Author Litty Mathew. The duduk, an ancient Armenian woodwind instrument carved from the trunk of an apricot tree, serves as the main character for Litty Mathew's debut novel The Musician's Secret by Third Floor Publishing. Mathew, who is of south Indian descent, first wrote about the instrument a decade ago for an L.A. Times piece after hearing its emotive melancholic timbre in film scores and becoming captivated by its rich symbolism within the Armenian culture she married into.
The Musician's Secret is a work of fiction that tells a soulful tale of Rupen Najarian, an 83-year-old duduk maestro living comfortably within the confines of his celebrity in 1990s Glendale, home to the largest population of Armenians outside of Yerevan. Rupen's life is suddenly disrupted by dire health news and a ne'er-do-well 20-something artist named Haik who threatens to expose a deep secret Rupen has been hiding for decades. We join Rupen on an odyssey of self discovery that lays open the Armenian experience pre and post diaspora -- a culture that has been sustained through generations by its ancient traditions, such as the music of the duduk.
Mathew's book grapples with the complicated issues of generational and cultural identity by exposing the wounds -- still fresh a century later -- created by atrocities of the Armenian genocide in Turkey and the refugees' death march through the Syrian desert. Through her characters, we come to understand how the genocide has served to tighten the grip on long-held customs and beliefs through time so the tragic piece of Armenian history doesn't fade from global consciousness.
As we come upon the 101st anniversary of the Armenian Genocide on April 24, and as Glendale opens its first museum exhibit commemorating the event, Artbound sat down with Mathew to discuss her experience as a cultural outsider living in a community with such an unwavering sense of identity, and how she came to develop the character of a Middle Eastern man from another era with such clarity.
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Tell us a bit about the exhibition Armenia: An Open Wound in Glendale which opened April 9 and why it's so meaningful to you and your novel?
Before I moved to Glendale, I knew very little about the Armenian Genocide. I didnt know that Glendale was home to the largest population of Armenians outside of Yerevan (the capital and largest city of Armenia with 1.06 million). Twenty-one years later, I meet people in town, like me, who dont know that more than half of all Armenians died in the first genocide of the 20th century. That their neighbors live with this terrible history.
This exhibition, in partnership with the Armenian American Museum and the Brand Library & Art Center, is really the first of its kind for Glendale because the Citys public library doesnt typically get museum quality shows. More than that, its important because it bridges the knowledge gap between Armenians and non Armenians.
The show comes to the Southland from the Museo Memoria Y Tolerancia in Mexico. In April 2015, they created it to commemorate the centenary of the Armenian Genocide.
The exhibition has a 360-degree desert memorial of barren dunes and relentless sky. The desert has a strong hold on my protagonist, the soon-to be-retired duduk player, Rupen, who spent his childhood wandering the Syrian desert. But not to his artist side-kick/blackmailer, Haik, who is more than 60 years his junior. Haik, would probably have relished dumping sand on Rupens expensive floors just to torture his nemesis.
The 101th year commemoration of the Armenian Genocide is April 24. What is that day like living in Glendale and for your family?
Although, its been more than a century, the pain the genocide caused is still alive. In Glendale, Armenian business generally close for the day. On a personal level, it's also my birthday. Awkward, is how I would describe the first couple of years married to Melkon, my Armenian husband. But my birthday is also an occasion to talk about the family and friends were starting to forget. The grandparents stories of daring escapes and unrequited loves. Their village recipes, songs and dances. And yes, to eat some chocolate cake.
The ancient Armenian instrument, the duduk, is really the star of your novel. Is the instrument still passed down in the Armenian culture or is it losing its strong symbolism?
The duduk is as popular as ever. Youll hear it at most Armenian celebrations. It is traditionally made out of apricot wood -- prunus armeniaca in Latin. The Latin gives us clues to the heritage of this instrument. For Armenians, there is no stronger symbol than the duduk except maybe Mount Ararat.
Why is the book set in the 1990s?
I chose that decade because the last of the genocide survivors are still lucid. Its a moment when they have to tell their stories or take them to the grave. Thats pretty good motivation.
In your book, there's a thread of deep-seated hatred for Turks that comes up again and again. Do generations of Armenians harbor this from one to the next?
The hatred can be passed down like a tarnished heirloom. As a curious outsider and a former inquisitive journalist, I would poke at this sensitive spot not out of any malice but because I wanted to learn more about the culture. I have asked: why do you still hate Turks? Its been 100 years. [Im usually cringing when I ask.] The response I most often get is the Turks have never acknowledged the genocide. The wound has never closed.
Exhibition Armenia: An Open Wound is on view April 16 - June 11, 2016.
The book is so full of interesting history and characters, in particular maestro Rupen. Who was your inspiration for him?
Rupen is every person who has felt like an outsider. That no one truly sees him for who he really is. But why I became obsessed with the duduk is a whole different story.
