Category: Books

  • The Non Fiction Collection: Twenty Years Of Penguin India

    Celebrating Penguin’s twenty years in India, this book has a collection of 46 non-fiction works, (chapters from published works) and since there’s no specific theme that links every one of them, I’ll just list my favourites. Devdutt Pattanaik’s Myth = Mithya is probably the best way to begin the book with its premise of creation (as per Hindu mythology) and its take on the complementary forces at play in the universe. Gita Piramal’s “the old fox” gives us the ringside view of the Ambani – Goenka war that played out in the eighties. Humra Quraishi’s “from Kashmir” offers us a glimpse of today’s Kashmir, and the life of the people there, a far cry from the times when Kashmir was described as heaven on earth. Vikram Seth’s “From Heaven Lake”, in addition to its vivid description of travel in China, shows in its last page a snapshot of the human condition that remains unchanged across the globe. Amrita Shah’s “Launching Into Space” is one of those reads that take across time, and space, with its chronicling of the early days of India’s space research programme. Khushwant Singh’s “Village in the Desert” is a very personal recollection of the author’s own childhood in a village that now stands in Pakistan, and shows how people across the line really can go beyond the lines drawn on a map. Sanjay Suri’s “Near Mrs.” (that title is a good example of the humour involved) is a brilliantly funny respite from the serious content in the rest of the book, involving a bride-search in London.

    Roopa Swaminathan’s “Extras” is a poignant piece of writing on the life of extras who come to Mumbai/Chennai with the hopes of becoming the next star, but who find that their life has passed them by even as they clung on to hope. Giles Tillotson’s Jaipur Nama has an account of the East India Company’s activities in the context of Rajasthan. Even as Mark Tully’s “No Full Stops in India” gives an excellent perspective on ‘development’ in India, Pavan K Varma’s “Being Indian” has a fantastic take on how India’s own way of getting things done still survives. Abraham Verghese’ “My Own Country”, while set in the US, touches upon, among other things, the idea of a home.

    Pinki Virani’s “Home as hell” informs us about sickening cases of child abuse in India. John Wright’s “Indian Summers” gives us a behind-the-scenes look as well as a non-Indian’s perspective on the game that unites India, even as S. Hussain Zaidi’s “Black Friday” shows how communal forces and the merchants of terrorism try to break this unity.

    There are also very interesting pieces like the Veerappan based “Face to Face” by Sunaad Raghuram, former PM Narasimha’s Rao’s version of what happened at Ayodhya in 1992.

    The book also had quite a few excerpts from works that are already my favouries – Mishi Saran’s “Chasing the Monk’s Shadow”, Shashi Tharoor’s “India: from Midnight to the Millennium” and Arundhati Roy’s “The Algebra of Infinite Justice”.

    The book is a few years old, and some of the works, even more so, but they are in some ways, timeless pieces too. I read them because they not only give me clues on interesting books to read, but also offer me a glimpse of worlds that I probably might not travel to in the course of my normal reading journey.

  • Evening Is the Whole Day

    Preeta Samarasan

    Preeta Samarasan’s debut novel begins with the kind of prose that actually seems like poetry in disguise – with a description of a part of Malaysian geography. The narrative begins in 1980, on Kingfisher Lane in Ipoh, in the Big House, owned by the Rajasekharans – Raju (Appa) a leading lawyer and a pillar of the community, erstwhile socialist; Vasanthi, his wife, from circumstances far below his; their children Uma, Suresh and Aasha in that order; Paati, the matriarch whose disapproval of her daughter-in-law endures time, and the servant girl Chellam brought in to take care of her. A wealthy, dysfunctional family, with each member fighting their own demons.

    We see a lot of the story through Aasha’s eyes in the beginning. Aasha, who talks to ghosts and will do anything to get back the affections of Uma. Uma, whose sole desire is to escape to the US. And in between, Suresh, who tries to make sense of the world with humour. The narrative then sets out to unravel layer by layer, not just digging deeper into what happened earlier, but also wider, giving the reader, through characters and events, a view of Malayan society, with its own undercurrents, ethnicity issues and rules that attempt harmony between the Chinese, Indians and the natives. A brief glimpse of a country coming to terms with its freedom, and the responsibilities therein.

    As the layers unfold, the perceptions of characters and their behaviour that the reader has built up slowly begin to undergo changes, as the past – from a few days earlier to half a lifetime away – shows its influence on the present and future. We also see how the relationships between people change with time, sometimes over years and sometimes in a few minutes. There are some very interesting secondary characters too, like Uncle Ballroom who evokes a sense of poignancy, Vasanthi’s mother whose sudden turn to asceticism makes you wonder about the nature of the human psyche, or Kooky Rooky, whose variations of her own past points us to stories that we build for ourselves. And then there’s Chellam, whose past, and lack of future brings a lump to the throat.

    Somewhere in the book and its use of words and the wit employed (brotheROARsister, Stopping At Nothing…) I could see Arundhati Roy. Somewhere in the way the human condition is expressed I could see Kiran Desai. But neither takes away from a distinctive style – vivid prose, edgy humour, and an ability to draw the reader right in. This one goes into my favourites.

  • The Small House

    Timeri N. Murari 

    The Small House, in terms of name as well as the overarching premise of the book is based on a socially accepted norm in Tamil Nadu – the ‘chinnaveedu’, where the husband houses his mistress. Though the back cover blurb would indicate that the novel is about two friends, both of whose spouses they suspect to be straying, the focus is very much on Roopmati Malhotra than her friend Tazneem.

