Jhumpa Lahiri was a novelist I used to read as her books came out, then I entirely lost track of her and now have some catching up to do. Interestingly, she wrote Whereabouts (2018) in Italian first, having lived in Italy for a time, before translating it into English herself in 2021.

The novella follows the unnamed narrator over the course of a year, as she considers her past, present and future while she moves within various environments in an unnamed city. The vignettes have titles such as At the Trattoria; In the Pool; On the Couch. Only In My Head recurs, three times. In other words, it is a contemplation of her metaphysical whereabouts from within her physical whereabouts.

The narrator feels a sense of separation: living alone, being single, with no immediate family around. In her mid-forties, her father has died and she has a strained relationship with her mother. There is a vague crush on the partner of her friend, easily relinquished. She works as an academic and writer, and so her career necessitates a degree of isolation.

In the Office: “My colleagues tend to keep to themselves, as do I. Maybe they find me prickly, unpleasant, who knows? We’re forced to inhabit close quarters, we’re told to be accessible, and yet I feel peripheral.”

There is a tension within the narrator. She seems content in some respects yet also dissatisfied, but unable to articulate what it is she yearns after, or if she does so on any significant scale. I’m not a subtle enough reader to know for sure, but possibly the translation by the author from a language to which she was comparatively new, added to the slight sense of dislocation, of spaces between what is felt and what it is possible to put into words.

In My Head: Solitude: it’s become my trade. As it requires a certain discipline, it’s a condition I try to perfect. And yet it plagues me, it weighs on me in spite of my knowing it so well.

But while she grapples with the bigger issues of her life, she remains alert to small moments too. I liked the unspoken comradeship she forms with a philosopher at a much-dreaded three day work conference:  

In the Hotel: Without planning to, we wait for each other every morning and every evening, and for three days our tacit bond puts me obscurely at peace with the world.

Small moments include physical pleasure as well as cerebral reflection:

In the Sun: The simple sandwich I always get amazes me, too. As I eat it, as my body bakes in the sun that pours down on my neighbourhood, each bite, feeling sacred, reminds me that I’m not forsaken.

Throughout the year there is a gentle, almost imperceptible movement towards something better, a potential for more happiness in her life.

Whereabouts is not the book to pick up if you want a pacy, plot-driven read. It is a finely observed study of a person’s interaction with place, while allowing them to remain somewhat unknowable to themselves and the reader. It is about the thoughts, the places and the moments that make up every day lives and the tiny yet significant changes that occur.

Simon has also reviewed Whereabouts this month, for his #BookADayinMay. You can read his review here.