Category: Book Review

Finding Joy in Books: A Review of “Days at the Morisaki Bookshop”

Leave a comment

“It’s important to stand still sometimes. Think of it as a little rest in the long journey of your life. This is your harbor. And your boat is just dropping anchor here for a little while. And after you’re well rested, you can set sail again.”

How do you usually select your next read? By your friend’s recommendation, through a social media influencer, your Kindle suggestion (similar to your previous read), or by reading a book review on a blog, hearing a podcast or youtube video? I mostly select my books by the cover especially after a reading slump, these outsider’s recommendations never work out for me. My funda is just take a look at the cover, if it attracts you or tries your patience to guess the story, then go for it.

The cover of this book is outstandingly beautiful.  Now if you’re looking at the same cover that I am looking at, there is a cat looking at a door (though there is no cat in the book), a bicycle to the left, and a trove of books on the left – top – right. Also, there is a door in the middle with a silhouette of what I presume to be a man and a woman standing with their backs to each other. And, the title of the book is in the center at the top. In fact, I can spend my whole day watching just piles of books, trying to read the titles on their spine, so imagine a cover which has colourful books in it! This is just to emphasize how the cover of this book attracted me to pick it up. To be honest it is one of those books with the word “bookshop” in the title that also got me interested. Books about books is a big yes to me. I like to read at least one book in a year which has a library, bookstore or book related story in it. After Haruki Murakami, Satoshi Yagisawa is another Japanese writer I read recently.  “Days at the Morisaki Bookshop,” is his debut novel, originally published in 2009, but was not translated into English until 2023 by Eric Ozawa.  It won the Chiyoda Literature Prize. 

It is my first introduction to Satoshi Yagisawa’s writing, although I have heard a lot of positive buzz about this book in the past year, I was curious if it would live up to its billing. Our protagonist, 25-year-old Takako doesn’t express her feelings well to others.  And that’s how she has been easily taken advantage of by her cad of a boyfriend, Hideaki.  He announces that he is getting married to another coworker, but still wants to play around with her. While Takako always thought they were serious, even though he didn’t want anyone to know they were in a relationship. In the wake of her breakup with Hideaki and her subsequent resignation, she takes up residence for a few months in her uncle Satoru’s second-hand bookshop in Jimbicho, Tokyo.

“The Morisaki Bookshop stands alone at the corner of a street crowded with used bookstores. It’s tiny, old, and doesn’t seem to be doing very well. There are few customers. It sells a rather limited variety of books, and unless you’re a passionate expert, you’re unlikely to know it. Yet there are those who love this place.”  There’s comfort in knowing that bookstores share the same allure across the world. This description is enough to transport any reader to Morisaki and compare it with his or her locality secondhand bookstore which they have visited or visit frequently.

Depressed and unemployed, Takako is glad for the room above the Morisaki Bookshop to hide from the rest of the world even though she doesn’t quite enjoy reading. Satoru inherited this bookstore many years ago and was the third generation bookseller. After many trips around the world, he discovered that this small bookstore is his place in the world. Can Takako find the same joy in the Morisaki bookstore?

“Everywhere you looked there were books. Paperbacks and hardcovers were packed tightly on the well-organized bookshelves. The larger collections of complete works were piled up in stacks along the wall. Even the area behind the little counter with the register was full of books. If there were ever a big earthquake, it would undoubtedly all fall down, and you’d be buried beneath an avalanche of books.” This again probably resonated with a lot of readers therefore, no surprise that the book has so many good reviews.  I think any reader likes to find stories where books are shown as lifelines or as elements of learning and growth. It’s impossible not to empathize with that feeling we’ve all experienced at some point.

The narrative is divided into two segments, the first of which focuses on Takako’s journey with books and the second segment, set a year later, revolves around her uncle and his wife Momoko whose sudden return five years after she left him has him seeking the answers to several unanswered questions. Her aunt’s return and their evolving friendship also encourages Takako to reconsider her own priorities.

Japanese writers have a superpower that shouldn’t be underestimated: they can describe the simplest everyday actions as if they were part of another plane of existence.  Touching upon themes of family, friendship, new beginnings and most importantly the transformative power of books, this sweet, simple story would appeal to book lovers and bibliophiles. I really liked the premise of “Days at the Morisaki Bookshop” and loved the descriptions of the Jimbocho Book Town, the literary references, and the famous Japanese authors mentioned in it. The author also references the Kanda Used Book Festival, the largest annual event held in Kanda’s Jimbocho secondhand book district that started in 1960.

It’s quite common to think that our suffering is the worst until we come across what others have gone through in their life. Similarly, in this story surrounded by towering stacks of second-hand books and people who love reading, Takako eventually finds herself opening up to new experiences, making friends in the community, forging a bond with her uncle and finding joy, inspiration. and hope in reading. We get to watch Takako’s self-confidence grow, as well as witness how the importance of reading can and does make a difference in a person’s life. 

“Little by little, I felt something wash over me, a feeling of peace that
words can’t express. If I had to explain it, I’d say it could only have come
from the writer’s fervent love for life.”

Since this is a book about books, I have to share a quote I loved about the magic of secondhand books. Takako ponders, “At some point in the past, someone reading this book had felt moved to take a pen and draw a line under these words. It made me happy to think that because I had been moved by that same passage too, I was now connected to that stranger. Another time, I happened to find a pressed flower someone had left as a bookmark. As I inhaled the scent of the long-ago-faded flower, I wondered about the person who had put it there. Who in the world was she? When did she live? What was she feeling? It’s only in secondhand books that you can savor encounters like this, connections that transcend time” (pg. 37). I couldn’t agree more!

Overall, I found the narrative to be evenly paced and compact, though I didn’t enjoy the second segment of the narrative as much as the first. At the same time it is written in a very accessible, lucid style that seems common among many internationally acclaimed Japanese authors. I loved how Yagisawa skillfully crafted an engaging story from a fairly simple plot, with just a few minor twists. What I liked most was the description of the bookstore, the atmosphere, the smell, even the customers. I loved everything that had to do with the bookshop and felt as if the book could’ve ended after the first part.  I really want to drink coffee in that cozy coffee shop around the corner and attend the secondhand books festival. What I liked least were the characters, because they’re absolutely flat. They’re merely sketched out so that each one has a main characteristic on which they base all their behavior. They lacked depth and I don’t know if it was originally like that or got lost in translation.

“Days at the Morisaki Bookshop” was an entertaining read; however, unlike certain books like “The Kite Runner,” after I set it aside I moved on to reading the next book on my list without dwelling on it. I think this may partly be due to the brevity of the story and somewhat happy ending.   Overall, I would highly recommend “Days at the Morisaki Bookshop” to anyone who wants to overcome their reader’s block and especially if you are interested in exploring contemporary Japanese literature.

This moving international sensation by Satoshi Yagisawa about new beginnings, human connection, and the joy of reading is a very short book that can be completed within a day or two.

Here are some more quotes I really loved:

~“No matter where you go, or how many books you read, you still know nothing, you haven’t seen anything. And that’s life. We live our lives trying to find our way.”  
 
~ “But, I don’t know, maybe it takes a long time to figure out what you’re truly searching for. Maybe you spend your whole life just to figure out a small part of it.” 
 
~ “That’s when I finally realized it wasn’t just a question of where I was. It was about something inside me. No matter where I went, no matter who I was with, if I could be honest with myself, then that was where I belonged.” 

Language: English translated from Japanese

Pages: 162

Publication Date: 4 July 2023

Publisher: Manilla Press

Qabar: A Journey Through Feminism, Magic and Reality – BOOK REVIEW

Leave a comment

Every woman has a story to tell.  For decades, the voices of women have been suppressed, sometimes by themselves and sometimes by society, but if you look closely and dig deep enough, there’s a grave inside her, passed from one generation to another, weighed down by patriarchy and marital confines. And buried inside these graves are their stories, ideas, hopes and dreams – A Qabar. 

