Literature Personified

The greatest wonder of any piece of good literature is how it can conjure an image of the characters portrayed and scenery described. The only aid is some decipherable words, but their juxtaposition plays such a magic that the reader is literally sucked into the aura created by it. Such is the power of literature, and has been since man knew how to pen thoughts to symbols.

My experience of literature till now has been that the writing which is taut throughout, without giving any loose end, is the most captivating one, for literature is nothing but hold on the readers. And biggest thing is that this flair is very much specific to the content. A thriller can’t be verbose, while poetry is what sans floridity. An official communiqué has to be pithy, but a heart rendition needs to draw words from every ounce of the environs. Thus, reading and writing both should be adept at handling different styles of writing. Variety brings vividness which in turn brings completeness.

Now that my literary pursuit has garnered a renewed thrust, I am trying to imbibe that veritable smorgasbord of literature.  And to tell the truth, even at a start, I am swept by its power to bewitch; what joy it will be when I am fully immersed in it! 

Obama's books

I am an avowed fan of Barack Obama. So, naturally my review of his books is going to be fulsome in praise and generous in applause. But it is not just sheer admiration of his persona that has endeared me towards the books, but also the content and context of the books, which are relevant to the core of the world.

‘Dreams From My Father’ is a beautiful narrative of an estranged child about the what-would and could-be life with his father. Barack was separated from his African father, after his parents’ divorce. He had remembrance though of a few odd years which he spent with his father during childhood. He built upon those memories to gather perspective of his growing as a black child among white neighbourhood, his teenage restlessness, his social work in the Black Colonies in Chicago and then his enrollment for Law Course in the Harvard. His life was as ordinary, or rather say, associative as a you-and-me on the street. The same youth’s wonders and wows, infractions and intransigence, love and hate….How could Barack rose unique then? Because of his belief and perspective. And he attributes in no less measure, the development of this perspective, to his unanswered wonderings about his father’s role in his life.

‘Audacity of Hope’ on the other hand is a much general outlook of world in general and US in particular. It does give an indication of the erudition and grasp of Barack’s ideas on the everyday life’s nerves. He speaks in tone of a commoner- why right is right, and wrong is wrong. Why US hasn’t followed the ideals it cherishes so proudly; why questions of race, religion, colour still mar their country’s achievements; why US stands on a precipice of descent into days of backpedalling; and why world needs a unified view with focus on individual country’s development. Afghanistan and Iraq’s wars are spoken in terms of righteousness, coming from a Senator’s mouth in its most veracious tenor. He paints a grim world, but he also lights the flicker of hope, and that was what catapulted him to people’s imagination and Presidency of United States.

Obama’s books are thus in a way or two a symposium of a commoner’s view, desires and achievements in this world. They lay the personal and professional ladders, for the view of everyone, and for every aspiring soul to climb. They are, in a nutshell, a dreamer’s delight. Obama’s books …. I heard someone say.

Shantaram

Shantaram is a magnum opus, if the word also means voluminous. It is 933 pages long book of immense quality, and its thickness needs to be mentioned as this is what confronts you when you get hold of it. But the book had confronted me long before, when my friends kept talking about it at various odd hours. Naturally they were proud to have read a newly arrived masterpiece or were gathering my attention to one of the characters-my namesake in the book.

So, finally I got the chance to read it, on the auspicious occasion of the New Year. The first 10 pages I read, and I was already exclaiming, What a Book! I wanted to scream it in my Facebook status, but I held on. I knew why I had been engulfed pronto by the book: Its verbatim portrayal of Indian life as viewed by a foreigner. The book arrived directly on my pulses, ever bitten by the Indophile bug. The things started unfolding then …

I am critical of my two bad reading habits: slow reading and short reading. But this time around, my short reading habit, around 1 hour daily, of the book gave me probably the best feel of the book. I was progressing daily as the characters in the book moved. Each day of my reading provided a unique view of the life of the main character, Linbaba- an absconding robber and heroin addict from Australia, who makes Bombay his new abode. His life starts getting involved into the Indianness of things, bringing an ever changing perspective of his beliefs. He meets people, he helps them, he falls in love, he joins mafia council, he is sent to Indian prison, he joins a war in Afghanistan: there are a myriad sub-stories in the whole run. The full story has to be experienced through virtual living though, not just read.

