From Mumbai’s ‘illegal migrant workers’ to Melbourne crypto traders, The Degenerates is global Australian literature
- Written by Michelle Cahill, Adjunct, Department of English, School of Humanities, University of Tasmania
In Raeden Richardson’s debut novel, The Degenerates, displacement and travel feature within the lives of aspiring outcasts in the wildly disparate cities of Bombay (Mumbai’s colonial precursor), in Melbourne’s inner-city lanes and southwest suburbs, and in downtown New York.
This is not strictly a novel about identity, nor assimilation. Not all its characters are Indians of the diaspora, but they all seek refuge from forms of oppression, be it caste-based, social or family violence.
Review: The Degenerates – Raeden Richardson (Text Publishing)
The Degenerates opens in 1976, with vivid snapshots of “illegal migrant workers” who leave their villages for Bombay’s Arabian sea slums, with dreams of saving enough money to buy a flat or start a family. The city is being gentrified, drugs get pedalled, arrests inevitably happen – but the lowly are not without humour, optimism and streetwise grace.
They attend “night school”, write in “cursive paragraphs”, learn “Keats and Byron” and “proper British English” from the nuns. Enterprising beggars are a familiar sight in Mumbai, and Richardson shows them to be a community tied to the legacies of colonialism.
‘Dear degenerates’
Richardson focuses on a shoe polisher from Western Maharashtra, Somnath Sunder Sonpate, who runs out of luck in Colaba’s Grant Road district, coming up against enforcers of Indira Gandhi’s mass sterilisation program: part of The Emergency from 1975 to 1977. This was a time of authoritarian rule, corruption, arrests, censorship and forced population control directed at the poor.
Somnath fails to narrowly escape the police and cannot produce a license, so he is sterilised. Meanwhile, Preeti, a woman he shares a tiffin (or meals) with, whose bed is made from the pages of old novels, gives birth in the street, without conception. This stroke of magic realism fuses the Christian belief in immaculate conception with the stigma of an oppressive Hindu caste system. Sadly, for Preeti, it is a double violence. At the hands of the beggar master, her tongue is cut out and she dies by incineration.
Somnath rescues her baby, and names her Maha. In a desperate struggle for survival, Somnath and baby Maha flee the city as stowaways, to arrive in the port of Melbourne.
The plight and flight of this street family rely on unlikely and extraordinary circumstances, establishing a mixed tone of surreal and tragicomic farce. They become squatters in Swan Street, Richmond, in Melbourne’s inner northeast. Then, in Degraves Street, Somnath labours as a shifty motorcycle mechanic in the chop shop and Maha eats herself into florid diabetes, becoming a consummate reader of history, scriptures and poetry.
When Somnath dies abruptly, Maha, also known as Mother Pulse, embraces her oddly divine manifestations. She receives letters on paper bags and napkins from outcasts, whom she addresses as “Dear degenerates”, imploring them to tell her their stories. She has them typed and printed into flyers, which are distributed under the windscreen wipers of cars. And so, the prayers and afflictions of the outcast – those who live precariously at the edges of society – are reclaimed and interwoven.
Critiquing privilege
There’s a hiatus in Maha’s story, as the narrative focus shifts to two selective school misfits, Titch and Skeater, or “ ” – a caesura – taking the place of his name. This grammatical marker becomes enigmatic of repression, private loss and what lies beyond the social fabric. The boys have a codependent, yet deeply poignant friendship at Melbourne High, until Skeater plunges into alcohol dependency.
