A contemporary retelling of a Bengali myth, Gun Island is a novel brimming with magical realism while simultaneously fraught with the modern calamities of human-driven climate change and immigration.
Amitav Ghosh toes the line between the rising waters in the wetlands of the Sundarbans in Bangladesh and the lagoon of Venice while reeling the reader into a net of conflicts involving migration, displacement, and identity. It is a story of reconciliation in the face of loss, of humanity versus nature, or — more bitingly — capitalist colonialism versus environmental crisis.
The mythological story that Gun Island references is that of a gun merchant, Bonduki Sadagar, who tries to escape the grasp of the goddess Manasa Devi, who transforms herself into snakes and poisonous creatures in her pursuit of the merchant’s devotion. It is a traditional Bengali myth superimposed upon contemporary issues such as extractive capitalism, native displacement, and climate migration.
Ghosh highlights the experience of Bangladeshi climate refugees searching for better opportunities in European countries by way of Italy, particularly Venice. “There are also many from Pakistan and Bangladesh. In realtà, last month Bangladeshis were the second-largest group coming into Italy.”
“We’re in a new world now. No one knows where they belong any more, neither humans nor animals.”
The narrator and protagonist, Dinanath “Deen” Dutta, is an Indian American rare books dealer called to investigate the shrine of Manasa Devi by an old friend and Venetian scholar, Cinta. Pulled into the lives of two teenage boys native to the Sundarban region by the navigator and marine biologist, Piya Roy, Deen untangles the scope of sea-level rise and its subsequent land erasure and displacement.
Not only does Deen discover that large populations of Bangladeshi people are being driven out of their lands into dangerous human-trafficking schemes, but so, too, are many native animal species. These creatures are disappearing or turning up in places previously out of their natural range, becoming yet another segment of migrants.
“We’re in a new world now. No one knows where they belong any more, neither humans nor animals.”
Since the publication of Gun Island in 2019, between January and October 2024, Italy was the European country with the largest influx of migrants, all by sea; some 13,779 immigrants, of 55,000, came from Bangladesh.
As a protagonist, Deen represents a sort of “everyman” who is unaware of the extent to which climate change is fueling immigration globally. With an inquisitive narrative voice that is simultaneously skeptical about the magical thinking of mythology, Deen nonetheless possesses loyalty to those in need. His intellect and compassion drive the story, with linguistic fluency bridging the gaps among the three languages and their corresponding cultures: English, Italian, and Bengali.
A migrant worker challenges Deen, “Think of all the people who come to see Venice: What’s brought them there but a fantasy? They think they’ve travelled to the heart of Italy, to a place where they’ll experience Italian history and eat authentic Italian food. Do they know that all of this is made possible by people like me?”
The question of what it means to belong somewhere, to have a home, or be welcomed into a culture regardless of origin, race, religion, or ethnicity, is continually broached with care. Ghosh posits Venice as a typical example of a romanticized city surviving off the tourism of a mythical place that no longer truly exists and may soon disappear altogether.
Cinta admits, “So I, too, was born and raised there. I’m a Venetian, one of the last.”
A migrant worker challenges Deen, “Think of all the people who come to see Venice: What’s brought them there but a fantasy? . . . Do they know that all of this is made possible by people like me?”
Although Ghosh uses the Manasa Devi myth to bind three storylines together — the failing preservation of a flooding Sundarban shrine, the life-threatening immigration of Rafi and Tipu, and the academic research by Piya and Cinta — the novel at times seems to gloss over the real-world thematic elements.
Ghosh occasionally drops an incredibly poignant yet concise paragraph of weight arguing for the global recognition of climate change and its ties to European colonial capitalism, then simply returns to some dialogic banter or small plot thread. It feels as though some of the wider arguments being made could have been expanded upon, but considering that this is the only major flaw apparent in the writing, there’s something to be said about it prompting a desire for more. At times it reads more like a young adult novel than was presumably intended.
The magical realism involved in scenes of poisonous snakes and spiders appearing out of nowhere and the indescribable premonitions of Tipu after being bitten by an enchanted snake (presumably under the control of Manasa Devi) is engaging but feels disjointed. The unexplainable and supernatural tend to have a higher believability factor and chance of keeping the reader engaged when they’re more consistently manifested and less random. Ghosh would have done well to narrate these scenes omnisciently instead of through the eyes of a doubting and struggling Deen, who tends to depreciate the experience.
Overall, Ghosh earnestly shows how some of the world’s oldest tales and myths persevere well into modernity and can help us navigate new issues like climate change with old wisdom, if we band together.
If you yearn for historical yarns, dig delving into dystopic tales about the intersection of colonialism and climate change, or are enchanted by magical realism, you might like to add Gun Island to your TBR pile.