A Glimpse into the Mystical World of Qabar

This novella “Qabar” too is about Bhavana’s buried emotions, till she meets a petitioner and her life takes an unexpected turn – for the better or worse she doesn’t know nor do we. But as the story progresses, we realize it is also about religion and the fences we create in its name. Time and again, many translated books have proven why regional writers are more relatable and influential than their English counterparts. Maybe it is because of their proximity to the local culture, their keen observation or their brilliant outlook combined with the freedom that comes with writing in their mother tongue. Qabar is yet another book executed with the same brilliance and eloquence that you forget that you are reading a translation. Originally written in Malayalam and masterfully translated into English by Nisha Susan, the book weaves a tapestry of magical realism, feminist themes, and socio-political commentary. The credit goes to both the author and the translator for maintaining the story’s credibility throughout. 

As the foundations are laid for a temple to rise on the site of Babri Masjid in Ayodhya, Bhavana Sachidanandan, an additional district judge around whose life and work Qabar commences and concludes, is flanked by a male protagonist duo; the petitioner in the case, the architect Kaakkasseri Khayaluddin Thangal and Bhavana’s ancestor Yogishwaran Ammavan, both men of the occult. Thangal petitions the court to prevent the destruction of an ancestor’s qabar located on a piece of land that has been sold off without his knowledge to a charitable trust. The novelist uses their sorcery to weave magic realism into our reading experience.

Qabar Analysis: Unraveling Themes of Gender and Power

The opening line hints at what lies ahead. “The demolition of his ancestor’s qabar—that was what his civil suit was about,” but the narrative is not just about a lawsuit. It’s equally about the ceaseless power politics of gender privilege, about destructive attitudes embedded deep within matrimony. All this is etched in about 110 pages. The narrative paces furiously between past and present, fantasy and reality, and connects a number of storylines. 

The minute Thangal enters the court, Bhavana is transfixed by the scent of Edward roses and rainbows. She tries to ignore his mysterious charm, the fancy clothing, and rumors about him being a djinn worshiper and stick to legal facts, but finds herself enchanted by him.

The plot oscillates between the serious reality of Bhavana’s existence and the realm of the supernatural conjured up by her mind every time she catches a whiff of the Edward rose perfume worn by Kaakkasseri Khayaluddin Thangal. Despite its small size, this novel encompasses an essential social and political commentary, a complicated love affair, a feminist understanding and most importantly, a journey of self-discovery.  It asks intense questions about identity, religion, law, and justice.  And also how even working women won’t be spared of slavery at home, and each home is her own grave where she has buried her needs and emotions is put forth beautifully.

The Magic of K.R. Meera’s Storytelling

K.R. Meera’s narrative expertise shines as she explores themes of gender dynamics, religious identity, and the weight of historical trauma.  The book serves as a powerful commentary on the patriarchal structures that continue to shape Indian society, while also celebrating the resilience and strength of women who challenge these norms. Bhavana’s character embodies this struggle, navigating her professional life as a judge while grappling with personal challenges, including the aftermath of an abusive marriage. Her mother’s story, running parallel to her own, adds depth to the generational aspect of women’s fight against oppression. This multi-layered approach to character development allows readers to connect with the protagonists on a profound level. 

Bhavana’s mother is an incredible character, one of those invisible working women, ceaselessly ploughing through her household duties round the clock, stoic about an unequal marriage, and commuting four hours daily to work and back. Yet, she is a voracious reader. “Sitting when I had a seat. Standing when I didn’t have one. That’s how I read all that I read.” When we meet her the first time, she is reading the South Korean writer Han Kang. The strongest woman in the book, the mother, curiously, is nameless. Yet, it’s she who has the most quotable lines. She justifies starting her life anew after retirement with a canine family, with the line, “Love isn’t a service charge. It is a sense of completeness that one finds in another person.” She once tells her daughter, “When I was your age, I thought family was heaven. After a while, I understood that this too is a workplace.” This simple yet profound observation speaks volumes about the often-unacknowledged labor of women in domestic settings, a theme that resonates throughout the novella. When Bhavana approaches her after a failed marriage, she quotes Tagore to her; how a bird has a perch in the cage but no space there to spread her wings.

Feminism & Facts

The book is also suffused with Meera’s strong feminist ideals. Her women protagonists — Bhavana and her mother — defy and question patriarchy at every turn. Both women walk out of toxic marriages and make informed choices to cast off the burden of societal expectations. The idea of equality in marriage of Mary Wollstonecraft’s and Virginia Woolf’s insistence on women needing a room of their own can be seen to be abound. But the most interesting aspect of Meera’s feminist vision is her exploration of family history and how it changes when it is retold by women.

K.R. Meera’s writing is nothing like I have read before.  She surprises me by the power of her craft through every new book published. Her writing is bold, nonchalant, full of desire, and undertones of race, class, and provides no solutions. Nisha Susan’s translation does more than enough justice to the plot – it did not read like a translation to begin with and when it did, I didn’t feel anything was missed out.

Meera fuses fiction and fact dexterously. In 2019, when Bhavana is hearing this fictional case, the Supreme Court was delivering its verdict on the demolition of the Babri Masjid, another historical structure that was razed to the ground. This is also a reminder that we live on top of many graves of injustice and inequality. Thus, through this book, Meera turns a mirror on contemporary society, which is trying to erase many graves from memory, records, and history books. Meera questions the way the law functions in India. The legal system favours the privileged, we are reminded time and again.  Bhavana, fuelled by her resolute faith in the rightness of the law, sees herself as an upholder of justice. The law demands evidence, she states. In a conversation that reads like a commentary on recent verdicts on land disputes, she asks Thangal: “doesn’t your objection stand in the way of public interest? And even if you argued that the qabar has historical importance, you don’t have any documents to prove it do you?” Bhavana’s courtroom has no space for sentiment or faith. And yet, as she discovers, the qabar exists, both as the ruins of a structure with minarets as well as in people’s imagination. Meera forces us to see that history is made up not just of facts and transactions documented on paper but also of lived experiences, of socio-cultural practices, and of collective memory.

Qabar also holds a mirror to contemporary Kerala, busting the myth of liberty and democracy in the life of the educated Keralan woman. The parallel narratives—the need for the birth of the scholar Brahmin, the camouflaged story of the death of the ancestor with occult powers, the two young divine girls who merge into one like vanishing twins—seamlessly woven into the story fabric create the layers that hold the story intact.

Diversions, Allegories, & Imageries

It is one of those books that I managed to complete within a short period of time.  The core plot is fairly intriguing and Meera succeeded in keeping me engrossed till the half part. But unfortunately, the proceedings turn out to be extremely unconvincing from thereon. The abrupt transition from a supernatural thriller to a romance affects the tempo of the novel. The hasty ending too fails to justify the elaborate plot build-up. If you are looking for a quick read, you can try out this one. But do keep your expectations low.  My second book from the author who completely captivated me in my first read, “The Hangwoman.”

The novella is short, but the length it takes you to is infinite. The writing is peppered with allegories hidden in bursts of an earthy magical realism rooted in djinns who can read minds and conjure rainbows that leaves the protagonist swooning away. There was a mysterious glow in every character that reveals only certain aspects. As the story moves forward, there is an avalanche of metaphors and imagery that went right above my head. On the first reading, I am sure, I missed a lot of imageries and metaphors. Therefore, keeping it for a second read to gather all that I missed.

A Blend of Legal Drama and Supernatural Elements

The Qabar book stands out for its unique blend of legal drama and supernatural elements, creating a captivating reading experience. Meera’s background as a journalist shines through in her detailed portrayal of the legal proceedings, while her imaginative flair brings the mystical aspects of the story to life. This juxtaposition of the rational and the supernatural serves as a metaphor for the complex realities of modern India, where tradition and progress often collide.

