In Which My Heart Fluttered For Brilliance

     As I have mentioned in a previous post, I have taking to reading at a faster pace than is usual for me. Soon after Manto's collected short stories (You can find a review here) I picked up Neil Gaiman's Anansi Boys. I was acquainted with his work through a few short stories, American Gods and mostly, his blog and tweets and facebook posts. With Anansi Boys, I have truly, madly and fallen in much deep love with him and his work.
     Anansi Boys is the story of what happens when God dies and his sons are left behind. Anansi here being the god, it is left to Fat Charlie, his clumsy, very un-godly son, to reclaim the godliness and retain it for his father. Gaiman's biggest strength is the ability to compress realities and philosophies in a paragraph or two, packaged in goofy characters and gentle, embarassing yet a breeze-of-a-read humour.
    Gaiman's worlds start at the skies of heavens and dissolves into a friendly neighbourhood with one step, in his stories magic comes alive and it all makes perfect sense. He thinks like no one else, and that is a rarity with so many people and so many writers doing the rounds.
     So, excuse my fangirl gushing - Anansi dies and Fat Charlie, who has never had the best relationship with his colorful, swag of a father, finds out he is a god himself but the god-like part of him went to his brother, who was at some point a part of him. It all begins at his father's funeral where he meets his childhood neighbour Mrs. Higgler and she tells him to contact his brother, which he does.
     This brother turns out to have every bit of a magical persona that he lacks - he can get people to believe anything, trick his way in and out of life with equal parts luck and genetics. Spider, as he is called, makes life a living hell for our Charlie and Charlie asks Mrs. Higgler to make him go away, who in turn asks Mrs. Dunwiddy (think Old Nan from ASOIAF), who sends Charlie to the beginning of the world where he meets half-humans and half-gods and all of them complete animals. What ensues is an epic chase, where Tiger (who was god before Anansi) sets to reclaim his title. Don't think too much, just go read the book. Meanwhile, here is something else that happens -
     Parallel to these events, runs the very evil trickery of Grahame Coats, Charlies employer who frames Charlie in an embezzlement scheme which has just been discovered and then does everything to escape to an island.  Like it happens in stories with Gods, everything must end well. Fat Charlie shrugs off his nickname and reclaims his God-genes, finds love and makes peace with his father.
     Ghosts and Gods, Earth and Above, Evil and Good, Mischief and Anger - Gaiman leaves no emotion unfelt as you move along. It is a fast, fast read. Things happens quickly and you want to read them faster than they happen. In the process, you will think about family and love, about inheritance and about fear of control and factors of influence. His books make you think, but unlike most scholarly works, they make you smile as you think. It is a rare combination, a must-have for every child. If nothing, it is a good story. A warm, fuzzy, bed-time story. The story that a god wrote. 

On reading Manto

     It is safe to say that as readers and the reading community goes, I am perhaps on the less- read side of the spectrum, having discovered the joy of books and words, of stories and lore, a little late in life.
     This results in one of these two things - I either shut up when others speak of books or (as I have been going through) am enveloped with such an overwhelming need and urgency to devour every word and story, every written sentence and every thought that was ever put on paper as a letter or book, as a poem or a newspaper scoop.
     As the only thing that seems to be happening with any sort of direction in life, I have been reading some varied and brilliant books.
      Up first was Saadat Hasan Manto's collected short stories, translated by Aatish Taseer including such beautiful, crisp and fused-with-soul stories as 'Blouse', 'Ten Rupees' and my personal favourite, 'For Freedom'.
     As an utopian believer of maintaining the originality of any work of art, I am skeptical as translations go. As a (ironically) not-a-fan-of-English-language, anything that's converted from such languages like Urdu, which have an innate quality of romanticism in every sound, I didn't believe English would do any justice to the senses that Manto's writing would have originally invoked in the readers. While I still cannot compare for myself, it is safe to say that reading the English version did transport me to rainy evenings, protesting crowds, chawls of Bombay as and when the author wished me to. As Aatish explains in his foreword, the crispness and pace of the original stories has not been compromised, neither has he tried to improve on the authors work. And the result is as good as it gets.
      What makes Manto's stories a joy are the raw emotions and sensation-inducing scenarios he sets up and their real-to-death characters. In 'Blouse', a boy discovers puberty and the confused joy he feels without really knowing whats happening, is wonderful. In 'Ten Rupees', a child prostitute, obsessed about driving around in cars and not knowing what is it that she does, and not caring either -  is depicted with a delicate lightness.
     The important thing is that each story has underlying themes like lost love or prostitution, yet at no point do they taken away the quality of 'life' that his characters and his stories possess. Yes, little girls as prostitutes are not probably terribly lucky, yet you cannot help but forget that and participate with Sarita as she feels the sea breeze caress her (like most of her customers might never), anticipate with her the next time she would sit in a car, and feel playful with her as she sings Hindi songs with the boundless energy of children.
   My personal favourite remains 'For Freedom', capturing the momentary passions of the freedom movement that fleeted in and out of action and consciousness and the eventual 'murder' of the human body and spirit. Laced with the theme of gurus and abstinence, it is a compelling read.
    In 'Khaled Mian' he writes about the desperation of a father who forsees his toddler's death, in 'My Name is Radha', we get a peek into the Film Industry of those times.
     All stories share an ability to make you smile and to teleport you into a world filled with poetry, romance, turmoil, anger, frustration, death and the range that makes human life, what it is. 

