On this Day in Literature – 7th of December 2006

1928 – Noam Chomsky, American linguist and political writer born

Ignorance by Milan Kundera

Kundera’s novel, Ignorance, follows themes similar to several of his other novels, with the concentration of this one on nostalgia, on what people believe they should be feeling at a given moment even when they are not, and on how the decisions we make at the “Age of Ignorance” (or in our late teens/early twenties) affect our lives when we come to know and understand ourselves better later in life. Intermixed with these themes is the story of Odysseus’ travels in the Odyssey and how it parallels the Great Return home of each of the characters.

The story is about two Czech émigrés who left during the Communist era and are now returning to Czech for the first time since the Communist regime ended in 1989. During Irena’s return, she realizes how people have come to accept her as an émigré who left instead of staying loyal to her country. As she meets with her old Czech friends, she realizes the terms of their acceptance. They want to know nothing about her life outside the country. They want to amputate it, as she puts it, and by doing so, make her the same as them. Josef, on the other hand, returns to visit his family and revisits an old diary of his childhood. He marvels at the character he once was with distaste – how could he have been that creature, who seems so different from who he is now? These two émigrés end up meeting by chance to continue an old romance that neither of them accurately remembers.

One of the main themes of the book is the terms and conditions by which people accept another as one of their own. They look for similarities, memories they can both reminisce together, even if they both share a different perception of what actually occurred. After all, no two people share the same memories, which fade with time. Often people don’t even remember themselves for who they were, and reading old writings, they ask themselves how this writer could have possibly been them at one point. People change, but others don’t see them for who they are now. Only who they once knew, or as Kundera puts it “a reality no longer is what it was when it was it cannot be reconstructed.” 

I always walk away from a Kundera book thinking a little differently about life, and while many of the ideas in this book have been written about in greater detail in his other books, I still enjoyed it as a quick read/refresher.

Burn that Pirated Version!!

Piracy in any form is hideous and should not be encouraged – thats my opinion and belief and I have always stood by it. Therefore, its no wonder if my blood boils or I cringe at the thought of pirated books being sold the minute after they hit the stands and no one seems to be doing anything about it. Its not about feeling sorry about the author or the royalty that he/she does not receive, however it is clearly about feeling sorry for the written word. The very word that gets pirated. The word that is someone’s creation, someone’s hardwork and certainly someone’s baby. As much I hate Fahrenheit 451 ever becoming a reality, I support the idea of setting fire to pirated books.

I pass by every station in Bombay and every nook and corner and there they are – staring at me from their fake covers and bad quality paper and it is readers who propagate the idea of piracy by actually buying these books for only a sole reason – lesser price! Some people go a step further and say, “after all its all about reading right? what has quality got to do with it!”…This very attitude is the start of such a business prospering and reaching this far.

Piracy is blasphemous to the religion of reading and collecting books. I almost thought of picking a pirated version of “Freakanomics” the other day from Sion Station. Thank God I did not. I agree that the pirated copies are sold purely on the basis of price and that books these days have become very expensive commodities and reading – an expensive hobby [As my mother would put it], nonetheless it will probably not do any good for the writers…Imagine your blog being reproduced word for word…

Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress

Bought this book at a whim and did not wish to read it for a long long time, till I picked it up and then could not stop until I had reached the very last page.
   Sijie’s first novel or rather novella (considering it is only something like 184 pages long) begins with the Chinese Revolution headed by General Mao and the concept of “re-education” – as a result of which two teenagers are transported to an ancient village away from civilization.
   No one being re-educated is permitted to read any books excepting the little book of sayings written by Chairman Mao. It is when, through a series of events, they obtain a book written by Balzac (the reading of which is now a crime) that suddenly the world of literature and of ideas abruptly opens to them. They are so hungry for more that all they can do is dream (and scheme) about getting other such books. They later meet the third primary character in this book, the very beautiful young seamstress , and, by relating to her the words of Balzac , produce in her too the desire for more such words and thoughts. She is as hungry for new stories and ideas as are the two boys.
   Luo, now in love with the girl, wants to obtain more books for her, not only to please her but also to raise her up from her lack of education to become something other than the peasant girl she is (albeit a beautiful one). In that desire to “re-educate” the girl he loves resides their ultimate future.
   This is a wonderful story about relationships and love, about the buoyancy of youthful souls thrown into the cold and potentially drowning waters of very trying circumstances, and, lastly, about the need for those things in our lives that stir our imaginations to life and so generate fresh desires and new dreams within us. It is the stirring of human imagination that ultimately changes the world.

The Death of Vishnu by Manil Suri

On a breezy Sunday afternoon, I happened to read ” The Death Of Vishnu” by Manil Suri. I picked up this book with great trepidation. Also, on the personal front, who would like to read about a man dying? That’s what I thought until I read this one. As the title goes, the narrative also comes directly to the point – that of Vishnu, an odd job man, laying dead on an apartment landing of Mumbai. This is where the crux of the story lies.

