Darkmotherland by Samrat Upadhyay (Soho Press)

Never before have I read a book simply because it’s an inexplicable train wreck but that’s what kept me going through the recent release from Soho Press, Samrat Upadhay’s 759-page novel, Darkmotherland. 

Set in a thinly-disguised Nepal after a devastating earthquake that has left many survivors homeless and housed in tents, the plot plunges into a coup that has put a minor bureaucrat in charge of a shattered country. Derisively nicknamed the Hippo but faced with little opposition, the new ruler is gleefully enriching himself and increasing the fortunes of the affluent, while everyone else clings to a precarious form of existence. He is strengthened by the tweeted message conveying support from the Amrikan leader, President Corn Hair. This inspires him to adapt a slogan from that country--”Make Darkmotherland Great Again,” while encouraging his citizens to wear red caps.

Although a cast of characters that rival the vast multitude found in War and Peace fill the pages of this book, there are two main figures. One is Kranti, the daughter of a dissident mother. Although her name means Revolution, Kranti loathes her mother’s politics and silently supports the Hippo. Her rich and handsome boyfriend, on the other hand, has become one of her mother’s supporters. The other leading character is Rozy, a gorgeous homosexual whom the Hippo adores and has elevated to a prominent position of influence. 

Slowly both of these protagonists take on different states of mind. Kranti, before marrying her boyfriend, becomes enthralled by a resident of the tent community, a poet whose politics are devoted to humanitarian efforts extended to the refugees he lives among. When Kranti’s husband is killed because of his dissident stance, she becomes openly involved with the poverty-stricken poet.

Rozy, privy to the Hippo’s secrets and regarded in a tacit form of awe by his cabinet, gradually learns that the national veneration of the Darkmother can become a political advantage. In a place where coups are easily accepted, no leader is secure--unless that figure becomes spiritually entwined with the goddess that has given her name to the country.

In this morass of characters and intrigue, a satirical allegory lurks. An Amrikan expat gives names to the dogs who cluster near his restaurant: Eric, Ivanka, Pence, Pompeo. When the Hippo makes a trip to pay homage to President Corn Hair, he discovers that the “Amrikan press has been cowed and tamed,” Political protests in Amrika have dwindled because “the people have simply exhausted themselves protesting.” The Hippo finds reassurance in President Corn Hair’s hints that future elections may be forever cancelled but when he returns to Darkmotherland, he finds everything has changed in his absence.

No character in this novel deviates from the repulsive and the only feeling they evoke is a horrified and nauseated fascination. Upadhyay gives free rein to an unfortunate predilection for clumsy wordplay and sentences that all too often rhyme. What at first seems to be an excursion into Orwellian satire becomes a quagmire of absurdity. 

The only reason to pay attention to Darkmotherland is to warn off any prospective readers. This is a contender for one of the worst novels written in English. Buyers beware.~Janet Brown