Read To Win

Nora Ephron’s ‘Heartburn’ shows how to be funny about the break-up of the perfect relationship

Continuing our series on readers’ choices of books that have moved them.

I first read Nora Ephron’s Heartburn a few months after she died in 2012. I’d have never noticed the paperback, tucked away in the cookery section of a typically chaotic bookstore in Kolkata, had not the memory of a beautiful obituary by her son, Jacob Bernstein, been fresh in my mind.

Until then, I hadn’t read Ephron in print. She was, to me, a writer of movies that I did not seem to care about as much as my friends thought I should. Sleepless in Seattle and Julie & Julia had reminded me, uncannily, of my own life. I was a little younger than eight-year-old Jonah in Sleepless in Seattle, when I lost my mother. I could sense what he went through.

And like Julie, in Julie & Julia, I was obsessed with cooking, though, as I would discover after reading Heartburn, it was really my “way of saying I love you” than expressing other, perhaps worthier, ambitions. But I was put off by Ephron’s Disneyfied romantic comedy (much as I adored Meryl Streep – who doesn’t?), her chocolatey endings, and the lack of sharpness in her plots. So I turned up my nose, passed up a chance to watch Heartburn, and returned to Woody Allen for my laughs.

But that evening in Kolkata, I looked at the baby-pink cover, fell in love with the illustration of a ring dangling from a dented fork, read the opening sentence of the blurb (“Is it possible to write a sidesplitting novel about the breakup of the perfect marriage?”), and took it home.

Funnily, or rather fittingly, as with most of my Ephron experiences, it proved to be the right moment to be reading the book.

I was recovering at the time, at my own snail-like pace, from a hideously imperfect love affair, a mistake so colossal that the thought of it now brings back to mind an immortal one-liner by Rachel Samstat, Ephron’s protagonist: “I felt like a character in a trashy novel.”

Rachel had found herself in Rona Jaffe’s scandalous potboiler, The Best of Everything. I would have probably put myself in one of those obscure French novels, where the hero feels existential angst crawling up his toes as he contemplates a boiled egg at breakfast, is always shrouded in a haze of cigarette smoke, and walks the dingy lanes of Paris eyeing the women of the night. I was nearly living this life – except for the last bit, of course.

To my credit, I was also busy turning my suffering into a big joke. From close friends to my therapist, anyone interested in my well-being was subjected to the full, vitriolic blast of my self-deprecating humour. This was just as well, as my therapist told me after two weeks of patiently sitting through what were effectively hour-long stand-up comedy shows, except that my performances were untouched by even a trace of kindness towards myself. Until I had read Rachel’s story, I did not quite get what she was trying to tell me.

Heartburn is narrated by 38-year-old Rachel Samstat, seven months pregnant with her second child, when she finds out her husband, Mark Feldman, is having an affair with the “giantess”, Thelma Rice.

The Ladies’ Central of Washington, which includes Rachel, had been hotly speculating whom Thelma is sleeping with all summer, so the knowledge, when it hits Rachel, is devastating at multiple levels.

In shock, she flies off with her two-year-old son, Sam, to New York, to stay at her father’s empty apartment, the old man “having been carted off to the loony bin” by her sister Eleanor. We gradually learn about the father’s third wife, who happens to be Rachel’s “former best friend Brenda’s sister”; her mother, a Hollywood agent who specialised in midgets; and her hamster-obsessed first husband, Charlie, who caught crabs by sleeping with – well, once again – Rachel’s “former best friend”.

Heartburn is based on Ephron’s relationship with her second husband Carl Bernstein (one half of the team that exposed the Watergate scandal), whose affair with Margaret Jay, the daughter of former British Prime Minister James Callaghan and the wife of former British ambassador Peter Jay, ended their marriage. Ephron’s first husband, Dan Greenburg, is not spared either. And least of all, Ephron herself.

She lacerated her own neuroses, sliced away at self-pity, mocked herself for not leaving her philandering husband fast enough – but without forgetting to delight in the absurd, to seek pleasure in the most ordinary activities (such as making the best mashed potatoes or four-minute eggs) and to see everyone, including herself, as being shaped by, and reacting (nearly always irrationally) to, circumstances that are (nearly always) beyond their control. I had been also shaming myself for my folly, cooking Mac ’n Cheese for supper way too often, but without gracing myself with the wisdom of self-forgiveness.

In spite of the neurotic edge to Ephron’s prose and Rachel’s dithering misery, Heartburn tells a story of heroism, not victimhood.

If its sarcasm slips into cynicism (“Show me a woman who cries when trees lose their leaves in autumn and I’ll show you a real asshole”), it also asks us to seek meaning in the maddening medley thrown at us by life. In his memorial, Jacob Bernstein remembered his grandmother Phoebe on her deathbed telling his mother to “take notes”. Ephron followed her instruction precisely, making every detail of her life grist to her mill, be it her love of food or psychoanalysis.