Nisha Susan’s Masterful Translation

Nisha Susan’s translation brings K.R. Meera’s poetic Malayalam prose to life for English readers, maintaining the original’s lyrical quality. Her prose is both poetic and incisive. The seamless transition between languages is a testament to Susan’s skill as a translator. As noted by critic Vivek Tejuja, “K.R. Meera’s writing isn’t easy. There are layers and multi-folds of emotions attached to it.” Susan’s translation captures these nuances, allowing non-Malayalam readers to fully appreciate the depth and beauty of Meera’s writing.

While one chapter is a grounded and achingly relatable family drama, the following chapter is a riveting courtroom drama. Some chapters have instances of magical realism (I won’t be surprised if one starts smelling the faint yet hypnotic scent of Edward roses after flipping through certain pages of this book) while some chapters are a discourse on the fractured nature of our society.

Impact and Significance in Indian Literature

Readers have praised its complex narrative structure, emotional depth, and the seamless blend of magical elements with social commentary. It definitely deserves a place on every book lover’s shelf. It challenges readers to think critically about gender, power, and the nature of reality itself, all while delivering a gripping narrative that keeps pages turning. It stands as a prime example of Indian magical realism, offering a unique perspective on contemporary issues through a supernatural lens. The novella’s exploration of Hindu-Muslim relations and the historical context of communal tensions adds another layer of relevance to its narrative.

Conclusion: A Literary Gem Worth Exploring

For its innovative storytelling, deep thematic exploration, and cultural significance, I wholeheartedly recommend “Qabar” to readers who appreciate complex, thought-provoking literature. On a scale of 1 to 5, I would rate this book a solid 4.5, marking it as a must-read for anyone interested in contemporary Indian fiction or magical realism.

Whether you’re a fan of magical realism, feminist literature, or simply in search of a book that will leave you pondering long after you’ve turned the last page, “Qabar” is a journey well worth taking. K.R. Meera’s masterpiece, brought to life in English by Nisha Susan, is a testament to the power of storytelling to illuminate the complexities of the human experience.

Exploring Loss in ‘The Ghosts of Meenambakkam’ – Book Review

Leave a comment

Picking a regional translation is like an adventure; you do that only when you are looking for something new. The blurb of the book read “beautifully haunting novella on love and loss,” and so I picked up – “The Ghosts of Meenambakkam” (Original book – Paavam Dalpathado) by Ashokamitran. I regret not being able to read it in Tamil for two reasons; one I couldn’t procure the Tamil version, two my reading pace in Tamil is slow.  This novella is merely 150 pages so I read it at a stretch. 

For the past five decades, his has been a household name in Tamil Nadu, thanks to a phenomenal literary output of more than 250 short stories, two dozen novels, and scores of articles, essays and reviews. His easy-to-read prose has made him popular, while its depth and range have established him as a highly regarded literary figure and critic. He has received many honors, including the Sahitya Akademi Award. 

From the narrator’s point of view, airports, train stations, public places, and slums are not just crowded places, they are places where thriving stories are tightly packed. If a mishap happens, people die. What happens then? The crowd remains. Their ghosts stay and their stories too stay.

On the face of it, this novella follows an unnamed character who goes to the airport every day, reliving the horrors and pain of losing his daughter in a plane crash. On one such eventful day, grieving the death of his only daughter at the airport in Meenambakkam, he runs into a rather mysterious person from his past. After some struggle, the narrator identifies him to be Dalpathado, once a revolutionary award-winning filmmaker from another country (one may guess it’s Sri Lanka), who wanted to make films in India because he felt he was heard in this country.  He is apparently on the run from some people out to kill him. This friend compels the narrator to spend a night of hiding, and soon we see him crawling across the railway tracks in pouring rain, holing up in a house, and participating in some kind of clandestine activity with the foreigner.  All the while, his mind is full of his angelic daughter whose face he can’t remember any more and Dalpathado’s erstwhile girlfriend Sylvia with whom she seems to share a strange kind of identity. The narrator finds a strange loss of love – for a country, for a motherland, and for a once-loved foreign land.

This book starts off a bit confused, but as it progresses, the confusion makes sense. The plot as such is very basic and only has two or three real movements. The unnamed narrator has to deal with the ghosts of his past, literally and otherwise. There is a sense of unreality in the events that transpire that made me question whether it is the case of an unreliable narrator, one who has lost his grip on the reality around him. And then of course, I went back to the translator’s note where I am assured that it is the author’s craft, his style and that’s where the brilliance of this novella lies.  It makes you grapple with the dilemmas of the protagonists, and it makes you want more.  It’s primarily a story of loss and suffering, and of departures.  And of how time wears us all down, numbing us, changing us, and pushing us along, like rocks in a stream. And at 150 pages, you’re soon ready for your own departure. 

As the translator points out in his introduction, the quality of Ashokamitran’s writing can be deciphered in the weight of the things left unsaid. This is what “The Ghosts of Meenambakkam” does too.  The writing is crisp and leaves a lot of space for the reader to read between the lines. There’s often more left unspoken than there is explicitly stated, bringing to mind Tolstoy’s shorter works. There is no overly descriptive prose, yet it is not too minimalist either. The real heart of the book is reserved for the dialogue, the inner monologue, and all those unsaid thoughts. It’s where the book really shines. There are allusions, foreign names, veiled references, and sidesteps. Putting them together is up to you, and it is through this that the story becomes more than just a story. 
 
The translation by N. Kalyan Raman is top notch and smooth, and as someone who can speak Tamil, I could detect a connect with the source language in the translation style.

Apart from that, it captures the vibe of Chennai life perfectly, and the utter loneliness you find in this giant city. The descriptions of the thoughts you have at suburban railway stations struck a chord with me. The description of middle-class life is more subdued and less embellished than you might expect from Indian English authors and feels very authentic.  There was an element of mystery coupled with a tragic loss throughout the book.  It’s the middle parts of the book that got to my nerve – felt a bit repetitive and verbose. More so, since it is a novella not having the luxury of space. 

Though the book is very short, it attempts to talk about a lot of things in a layered way with very few words – about racial segregation, idealism, revolution, nationalism, love, indifference to the sufferings of those for whom you are apparently fighting, how idealism can turn you into a monster, and grief. 

Asokamitran’s writing is very straightforward; however, his narrative is complex. There are multiple layers hidden within the folds of this apparently simple story. The way the novella opens, with the mention of Meenambakkam’s road accidents and the ghosts inhabiting that place, provides an all-encompassing metaphor for the tale. Similarly, the story ends in a shattering climax at the airport; the last sentence hits the reader with the force of a tidal wave. I had more questions than answers at the end of the book – What was the narrator’s name? Was Dalpathado a terrorist or was he a vengeful lover? Did he concoct the whole spy story? Was he following the narrator’s movements? It was an impulsive pick where I discovered a new narrative style (as I am reading this author for the first time). Overall, I enjoyed this decent fast paced thriller.

Have you read any of Ashokamitran’s books? Do share your views on reading translated books and knowing prominent Indian writers through translations in the comment.

Print Pages: 160.

Language: English.

Publisher: Penguin.

Publication Date: 11 March 2016.

THE SAGE WITH TWO HORNS: UNUSUAL TALES FROM MYTHOLOGY – BOOK REVIEW

Leave a comment

You might have heard about king Sibi who sacrificed his own flesh to keep his word to a pigeon, but how about the sculptor who managed to make magnificent statues with no hands at all? In “The Sage with Two Horns” Sudha Murty brings into light some quirky yet informative stories that are not only mythological but also quite prevalent and worth pondering in the present-day context because there’s something for everyone in this collection of tales of wisdom and wit! 

Even though the book is said to be children’s book, there isn’t any age limit, so everyone can enjoy it. If you’ve read any of Sudha Murthy’s other books, you’ll know about her simple, engrossing yet thought-provoking writing style. 