Here we meet the Pathaks and the Asranis, two arch rival neighbours; what’s worse is that they share the same kitchen and each claims to be taking care of Vishnu better.

Then on the other hand there are the Jalals – the husband who doesn’t believe in any religion and just wants to gain spiritualism the easy way; the son Salim who is madly in love with the Asranis’ daughter Kavita (here comes the Hindu-Muslim divide).

Not to forget the Tanejas – Vinod Taneja whose wife’s death has left him with so much grief that he just doesn’t get out of his apartment anymore… 

And what’s surprising is that all these characters are intertwined with one. And the connecting factor: Vishnu! The story binds itself based on what others perceive Vishnu to be – his mother, the Pathaks, the Jalals, the Asranis, Padmini, Kavita, and others like the scavenger and the sweeper working in the apartment. There is a holistic perspective to the point that it infringes on who Vishnu really is and what he embodies for all the bystanders. There is a singular thread running through the book – that of isolation on various levels. The Pathaks and Asranis share a kitchen, almost to the point of invading each other’s privacy and yet are so distant and cold. Vishnu is dead and yet no one wants to claim him and take him to the nearest morgue. Her husband and son, seeking refuge in intellectualism and staunch belief, leave Mrs Jalal alone. 

Vishnu in another realm altogether believes that he is God (or rather is made to believe that by Mr Jalal) – Vishnu , who had ten reincarnations. His love for… Padmini, his longing for Kavita, and his thoughts on living make the book one delicious course.

This book is not an easy read. There are layers and sub-layers to this course though. On the surface, things are quite simple and easy to understand, but what Mr Suri has created is something else. He has created what one might call “a quilt of emotions” – right from love to the isolation one feels in the metropolis to the bare human nature. In short, Manil Suri has created a Universe in an apartment of Bombay – a city so huge and yet so cold and distant. So uninviting.

The spiritualism as one would expect from this book is on many levels rather ambiguous and unclear. In the sense that while the author tries to portray the elements of reincarnation and giving up on worldly pleasures – like Mr Jalal often tries doing – it all is actually a mockery of the same. One of the redeeming features of the book is that it is not written from an outsider’s perspective. It is carved by an Indian living in India and breathing the air, which was what Vishnu did. An ordinary man elevated to something extraordinary to satisfy the superstitions and religious notions of the upper notches of society. This is where the element of comedy throws itself in your face.

The prose is certainly clever; however, the ending is left hanging. Possibly the author expects the reader to decide that for himself. In many ways, this resembles a grand chorus from a huge and wonderful comic opera, with all the inhabitants of the building singing at once. And underneath all the voices wailing about their personal concerns is the insistent bass of Vishnu as he prepares to die. Dealing with the most basic aspects of religion, love, and human kindness in a city setting which challenges its inhabitants to the limit, Suri creates a warm, funny, and very human drama of a every man’s search for meaning in life. Suri writes with obvious affection about a Bombay perhaps already lost, evoking easily its moods and attitudes, its light and smells. One can almost feel the heavy evening sea breeze, taste the roasted peanuts sold in paper cones along the sea wall, or see the Maharaja looking down from the Air India hoarding. A Bombay that rings true with its Irani Cafe, cigarettewalla, and radiowalla. Manil Suri’s sharp eye for detail and natural ability to create a strong sense of place and time define his considerable talent, and one can look forward with a certain assuredness to its maturing in his promised books on the other two Gods of the Hindu trinity, Brahma and Shiva.

Currently Reading

 

Buddha: Volume 1: Kapilavastu by Osama Tezuka

 

Graphic novels have always enthralled me. I do not know what it is about them that never fails to amaze me. I guess it could be the illustrations or the fact that they are such page-turners or the underlined known fact that they are not boring. Right from having read Art Spiegelman’s Maus series to Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis I and Embroideries to Neil Gaiman’s Sandman series and sometimes the wayward Indian Author’s Graphic Novel like Corridor, they have been bang on target and worth every single penny [though the penny gets very very expensive for a book-a-holic like me].

I was browsing through Granth last evening [Browsing is never browsing in my book - you either buy or you don't and most of the time I end up buying. Its a chronic disease but more about that in later posts] and right on the new arrivals section were these black and white series of graphic novels that immediately caught my discerning eye. They were written by Osama Tezuka and he is supposed to be the master of graphic art in Japanese Manga comics and surprisingly I had never heard of him. The series is titled “Buddha” and it would not take a genius to know what it is all about, however it does take you by surprise given the structure and the content and the modern approach that is so refreshing that one is just left turning the pages and wanting more. Initially with great trepidition I picked up only the first volume titled, “Buddha: Volume 1: Kapilavastu”. There are seven more volumes to be read and I have reserved every single one of them to go and pick it up on the 1st of December.

