Review: The Henna Artist paints a beautifully evocative tale of independence

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THE HENNA ARTIST by Alka Joshi (HarperCollins; 368 pages; $33.50)


Few book reviews begin with a rave. This is one of them. And deservedly so.

Alka Joshi’s debut novel is so evocative, so expressive and so exotic (at least to someone who has never been to India) that it leads me to suggest she drop whatever else she is doing and write a second novel — like now.

Maybe her second novel could be a close look at the Indian diaspora in the United States, where Joshi lives, although she was born in India. How do immigrants take the cultural shock; how do their children? She certainly has the talent to bring such a large task to life, thanks to what has been extensive research and multiple trips to her homeland.

The Henna Artist takes place completely in 1950’s India, only a few years after independence. It is set in Jaipur, where Lakshmi Shastri has fled from her village and an arranged and subsequently abusive marriage. She becomes the artist of the title, whose clientele eventually includes the wives, daughters and mothers of the high-caste rich and the powerful until the abandoned husband arrives in Jaipur, needing money and accompanied by Lakshmi’s sister, of whose existence Lakshmi was unaware. Their presence threatens all the independence Lakshmi has accomplished for herself.

The novel is a loving reimaging of Joshi’s own late mother’s life, had Sudha Latika Joshi not married at 18 and had three children by age 22. What if she had the opportunity to make her own choices about education and marriage? What if she did not live in a hide-bound society where girls were valued less than boys? The story imagines that kind of life at a time when India was emerging from the British Raj. The abusive husband is entirely fictional. (Ramesh Joshi, the author’s father, is a retired professor of engineering at the University of Calgary.)

Lakshmi must create the conditions for her to be free to forge her own path through life in a city and country where the caste system is still extant, the old order still rules, and it is not unusual to arrange a marriage between a 15-year-old child and a much older man. For verisimilitude, Lakshmi must have a reason to abandon her marriage, unlike the author’s mother. In giving Lakshmi such grit and determination in the face of prejudice and discrimination, Joshi has created a character impossible not to admire, regardless of what she endures.

In appearance and verve, the author gives Lakshmi Sudha’s blue-green eyes and, as she writes “lustrous hair and a creative spark.” It is this creativity that allows Lakshmi to become a sought-after henna artist.

But there is more to Lakshmi’s creativeness than ‘painting’ the hands and feet of her henna clients. She also provides herbal and medicinal sachets and potions to encourage, prevent or abort a pregnancy. She has learned all this naturopathy, all about medicinal teas, herbs and lotions from her mother-in-law before leaving the brutal son. Lakshmi may have grown to loathe her husband, but loves his mother, a blessing at a time and place when a woman doesn’t just marry one man, but his entire family.

So, when Radha appears on Lakshmi’s doorstep, she becomes responsible for the girl. (Unknown to Lakshmi, the mother-in-law was pregnant and subsequently dies when the child is just 13.)

The Henna Artist is a complicated novel about a complex society and it is a joy to read even when Lakshmi is threatened with ruin. There are wonderful evocative phrases such as “gossip-eaters” for the women who spread rumours and the taste and smell of cumin and turmeric is almost palpable. The novel is sprinkled with Indian words and phrases and there is a helpful glossary of terms at the back of the novel, which also includes the story of henna and how it is applied, notes on the caste system, and in case anyone is in the mood for cooking, a couple of recipes for Indian delicacies. The author is nothing if not thorough.

But her real talent is to bring the reader into a foreign land of the past and the careful path Lakshmi and her younger sister Radha must walk to protect themselves and their reputation. It is always a treacherous journey, especially for women and girls. Joshi writes: “In India, individual shame did not exist. Humiliation spreads, as easily as oil on wax paper, to the entire family, even to distant cousins, uncles, aunts, nieces and nephews.”

Joshi allows us to wander through, savour, and explore a unique culture.


(Catherine Ford is a regular Herald columnist.)