Mythology is a genre rich in intriguing and awe-inspiring stories that never disappoint. This book contains 33 tales from quarrels among gods, the follies of great sages to the benevolence of kings and queens, it features goddesses, extraordinary men and women of wisdom, and the virtues of ordinary mortals. Sudha Murty spins fresh accounts of lesser-known stories from Indian mythology and is sure to delight fans of this beloved storyteller. 

Truthfulness, honesty, determination, perseverance, hard work, and good deeds are some of the virtues inherent in these stories which have been categorized under 5 different themes in the book namely – Guruve Namaha, The Kings who became Saints, Raja Prithvi Pati, A Bag of Surprises and Tales from the Vault. Peppered with vibrant myths and legends, Sudha Murthy always keeps the child in you alive!! 

Some stories were familiar to me others weren’t, some stories left me thinking while others didn’t, however, not all stories were that great. So, I shelved this book and finally completed it this month. 

My favourite stories among them are – “The mystery of life of death” – Nachiketa’s story, “Story of Agastya” – origin of river Kaveri, “The Indras who became the Pandavas,” “The mystery of the identical nose rings”- background story of Purandaradasa, “The case of the unfinished verse”, which is the story of Kalidasa, and “The most important god of all”- Shani’s influence on Vikramaditya. I liked the picturesque illustrations by Priyankar Gupta and the sketches inside are brilliant. 

If you are choosing this book for your kid, go for it because they would love the bright cover, the black and white illustrations of Gods who test kings and queens, princes who engage in tough penance, and lazy philosophers that have faded from attention over time. 

For an adult like me it was a light read, with some fascinating stories from Indian Mythology. Also, it had self-righteous characters, showcasing blind loyalty, written in a hurried style, and lots of gender stereotyping in most of the stories. Though we cannot change what has already happened in these stories, but I feel retellings can be done much better. But at night if you aren’t getting any sleep, read a few chapters from this book and you will go into a dream enriched sleep with beautiful princess, deer, and gods. 

The Sage With Two Horns: Unusual Tales From Mythology, published by Puffin India, is the last volume in her collection of mythology series —The Man From The Egg, The Serpent’s Revenge, among others—that encapsulate different aspects of Indian mythology.

Language: English

Publication Date: 4, November 2021 

Pages: 216 Pages

Publisher: Puffin Books.

TERESA’S MAN – BOOK REVIEW

Leave a comment

Usually, when I lack concentration, time, or experience a lull to pick up books, my only resort is short stories; especially if they talk about my favourite place and make me nostalgic, they are a great way to find my way back into reading and “Teresa’s Man and Other Stories from Goa” is one such book. Goa for commoners may mean parties, alcohol, beaches, ferries, foreigners, and merriment, but for me it’s a home where I learnt how to enjoy my today without any fears of tomorrow. It’s true that we Indians love Goa but forget about Goans.  In fact, I had never read anything written by a Goan author though I was a resident there for four long years, that was two decades back, but then again, it’s rare that you come across Konkani translations, all thanks to Xavier Cota.

“Teresa’s Man and Other Stories from Goa” is written by one of the most prolific and feted figures in contemporary Konkani literature – Damodar Mauzo who is also a Sahitya Akademi awardee.  As a novelist, literary critic, and fiction writer, he has been writing since 1960s till the recent times.  He writes in Konkani and is also proficient in Portuguese, English, and Marathi.  These 14 stories in translation comprise of Mauzo’s wonderfully varied compilation, from across 4 decades that’s 1960s to 2010.  While it is true that a few stories are set in the kind of village culture that does not exist anymore, but passing of time has not lessened the impact of Mauzo’s plots and characters; just a sentence or two and you can’t resist being drawn in.  So, we get to sit among Goan politicians on a hedonistic break in New Delhi, accompany a Dalit cattle herder across the Karnataka border into Goa because he has been told “you’ll live like a human there” and also drive around the back streets of Margao with enigmatic Baboy, who “knew only one thing and that is accept everything with a laugh.”  The stories are either set in Goa or talk about Goan people.  They are more an evocation of Goa through the names of characters, lifestyles, and memories rather than being set in the place itself.  While the stories don’t explore Goan culture, they are mostly focused on people and their indelible emotions. 

The first story is set in Saudi Arabia – “From the Mouths Of Babes” talks about the predicament of Mithila and Rajesh who live in Riyadh.  It finely draws stream of thoughts flowing through the mind of Mithila, a young Goan woman chafing under the strictures of the religious police even as she tries to evoke a more open display of physical affection from her husband. 

‘Coinsanv’s Cattle’ is a heart-breaking depiction of how a farmer couple must make the impossible choice of either send their beloved animals to slaughter or face starvation.  The dilemma of the wife who loves her cattle as her child is beautifully portrayed. 

Yet another story, “Bandh” which is about the “language agitation” of the 1980s, reiterates the futility of riots, you tend to harm the very same people for whom you are protesting.  Mauzo beautifully says language is a vehicle to foster understanding.  It is meant to unite, not to divide.  The motorcycle “pilot” Dattaram is faced with an odd situation.  On the day of Bandh, his friends Caetan and Peter warn him against seeking fares, but after a few hours beg him to take Rosy to the temple at Fatorpa (in Goa, Hindus and Catholics freely pay respects to both traditions).  They depart with Rosy’s mother “putting her hand on Dattaram’s arm, (saying), ‘Son, take care of my daughter and bring her back safely.’  But the two run into trouble.  A dozen men block their way at Cuncolim and try to kidnap Rosy.  For a brief moment, Dattaram is tempted to leave.  In the very next moment though, he sees Rosy’s mother on one side and Shantadurga, the goddess of Cuncolim, on the other.  Dattaram wades into the group of thugs and manages to escape with Rosy. 

He rides straight to Caetan’s house, stops at the doorstep and dismounts.  Alarmed Caetan runs up to them.  ‘What happened, Dattaram?’  Dattaram’s eyes were bulging.  He was speechless.  Finally finding his voice, he spats out; ‘This is our language! This is our culture!’  It very well explores the behaviour of people during bandh versus the actual respect they have for people which we could easily relate to because even today people protest for their mother tongue failing to realize language is meant to bring people together, not to tear them apart!

More than any other writer in contemporary Konkani literature, Mauzo epitomizes the multi-layered, profoundly confluent identity of Goans.  He grew up in a Hindu family surrounded by Catholic neighbours in the gorgeous seaside village of Majorda, where the sense of community blurred all boundaries.  Until recently, Mauzo made his living running the family general store – one-stop shopping for generations of Majorda residents and says his story ideas came to him in conversations with customers.  That’s why a deep empathy is reflected throughout “Teresa’s Man” and Mauzo often packs a substantial political punch on behalf of his people and their distinctive identity. 

In ‘The Vighnaharta’ story a family is worried about the Chathurthi preparations amidst their financial crisis.  And the ‘Happy Birthday’ story is about parents who strive hard to fit in the society of performers with their slow learning child. 

Now coming to the titular story, “Teresa’s Man,” we see how an ineffectual husband finally reaches his boiling point; how his frustration emerges in violence.  Peter is constantly taunted by his mother because his wife is more successful than him.  He doesn’t even try to get a job or to do anything useful and his male ego gets hurt when his friends tease him in a bar.  He decides to physically take his shame and frustration out on his wife, rather than attempting to improve himself.  This story depicts the psychological profile of a man who deliberately ignores his responsibilities and undergoes humiliation, highlighting the frustration, anger, and jealousy that he feels. 

The last story in this book is ‘A Writer’s Tale,’ where an aging writer Manohar and a young writer Jayatha formulate a friendship in the background of Jayatha’s ordeals with her family, depression, and search for a friend and how the senior author becomes the unwitting subject of Jayatha’s fiction.  It may seem humorous on the onset, but the idea of a Tamil lady being portrayed as wanton didn’t excite me and felt more exaggerated.  Old Hindi films have depicted South Indians as dim witted and caricatures which I completely don’t agree with and I still can’t understand why Mauzo fancied this idea in this story.  Well, let me leave it here as this may lead to another discussion. 