If therapy shows up the fragility of the choices available to us (“…the truth is that no matter who you pick, your neuroses mesh perfectly and horribly; the truth is that no matter whom you pick, he deprives you the way your mother and father did,” goes one of Rachel’s most inspired diatribes), food, with its reliably predictable taste, should it be made a certain way, provides a counter-ammunition to this nihilism. The latter is captured, quite literally, at the end of the novel, as Rachel hurls her Key lime pie at Mark at a dinner party, days before she finally leaves him.

Somak Ghoshal is an editor and writer based in New Delhi. His writings have appeared in The Telegraph, Biblio, Mint, Caravan, Open and Huffington Post

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“My body instantly craves chai and samosa”

German expats talk about adapting to India, and the surprising similarities between the two cultures.

The cultural similarities between Germany and India are well known, especially with regards to the language. Linguists believe that Sanskrit and German share the same Indo-Germanic heritage of languages. A quick comparison indeed holds up theory - ratha in Sanskrit (chariot) is rad in German, aksha (axle) in Sanskrit is achse in German and so on. Germans have long held a fascination for Indology and Sanskrit. While Max Müller is still admired for his translation of ancient Indian scriptures, other German intellectuals such as Goethe, Herder and Schlegel were deeply influenced by Kalidasa. His poetry is said to have informed Goethe’s plays, and inspired Schlegel to eventually introduce formal Indology in Germany. Beyond the arts and academia, Indian influences even found their way into German fast food! Indians would recognise the famous German curry powder as a modification of the Indian masala mix. It’s most popular application is the currywurst - fried sausage covered in curried ketchup.

It is no wonder then that German travellers in India find a quite a lot in common between the two cultures, even today. Some, especially those who’ve settled here, even confess to Indian culture growing on them with time. Isabelle, like most travellers, first came to India to explore the country’s rich heritage. She returned the following year as an exchange student, and a couple of years later found herself working for an Indian consultancy firm. When asked what prompted her to stay on, Isabelle said, “I love the market dynamics here, working here is so much fun. Anywhere else would seem boring compared to India.” Having cofounded a company, she eventually realised her entrepreneurial dream here and now resides in Goa with her husband.

Isabelle says there are several aspects of life in India that remind her of home. “How we interact with our everyday life is similar in both Germany and India. Separate house slippers to wear at home, the celebration of food and festivals, the importance of friendship…” She feels Germany and India share the same spirit especially in terms of festivities. “We love food and we love celebrating food. There is an entire countdown to Christmas. Every day there is some dinner or get-together,” much like how Indians excitedly countdown to Navratri or Diwali. Franziska, who was born in India to German parents, adds that both the countries exhibit the same kind of passion for their favourite sport. “In India, they support cricket like anything while in Germany it would be football.”

Having lived in India for almost a decade, Isabelle has also noticed some broad similarities in the way children are brought up in the two countries. “We have a saying in South Germany ‘Schaffe Schaffe Hausle baue’ that loosely translates to ‘work, work, work and build a house’. I found that parents here have a similar outlook…to teach their children to work hard. They feel that they’ve fulfilled their duty only once the children have moved out or gotten married. Also, my mother never let me leave the house without a big breakfast. It’s the same here.” The importance given to the care of the family is one similarity that came up again and again in conversations with all German expats.

While most people wouldn’t draw parallels between German and Indian discipline (or lack thereof), Germans married to Indians have found a way to bridge the gap. Take for example, Ilka, who thinks that the famed differences of discipline between the two cultures actually works to her marital advantage. She sees the difference as Germans being highly planning-oriented; while Indians are more flexible in their approach. Ilka and her husband balance each other out in several ways. She says, like most Germans, she too tends to get stressed when her plans don’t work out, but her husband calms her down.

Consequently, Ilka feels India is “so full of life. The social life here is more happening; people smile at you, bond over food and are much more relaxed.” Isabelle, too, can attest to Indians’ friendliness. When asked about an Indian characteristic that makes her feel most at home, she quickly answers “humour.” “Whether it’s a taxi driver or someone I’m meeting professionally, I’ve learnt that it’s easy to lighten the mood here by just cracking a few jokes. Indians love to laugh,” she adds.

Indeed, these Germans-who-never-left as just diehard Indophiles are more Indian than you’d guess at first, having even developed some classic Indian skills with time. Ilka assures us that her husband can’t bargain as well as she does, and that she can even drape a saree on her own.

Isabelle, meanwhile, feels some amount of Indianness has seeped into her because “whenever its raining, my body instantly craves chai and samosa”.

Like the long-settled German expats in India, the German airline, Lufthansa, too has incorporated some quintessential aspects of Indian culture in its service. Recognising the centuries-old cultural affinity between the two countries, Lufthansa now provides a rich experience of Indian hospitality to all flyers on board its flights to and from India. You can expect a greeting of Namaste by an all-Indian crew, Indian food, and popular Indian in-flight entertainment options. And as the video shows, India’s culture and hospitality have been internalized by Lufthansa to the extent that they are More Indian Than You Think. To experience Lufthansa’s hospitality on your next trip abroad, click here.

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This article was produced by the Scroll marketing team on behalf of Lufthansa as part of their More Indian Than You Think initiative and not by the Scroll editorial team.