Behind the Beautiful Forevers, or BTBF as John Green calls it, reminded me of every reason I love literature.
Katherine Boo, an American reporter living in India, spent four years following the happenings of a hardly unusual slum of Mumbai. BTBF is full of the stories and struggles of real people that otherwise would have gone unnoticed.
Highlighted characters are: Abdul, a young man who holds his family’s financial well being on his shoulders as he sorts and collects garbage; Asha, a middle-aged woman with high political aspirations who often uses others as pawns in her schemes; Manju, Asha’s kind-hearted daughter and the only college educated girl in the slum; and Sunil, a young scavenger who watches as his friends fall prey to the vicious and apathetic society of impoverished Mumbai.
Abdul’s family begins the book in relative success. Financially, they are better off than many other slum-dwellers. Their plans to move from the slum to a Muslim-friendly country area are undermined by a jealous and enraged neighbor who commits suicide and blames Abdul and his family for her demise. A long and corrupt trial process begins that destroys the family business, but nurtures a new outlook on life for Abdul. His ethics are transformed,and he begins to believe in his own worth. Abdul’s story is a prime example of how a tragedy can revolutionize a person’s values and mindset. Though these changes do not ease the pain of tragedy, they add value to the struggle.
Meanwhile, the presumptuous Asha treats the tragedies of other slum-dwellers as stepping stones to her own ascension of castes by demanding money from the distressed in exchange for her communication with political associates. When Abdul’s mother refuses to pay for her help, she undermines the family’s court proceedings with her political influence. As the story progresses, however, Asha’s dwindling power leaves her feeling poor and empty. Asha’s story exposes the inward and outward destruction of a greedy heart.
Asha’s daughter, Manju, is a bright and kind young lady referred to many times as the “most-everything girl”. Her mother demands vanity and education in order to obtain an advantageous marriage. Manju is pulled in many directions as she teaches a school, studies, maintains the home, and concedes to her mother’s demands. The lack of liberation and wasted potential of Manju’s conclusion is disappointing, yet life often is.
The youngest of the main characters is the observant scavenger, Sunil, whose one desire in life is to grow bigger and taller than his sister. Sunil’s story shows the tragedies of an impoverished community through the eyes of a child. Sunil witnesses the suicides and murders of many friends and acquaintances that go unnoticed by the rest of the world. Sunil’s story reminds the reader that deaths are not a statistic, but the demolition of someone’s world, thoughts, ideas, and dreams.
This nonfiction book is written vividly and readably. It is as easy to read as any fictional novel, but has the enduring effects of an exposed truth. This story’s call to action for me was a commitment to avoid corrupt charity and social work by keeping my own actions pure. I believe BTBF’s greatest worth comes from its ability to illuminate the lives of those with whom we often thoughtlessly share the Earth. How can we apathetically wallow in our luxury when we read the stories of these impoverished Indian slum-dwellers? What makes us more entitled to liberties and justice than them? We are one Earth. We cannot continue to hide the ugliness of our world behind the painted tiles of our imaginary “beautiful forevers”. That is the purpose of literature: to expose the realities of human suffering on our shared Earth.
Behind the Beautiful Forevers meant a lot to me as a reader. Instead of an average nonfiction book that handed me facts and statistics, it gave me people and emotions. I felt pain for Abdul’s family and yearned with Manju. I cried with Sunil as he lost his friends. I was horrified by the apathy and corruption of the rest of their world.
Near the conclusion of the book, Abdul describes how he longs to be ice, the best version of himself, but finds that time turns him to water, a lower being. He claims that reality must do this to all people. However, I am convinced that letting the ice melt is a choice. I refuse to melt.
I recommend to anyone 13+; some language and disturbing material.
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