His writing spans an enormous range, straddling both urban and rural geographies, and runs the gamut of human emotion—the paralyzing helplessness of the small farmer; the eternal ebbs and flows of the man-woman relationship; and the many humiliations, small and large, of raising a differently abled child. 

Each story in this compilation gives a distinct flavour of Goa and what it means to be a Goan.  Most of the stories have an old-world charm about them since they are written across the decades, giving you a nice nostalgic feel.  They are hardly 10–15-minute reads, but I wanted to know more in most of the stories and since they were open ended, I was left wanting for more.  I do not know if it’s because the translation was amiss or the stories were written so originally.  Almost all of them tug the tender strings in your heart.  These are everyday happenings in the life of both humans and animals, be it a sudden sickness in the family; a water snake’s life in summer, a farmer’s attachment to his cattle; a poor man’s anxiety to celebrate an important festival, you could easily relate to it.  Xavier Cota, the translator of Teresa’s Man and Other Stories from Goa, is a teacher, former banker, and sports administrator who translates fiction and non-fiction from Konkani to English.  He has previously translated two major works by Mauzo namely These Are My Children and the novella, Tsunami Simon.  He has compiled this book too with great care, bringing to readers tales which are as compellingly local in their flavour as they are universal in the ideas and emotions they evoke.  This book is packed with lot of social and political punches.  It is touching, warm, moving, and so is a must-read. 

While Mauzo and his close contemporaries have consistently won Sahitya Akademi awards and national recognition, it is only recently that a substantial corpus of their work has begun to appear in English translation.  Teresa’s Man and Other Stories from Goa was nominated for the Frank O’Connor International award in 2015.  This definitely indicates that contemporary Goan-Konkani writing merits far greater attention than it usually gets.  “Teresa’s Man” makes for prismatic reading as Mauzo’s writerly eye perches on a dazzling variety of shoulders.  His brilliant writing has proved that irrespective of changing times, our emotions have remained the same whether we live in a city or live in a village.  Human emotions are invariably the same across all states, countries, and culture and these genuine emotions always inspire.

Have you read this book already or any of other translations of Mauzo? Do share your experience reading translated books and knowing Indian writers through translations in comment.

Print Pages: 208.

Language: English.

Publisher: Rupa Publication.

Publication Date: 3 October 2014.

Now you can listen this review as podcast on Spotify too!

THE MOTHER I NEVER KNEW – BOOK REVIEW

Leave a comment

Amidst all news updates and social distancing, this colourful cover piqued my curiosity and when Sudha Murthy had written it need I say more; I instantly picked it up!

“The Mother I Never Knew” comprises two novellas that explore quests by two different men namely Venkatesh and Mukesh. 

Venkatesh of the first novella is a bank manager in SBI.  He lives in Bangalore with his wife Shanta and two children Ravi and Gauri.  They are wealthy of course and to an outsider their family is a modern nuclear family in which the woman is strong and independent, obsessed with status and business.  His super-rich wife Shanta, runs the house very efficiently and handled the family finances better than an investment banker.  He is just a ‘Madam’s husband,’ but there’s an emptiness within Venkatesh because there’s no bonding between the family members.  They lived, worked and went out together it was mechanical.  Shanta spoke little and was always to the point.  His son takes after her (Ravi is in America now) while his daughter takes after him both in values and attitude towards life and relationships.  His son and wife are busy accumulating wealth whereas he and his daughter care about relationships.  Venkatesh is terribly upset one fine day when he returns home.  He had been transferred to Hubli, a place whose culture he’s totally unaware of.  Earlier, earning money was a necessity, but now working had become his habit.  Venkatesh doesn’t want to cancel the transfer through unofficial channels so he reluctantly agrees to go there for only six months and return after that. 

When he moves to Hubli, he notices that though the dialect is quite different people are very friendly.  He is constantly mistaken for Shankar Master.  He soon realizes that there is a look alike in the same town.  ‘How can we look so similar?  Patil says that there are seven lookalikes all over the world.  So, is it a coincidence?  We aren’t twins, for sure.  I was born at 10 a.m. in the Railway Hospital in Hyderabad.  When was he born?  I think I should talk to Shankar’s mother, Bhagavva.’  So, what starts of as curiosity to know about his look alike soon turns out to be a world-shattering experience for Venkatesh.  He discovers his father’s hidden past and some conspiracies.  With further probing, he is made aware of the grave injustices done to his step-mother, he realises that he must atone for the wrongs, but how is that to happen?  Will his family support him and be forthcoming to help him in his plans? Venkatesh is disheartened as his son is prepared to go to court against him and put the family honour at stake whereas Gauri supports his decision.  How could two children raised by the same parents and in the same environment be so unlike each other, he wonders.  Will Ventakesh make amends to his impoverished stepmother and repay his father’s debt? forms the rest of the story.  This story tries to show the differences that comes up in a family with members having different outlook towards life, relationship, career, and status. 

The second novella is nothing short of a Bollywood movie.  It is the story of Mukesh, a young man, working as programme executive in BBC, London.  He and his wife Vasanthi are vacationing in Switzerland where she meets with a skiing accident.  While he is attending to her in the hospital, he receives a call from his sister Neeraja.  There is an urgency in her voice asking him to return to Bangalore as their father, Krishna Rao had a heart attack and was in the ICU.  In the flight Mukesh thinks about his father, a self-made, soft-spoken gentleman, known as Rao Saheb had come from humble beginnings and had worked hard to become who he was today.  Rao Saheb owned a huge garment export house called Mukesh Exports in Bangalore.  By the time he reaches India, his father had already departed.  He returns home for the final rites and meets the lawyer for his father’s will.  It is while searching for his father’s legal papers, his sister discovers a photograph which brings out an ugly past.  Mukesh gets a little upset and asks his mother, ‘Why didn’t you let him tell me the truth?’ 

‘Because of fear.  I was scared, Munna.  I’d heard from many people that once a child learns that he is adopted, he goes in search of his biological parents and forgets about everyone else. I was scared that you’d leave and forget about me, too.  What would I do then?’ 

He comes to know that he’s an adopted child and after listening to the past’s story, Mukesh then sets out in search of his biological mother.  But things take an unexpected turn and the past becomes even more complicated than it was before.  Mukesh’s life gets convoluted by the presence of not one but several mother figures as he journeys from London to Bangalore to the by lanes of Amritsar and onwards to Delhi.  Whether he comes to know the truth about his birth?  Did he finally find his biological mother? forms the plot of the second novella. And the deeper he delves, the more confused he is about where should his loyalties and responsibilities lie, whether with the mother who raised him or with the mother who gave birth to him? 

I have always marvelled at how Sudha Murty has such a thorough understanding of her culture and depicts it in simplest way to her readers!  As the title suggests it is the story about two men on a quest to find the mother they never really knew!  Sudha Murthy’s prose is devoid of pretentions.  Well, the story isn’t unique, our epics are filled with such stories, but it isn’t a mindless repeat as well.  It has new facets and is told in a very subjective way.  The settings are contemporary.  The author has made the story her own and I could feel as if she is sitting right next to me, narrating me the stories of Venkatesh and Mukesh.  Sudha Murty did move out of her comfort zone and mentioned new cities apart from North Karnataka and Mumbai.  If you have loved Sudha Murthy’s earlier books, you’ll love this as well. 

“The Mother I Never Knew” is a poignant, dramatic book that reaches deep into the human heart to reveal what we really feel about those closest to us.  In this book of just 200 pages, Sudha Murthy presents two novellas, about two men and their eagerness to find their past and each portrays mothers and motherhood in a resolute manner.  It deals with identity crisis, family issues, and inheritance as well as adoption which is regarded as something uncommon and unwelcomed in some communities.  The two men are bound by the same dilemma and the same complexity of emotions. and it is important for them to find their way back to bring stability in their lives.  She, once again, brilliantly talks about the prejudices that the patriarchal society inflicts upon widows, single mothers, teenage pregnancies and women in general.  She portrays how the women of these two novellas are controlled by the men in their life. 

