatilaka’s commentary, the cost of war, the loss of blood, life, family, is a price only those without the means to protect themselves must pay.
Despite the heavy themes apparent throughout the text, I really enjoyed reading Maali’s story. I was able to identify a lot with the characters described and the setting of Sri Lanka, which was nice to experience that representation in mainstream media I hadn’t previously consumed. I also enjoyed how Karunatilaka didn’t shy away from the Eastern elements of his tale and kept it authentic to the location. Having been lucky enough to go and see him deliver a talk, he mentioned how many Western publishers initially turned the book away as it had a heavy focus on Eastern beliefs of the afterlife and spirits, and this was not as popularised in the Western world. After having done some work, adding descriptions and commentary to portray the spirits in a more accessible manner, Karunatilaka maintained his position and the spirits were an essential driver of the story.
This is just one example of how he maintained authenticity to the Sri Lankan experience, and though I’m sure there were a few misses, it was so lovely to see that representation on a global scale.
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