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74 pages 2 hours read

Kamila Shamsie

Burnt Shadows

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2009

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Themes

Nationalism Versus Cosmopolitanism

Shamsie establishes cosmopolitanism, the belief that all people are part of one global community, as an aspirational ideal that is threatened by nationalism, the prioritizing of one nation’s goals or ideas to the exclusion or harm of other nations’ well-being. Shamsie uses Konrad and Hiroko’s story in Part 1 to establish the pattern she will repeat in each subsequent section of the novel: The forces of nationalism—Japanese, Pakistani, British, or American—ultimately doom the cosmopolitan goals of Shamsie’s characters. Hiroko and Konrad’s love is hindered by Japanese prejudices and ended by American militarism. Sajjad’s connection to his diverse homeland is severed by religious conflict. Harry Burton’s idealism is ground down by years of facilitating or enacting violence in the name of American exceptionalism. Kim Burton doesn’t see herself as a bigot, yet her prejudice against Muslims unintentionally dooms Raza. Even Raza, who dreams of only learning languages and friendship, gets caught in the sweep of Islamic extremism through Pakistan by way of his attempts at friendship with Abdullah.

Shamsie closely connects nationalism with both racism with fear: In Nagasaki, the once-cosmopolitan city has been transformed by war into a place hostile to foreigners like Konrad. Shamsie presents British colonialism and American imperialism as incompatible with cosmopolitanism because of the hierarchies they depend upon; they are effectively extensions of nationalism. The only resistance to nationalism, Shamsie posits, is an insistence on nuanced compassion. Hiroko consistently displays consideration of different points of view, even when those points of view may be antagonistic. Hiroko’s genuine respect for those different from herself allows her to succeed in building relationships that stand the tests of time and cultural difference. Importantly, Shamsie also presents Hiroko as uncompromising of herself, unwilling to change herself to earn acceptance, like Raza. By contrast, Kim’s performative cultural sensitivity lacks the deeper compassion and confidence Shamsie gives to Hiroko, who understands the importance of conversion to Islam in her marriage with Sajjad as well as she understands that a given individual American is not personally responsible for the dropping of the nuclear bomb. Kim, unwilling to offend Hiroko by disliking a fruit, is willing to endanger Abdullah’s life exclusively on the basis of her own discomfort and her certainty in the morality of her nation’s law enforcement. 

Shamsie uses her exploration of this theme to draw a historical through-line from World War II to the US war in Afghanistan, connecting world-historical events in chronological sequence through the life of Hiroko. Shamsie suggests that, while the violent Partition of India was not a literal result of the bombing of Nagasaki nor a literal cause of the War in Afghanistan, the same forces of nationalism and religious conflict that flourished after World War II enabled history to repeat itself, even as the rapid globalization of the technological age gave the impression of greater international cooperation. The bombing of Nagasaki and the bombing of Afghanistan are presented as variations on the same theme: catastrophic violence in the name of self-preservation. 

Geopolitics on the Personal Scale

Burnt Shadows explores the ways in which individual lives are affected by geopolitical forces, especially of war and violence. The nuclear bombardment of Nagasaki, the departure of the British from India and the resulting Partition, the Cold War, and the 9/11 attacks and resulting bombardment of Afghanistan all shape the lives and choices of Shamsie’s characters—even the characters outside of the novel’s two main families. Shamsie presents geopolitics as inescapable on the personal scale: Sajjad attempts to eschew the violent politics of Partition, but the political forces at play still reconfigure every aspect of his life when he loses his Indian citizenship; Hiroko is indelibly marked by the bombing of Nagasaki, both physically and psychologically, and endures as tragedy, espionage, and politics rob her of her home, her father, her lover, her husband, and finally her son. Raza’s relationship to his community is even shaped by political forces from before he was born, as Hiroko’s history unfairly complicates his ability to be accepted in the only home he’s ever known. Even in the earliest pages of the novel, the anxieties of war frustrate Konrad Weiss’s personal relationships with Hiroko and Yoshi.

In contrast to the Tanaka-Ashrafs, who primarily represent the personal consequences of political movements, Shamsie also uses the Weiss-Burtons to recreate geopolitical attitudes in individuals. James Burton is all the classism and racism of the British Empire distilled into one man; Kim Burton models the post-9/11 anger and paranoia that fueled large-scale nationalism and facilitated the War on Terror. With the Weiss-Burtons, Shamsie posits a two-way relationship between the political and the personal: Individual biases shape the policies of nations, which in turn influence individual biases. In the Tanaka-Ashrafs, Shamsie explores how innocent people may be caught in the cross-hairs of prejudice and power seeking.

Shamsie often explores the relationship between the political and the personal via the justifications both people and nations make for their actions. Guilt and responsibility, Shamsie posits, are difficult to place when people’s behavior is driven by a combination of learned and innate behaviors. Through Raza and Harry, Shamsie considers the difference between intent and impact as well as the degree of control an individual has over their actions when compromised by service to a national government. Harry is quick to justify his violent history in the name of democracy yet worries that his daughter will think less of him if she knows the truth about his past. Raza, who is unable to face Hiroko because of his guilt over Abdullah and Sajjad, concludes that his passive role in the violent dealings of A&G does not absolve him of the consequences his translation work facilitates.