    Roopmati, the sole surviving heir of the Krishnarangam royals, is shown as a history-obsessed character who is only mildly curious about her husband’s infidelity. She is convinced that she only represents a trophy for her husband, a suave businessman, who finds solace in the arms of Maya, a television anchor. On the other hand, Tazneem, an art filmmaker finds it difficult to handle the fact that her husband is cheating on her, and that he is a bisexual.

    Many narratives make up the novel. Roopmati’s conversations with her (almost) namesake and confidante Rupmati, a historical character who charmed Sultan Baz Bahadur and finally swallowed poison when she was captured. Her relationship with her dead brother Tommy, who supposedly drowned much earlier. Though friends, the two characters’ situations do offer contrast. While Tazneem’s marriage was her own choice (though she is still close to her father to whom she turns to for comfort), Roopmati’s seems almost like Khris bought her from her father, who died later. The author also unfolds layers from the perspectives of different characters as the story moves forward. This gives the reader a peek into why they are the way they are, but sometimes these narratives are like a cul de sac, with abrupt endings that force the author and the reader to pick up the thread from a principal character.

    In the end, it almost seems like the author was in a hurry to close the loose ends, and as a reader, I was forced to wonder whether many characters suffered from a compromised ‘end’ that has the author hinting that one must make peace with the past and choices made, and move on. I also wondered why the Rupmati character existed, unless it was a ploy to make the reader imagine a different ending. But the book has a fair share of things that make it a good read – the author’s keen eye for detail, especially of society and its players, manifests itself in the manner in which he has built and portrayed his characters – there are subtle traits that one can easily identify in all the characters, especially the supporting ones. Brief glimpses of Chennai also show the author’s interest in history. The pace is good and there are many nuanced conversations – between Khris and Roopmati’s father, Roopmati and Rupmati that offer food for thought. In essence, not stellar, but worth a read.

  • Holmes Of The Raj

    Vithal Rajan 

    Similar to the other Holmes fan fiction I read earlier, (The Curious case of 221B –http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/…) this book is also set up on the premise of the author receiving hitherto forgotten papers of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

    The setting is late 19th century India, a crucial arena where ‘The Great Game’ was being played out. Holmes and Watson get involved in 5 cases set in various parts of India – Madras, Hyderabad, Delhi, Bombay, Nainital to name a few, and then return 25 years later for a swansong adventure. What is interesting about the book is the way the author weaves in historical characters and events, and shows a different perspective to discoveries and personalities associated with them – Ronald Ross, Ramanujan, to name a couple. And it’s not just science, but literature (Kipling, his character Kim and another that would serve an inspiration for Mowgli; Rabindranath Tagore) and sports (Dhyan Chand). The same trend continues for political events too, with Motilal Nehru, Lala Lajpat Rai, Lord Ripon all featuring in various storylines.

    What didn’t work for me was the narration and mystery moving away from the original Holmes adventures. Very often, the focus is on how Holmes and Watson had played crucial parts in actual historical events, and many a time, these seem a laboured fit. The book concentrates more on the cultural and political aspects of the colonial rule (with the Notes section providing enough evidence that the author has done a lot of homework) and tries to draw our attention to the kind of thinking and behaviour that laid the framework for everything that has happened since. Unfortunately, that means that Holmes and Watson are relegated to being props in a larger canvas. So, it would be good to set your expectations clearly before you start out. This is a commentary, and a very interesting one, on the socio-cultural ethos of the Raj. Regard Holmes and Watson as just another couple of characters, and you’ll do just fine.

  • The Indian Clerk

    David Leavitt 

    The Indian Clerk is a historic novel based on real events and real characters, but mixes actual history with a bit of fiction. It begins with a lecture given by the great British mathematician GH Hardy in Harvard in 1936, quickly zooming back to 1913 when Hardy was working on the Riemann hypothesis. He receives a letter from Ramanujan, a clerk in the Madras Post Office, who seems to have come close to a solution to the problem.

    Soon Ramanujan arrives in England, and the genius of the ‘Hindoo calculator’is quickly acknowledged. The narrative is then shown through different perspectives – Hardy’s, Alice Neville’s and though Ramanujan plays a key role, it also brings into focus the various other events, people and even attitudes in the timeframe that Ramanujan lived in England – World War I, the collaboration between Hardy and Littlewood, Bertrand Russell’s antiwar activities, the Apostles’ meetings and so on. It is interesting to note that though his genius is acknowledged, both Alice and Hardy have conflicting views on how Ramanujan can be given the perfect conditions to flourish and both have sexual undertones in their relationship with him.

    The thing that didn’t work for the book was that in the middle, it meandered away from the central theme – Ramanujan and his mathematics – into the politics of the era. Where it does work wonderfully is in bringing out the person in Ramanujan – a normal person with his own set of problems, desires, insecurities and even a capacity to feel insulted at what some would consider the pettiest of things. It is quite heart rending to see a man trying to cope with conditions completely alien to him, separated from a wife from whom he craves attention (if only through letters) even as he understands that it is a better stage for him to shine. It is difficult not to feel for the man. What it also does is show mathematics in a new light “…mathematics had tantalized us with a pattern, only to snatch it away. Really, it was rather like dealing with God”

    So if you don’t have some kind of natural aversion to mathematics and don’t mind wading through the politics of the time, this is quite a good read, especially towards the end, when the focus is on the person within the greatest mathematician of his time.