Sugar: An Ethnographic Novel by Edward Narain and Tarryn Phillips
Where crime fiction meets colonial legacy in Fiji's diabetes crisis
The real power of Sugar: An Ethnographic Novel (2023) by Edward Narain and Tarryn Phillips stems not from its surface narrative of murder that entwines three lives from across the Fijian social strata, but from its probing of the sugar industry as a symbol of colonial exploitation and global capitalism.
Hannah is an Australian who volunteers for FijiHealth, using her marketing background to help educate Fijians about their diets, which are typically rich in sugar, salt and fat, while promoting exercise and wellness. As the text emphasises, Fiji “has one of the highest rates of diabetes in the world”: one in five Fijian adults live with the disease, a rate double the global average.
Rishika, an Indo-Fijian housewife, researches her family history, uncovering her great-great-grandfather’s Fijian arrival story as a girmitiya, or indentured labourer, to work British-owned sugar plantations under conditions akin to slavery. Meanwhile, her husband Vijay, a driver for government officials, including the prime minister, is murdered in what appears a botched burglary. The suspected culprit, Isikeli, an Indigenous iTaukei living a marginal life in one of Suva’s many squatter settlements, balances caring for his diabetic grandmother and selling coconuts while dabbling in petty theft along the same road where Vijay’s body is discovered.
Sugar’s story arc, grounded in the exploitative economies of colonialism, directly impacts each protagonist, shaping both their present and the ancestral histories of the Fijian characters. The murder mystery plot, while not the central focus, serves as a narrative device to explore the social and economic conditions that lead to such events. It simmers rather than boils; early sections feel slow and heavy with adverbs and context-setting. But as the plot circles closer to Vijay’s death, the writing gains confidence and urgency, unfolding into a more compelling read. While die-hard crime fans may find the pacing uneven and unsatisfying, the plot provides enough friction to engage many readers.
It is best to consider Sugar less as a story of murder and more as a primer for critical reflection. Published as part of the University of Toronto Press’s Teaching Culture series, Ethnographies for the Classroom, the book is designed for undergraduate discussions to introduce “the core methods and orienting frameworks of ethnographic research and provide a compelling entry point to some of the most urgent issues faced by people around the globe today.” Hence, Narain and Phillips bring their experience as both academics and long-time observers of Fiji’s iTaukei and Indo-Fijian cultural landscapes (the former was also born and raised in Suva).
The book’s supplemental chapter, to be read before or after the novel, provides direction on getting the most from this work. This is where the magic happens. As it guides the reader’s understanding of the text by providing a deeper exploration of the principal themes found in the novel: race and class in Fiji, food politics, and Necropolitics, described by the authors as “state-sanctioned forms of social harm … [that] is wielded to extend and improve the lives of the privileged while reducing the life chances of many.” Think big tobacco hiding the impacts of nicotine, likewise the oil industry and the effects of burning fossil fuels on the climate. In Sugar’s particular case study, Fiji’s crisis with type two diabetes, as among many marginalised communities around the world, which places the onus on individual responsibility as opposed to challenging multinational corporations for producing cheap nutrient-poor food. Highlighting this, a poignant moment in the novel shows Isikeli forced into purchasing a fizzy drink from the store as it is cheaper than bottled water.
Adding to Sugar’s potential for learning, the authors’ discussion questions do not merely prompt but provoke, challenging readers to wrestle with colonialism’s persistent shadow.
While crime fiction devotees might hunger for more conventional thrills, Sugar succeeds more in revealing how colonial exploitation never truly ended – it just rebranded itself under the labels of neoliberalism and transnational capitalism. Through this lens, Sugar becomes a mirror reflecting our complicity in systems that continue to extract, exploit and discard.
pine breaks (uncapitalised)
Identifies as a Black man, non-dualist, meditator, Afro-Caribbean, east-Londoner, ruralist, bread-baker, grower of vegetables, pro-alternative economies, musical snob, bare-footist, sometimes media academic, freelance writer and author of race and social-class based fiction.
He is most content when identifying as a being from the Universe.
Reach him at pinebreaks.com and X=@pinebreaks_me