Gregory David Roberts’ attempt to imbibe such a touch into the novel is what this makes it a scorcher, as more often than not, we start wondering and marveling at his life and its various adventures. He has said that while the novel is based on his real-life experiences, most of it is fictional. Nevertheless the ‘fictional realism’ so intensely at work suspends our digressing thoughts.

This is probably why the book ticks, more so with the lovers, familiars and inquisitors of India. And this helps it tide over some of the major defects of the book. It is no doubt a great art to expound philosophical details, but if done to death without a similar parallel evolution, it gnaws at your mind and interest. I felt like skipping the pages, when the hyper thoughts pondered by the characters started erupting with no credo on display. The book does need editing on this front. Also the second half, I believe, is not able to sustain the momentum gained in the first half. I generally have liked the latter part of the books more often, as the writers deliberately provide the crescendo touch in an attempt to leave the reader in perpetual touch even after the end. Here I believe the story just tapered off to a plateau.

May be this was done to let the reader seamlessly segue into its sequel which is incidentally to arrive in the later part of this year. I do have high expectations of this book too. But really Shantaram’s experience can be lived only once, as Gregory Roberts too did, and so volubly expressed in the book. Just readit and live it, what more can I say?

No-use Readers

What is to reading that attracts so many? “A man who doesn’t read is no better than a man who can’t read,” thus had thundered Mark Twain. So, do readers belong to a different pedigree, higher in thoughts, ideas and understanding than the rank and file?

Or is it the art of the lost ones? Some, who claim to be free from its shackles and open to reveling in the other real worldly matters, high-handedly dismiss the tribe of pitiful readers. For them, reading is the refuge of the desolate, and so-flaunted knowledge the unwanted aftereffect. These readers are no more than mere charlatans who often take on the cloak of hyper-superior hue, and distance themselves from the reality surrounding them. They are mere book-pounders, lying aloof in a closeted room, scratching and scraping their infertile minds with esoteric concepts which they don’t fathom at all. Even if they comprehend, they don’t or can’t bring the learned things to any utility.

Such is the clique of these voracious readers ….such abominable readers …. such sorry readers.

A sabbatical of sorts

There could be nothing more frustrating or annoying than giving up on your one-of-the-most likened things. For the last 5-6 months, my blogging had to endure a test of wait amidst all the frentic and sapping schedule of my life. Even after putting a resolve every now and then to get back to it, I was unable to devote much or rather any time to it. And sorrily, I won’t be able to give any time in future too, for at least 4-5 months.

It is all for a greater cause only; but I hope, I will come back more learned, energized and focused then.

So, it is an official sabbatical till then. Hope life continues to cherish all of us!

Reading Lolita in Tehran

Nothing other than the ‘catchy title’ holds you more on the first look of the book. With added interest in West Asian Islamic under-the-wraps feminine world, I was an instant buyer of the book. And I wasn’t disappointed. More than entertaining me though, it brought out a critical self of mine, both about the content and delivery of the book.

Ms Azar Nafisi is an erudite writer, no doubt about that; her professorship in English does give her the scholarly touch. She was present in Iran at its most happening time- the Iranian Revolution of 1979. Her teenage upbringing in US came in a direct clash with the restrained Iranian society post the Revolution. She protested against the imposed rule of mandatory veil covering, and in her fight, had to resign her job from the University of Tehran too. She took up the job again five years later in Tallameh University, but again things fell out after a few years. But her love of English literature never died down, and thus she selected a group of seven girls to attend a private tuition at her home. Nabokov, James, Austen, Fitzgerald et al were discussed in context with the ever-prowling Iranian society, and more often than not, it brought out a sense of despair, resignation and anger. She finally decided to leave Iran and move to US to start over a new life.