A Story sung by an ulcer.

             

Celebrating Life

Before I get to writing about the book, here is a small piece of advice. For anyone battling low concentration levels, try reading a book for one and a half days straight. A good book, that too. You will learn to avoid distractions of all kinds. I undertook this Herculean task for a class assignment - from Monday evening to Wednesday morning, the day of submission, I read, read and read. Now I can go hours without looking at my phone, doing what I must rather than browsing twitter and favouriting articles which I don't end up reading. Try this, it is a stunt in its own right.
              The book here was Animal's People, Indra Sinha's 2007 Man Booker Prize nominee. It is a story set against the background of the Bhopal Gas tragedy, speaking about the life of the citizens twenty years later.
             The narrator is Animal, an orphan who was affected by the gas leak, when his spine was bent so badly that he walks on all fours for the rest of his life. It is the story of the residents of Khaufpur, how they cope with life after the tragedy or as it is referred to by them, 'that night'. Animal lives with his foster mother Ma Franci, a french nun who lost her powers to understand any language but her mother tongue and his dog Jara in the poisoned compounds of the factory. His friends include Zafar, a social activist; Nishi, musician Somraj's daughter, Zafar's girlfriend and Animal's saviour. Also among major characters is Elli Barber. More on her later. 
            This 'basti', or part of Khaufpur also has some endearing characters, stereotypes that invariable exist in any cluster of humans. There is Chunawala, who thinks about only money. Bhoora, the auto driver. Farouq, Zafar's best friend from the family of local bullies. And then there is the 'kampani', the culprits of the gas leak who got away too easy, the 'government' - corrupt as usual and the benevolent, generous Elli Barber whose kindness is so selfless that even music maestro Somraj, of the purest of souls, finds it difficult to understand why an Amrikan would leave everything to come serve a bunch of poor people in India. It's exactly the kind of skepticism that humanity is bound in today, the sheer disbelief that no one can be truly and fully altruistic. 
            Reading the book is like listening to Yoda-meets-English/French/Hindi/Hinglish speaking Indian. The words have colloquial sounds, the sentences are inverted, the articles feature rarely - this is idiosyncratic of many Indian books I have read. It captures the authencity of the Indian English dialect bang on and if you are Indian, will instantly relate to everyday  speech. At the same time, Grammar Nazis will argue that it destroys the authenticity of the language. Which is more important, is a subjective thing.  
           The characters are beautifully etched out. Zafar will fill you with hope and respect with his unending struggle to go to the courts and patiently wait for justice to come by. He is saintly, always composed, always generous and helping. 
Nishi, his girlfriend is his shadow, his support, his weakness. The love story between a Hindu and Muslim with 20 years between them kills two tabboos at once, and speaks a lot for the Khaufpuri stand that religion will not divide them, they who have been united by extreme tragedy. 
Somraj, the singer who lost his voice is, succinctly put, a "madman who finds music in the croaking of the frogs". His loves story with Elli Barber - the Amrikan who wins over the Khaufpuris, their love and trust is yet another landmark of the narrative. 
           But above all, it is Animal a four-footed human, his unending desire for sex, his foul mouth and free spirit that win you over. Everyone is going 'fishguts' and they are all 'buggers'. His raillery with Farouq is so hate-filled, you know instantly that they will be *turn on screechy voice* - BFFs. He laughs inspite of his misery, and in turn teaches you to laugh at your own. And just when you think he is going to be single forever, he finds Anjali, who likes him despite his uniqueness.
           The book has some very beautiful thoughts on music, love, justice, freedom, sex - what is it to be human? Animal, isn't an animal. It is not our form that defines, it is what we think of ourselves. There is especially one part I like where Elli Barber is telling someone that the shanty looks like it was made out of an earthquake. Animal over hears this and has an overwhelming urge to flee this dirty place. It tells us how only an outsider changes our perception of things we are too familiar with. Indians have had this medicine all too often.  
          Go read the book. I didn't like it initially, it reminded me of Life of Pi by Yann Martel, also a Man Booker Prize Winner. But as you progress, you're sure to fall in love with these filthy yet very human Animal's people.