The plot of the novel is thread-bare and very simple or so it seems on the surface. It starts with the proclamation of “the greatest god” to be born on the planet. The proclamation is made by Saint Astiva and his disciple sets out to seek the chosen one in the land of Kapilavastu amidst the structures and classes as set by the Brahmins. The book seeks to refute the caste system of India and does it wonderfully.

The main characters of this book are:

Chapra: A slave boy who wants a better life for himself and his mother and wants to break the shackles of society and the way he was born or rather what he was born into.

Tatta: A fictional thief of the ‘Pariah’, making his status even lower than that of the slave caste. As a child, Tatta is very close to nature and has the unique ability to possess animals, which the Brahmin Naradatta takes great advantage of.

Naradatta: Astiva’s disciple and how he understands the meaning of life in this book.

Siddhartha:  The main character of the Buddha series. He is born in book 1, shortly before his mother dies. The first book mentions omens that seemed to symbolize Siddhartha’s future.

The book is brilliant!! I loved it to the bone not only because of the effects or the graphics but because of the story and the way the characters are etched so deep. Looking forward to the second volume…

The Invisibles by Zia Jaffrey

The Invisibles : A Tale of the Eunuchs of India by Zia Jaffrey is what I am reading right now and it is a brilliant read so far. The book as the title suggets is all about the eunuchs of India – the way they live, their mannerisms, their lifestyle, the myths that surround them and finally reality that shrouds them – if there is any that is.

As a child and right through being an adult, I was petrified of eunuchs and still am. I do not know why. May be its just the overall persona that only evokes fear in our hearts and minds than anything else. We are afraid that they might just lift their skirts/saris and show us what we are afraid to see because it is imbedded in our minds that they are different. May be we are afraid because we have always known that “Hijre ki bad dua lagti hai”. The “hijra” has the ability to curse and also make your wishes come true with their blessings.

At the same time the fact that they remain a minority or let’s put it this way: the society treats them as outcasts. A group of people who do not belong. That’s exactly may be what we need : some more tolerance towards human beings – no matter who they are. The point is that we see them and yet pretend that they are invisibles.

A more detailed review after I am done with the book.

Home by Manju Kapur

If I were to ever recommend someone a book that would instantly make them go straight  to the Never Never Land, “Home” by Manju Kapur would win hands down! I picked up the book with great apprehension considering that I hadn’t read “Difficult Daughters” or “A Married Woman” and now I wonder why did I even bother with Home. Its not that “Home” is a terrible read – its just that it doesn’t do much for the reader. Yes, one can certainly imagine what “the shopkeeper” Delhi must be like, since the story is set in Delhi in a family of shopkepeers who withhold the traditional values  yet being so hypocritical at the core. At the centre of the story lies Nisha – the daughter of the Lal family who is a rebel in more than one way and has to ultimately pay for it in the long run.

The story is as thin as a gossamer curtain and the language used is almost kindergaten like. I normally love reading Indian Authors and their works but this one has truly managed to disappoint me. I mean why couldn’t the story line be more crisp? Why couldn’t the characters be minimal and well-etched?

I shut the book with relief and had no intention of going back to the characters’ or their lives.

Books I Hate

Yes yes yes one mustn’t hate books but there are some books that I just hate and will never ever pick up them again…I do not know why, but i know why I hate them so. There is always that thin meandering line that exists – between liking a book and not-liking-a-book and its so easy for certain books to stay on the good side and so easy for other books to stray to the bad side. I mean I have also read books that I loved at the start but they lost me somewhere in the middle and I did not know whether or not I should bother but I do not give up on books that easy and I finished them only to realize that they were just terrible reads…Yes yes this is one of other lists…List of books I hate:

1. Anything by Paulo Coelho – Need I say more…Its Coelho after all who just doesn’t stop giving spiritual advice.
2. Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts – I finished the book with great disdain and was left to wonder: Why me? Why must I go through such torture and then I came up with an idea: Praise the books and pass it on to poor unsuspecting souls who actually loved it…Damn!!
3. Maximum City by Suketu Mehta: I do not need an outsiders’ view to know my city and certainly not a lop-sided view. Bombay is not all about terrorists or poverty or gangsters or bars. I am sure they all exist in plentiful but there is also the way you write about it. You cannot live it so don’t claim to.
4. The Lord of the Rings: I know there will be Tolkien Fans who will hate me for this but guys this is my choice and this is my list and I tried with Tolkien and the conclusion was: Why bother with a bunch of creatures who aren’t even human? I am sorry but Tolkien just does not do it for me.
5. On Beauty by Zadie Smith: I loved White Teeth. Loved the entire diasporic thingy going on in that book but this one! This is a cheap imitation of Forsters’ “Howard’s End” which is a classic and this one – well….zzzzzzzzzzzzz……..zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz….

5 Seems like a good number to start with…I am sure there will be more that I will add to the kitty…