The Lions

R.G. Moyles is a professor of English at the University of Alberta and
co-author of Imperial Dreams and Colonial Realities: British Views of
Canada, 1880-1914.

“Dear Mother,” writes Jaswant Sijjer, “there is a lion’s claw
inside me. It was playful at first, tickling my guts, warning me. But it
has lately turned hungry and is ripping, day and night, deep within my
chest. Is this hallucination, or is it death?” In this powerful first
novel—by a writer who is bound to make his mark on Canadian
literature—the lions are inside and outside, clawing at Jaswant
Sijjer’s heart and soul, and sitting atop the bridge that dominates
his adopted city. The internal and the external are expertly blended by
Sunga, as are the two cultural viewpoints of the Punjabi Canadian,
Sijjer, and the native Canadian, Conrad Grey, whose moral courage offers
a final glimmer of hope in what is a seemingly hopeless world. Is there
a place for a “man without roots, rent from the traditions” of his
own people? That is the question that gives this novel its thematic
unity. The search for an answer provides a structural integrity that
lifts the book up from the banal and onto the level of greatness.

Sunga’s prose is poetic and subtle; his metaphors are strong and
vibrant; his depiction of inner struggle is poignant without being at
all sentimental; and his weaving of the folkloric with the everyday
issues of life is very effective. Most impressive of all is the
interaction of the first-person and third-person narratives. The Lions
demands a little patience, for it takes a while to get accustomed to the
almost relentless pain, but it is well worth the effort. Paul Sunga
knows how to write, how to make the heartache real, and how to make
questions asked as important for the reader as they are for characters
themselves.