PS: Don't miss the four line poems along. Also, Thanks to Flipkart for their fast delivery. 
Buy it here - http://www.flipkart.com/animal-apos-s-people/p/itmdx92yfjcevhyp?pid=9781416526278&otracker=from-search&srno=t_1&query=Animal%27s+People&ref=600bb0a0-b867-4662-95c2-2e13d816d65f

Lo.Lee.Ta.

"....the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate, to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta." 

                         That is how "Humbert Humbert" the benevolent beast, the gentle giant and the protagonist of Vladimir Nabokov's highly recommended, extremely controversial, and on-the-edge- sensitive work of art, describes the name, the pet name of his love, the subject of his pedophile interests and inflicts. 

I will begin with my experience of the book :

                                                                   It is a slow read ( unless you have a very powerful vocabulary). A very slow read, tedious to have to go look up the meaning of every second word you read. Such is the elevated level of the language, that for the first 25 pages of the book, I was only finding meanings, and reading and re reading the pages to understand them. It may be a disadvantage only to a certain few who read it, for I believe many out there have achieved the literary level to supersede the dictionary hunts. 

But, even as this mountainous task threatens to diminish your reading experience, it is upon the discovery of their true meaning, that you are truly exposed to the true beauty of the book, and you begin to appreciate this classic. Once you know what is written, every word starts touching your soul, every nerve of you body is on alert, reacting to the all the tender, ludicrous, absurd, lovely, funny, witty, hilarious comments, actions, reactions, moments, emotions that run through the mind and body of  Humbert Humbert. He justifies his love with as much delicateness that one would expect of a "normal" romance, let's say, for lack of a better word. 

Now for the Plot:

                         Our main man, the academic literate, psychologist Humbert Humbert, ( this rather unusual name is used for rather amusing purposes like when he describes as how saddened he is by the fact that his "dear Lolita prefers Hamburger over her old Humburger" - the kind of puns and innuendos and punches that fill the book ) , as evident by now, is a pedophile. He is writing under observation, in custody, for murder ( for who he murders, read the book. I won't give away more than I  absolutely have to ) and is writing this journal , to a "jury" as a justification in the body of a memoir. ( This I observed by the use of such addresses as "oh gentlemen of the Jury", a style that alludes to Plato's - The Apology). It starts with him reminiscing of his days as a young boy at the French Riveira, his first love Annabel, who is then only a year his junior but dies only four months later. Shift to America, his lust for "nymphets" girls in the category of 9-14. Not every girl in this age group is not a nymphet, just one with a very distinctive charm and aura in her ladylike idiosyncrasies. 

So he is mostly shown, in the early part of the book with hookers who resemble such little ones, while with the real nymphets - he only  basks in their shadows enjoys them in his wild fantasies. Goes on to marry a very young girl, who has an affair with a Russian and goes away - has bouts of insanity, pays a couple of visits to what, in the modern day would be called a rehab centre, went to the arctic, in the meantime, had numerous platonically sexual encounters with woman his age, finally went to vacation with a friend, who sent him to some place called "Ramsdale" due to a fire in his own house, where he is lodging with widow Charlette Haze, who has a daughter called - wait-for-it - Dolores Haze a.k.a Lo a.k.a Carmine a.k.a Lolita. 

