Blue Boy

February 16, 2009
Satyal’s lovely coming-of-age debut charts an Indian-American boy’s transformation from mere mortal to Krishnaji, the blue-skinned Hindu deity. Twelve-year-old Kiran Sharma’s a bit of an outcast: he likes ballet and playing with his mother’s makeup. He also reveres his Indian heritage and convinces himself that the reason he’s having trouble fitting in is because he’s actually the 10th reincarnation of Krishnaji. He plans to come out to the world at the 1992 Martin Van Buren Elementary School talent show, and much of the book revels in his comical preparations as he creates his costume, plays the flute and practices his dance moves to a Whitney Houston song. But as the performance approaches, something strange happens: Kiran’s skin begins to turn blue. Satyal writes with a graceful ease, finding new humor in common awkward pre-teen moments and giving readers a delightful and lively young protagonist.

April 1, 2009
Has the god Krishna returned? Only in the fantasies of a troubled Indian-American kid, explored at length in this tragicomedy of alienation by debut novelist Satyal.

First the lipstick, then the eyeliner: Kiran is raiding his mother's cosmetics again. The 12-year-old only child finds his life divided between his almost all-white school in a Cincinnati suburb and his parents' all-Indian world of Sunday school after Hindu temple and potluck parties every Saturday night at a rotating series of houses owned by affluent immigrants just like them. Afflicted with severe migraines and blackouts, Kiran finds solace in makeup sessions, ballet classes and playing with dolls. For his school's upcoming talent show, he decides to devise a ballet based on Krishna, whose icon rests by his mother's bed. Then an idea takes hold: Might he be the tenth, hitherto withheld incarnation of the god? Blue-skinned Krishna played the flute, gorged on butter and was a famous lover; Kiran buys a recorder, increases his butter consumption and notices blue tints to his skin. Being a lover is the hard part, for our hero doesn't yet understand sex, though his eventual orientation is clear. Kiran studies Penthouse and Playboy. He happens on some teens having wild group sex in the park. He spies on a boy and girl making out at a house party. This spectacle gives rise to a most un-Krishna-like jealousy, and he tells on them. A snitch, a crybaby and at one point an arsonist, Kiran is not easy to love, and his voice veers erratically between that of a child and an adult. The author never manages to come up with much of a plot or develop credible supporting characters, leaving readers stuck inside Kiran's head as his illusions become ever more grandiose, until he finally declares himself"just as great, just as godly, just as genius as Krishna." The climactic talent show fails to provide resolution.

Loses its way after a promisingly edgy start.

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June 22, 2009
The life of a sixth-grade misfit is difficult-but for Kiran Sharma, the only son of Indian immigrants living in a Cincinnati suburb, life is particularly challenging: he is slight, intellectually gifted, and more interested in ballet, dolls, and his mother's makeup than in sports and girls. One day, he has a revelation: he is the latest reincarnation of the Hindu god Krishna. The ensuing sequences describing how Kiran tries to adopt the god's characteristics will have readers laughing-even as they empathize with the humiliations he suffers at the hands of his classmates, teachers, and family. Verdict This sensitive debut novel captures every nuance of an 11-year-old's agony at discovering his differences and moving toward gradual self-acceptance. Sure to appeal to readers who enjoy such coming-of-age, gay, and immigrant fiction as Junot Diaz's The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao or Jeffrey Eugenides's Middlesex.-Andrea Kempf, Johnson Cty. Community Coll. Lib., Overland Park, KS

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