The writing style as always is brilliant and the storyline moves ahead in an unflinching way.  It is indeed reminiscent of R K Narayan and not very difficult for an Indian to relate to what is written.  Hence, an absorbing read.  The stories especially the first one is highly predictable though I liked it.  The girl or woman being slim, fair, and long hair in every story seems a bit stereotype to me.  More in-depth portrayal of characters is missing in this book. 

The first story talks about families and cultures in contrast, describes the different characters within a family and their mindsets.  It takes time to hit the nail but that time doesn’t seem like idling away, it adds value to the story.  Among the two stories in this book, the first one left me wanting for more.  I was a little disheartened that it was so short with abrupt ending.  The second one is too dramatic to the extent of being unbelievable at some places.  The unnecessary stretch put me off towards the end and I was just looking forward to quickly wrap up the book.  However, the time seemed wasted in the second story, with incidents of no value taking place and unnecessary emotional drama. 

Before I wind up let me ask you a question, who do you think is Lord Krishna’s real mother, is it Devaki or is it Yashodha? It’s difficult to answer, isn’t it? because apparently Devaki gave birth to Krishna, but Yashodha mothered him.  This book is in no way related to Krishna, but its message is definitely clear “Giving birth is simply a biological event but parents must move mountains to raise a child to be a good human being.” 

Overall, this book is recommended to Sudha Murthy fans, to readers looking for quick reads or novellas and those who are looking for books which talks about mothers!  Though I won’t categorise this as a ‘must read’ book, but for a light hearted read and beginner friendly language you can pick it up.  Have you read this book or any of Sudha Murthy’s?  If you have, which one is your favourite?  Please do share your thoughts in comments.

Print Pages: 216.

Language: English.

Publisher: Penguin Books Limited.

Publication Date: 17 July 2014.

Now you can listen this review as podcast on Spotify!

Now you can watch this book review on my Youtube Channel – Booksdotcom.

THE MARIGOLD STORY: INDIRA GANDHI AND OTHERS – BOOK REVIEW

Leave a comment

“Indira Priyadarshini Gandhi, India’s third prime minister, was allergic to marigolds.” 

“The gold-flower that was kept away during her entire life, clung to her in death.” 

“If Indira Gandhi hated marigolds, Rajiv Gandhi couldn’t handle garlands.  Rajiv had a sensitive skin.  Even flower stalks hurt him.  Ironically it was a garland which eventually took Rajiv’s life.” 

Can you believe it?  But these lines made me grab this book.  The Marigold Story:  Indira Gandhi & Others is not a gushing account of newsmakers; it captures their vulnerable sides.  Kumkum Chadha began her career as a journalist at that time when women were either scared or were discouraged by their families to enter into this field and the only times you could hear about women as journalists was when they interviewed other women or covered a College Event.  Given her long career as a journalist, Kumkum Chadha does have a lot of information to share, which could be new discoveries for the younger readers, but the veterans may feel somewhat short-changed. 

This book is divided between politicians & game changers who dared to rewrite the Indian story.  It starts off with an interesting name Abhinav Bindra – the ace shooter who won India the first Olympic gold medal, but you would be surprised to know that he confessed he was a laidback child with no goals in sight.  Intriguingly it includes names that span generations, from Indira Gandhi & L.K. Advani to Rajiv Gandhi & Arun Jaitley.  The success story of Priya Village Roadshow or PVR of Ajay Bijli who revolutionised cinema viewing in India through multiplex will definitely inspire you.  But the chapter on the ever-smiling Smita Patil, who was synonymous with strong, women-centric films deeply touched me.  Chadha knew Smitha as a friend.  Her profound love for a married man, insecure personal life, and her desperation for a child really saddened me.  There are also some glimpses from the lives of Lalu Prasad Yadav; Amitabh Bachchan’s stint as politician, household names Ekta Kapoor & Smriti Irani (the duo that made families addicted to Hindi soaps like never before) & a few others. 

There are a few digressions here & there, but they too are quite interesting & form an integral part of the narration.  Through her personal interactions, interviews, & observations Kumkum Chadha has delineated the little-known facts about a public figure.  It is more about their personalities revealing their humane side than their careers and their ideologies that inspired & inspires so many.  It goes beyond their achievements and examines what makes these individuals distinctive and unforgettable at the same time. 

Friends, it is an easy breezy read, Chadha’s candidness on each of these personalities enriches this book.  Overall, I liked the book because of the real-life incidents and the informal approach of the author.  If you like memoirs and biographies, do read this book.  Or if you just want to be taken back in time to peek into celebrity lives, this book also shares who influenced a renowned prime minister and who were invited to the famous Holi celebrations at an opposition leader’s house.

-Subha Murali.

Language: English.

Print Pages: 355 pages.

Publication Date: 30th Jan 2019.

Now you can listen to this book review on Spotify too!

Now watch this book review on my Youtube Channel – Booksdotcom.

THE FIRST TEACHER – BOOK REVIEW

Leave a comment

“I would prostrate myself on the ground and kiss my teacher’s footprints.  The path means more to me than all the roads in the world.” 

Who was your first teacher?  Some of us may vaguely remember a face from our kindergarten rhymes, but how many of us acknowledge them as the torchbearers of our life?  It is probably difficult for modern children to understand how their grandparents or even parents in some cases overcame difficulties in order to go to school.  But their perception of life would definitely change when they realize the first stage of their parents’ education wasn’t an everyday routine like theirs.  I too have heard from my parents that they had to walk many miles to reach their school; moreover, it lacked basic amenities.  School was a way to escape from the world of ignorance, hunger, hopelessness, and unreasonable daily violence for some.  Duishen reminds me of Veluthambi from ‘Vaagai Sooda Vaa’ a 2011 Tamil movie; now whether the movie was inspired by this book that you have to find out. 

“The First Teacher” by Chingiz Aitmatov, a well-known Kyrgyz author is a tale of hope and reformation.  It is also about rebellion against the norm and ignorance.  In a remote village of Kurkureu, a secondary school building is being inaugurated and people are awaiting the arrival of the dignitary who is a native of the village.  She is now an academician in Moscow.  Altynai Sulaimanovna, a middle-aged woman arrives when the ceremony is about to begin.  They give her the place of honour; they lavish attention on her to show how much they respected and admired her.  With everyone talking animatedly and proposing toasts, a young village lad comes in and hands over a batch of telegrams.  They are from the village school’s old pupils congratulating the collective farmers on the new building.  The telegrams are passed around. 

The headmaster asks the lad, “Was it old Duishen?” and Altynai is nervous.  She asks the artist who sat beside her “which Duishen are they talking about?”  “He’s the postman.  Do you know old Duishen?”  She nods vaguely, gets up to leave and at that very moment someone rides past the window with a clatter of hoofs.  The young lad returns to announce Duishen rode away saying that he is yet to deliver many letters and has no time to stop by. 

While everyone remembers with laughter how an uneducated person, who read by syllables, taught children the basics of reading and writing, Altynai alone appears disturbed.  The artist notices that she is intently gazing at the yellowed poplars on the hill swaying in the breeze.  Her face looks pensive and sad.  She seems no more an academician to him, but just an ordinary Kirghiz woman.  She hastily leaves Kurkureu in pretence of urgent work in Moscow promising to return again.  The artist tries to know if someone upset her.  She denies and replies if she has any grievances, it is only against herself. 

She later writes a long letter to the artist, in which she confesses and tells him her story, about her first teacher.  The letter unfolds that it was 1924, when a man from nowhere comes to Kurkureu in a black army overcoat.  A man in uniform in that little remote village was quite strange, but what was stranger was his proposal to set up a school in an abandoned stable on a hillock.  “In those days such words as ‘school’ and ‘teaching’ were novel and no one really knew what they meant,” writes Altynai.  The locals believed “reading’s for the well-to-do.”  They were wary of the aspirations of the newly arrived young man.  “We’re plain folk.  Don’t try to change us,” was their opinion in unison.  Duishen being a member of Komsomol (ex-revolutionary and communist) was not afraid of tradition and decided to challenge it openly. 

