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The Enemy Within

Nalini Warriar

Nalini Warriar has already received praise as a promising emerging writer with a 2002 QWF Award for her story collection Blues From the Malabar Coast. With The Enemy Within, her first novel, Warriar proves herself worthy of further acclaim - even as she tells the story of a woman whose lack of recognition has tragic consequences.

The book tracks the adult life of South Indian-born Sita, whose plans to pursue a medical degree are cut short when her parents arrange for her to marry an Indian engineer living in Canada. Their criteria for judging the groom's acceptability are both farcical and saddening, especially in light of the troubles to follow: "Her father had looked into Anup's family background. He'd made certain there was no history of madness in the family. All agreed that it was a good match." Young Sita is brought by her imposing husband to Quebec, where she soon learns that her role is to be that of token wife and housekeeper - not, as she had hoped, that of beloved companion. The shock of Anup's near-total avoidance of her is compounded by the strangeness of Quebec's people and landscape: gone are India's tropical climate and crowded, dirty streets, replaced by a cold, sanitized city of citizens whose manners toward her, as a "noire," are equally chilly.

Sita's submissiveness dissipates with the birth of their first child, and the transfer of her attention from her husband to her son aggravates Anup's emotional abuse. But Sita's new resolve surprises her as much as it does her domineering spouse. Now his "silent treatments" mean little to her, and she is able to look beyond the walls of her house for other sources of contentment - to university and the furthering of her education, to long evening walks through the avenues of the Old Town, and to the ever-changing world of nature. After 20 years of marriage, during which time she has built a successful career and raised two children virtually alone, Sita still hesitates to make that final gesture of formally severing her ties with Anup. It is only after he resorts to physically punishing her that she musters the courage to forget shame and divorce him. The announcement of her intent is delivered to Anup as a literal platter of revenge:

One might expect that with this liberation, Sita will be able to achieve true happiness, and indeed Warriar leads us to believe in the possibility. Sita makes a comfortable home for herself on the shores of a lake, and begins a romance with the compassionate - and passionate - Kiran. Yet just as Sita lets down her defenses, Warriar causes a most gruesome tragedy to descend.

This book traces Sita's development into an independent minded woman, but it also tells of her long love affair with the geography of Quebec. The land that gives her moonlight "pour[ing] over the pines, flowing through the trembling leaves," however, is the same Quebec that can - and does - hurt her: with the great Ice Storm's lashings, and also with its incidences of racial intolerance. The 1995 referendum is the backdrop to much of Warriar's tale, and its implications are as threatening to Sita, as an ethnic minority, as is her anger-filled husband. So it is that Sita, as much as she wants it, is never allowed a real sense of belonging.

Warriar's yarn is not without its knots, most notably her habit of inundating the reader with reminders of Sita's beauty, and her distracting practice of occasionally moving the point of view to minor characters. Yet she has created here a life story so engrossing and touching, so rich in evocative detail, and so telling in its condemnation of Quebec's solipsism that she again deserves our commendation.

— Andrea Belcham

NO, The Enemy Within, isn't about saving America from liberalism, or an underground Israeli organization, or how to defeat the power of sin. Those topics already occupy books of the same name. This is a novel about the life of a young Indian immigrant in Quebec, struggling to keep her sense of self in a new country, with a new husband.

So, who or what is the enemy in question? If you can get past the cliché, it's a worthy question that keeps the reader engaged throughout this tale of sacrifice and self-discovery.

“When a woman tried for twenty years and failed to make a man love her, it was time to call it quits. When nothing a woman did pleased a man and when his mere breathing got on her nerves, it was time to move on.”

The book follows the life of Sita Verma, from her roots in Kerala through her Westernized existence in Quebec City. Speckled with references to Quebec political landmarks, like the October Crisis of 1970 and the 1995 referendum, The Enemy Within captivates the reader by providing a warm bed of context for each event that Sita encounters.

The life of Sita roughly follows that of the author, Nalini Warriar, who, also from Kerala, moved to Quebec as a young woman; she too is a scientist, as is her character. The Enemy Within is her first novel and her second book; her Blues from the Malabar Coast: Short Stories (2002) won the Quebec Writers Federation First Book Award.

The story is delivered thoughtfully, focusing primarily on Sita's internal landscape. And while this may sound like yet another soul-searching tale of the triumph of the spirit, Warriar pulls it off without too many sappy interludes.

Part of the uniqueness of this novel (and perhaps its saving grace) is its insight into and analysis of Canadian politics. By simply being different from the average Quebecer, Sita finds herself a beacon for racism and sexism. She is called La Noire by her neighbour; her husband expects her to be a silent servant in her own house; when she becomes a researcher at a clinic, she is paid less than her counterparts and exploited for her ideas without credit.

For Sita, one of the biggest sources of anxiety is the political dicotomy of French and English in Quebec; as an immigrant, she does not fit neatly into these categories — especially with her dark skin and Indian accent.

“It was autumn again and referendum time in Quebec. Sita listened to the debates by scholars and experts. What they said boiled down to one thing: Quebec for the francophones. Or as Sita saw it, white Quebeckers.”

Possibly the most outstanding part of the novel is the complexity of character. We feel what Sita feels and we hate who she hates. Its weakness is the counterpart to this — too much time in Sita's head: her attentiveness to the weather and her natural surroundings can be annoying. Descriptors for a grey sky or fragrant flowers abound. If you didn't know what Quebec City looked like before, this book will make you an expert. Warriar hasn’t allowed the reader to imagine the details for herself.

There is a particular enemy to which the title refers, but the reader doesn't discover it until Sita does, near the end of the book. Arguably, a better title may have been Cold Places, Cold People. Despite this novel's weaknesses, it is propelled by a strong, addictive plot line and by the tearing down of illusions about the greatness of this country. For that alone, it's worth the read.

— Jenn Watt