Clear Light of Day Compendium—PG York

Hello everyone, I'm not sure why my name is "La Sierra Bus Riding Club," but I'll figure out a way to change it. This is Patrick. Here is my compendium for Clear Light of Day Compendium Patrick Garrett York Desai, Anita. Clear Light of Day. London: William Heinemann Ltd, 1980. Print. Striking passages: Here there was still shade and, it seemed to Tara, the only bit of cultivation left; everything else, even the papaya and lemon trees, the bushes of hibiscus and oleander, the beds of canna lilies, seemed abandoned to dust and neglect to struggle as they could against the heat and sun of summer. (1) —Not only does this read like a lesson in botany, but it nicely pits the verdant nature of the back yard against the summer sun and the encroaching dust, as if decay is trying to take over all the life, no matter how fruitful or plentiful. [This could be helpful for me when considering the life that Peter has created in the back yard: i.e. the islands the plants, the animals, etc. Tara stood staring at her silver toes, at the clods of upturned earth in the beds and the scattered dead heads, and felt a prickle of distrust in Bim. Was Bim being cruel again? There could be no other motive. There could be no reply. She made none and Bim swung away and marched on, striding beside Badshah. (5) —The POV switches rapidly on every page of this book, so I was actively looking for places where I got a sense that we were staying on with a character for a while. I know I have trouble really doing a point of view justice, so it’s informative to see someone who has succeeded in displaying multiple points of view all at once, as it seems. ‘Oh Bim,’ protested Tara, recognising the moment when Bim went too far with which all their encounters had ended throughout their childhood, but she was prevented from explaining herself by the approach of a monsterous body of noise that seemed to be pushing its way out through a tight tunnel, rustily grinding through, and then emerged into full brassy volume, making the pigeons that lived on the ledge under the veranda ceiling throw up their wings and depart as if at a shot. (7) —First, this sentence is massive. Second, I like that the sound is described before we even know what it is. This puts me physically in front of the noise because I have to investigate what it could be based on the facts that I am presented with, just as I would if I heard a sound that I had never heard in reality. Although, on second thought, this might not be such a strong move after all. Both Bim and Tara know where the sound is coming from. They are neither strangers to it, yet at the same time, the reader is put in a position of discovery along with two characters that already know what the sound is. Here we are not close to either character, but are left to dangle out on our own, an alien to this house, unguided by the sisters that brought us here. The dog stretched out at Bim’s feet, writhed and coiled now catching his tail between his teeth, now scrabbling with his paws, then bit at fleas and chewed his hair weaving a thick mat of sound together with the cat who was busy with herself. (9) —The more I read, the more I saw Desai’s focus on sounds. Especially in the first chapter of the book. That texture of the book is built on sounds—from the records to the animals to the recitation of poetry to the singing next door. Everything seems to be driven and backdropped by sound. Here are a few other place where sound is particularly played up: 12, 13, 14, 15, 21, 23, 39, 50, 74, 77, 89, 121, 164 (lack of sound), 177 (lack of sound), 178, 179 —This lead me to think that Vera’s interest in seeing the world should be through her nose because she is a cook. Joy’s should be through her ears because she is an actor, and Peter’s should be through his eyes because he is a carpenter with an imagination. The return of the koels was nice, too. It gave the book a sense of unity. (1 to 57 to 166) Most affecting line for me: It was Bab’s silence and reserve and otherworldliness that she had wanted to break open and ransack and rob, like the hunter who, moved by the white bird’s grace as it hovers in the air above him, raises his crossbow and shoots to claim it for his own—his treasure, his look—and bring it hurtling down to his feet—no white spirit or symbol of grace but only a dead albatross, a cold package of death. (164) Nice description: Two episodes cut through the grey chalk dust of school life with stripes of shocking colour. (127) POV irregularity: This consoled Tara entirely and turned out to be true as well. —Who, in this sentence knows the future? Yet for a long time Bim continued to see her, was certain that she saw her: the shrunken little body naked, trailing a torn shred of a nightie, a wisp of pubic hair, as she slopped surreptitiously along the hedge, head bent low as if she hoped no one would notice her as she hurried towards the well. —A haunting apparition, a child’s imagination. This will be extremely important with Peter as he grows older. He has to grow up entirely, but he holds on to this frightening imagination. POV irregularity: Lying there in the dark, dressed in white, breathing quite imperceptibly he might have been a creature without blood in his veins, without flesh on his bones, the sisters thought as they tiptoed past him, down the steps to the lawn to stroll. (41) —They’re both having the same thought? At the same time? They’re not even talking about it? Who is observing this? Nice description: ...waving his glass of soda water so that it spilt and frothed and sizzled down his arm. (31)