“So you’re against this paper which says that children must go to school, which has the seal of the Soviet Government on it?  Who gave you land and water?  Who gave you freedom? Speak up.  Answer!”  he retorted. 

Altynai was just 14 years old then.  An orphan in that steppe village and like the classic Cinderella, she worked hard and suffered humiliation and sometimes beatings from her aunt.  You begin to feel the atmosphere of oppressive hopelessness of children’s life in the village in Aitmatov’s narration.  When Altynai learns that the young man has come to teach them how to read and write, her eyes lit up, a torch seems to flare up in her soul, illuminating her entire inner world, giving her hope.  This particular episode where Altynai empties her bag beside the school door is quite interesting to read where Aitmatov uses vivid imagery through poetic phrases. 

Duishen, a devotee of the Russian leader Lenin, overcomes not only vicissitudes of the locals, but also nature.  Battling the weather, he carries small children across the river during huge snowfall.  He did not have enough education, but this was compensated by the warmth and conviction of his righteousness.  The poplar trees they both plant form a link between the past and the present.  The tall poplar trees stand as witness to the love of a student for her teacher and the conviction the teacher had in his student.  How he rescues Altynai from her evil aunt, the sacrifices he makes, and how he raises her status to a Soviet scientist forms the crux of the story.  And how a little encouragement in a tender age helps to go a long way cannot be emphasized better than this! 

This novella is a monument to the perseverance of human spirit and it evokes sympathy even now at a time when only a memory remains of the Soviet Union and its ideology.  Soviet writers are usually strong, but Chingiz Aitmatov stands out creating deep human-relationships; that have no particular name but felt with heart; nurtured with selflessness and compassion.  He belonged to the post war generation of writers and wrote in both Kyrgyz and Russian.  He wrote about the lives of people during the transformation of Russian empire to the republic of the USSR.  I cannot find words to express how much I was moved by his soulful writing especially the farewell episode.  There’s regret and things left unsaid – One is not always courageous enough to speak one’s heart out. 

“If I could, I’d never let you go, Altynai, but I have no right to stand in your way.  You’ve got to study.  And I’m not very literate, you know.  You must go; it’s for the best…” 

“Good-bye teacher, good-bye, my first school, my childhood, good-bye, my first love…” 

“The First Teacher” allures any reader irrespective of race or creed as its theme – the emotional bond of a hardworking teacher and a talented student is universal.  Altynai’s wish to build a Dushein’s school in Kurkureu to commemorate her first teacher in the letter is the ultimate honour a student can pay to a teacher.  The tale begins during the period of Lenin and it is his picture that the teacher puts up first in his makeshift school; however, in the end it’s Duishen’s face that remains in both Altynai’s and the reader’s mind.  Aitmatov himself became one of the great teachers of the Kirghiz Nation forever. 

This is the first time I am reading a Kirghiz writer.  If you are open to world literature, I would strongly recommend this book which is nostalgic and celebrates the efforts of ordinary people. 

“Why can’t we leave our footprints forever in places with precious memories for us?”  While no one remembers or cares about the person who was the pioneer of education in the village, he lends his name to the hill.  In your life, the first teacher may have been your mother, your elder brother, the sister next door or even a stranger, the first imprints they left on you is what you are now.  All I wanted to say is, “Teacher, thank you for being what you are.” 

Author: Chingiz Aitmatov

Publisher: BookBaby

Language: English

Now you can listen to this book review on Spotify – Books.Com – Lit Gyaan.
Now watch this book review on my YouTube channel – Booksdotcom.

THE KITE RUNNER – BOOK REVIEW

Leave a comment

“We spoke our first words. 

Mine was Baba.  His was Amir.  My name.” 

Reading these lines, I knew that this story is going to stay with me for long.  “The Kite Runner” needs no introduction – a moving portrait of modern Afghanistan, from its pre-Russian invasion glory days to the terrible reign of the Taliban.  Debutant writer Khaled Hosseini’s this tale vividly covers universal themes of friendship, courage, guilt, betrayal, and atonement making it unlike a maiden work.  Last year I didn’t know much about Afghani culture, kudos to Hosseini to bring an Afghan perspective to the mainstream, a less known milieu.  Reading his books, I could connect myself with the struggles of a misunderstood country and sufferings of Afghanis.  With Amir I went through the places where the sultans of Kabul used to play and read Shahnameh.  I cherished the beautiful moments and tasted scrumptious kabob.  I travelled through the streets where the horrific incident happened.  The protagonist Amir as the name suggests is the son of a rich Pasthun (Baba).  Ali, the Hazara who serves Baba lives in their compound along with his son – Hassan.  China doll faced, green eyed, and harelipped Hassan is the only playmate and best friend of Amir.  The characters of Amir and Hassan are larger than life that I couldn’t stop myself hating one and loving the other.  Two little friends, an unspeakable secret, and a quest for redemption is both realistic and poetic. 

The picturesque description of pre and post war Afghanistan in Amir’s life spanning from childhood to teenage is a rollercoaster of emotions.  Flying kites was the only escape and Hassan was a successful kite runner.  Amir was considered weak and often criticized by Baba for lacking courage. He finds solace in the words of a fatherly figure Rahim Khan, Baba’s closest friend – “Children aren’t colouring books.  You don’t get to fill them with your favourite colours.” 

On victory of the kite-fighting tournament, I felt the contentment of loyalty and friendship in Hassan’s words – “For you, a thousand times over.”  But in an attempt to appease his father, Amir’s lack of courage goes wrong shattering the peace of the family.  I first felt the guilt, then the agony of betrayal, cowardice, jealousy and so-called pride and honour.  In a country that is under destruction, there is also emotional richness.  I admired the bravery of Hassan and Baba.  Whenever they tried to be righteous and good, my heart sang.  Baba treats Hassan with an affection that Amir craves, going as far as gifting Hassan with cleft lip surgery for his birthday.  In a world that had gone to hell they still tried to be decent, they still tried to stand up for their people.  They still had values and also acted according to them.  Hassan defends Amir though he never receives the same treatment from him.  Though Amir successfully gets rid of Ali and Hassan from his house, I couldn’t.  I loved Hassan with all my heart for being an innocent soul.  His only flaw was he was too good to live in a sick and violent world. 

“The Kite Runner” reiterates never to judge a person by his looks, similarly don’t judge what is inside this book by its cover.  After the invasion of the Russians, the family escapes to California.  Amir embarks on a successful career as a novelist where he receives a call from Rahim Khan reminding him – “there is a way to be good again.”  Amir realizes it is not his mentor calling, but his unatoned sins that were calling him. If you had read “The Great Expectations” by Charles Dickens, you would find similarities in the ideas.  Despite the novels being penned in different milieus and eras, both the protagonists disown their friends.  How lack of an identity brings chaos to one’s life and how maturation of perspective is necessary for one’s identity are common themes in these novels.  Hosseini’s writing style too is similar to Dickens in some pages. 

While it is quite common to take a liking for the protagonist of the novel, I hated Amir for his cowardice, ungratefulness, and his futile efforts of redemption, but everyone has their own share of vice and virtue that shapes them into who they are, even Baba has.  Amir revisits Kabul to atone his sins, to rescue Sohrab.  With the elements of distress, sadness, and emotional traumas I found it difficult to motivate myself to read further, tears rolled down my cheeks, still I wanted to know what would happen to Amir and Sohrab and finally I was redeemed. 