Ms Nafisi chose to highlight two aspects in the book: English literature and Iranian polity & Society. And she really gelled them well to fulfill the literary sense and also bring out the message across to the world. One is left fascinated by her elaborate discussion of the English writers and their books; she knows them all on the back of her palm. Her choice of words like ‘honesty of imagination’ to describe the sense of the character in Nabokov’s ‘Invitation to a Beheading’ does show her perspicacious self. The book is replete with her in-depth analyses of the characters of the famous books she has discussed. And it is indeed a delight to know them, esp. when you haven’t read most of those books.

While her literary discussion is layered with a honeyed and pleasing academic taste, her portrayal of Iranian polity does border on some extremes. She has rendered everything after the Revolution as evil. She fails to apprise us why the Revolution happened in the first place. If the Shah Rehlavi Pasha was so top-notch, why was he deposed with near unanimity by all? If the US had been such a well-wisher of Iran, why was there such a boiled resentment and anger against it? Well, things didn’t take the right turn (ala Orwellian Animal Farm, I should say) even after the Revolution. The adopted Islamic law in stead of ameliorating the societal condition worked on clipping human liberty and speech. Worse so, it acted against the feminine freedom, the most susceptible part of society since time immemorial. There was a concomitant suppression of arts, music, and aesthetics, all in the name of the religion. But even then, all this is beside the point that everything was hunky-dory before 1979 and everything catastrophic after it. That’s why critics were quick to label the book as US-aided propaganda book in support of its War on Terror, when the book was released in 2002.

The motives might be open to questions, but Dr Nafisi’s intentions are not. She wanted to pen down her feelings, and make the world sit up and take notice. And how brilliantly she has done! At least it brought out the inner self of mine to cogitate how wrong our lives can become if the ideals are not followed rightly.

2 States

I have read some Shakespeare too, but this guy, Chetan Bhagat, cracks me up like nobody else. His is a very unique style, pulling out some of the wittiest sentences I have ever read. You are reading a line, and then somehow he associates or likens it to your inner humorous instincts.

‘Five Point Someone’ was the first novel where Chetan took the grand canvass of IIT dream-study-life into a single wrap, and put it perfectly on the readers’ nerves. No wonders, every youth who read it felt vicarious about the whole story. My college buddies were loitering-enlightened selves after reading the stories of the three like-minded guys. It was such a refreshing novel for all of us in those mundane university study days.

‘2 states’ is again full of those moments when you feel life is so beautiful, despite so many harrying moments for the protagonists. Life moves on to IIM now. Krissh meets Ananya in that typical will-be-rejected mood in the college’s cafeteria. Studies bring them together more, and then love…and then sex … takes over. The courtship relationship continues for the full two years of study, and then the corporate life starts. Marriage proposal ensues, and then the drama of acquiescing the two families, from North and South India, starts and climaxes in the most cinematic way. Isn’t this the fantasy of all the youth in India right now?

I never studied in IIT or IIM, (though my professors insisted IIITM was IIT+IIM :) or had a girlfriend as cool, confident and cute as his. But it seemed he was revisiting the life around me. Consider these:-
• Krrish writes about the tragedy of the students having names starting with letter ‘A’. He was talking about his girlfriend ‘Ananya’, but instantly my mind wandered to my fellow mates who pulled up such big and meek faces when they were asked first to show their projects, reports or assignments
• Krrish wasn’t able to concentrate while studying with Ananya. The reason: every guy’s fantasy – “He wanted to kiss her”. Hey, isn’t that so real?
• Krrish and Ananya loved their parents and relatives very much, but couldn’t reconcile with their views on region, religion, caste, feminism etc all the time. Both knew the people around them were really good at heart but also products of their time. So, the couple didn’t have any qualms over drinking beer, pre-marital sex etc, but they also believed in national integrity, work ethics, morals of life. This is an exact replica of ‘Work Hard, Party Harder’ theme of everyone around me.
• And what about the brilliant description of corporate life? The financial experts and the ever esoteric jargons of them. And the fatuity of all the stuff. The people in Software, Banking, Insurance etc know how shallow the grandiose show is.

While describing these, he also dropped in some of the most risible lines, drawing boisterous guffaws from me. I wanted to quote some here but they are too many, and actually they will be more enjoyable when read with context. So, what are you waiting for? Go beg, borrow or buy the copy, and have a perfect post-siesta time of the weekend.