Its World Is Flat
Set in Sri Lanka, Amanthi Harris’s novel lacks the depth of focus its inordinate length demands
IN BEAUTIFUL PLACE, THE ISLAND’S DARK SOUL IS ALWAYS PEERING THROUGH THE TREES, LIKE SOMETHING OUT OF HEART OF DARKNESS WRITTEN BY NICHOLAS SPARKS
In Amanthi Harris’s new novel, Beautiful Place, a young woman returns to Sri Lanka, where her adopted Austrian father has renovated their villa for her to run as a guest house. Gerhardt had adopted Padma as a child from her own parents, Sunny and Leela, who sold her once and continue to collect from Gerhardt years later. Now she is ready to run an independent business, offering an oasis of friendly accommodation in a seamy little coastal village.
A guest house is a narrative convenience if you want characters to enter and exit as you run out of plausible scenes for them to endure. So we have Rohan, newly released from a bad marriage and beginning to consider a life with Padma. Other characters come and go, either lovers on the run or parents hunting them down. They admire the ocean view and stretch into their yoga poses, but the island’s dark soul is always peering through the mango trees and hibiscus blooms. Some of that darkness is thoughtfully spelled out for us in a guidebook written by Gerhardt’s friend Jarryd and hawked by Padma. More visibly, Sunny and his gang circle the villa, menacing Padma and alarming the guests.
When a story runs over 400 pages, we expect a depth of focus. Instead, Harris give us plenty of decor and menu and repetitive dialogue. The context remains thin, the characters generic. No matter how long we read Padma, she remains flat and unknowable. It is impossible to guess why she does the things she does, or why any of the characters act as they do. Having lived years in the country, Gerhardt, Padma and Jarryd are all implausibly naive and fall into traps set by stagey goondas. The appalling attack on Jarryd is followed by syrupy scenes in which everyone assembles to help him recover, with the help of “magical goodness” and “starched angels”. Imagine, if you can, Heart of Darkness written by Nicholas Sparks.
The title is from a comment left by a visitor in the villa’s guest book. Unimaginative and facile, it seems especially apt. ■
—Latha Anantharaman