Even while he is busy virtually seducing this enchantress of a child, who isn't all innocent as a child should be, her mother begins and ends up falling for her daughter's secret admirer. At the point where she confesses her love for him, comes the very first moment of contempt for the man who makes this creepy attraction to a little girl as beautiful and delightful as would probably appeal the likes of Darcy-Bennett or Romeo-Juliet. 

So as to be able to stay close to Lolita, he marries her mother, becomes her step father only to turn this already awkward ( still, poetically depicted ) romance between a 50 something and a 10 something more awkward by adding an incestuous angle. 

Charlotte and Humbert marry, and the arrangement seems to be going just fine, until Charlotte, the beloved wife discovers her wonderful husband's journals and diary entries ( which reveal his true self) and gets hysteric. As luck would have it for "Humbert the Horrible", she is killed in a car accident and no one, need ever know of his madness. Our dear old man decides, his step-daughter doesn't even need to know of her own mother's death, and sees this as a perfect opportunity to whisk her away. Which he does, on a road trip spanning one year ( For which, I don't know how HH had so much money ) before settling in Beardsley, a town in some part of USA where Lolita is made to attend a girls school. 

By this time, this pair are already lovers. But after while, they leave this town for another road trip, in the course of which, an angle of mystery is introduced. Twists and turns later, Lolita runs away, HH finds another partner, though a very old one, ( she is 30 ) and after he murders a certain someone, concludes his work.

Now for the Style:

                              I have said the book is written in literature of the highest kind, in sinuous prose that has the lucidity and flow of poetry, the writing is witty and humorous, there is quite a bit of french thrown in, there is a lot of imagery and metaphor, there is a lot of mention of some or the other famous, well-known writer, artist or character of another literary work. Like a day spent on a hot day by the beach, it is a slow, languorous, leisurely, rich and to be savored kind of a read. Like a well-cooked dish, where you chew each morsel with patience, deliberation taking in the look, the texture, the smell, the feel of the food in your mouth, the flavor, you must enjoy this book. Few may relate to the theme, most may be touched and moved by his love for her. The romance, the mystery, the hush-hushness of their affair.. these moods get to you. 

Characterization:

                          The book has many characters, small and big, real and virtual, present and non-present. Almost all of them, are negative. Not bad, just negative. Like unhappy, or unlucky, or plain or dull or unsatisfied, or drunk or depressed or if happy, only temporarily. The book risked having a very dreary and drag appeal throughout ( there are certainly some such parts ) but the humour and wit more than make up for what lacks in the innate foundation mood of the people who range from Russia to Ramsdale.

Humbert is eccentric, prides his looks and ways and English manners and appeals and academic intelligence  . Lolita, is tragically comical and there are moments, though rare, where you pity her fate, that the beastly HH casts upon her. There are the Valeries, the Charlottes, the Ritas, ( HH's "lovers") who are rather plain and amusing when seen through the eyes of the writer's protagonist writer. There are teachers and colleagues and harlots and nymphets and everything and everyone comes together with interesting interplay. 

Here there is something interesting- other characters are never given much importance, not enough anyway. However, as soon as the story starts to tilt too much towards our man and his girl, the author throws someone new, from past or present ( in a very How I met Your Mother Fashion, jumping from one reference to another ), and lifts things up. Since it is Humbert writing what is written it is only right that he talk of himself and his beloved, who he loved and cherished forever, (interestingly, beyond her nymphet years too.) 

The book symbolizes originality on almost every plain. With heavy amounts of psychology, ( it tends to remind you of Freudian theories, though the author himself proclaims he didnt follow it) of child and adult, of emotions and moods like lust, love, depression, desperation, irritation, annoyance, idleness..with smaller (  although as some turn out to be, very important elements ) of porn, homosexuality thrown in, it defines what a classic should be. ( just for the record, a true everlasting piece of art just HAS to be rejected in its initial years ).

I read a Crest Giant edition, a mark of standardization that guarantees a good read, and I was not disappointed one bit. It is enriching and stirring and reminds you just how powerful words can be, how magical an effect they can have on you.