If Jonathan Franzen attempted to write an American version of Brannavan Gnanalingam’s Ockham-shortlisted Sprigs, I imagine the outcome would be similar to Sameer Pandya’s sophomore novel. Our Beautiful Boys is a captivating examination of contemporary Californian families shocked by a brutal act of violence.
When Vikram Shastri is scouted by an high school American football coach, his parents Gita and Gautam are divided about whether to let him play “a team sport that half the school thought represented everything that was wrong with America and the other half supported with a certain lust on Friday nights”. Gautam is against the “brutal” sport, while Gita is more supportive, because she thinks playing this game will give Vikram’s college applications a bit more sparkle. He needs all the help he can get, Gita believes; she believes that as a young Indian man in modern-day America, the odds are stacked against him.
Vikram connects immediately with two teammates: Diego Cruz, son of renowned Brazilian historian Veronica Cruz, and MJ, son of old-money, Yale-educated investment banker Michael Snr and his wife Shirley Berringer.
The three athletes bond over their love of the sport, and their status as good-looking, intelligent, hardworking young men with bright futures. They also bond over their mutual dislike of the school bully, Stanley, who smarms his way to dinner with them after Vikram’s second game. Together they go up into the Los Angeles hills, to the notorious Cave House, where an unsupervised teenage party is going off. That night, in the caves beyond the ruins of the dilapidated house, Stanley is hurt so badly he ends up in hospital.
What really happened in the cave? It’s clear that MJ, Vikram and Diego are involved – they all admit to being there with Stanley that night, and multiple social media posts from partygoers attest to this. But, almost more important than what happened, who will shoulder the blame? The parents, all terrified the scandal will cost their son his sparkling future, go into fighting mode, prepared to do whatever it takes to prove their own son’s innocence.
Only, there are so many distractions. All the parents are embroiled in their own private battles: Michael is unable to pay out an investor, Veronica’s reputation – built upon a duplicity – is threatening to crumble around her, and Gautam, ashamed of his mediocrity, must decide whether “the long shadow cast by Gandhi and the Gandhian life – of simplicity and austerity and nonviolence – had been too much pressure for them, too much for anyone. All these years, had feeling guilty about wanting to make proper money prevented him from really succeeding?”
Sameer Pandya questions whether financial success requires one to abandon their moral code; and to what extent can we parent a high school senior, or did that ship sail long ago?
Also, is violence a necessary and unavoidable part of human nature or is “a little bit of Gandhi … like a little bit of Catholic guilt … useful at times”?
Pandya navigates these murky ethical ideas and multiple character storylines with skill, carefully constructing a compelling story that reflects upon immigration, racial prejudice, parenthood, coming of age, modern masculinity and the dynamics of marriage.
It manages some humour among the angst, too, including a drinking game called Butt Darts, which is as absurd and hilarious as you might imagine. And all of it in smooth prose that’s a delight to read.
This is a thought-provoking novel that doesn’t flinch from thinking about how people accumulate power and simultaneously strip others of theirs.
Our Beautiful Boys, by Sameer Pandya (Bloomsbury, $36.99), is out now.
