Tag: Amor Towles

  • #Bibliofiles : 2021 favourites

    Oh well, since Gates doesn’t have a monopoly these days, I thought I’ll continue this from last year and the year before. Actually, it’s for a couple of reasons. One, I think there are underlying themes in my reading every year, which will be interesting to examine years later. And two, if someone chances upon these, they will hopefully be able to discover new books and themes for themselves. The shortlisting was tougher this year, because the list was slightly bigger, and the quality of books was also great. My long list from the 50 books I read this year was closer to 20, and I’ll mention them in the relevant places.

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  • A Gentleman in Moscow

    Amor Towles

    I was hesitant to write anything about this book for fear that it would take away from its wonderful aftertaste. But not doing so would be an injustice too, so here goes.

    The adjective I would use to describe A Gentleman in Moscow is sublime. That applies to the story, the writing, and the protagonist – Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov. On 21st June 1922, a Bolshevik tribunal sentences him to house arrest indefinitely. The “house” is the Hotel Metropol, and he is forced to substitute his suite for an attic room. As the author insightfully notes, “the Russians were the first people to master the notion of sending a man into exile at home.”
    Russia, post-revolution, exile – it is difficult to imagine anything that’s not depressing in the 450+ pages that follow. But in the face of imminent disaster, Towles, just like his protagonist, steps up to the plate, shuns maxims, and hits the ball out of Gorky Park. (ok sorry, but bad wordplay is a sure sign of my affection) Hope has a new champion. For Count Rostov is probably a living embodiment of Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations, and from the time that he is forced to choose from his possessions what he can take along to his new residence, he embraces his future by well, counting his blessings. His poise does not miss a step as he moves from “it is not the business of a gentleman to have occupations.” to becoming a waiter, and he continues to exhibit his “essential faith that by the smallest of one’s actions one can restore some sense of order to the world.”

    But one cannot be blamed for thinking that even for such a wonderful character, the four walls of a hotel is bound to be a constraint. The Metropol, though, is a world unto itself. We discover spaces and mind spaces inside, the people who work there, and its visitors. And through the eyes of the Count and his friends, we see Russian history unfold from Lenin to Stalin to Khrushchev.

    Amor Towles’ mastery over situations and the words he uses to express them is not something I have seen much of around. It’s genuine craftsmanship. In the Count, he has created a character that brings out the essence of old world charm, and class. Instead of aristocratic snobbery, what one gets is a very human mix of upbeat bearing and wistful serenity – a character for whom one genuinely feels for. The Count has his basic lessons right – “The first was that if one did not master one’s circumstances, one was bound to be mastered by them; and the second was Montaigne’s maxim that the surest sign of wisdom is constant cheerfulness.” And it isn’t just the Count – the support characters also do a splendid job of covering a vast spectrum of predicaments, thoughts and behaviour.

    And thus it is, that when one reaches the end of the book, and lets out a sigh, one has the “feeling that this moment, this hour, this universe could not be improved upon”.

  • Social Obligations

    Sometime back, I had this conversation with Surekha. Let me give you the context. I subscribe to a lot of sites on Google Reader, and therefore find a lot of links that I want to share. I end up sharing them – on Reader itself, where i can also ‘Like’ it, on Twitter, rarely on FB, many times on delicious. I also use many of these links for the posts on my other blog. Surekha’s  observation was that I was stingy with praise. I, as is my wont, proceeded to defend myself. I said that since my sharing had multiple layers and filters, the very fact that I shared it on Twitter was a praise in itself. She called me elitist (which, after a recent post, is almost as insulting to me as being called a vegetarian :p) 😀 From where she’s looking, she’s right, and its a valid perspective, though I wouldn’t admit it then. 😀

    It made me think about how I share links. Now, I’m not sure if this is retrofit rationalisation or an inbuilt mechanism. In my chat with Surekha I had mentioned that my varied interests meant that what I considered a ‘Good Read’ might be a lousy read for someone not interested in the subject. I wonder now, if my binary kind of approach to things (0 or 1, extremes) coupled with my objectivity fixation makes me just share something without an opinion, so that the person who reads is without the baggage of my bias, good or bad.

    Sometime back, after watching the stream for a while, and reading opinions on a subject, I asked Mo, “post this generation,do you think anyone will know there is a ‘don’t like it,don’t use it’ option? wouldn’t they feel obliged to comment? :|”.  I felt that, what blogging started, microblogging has accelerated. From books and places and events to personal traits – not just of celebrities, but of other users’, everything finds its way into the stream, the digital version of the collective consciousness. To corrupt the current Videocon line “We is the new me”. Our ‘stream world’ and all its inhabitants seem extensions of ourselves, a huge canvas of vicarious living. Do many of us feel obliged to share our opinion in real time, some kind of pressure to constantly contribute, and so we comment on everything we can lay hands on?

    In this sharing blitz, do we spare a thought for the object of our comment? Specifically people. With real time, opinions are being formed in minutes. Yes, everyone is entitled to one, but does it also mean we become trigger-happy? When we stick labels, when we judge, do we think of the effort/thought/perspective of the person at the other end? (those on Twitter, think #mpartha, #princesssheeba…I must say, i confess to some silly work on the latter) As we have more listeners, do we feel obliged to pass judgment and evolve into what others would be impressed with/like? Is that why people change when they become popular on say, twitter? It happens in real life too – this modeling of self based on the audience, but in real life, its difficult to enter the streams of thousands of people. With each of us getting a microphone, I wonder if we have entered ourselves unwittingly into a new form of rat race, in which the casualty is compassion and consideration for others?

    until next time, this is an opinion too 🙂