Category: Books

  • Between the assassinations

    Aravind Adiga

    Halfway between Calicut and Goa lies Kittur, the scene of Aravind Adiga’s collection of stories, set in the seven year period between the assassinations of Indira and Rajiv Gandhi. But then, despite some very 80s characteristics, the timeframe hardly matters, this could’ve been set in contemporary years too, for as a character says “Nothing ever changes. Nothing will ever change.” One instant comparison I could make was with Malgudi Days. That however ends with the similarity of multiple characters in the same town that is described in great detail – you can picture yourself in the town walking along its roads and identifying places and people.

    As the book summary says, the stories slowly bring out the moral biography of the town with its diverse set of characters – from the Dalit bookseller whose kosher relationship with the police is disrupted when he is caught selling ‘The Satanic Verses’ to the ‘sexologist’ who ends up supporting a boy with a venereal disease, and from the ‘mosquito man’ who tries to set limits for the relationship between a servant and his mistress to the mixed caste boy who detonates a bomb in his school.

    The book worked for me because the author has managed to flesh out his characters superbly across financial class, religion and schools of thought (political, philosophical) and use the friction between them to drive the stories. In that sense, each story is probably a different style, but the subtext of pent-up fury tinged with sadness cuts across.

    An excellent read both as an exploration of a microcosm of India as well as the different shades of human relationships and morality.

  • The Lady and the Monk: Four Seasons in Kyoto

    Pico Iyer

    In the autumn of 1987, Pico Iyer begins his journey into Japan, one that would last a full cycle of seasons. Depending on the prism you choose to see it through, the book could be many things.

    It could be a travelogue, though quite different from any I have read yet, and yet one that not only dispels any ‘second-hand’ notions (eg. the Japanese’ take on Kurosawa was surprising) but also captures the nuances of a place unknown to me, in a very sensitive manner.

    It could be the journey and yearning of one human being to understand and experience a culture alien to him/her. Him, from the perspective of Pico in Japan, whose original wonder and positive bias changes into a more pragmatic view as time passes, and her, from the perspective of Sanchiko, a vivacious Japanese lady with a husband and two children, whose heartfelt desire it is to escape the confines and constraints of her culture and upbringing.

    It could be a glimpse into the world of Zen – its monasteries and about living in the moment, without the baggage of the past or the future.

    It could be a relationship between cultures – not just east and west, as shown between the author and Sanchiko or other nuances captured through various other characters, but also within Japan itself – the free spirited Sanchiko versus her friends and family who are against this freedom she desires and wants her to just make the best of her marriage and the duties it entails.

    Or it could be an elegant love story, with Japanese poetry and beautiful descriptions of nature, and in the way of Japanese, one with a poignant ending, just like the story which seems to be the inspiration for the title.

    A wonderful read, and an armchair journey that has given me much to think about.

  • Maria’s Room

    Shreekumar Varma

    I’m still not sure whether I could ever describe Goa as languid, despite siestas and feni, but this book did make me consider that possibility, and for that, Shreekumar Varma’s way with words can take credit.

    The protagonist, Raja Prasad, an author from Chennai, reaches a Goa that seems to echo his own ‘broken down’ self. The sun takes an extended break as rains lash Goa, and the narrative alternates between the introspective author, willing himself to break from his past and his concerned/nagging father, and work on his new book, and his observations of life, people and places. Its in these initial sections that we see a Goa that’s rarely captured – heavy rains instead of sun and sand, decrepit hotels replacing swanky resorts and a local life relatively less centered around tourists.

    We then seem Raja get acquainted with another guest in the resort – Fritz, and later shifting to “Maria’s Guesthouse”, where he falls in love with Lorna, and gets interested in the story of Maria, the girl’s aunt, after whom the guesthouse is named. As Raja’s romance progresses and he follows the mystery of Maria’s life, and death, it seems as though the two stories are just different in rendition.

    What didn’t work for me was the inconsistent pace of the plot and a narrative in which we’re forced to follow the extended wanderings of the protagonist without facts that would indicate a plot in progression. There’s a limit to what descriptive prose can do to stretch curiosity.

    However, the book itself is a bit like Goa in pace, if you can get adjusted to it, you will perhaps begin to like it. Even the deluge of ‘loop closing’ in the end is a bit like you’ve been idling and suddenly realised that there are some places to see and things to be done before you bid Goa goodbye.

    I got the feeling that the author enjoyed giving Raja Prasad the freedom to carry the plot at his own pace and create his own subtext that some readers would enjoy.

  • Right of Passage : Travels from Brooklyn to Bali

    Rahul Jacob

    While there is indeed a lot of travel that’s showcased in the book, I think it goes beyond that. The first section consists of travelogues and when I started comparing them to others in the genre, I felt they fell woefully short, at least in terms of the sheer amounts of vivid descriptive prose I am used to. That’s until I realised that I had to change my notions of travel writing to get adjusted to the snapshot style that takes the reader quickly from Bali to Rome and Santa Fe to Madhya Pradesh. The other great part about this section is that it also serves as an excellent guide, complete with phone numbers and websites.

    The second section, which focuses on Asia, though (almost of) the same length as the earlier ones, takes you a little more into what makes a place tick. This is the part that focuses more on how cities have grown (and are growing) than the actual places to see. It shows the influence of people, culture and nature and their interplay in creating the character of a place.

    But I think my favourite section would be the third, titled ‘Confessions of a Frequent Flyer’, which has an enriching mix of personal experiences and sometimes, the philosophy of travel, views on hotel stays and some excellent anecdotes.

    For bibliophiles, the next section titled ‘Close Encounters’ would be a treat as Rahul Jacob writes about the meetings with authors like Yann Martel, Vikram Seth etc and goes beyond what they write to their philosophies in life.

    The last section is more of a showcase of Britain – London in particular, and your interest would vary depending on the subject itself. But it does offer a great deal of insight nevertheless on the recent evolution of London as a truly cosmopolitan city.

    Its a wonderful read and though it might differ from the standard formats of travel writing, it will definitely take you on a journey that you’ll enjoy.

  • Indian Summer

    Pratima Mitchell

    I must admit that in the beginning, this book reminded me a lot of Kiran Desai’s The Inheritance of Loss’. It was probably the Himalayan setting, grandparents, a young girl living among mostly older people and the presence of the ‘Liberation Front’ in the background. But its just a coincidence, as ‘Indian Summer’ veers away soon enough.

    Fourteen year old Sarla finds herself in the town of Daroga, with her grandparents, after her vacation plans go awry when her mother is pulled away on account of work. Though Sarla’s last trip was six years back, which ended with between her mother and grandparents, she adjusts soon enough and even manages to befriend Bina, the 15-year-old granddaughter of her grandparents’ household help.

    The author makes a smart move by bringing in both girls as narrators of the book and we’re able to juxtapose the similarities and differences between the two girls. They’re both lonely souls in their own ways, and yearning for a more ‘normal’ childhood, they both have a not-so-regular relationships with their respective mothers, but the sheer class difference makes each others’ lives almost incomprehensible. Their friendship however, helps Sarla understand more about Bina’s life and that of Bina’s mother, Shobharani, Bandit queen of the hills.

    Though the book covers some ground on the condition of the poor in villages, women’s rights, class differences, it takes backstage when the plot moves on. Despite an attempt at a twist in the tail, the predictability of the plot and the stereotype secondary characters – despite their potential, takes a bit away from this book. But I liked it for its simple telling and the vivid description of life in a hill town. The kind of book that goes with cold nights and hot chocolate.