Through it all, Shamsie insists on centering the lived experiences of those who are most affected by the decisions of world leaders yet often forgotten by history: the civilians. Shamsie reminds her reader that politics and warfare do not exist in a vacuum but transform the conditions of everyday life even for individuals who will never participate in the decisions that create that transformation. Shamsie attempts to humanize historical events, returning them to the context of individual suffering from the emotional remove of abstract foreign policy and political maneuvering. 

Translation and the Challenges of Cross-Cultural Intimacy

Shamsie explores the limitations and possibilities of cross-cultural intimacy in complement to her portrayal of cosmopolitanism as a global ideal. She presents cross-cultural intimacy as legitimately difficult to attain, even in the presence of the best intentions. Sajjad and Hiroko’s creation of a Pakistani-Japanese Muslim family is achieved through a “series of negotiations” (134), and their relationship almost never happens at all due to the prescriptions of Sajjad’s Muslim family and the class prejudice of the English-German Burtons. By portraying even the novel’s most successful example of cross-cultural intimacy as hard won, Shamsie acknowledges the legitimate difficulties of connecting across differences even as she argues in favor of cosmopolitanism. 

As the political dynamics of the novel grow more complex, Shamsie also allows the dynamics of cross-cultural intimacy to be complicated by shifting generational attitudes in relation to increasing globalism. Hiroko celebrates the diversity of New York City, but even as the traffic of both people and ideas across borders increases, it does not necessarily result in a more tolerant or compassionate global attitude. For example, Harry notes how profits, not friendship, motivate international dealings. Personally, Harry is not hindered by the overt racism of his father, yet his ability to think beyond his American perspective is still limited by the necessary secrecy of his job, which inhibits total intimacy. The diversity of New York, and specifically the presence of many ethnicities of Muslim peoples, is perverted by racial profiling in the wake of 9/11.

Shamsie indicates translation to be both a primary obstacle and a superb facilitator of cross-cultural intimacy, as shared secrets and shared languages are often paired in the story. Ilse and Hiroko’s friendship develops in German, providing simultaneous privacy and connection. Raza’s fluency in Pashto creates the possibility of his friendship with Abdullah. Sajjad and Hiroko fall in love in Urdu, and Harry’s sharing of Urdu with Kim facilitates her understanding of Raza at the end of the novel. However, Raza’s multi-fluency also facilitates the morally dubious actions of A&G. Sajjad’s hypothetical English masterpiece written in Urdu is considered preposterous by James, who believes translation should only move in one direction, and Kim and Abdullah, despite both speaking English, are still unable to understand one another. 

The Effects of Trauma on Identity and Belonging

Burnt Shadows features many instances of both personal and large-scale violence, and Shamsie explores how traumatic experiences fracture notions of identity and create disconnect between people and the places they once called home. Trauma, for Shamsie, is a kind of interruption of continuity, requiring her characters to reimagine themselves and frustrating their goals of self-determination.

Hiroko experiences a traumatic event in each of the novel’s four parts and each time must re-invent herself to survive: The bombing of Nagasaki separates Hiroko forever from her childhood home; Partition interrupts her plans to build a life with Sajjad in India; she never quite feels accepted in Pakistan and leaves after Sajjad’s death; and Raza’s detainment isolates Hiroko from her closest friend, Kim, and places her at odds with her adopted country. Throughout these struggles, Hiroko also attempts to navigate her identity as a hibakusha and her demand to be accepted for who she is in her entirety. Despite her best efforts to contain these struggles to herself, Hiroko’s public-facing identity as a Japanese woman and nuclear bombing survivor inadvertently hinders Raza’s ability to find acceptance in Pakistan. In a sense, Raza inherits Hiroko’s sense of displacement and connection to Nagasaki as much as he inherits Hiroko’s Japanese physical features. Abdullah, also displaced by violence, expresses both love for his homeland and apprehension at returning to Afghanistan after creating a new home for himself in New York.

Often, Shamsie explores the idea of home through depictions of landscapes and the natural world. Hiroko finds Nagasaki to be unrecognizable after the explosion, just as Sajjad notes that the British occupation of India has confined the local plant life to flowerpots. The 9/11 attacks transform the skyline of New York—a physical representation of the enormity of the global shift the attacks precipitate. Abdullah tells Hiroko he longs for an Afghanistan that no longer exists, its landscape changed forever by generations of war, landmines, and bombing. This depiction of the effects of war on the natural world echoes Shamsie’s connection between the geopolitical and the personal via Hiroko’s burns, creating a landscape of Hiroko’s body as forever marked by war as the city she leaves behind. The physical manifestations of violence also challenge characters’ abilities to justify war, as even Harry Burton is unable to reconcile the devastation of Afghanistan’s landscape with the presumed goals of peace and democracy. 

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