The Spoiled Heart review: Class versus identity debate propels Sunjeev Sahota’s novel

Sunjeev Sahota’s The Spoiled Heart (Penguin Random House) is just such a work of fiction. It is his first novel to be set entirely in England, with the central characters being of Indian descent. The class versus identity debate is the motor of the plot, but the novel is also noteworthy for the way it deals with issues of guilt, belonging and grappling with a troubled past.

Tangled stories, told through a writer-narrator

At the heart of The Spoiled Heart is Nayan, proud forty-something working-class resident of the industrial town of Chesterfield in Derbyshire (which, by the way, is where Sahota himself grew up). Nayan is running for the post of general secretary of Unify, “the union he had given his life to”, while also caring for his ailing, irascible father.

Years ago, Nayan’s marriage fell apart after a tragic incident in which his mother and young son perished in a fire. Now, he is attracted to Helen, a taciturn woman who has recently returned to Chesterfield with her son, and, step by step, they grow close. The enigmatic Helen’s own life has been one of hardship, the details of which are revealed as the novel progresses.

Running against Nayan for the general secretary’s post is the 31-year-old Megha, at present the union’s first Head of Diversity, Equity and Inclusion. Where Nayan’s call is for solidarity across members of the working class, Megha believes in the more modern mantra of identarian concerns, especially related to race. At first, she is seen as a weak contender for the post, but her tactics start to pay off in time, and Nayan has to reckon with her claims.

In the manner of Philip Roth’s Zuckerman novels, the tangled stories of these people come to us from Sajjan Dhanoa, a writer who grew up in the area and knew Nayan at school before leaving for London. Intrigued by the fallout of the union election, he speaks to many of the people concerned to weave together his account of events. His job, as he puts it, “was to listen, to observe, question, guess; trying to see what was inside their lives, all lives”.

The novel, then, is structured around a patterned release of information that takes in shifting chronologies, different characters and occasional insights from the writer-narrator. It is to Sahota’s credit that he knits these elements together to create a whole that is both cohesive and engrossing.

Portraits of people with messy motivations

As with his earlier work, The Spoiled Heart shines in its portraits of characters with messy motivations, imperfect choices, and capacity to carry on as best they can under the circumstances. Nayan’s integrity is paired with stubbornness; Megha’s manipulations with insecurity; and Helen’s steeliness with hidden wounds.

There are subtle as well as overt parallels within the plot, too. Nayan’s feelings for his son are matched with his growing bond with Helen’s son; there are cases of parents who should have known better when raising their children; and, most distinctly, incidents of career-ending social media pile-ons. As the novel advances, the mystery of the fire that took the lives of Nayan’s mother and son comes to the fore, with revelations tumbling out and affecting even the domestic life of the story’s narrator.

The highlight of the book is the union debate between Nayan and Megha in which they lay out their respective positions. It is a gripping, extended scene, complete with reversals, interruptions and pauses. For Megha, “a class-based analysis is good in theory, but it doesn’t tackle the very real biases in our institutions and workplaces, and it certainly won’t face up to the — again very real — structural and systemic racism.” On the other hand, Nayan argues that “at the risk of being accused of propagating universalist pieties, it is, actually, a return to a politics based around solidarity and universalism that will save us”. The debate continues in real life.

Towards the end of the novel, after the dust has settled and characters have picked up the pieces of their lives, the narrator strikes a distinctly E.M. Forster-esque note. “I wondered if somewhere,” he muses, “beyond thoughts of what was particular, what universal, there was a small meadow where people might simply meet, and see each other, and connect.” The Spoiled Heart itself serves as such a place, throwing light on oppositions and revealing characters in their damaged, honest vulnerability.