From a literary aspect, coincidences along with symbolisms and foreshadows are abundant in this book.  The split in Hassan’s lip signifies his poverty which separates him from Amir.  Later, when Assef splits Amir’s lip, Amir’s identity gets merged with Hassan’s.  The kite serves a symbol of Amir’s happiness as well as guilt.  I cannot praise this book enough, except the gory and violence in the third half of the novel, Hosseini is an exceptional story teller.  What began as father-son relationship story ended revealing a family secret, long forgotten betrayals, wars, and ethnic differences that led two little inseparable boys into very different life paths and also the power of hope like the kites.  The best message this book delivers is when people value their loved ones for their personal worth and not their class or position in the society, they create meaningful and fulfilling relationships and gain greater peace of mind for the rest of their life. 

As for me, I definitely will not re-read this book! I’m kind of proud that I accomplished to read it.  If you can deal with pain, this book is highly recommended.  If you’re one of the faint-hearted, better give it a wide berth.

Author:  Khaled Hosseini (Afghan-American) 

Pages:  371 

Year:  2003 

Publisher:  Riverhead Books. 

Now listen to this review on Spotify too!

The Diary of a Young Girl – Book Review

Leave a comment

When my Kindle constantly flashed “The Diary of a Young Girl,” in recommended list, I had least expectation from this book and kept postponing thinking what could a 13-year-old’s diary provide for an adult like me.  Last June, an article in TOI, “Why you should read Anne Frank’s Diary” (by Tanushree Singh) roused my curiosity to pick it up.  It was a lockdown when I started this book and knew how it would end (who doesn’t!) so I abandoned the book in the middle as I didn’t want to encounter the tragedy anywhere soon.  I dragged and finally completed it this lockdown.  While reading, I was overwhelmed like Anne predicted – “Who would ever think that so much went on in the soul of young girl?” Every time I opened those pages, I was transported to the Secret Annex where Anne sat in a corner writing her diary. 

“Paper has more patience than people.” 

From the very beginning, I found Anne’s writing style engaging, which could be attributed to the fact that it is a diary (diary entries are usually quite captivating and genuine!).  And Anne doesn’t hold back when confiding her feelings, experiences, and expectations in her “Kitty.”  I have heard that only those write a diary who know they are right.  She wrote things that did occur to my mind while I was a teen, but never dared to pen it.  She captured her adolescent musings and frailties beyond criticism. 

If you don’t know Anne – She is a Jewish girl who along with her father (Pim), mother, and elder sister Margot moves into hiding when Margot receives a call-up notice from SS (the German defence corps).  Fearing persecution, another family of three (the Van Daans) and an old dentist, Dussel joins them later.  It is here where Anne spends two years and begins to write her diary.  She reveals the peculiarities and personalities of the people who live with her in the annex, her tender feelings of love, her rebellion of parental domination, and her irritation on suppressing her opinions.  For a 13-year-old girl, Anne is so articulate.  Her outlook for life astonished me.  She is a soul beyond her years, filled with yearnings, desire to learn, travel, and become a writer.  Through her words, I see her as the face of millions of Jews who died in concentration camps during World War II. 

Anne mustn’t have realized that her teenage ramblings would become a treasure house of thoughts, thoughts that moved generations.  The accuracy with which she portrays her relationship with peers, her family, matters of war, her belief, and philosophy is fascinating.  She is a compelling, spirited young lady with whom many of us share commonalities in our interest in celebrities, relationship with our moms, and our over-thinking minds.  Her desire to be accepted and being unjudged is a sentiment I think we all echo.   

Anne weaves in her diary typical teenage experiences (hormones, puberty, crushes, arguments, misunderstanding with her mom, and family tensions) along with the horror of having to be hidden (black market ration, low money, and scarcity of food).  But no teenager I know is as clear about their goals as Anne – “I know what I want, I have a goal, I have opinions, a religion and love.  If only I can be myself, I’ll be satisfied.” 

This multi-faceted girl agonised terribly in confinement without the escape of nature, with too many restrictions, and no friends to share topsy turvy swings of her moods, with just a radio to tune in news, and a single window.  I recognised a lot of myself in Anne’s anxiety and depression at being cooped up like a bird in a cage (now that we are in the middle of a lockdown).  I could feel the monotony, found my own thoughts echoed in her words – “I’m longing – really longing – for everything: conversation, freedom, friends, being alone.  I long… to cry! I know crying would help, but I can’t cry.  I’m restless.”  I definitely needed to take breaks while reading, because sometimes it became too real. 

No matter how broad or limited our understanding of the world history is, the general assumption would be like – it was wartime and they were in hiding.  They must have been miserable all the time.  Could anyone find anything good in such a life? But I was surprised to find keen sense of hope, bits of kindness, and even humour in most unexpected places. 

Her friendship with Peter, her fondness for literature, history and mythology are mere drops in the ocean of what she describes.  Even though Anne had to live in constant fear of being found by the Gestapo and constant gun fire surrounding the building, she writes about the future, what will happen after the war, when she can attend school again, and her dreams of being a writer. 

She’s able to analyse herself in an honest way, her abilities, and failures – “Am I really as bad-mannered, headstrong, stubborn, pushy, stupid, lazy, etc… say, am I? No, of course not.  I know I have my faults and short-comings…but they blow them all out of proportion.”  

Self-taught Anne recognizes her strengths and weaknesses and throughout she has been progressive – “I’ve made up mind to lead a different life from other girls, and not to become an ordinary housewife later on.” “I need to have something besides a husband and children to devote myself to! 

From the one chirping around her house, joking around with her friends, looking at boys with the corner of her eyes, being mischievous and witty in front of her loving teachers, she steps forward gradually each day to become an independent youngster, (“I’ve struggled long and hard and shed many tears to become as independent as I am now”).  

She is a breather of hope in the much-crowded annex.  I visualize her growing from an angsty and outspoken teenager who complains about her parents, other adults, and people she did not like from school to an optimist. 

“We still love life, we haven’t yet forgotten the voice of nature, and we keep hoping, hoping for…everything.”  I am dumbfounded how she is able to see beauty around her, live in the present, and be thankful for what she still had.  Difficult conditions make one mature and responsible and in her situation she is forced to mature before her time.  In her own words, “when I think back to my life in 1942, it all seems unreal.  The Anne Frank…was different from the one who has grown wise within these walls.” 

While teens prefer dresses and makeup more than anything else these days, for Anne “memories meant more than dresses.”  Generations are losing their innocence, but in very different ways.  A teenager practicing gratitude in the air of despondency – “I’m blessed with many things; happiness, a cheerful disposition, and strength” is incredibly an impressive feat. 

Anne is a dreamer who also dwells on philosophy often igniting controversial issues.  “It’s twice as hard for us young ones to hold our ground and maintain our opinions, at a time when all ideals are being shattered and destroyed, when people are showing their worst side and do not know whether to believe in truth and right and God.”  How cruel it is that the hopes and dreams of millions get destroyed merely because of the thoughtless actions of a few.  Does it resonate our current situation? 

This is one of those books where a silence descends on finishing.  This is not a novel written for recreational reasons, it’s a personal record where a heart is on display, providing an honest insight of hardships that people underwent during holocaust.  Through her diary, Anne has given her best view of the worst world she lived in.  All being said there is nothing to review the book, but accept it as written account of the vices of the war. 

“I don’t want to have lived in vain like most people. I want to be useful or bring enjoyment to all people, even those I’ve never met.  I want to go on living even after my death!” 

True, her words have power, they have the power to change and outlive human lives, they have the power to make her life worth remembering even while she thought she was doing nothing.  Thanks to Anne’s father, Otto Frank (sole member to survive the Holocaust) who decided to publish her diary and she now lives on.  If you want to see her come alive then read “The Diary of a Young Girl.”  I would recommend this book to current age teenagers because they are yet to learn “perseverance and gratitude.”

Print Length: 368 pages

Language: English

Publisher: Penguin Classics

Now you can listen this review on Spotify – Books.Com – Lit Gyaan.
Now you can watch this review on my YouTube channel – Booksdotcom.