White Teeth

Although Samad had mentioned his great-grandfather many times, it is not until the end of Part 2 that Smith reveals Pande’s full story. This is noteworthy because Samad’s obsession with Pande is connected to the issues of identity and assimilation that plague him throughout this section of the novel. Having a famous relative allays his fears about his own insignificance, and interpreting Mangal Pande’s actions as a principled stand against imperialism reassures Samad that he himself won’t “let the new order roll over him without a struggle” (217).

Of course, Pande’s heroism is a contentious topic both within the novel and outside of it. Given that the contemporary accounts of his actions were mostly written by the British, it is certainly plausible that, as Samad claims, they do not reflect the “full story” (209). History in White Teeth is not always a matter of objective fact; instead, it is made of the stories people tell about it. Smith notes, for example, that the history Archie learned in school was “taught with one eye on narrative, the other on drama, no matter how unlikely or chronologically inaccurate” (211). However, this does not necessarily detract from the power history has over characters’ lives. Samad himself is a prime example of this; his idea of Pande clearly informs his decision to send Magid to Bangladesh, which he also describes as a kind of moral crossroads.

The other members of the Iqbal family also grapple with questions related to history and identity, which often overlap with themes of fate, chance, and free will. Alsana is a much more practical character than Samad and is consequently less concerned about the perceived threat of assimilation. What worries her instead is creating a stable life for her children, and she sees this as incompatible with the basic facts of existence in Bangladesh:

[Bangladeshis] live under the invisible finger of random disaster, of flood and cyclone, hurricane and mudslide […] It is the most ridiculous country in the world, Bangladesh. It is God’s idea of a really good wheeze, his stab at black comedy (176).

Alsana instead wants to raise her children in an environment that—if not actually immune to “random disasters” or “acts of God”—at least allows for the illusion of safety and control.

Meanwhile, Magid and Millat face a different set of challenges. By the time the twins are nine, both are very Westernized; Millat listens to Bruce Springsteen and Michael Jackson, while Magid goes so far as to ask his friends to call him “Mark Smith” (126). As Millat grows older, however, living in England becomes an impediment to identifying as English because society constantly reminds him that he is viewed as an outsider. The first hint comes during the Satanic Verses protests, which Millat enthusiastically takes part in despite knowing nothing about the book and being completely immersed in Western culture himself. In fact, Millat’s core problem is the fact that he feels locked out of the culture with which he identifies:

He knew that he, Millat, was a Paki no matter where he came from; that he smelled of curry; had no sexual identity; took other people’s jobs; or had no job and bummed off the state; or gave all the jobs to his relatives […] that no one who looked like Millat, or spoke like Millat, or felt like Millat, was ever on the news unless they had recently been murdered (194).

As the novel progresses, Millat is driven further and further towards religious fundamentalism partly in reaction to this prejudice, while Magid, ironically, becomes even more English by virtue of growing up far away from England.

Finally, considering Part 2’s focus on tradition and change, it’s worth noting that what Archie and Samad like about O’Connell’s is its timelessness: it’s a place where “nothing changes […] things are only retold, remembered” (203). For Samad, who fears he is losing more of his history and culture with every day he spends in England, O’Connell’s is a refuge that seems completely suspended in time.