Rashmi bookmarks “Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde”

Now known by slight variations of the above title, this is the original title of Robert Louis Stevenson’s novella, which created such a powerful impact as to make ‘Jekyll and Hyde’ a universal synonym for split personality!

The story of the London lawyer Gabriel John Utterson who investigates the weird events involving his friend Dr Henry Jekyll and the evil Mr Edward Hyde is, of course, known to all - and on that count there was no element of surprise (what a thrill it would have been for a first time reader!) But this is where the brilliance of the tale and its telling comes in: as the story progresses from a sensational murder mystery to the shocking revelation of a dual personality, each event and every unravelling got me into it deeper and deeper - despite the fact that I knew what the big twist was!

At the heart of this story is a brutal murder and the subsequent investigation, which brings to light the mysterious relation between Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. I found the investigation to be very interesting. Small incidents took the story to very exciting levels, example, when Jekyll gives a note to Utterson, claiming it was “hand-delivered from Hyde” - and Utterson asks Poole to describe the messenger, only to be told that there had been none, and Jekyll’s subsequent conversation with handwriting expert Mr. Guest!

Another feature that I found really interesting was the fact that the decent Dr Jekyll was very tall and well built, whereas the evil Mr Hyde was a small man, almost drowning in Jekyll’s clothes! Normally (and I’m thinking mainly of the Hulk when I say this) any time a normal person transforms into a raging monster, he becomes a giant - he doesn’t shrink into a small, and worse, deformed man.

A disturbing trampling death of a young girl. A brutal beating death of renowned MP Sir Danvers Carew. The sudden and unexplained death of Dr Hastie Lanyon. Seemingly unrelated philanthropic acts by Jekyll … This story follows such an extraordinary arc as it tracks Dr Jekyll’s mind: from a logical desire to separate the two consciousnesses that all humans are made up of (what a fantastic theory!) - to a slow loss of control - to an attempt at undoing some of the damage done by Hyde - to being completely overwhelmed by the power of evil - to the very tragic end of this sad and horrific tale.

“I incline to Cain’s heresy, I let my brother go to the devil in his own way.”

Rashmi bookmarks “The Lilac Bush”

Big words. Big themes. Large plots. Larger than life characters… There are extraordinary works that make us undeniably awestruck by their sheer grandeur.

And every now and then, along comes a story which is simple in its idea, simple in its telling; yet manages to reach such depths of your heart, you wonder how the writer did it.

I recently read author Ian Stout’s short story, The Lilac Bush, as it appeared on the site ‘CommuterLit’ and that is exactly what the story did to me.

The Lilac Bush is the story of Bill and Mary - one, a car salesman and the other, a clerk in a drug store (yes, ordinary people with ordinary names and ordinary jobs). It is the story of how they met and how they lived through all the tough times that financial scarcity brings. It is the story of how their love blossomed - not through grand gestures or exotic escapades, but rather through a drive in the country or a stroll through an antique store. It is the story of how an annual trip to a full bloom of Lilac trees on an abandoned farm became the foundation of their immortal love and commitment to each other.

No one climbed any mountains. No one broke off stars from the sky. A common thread just became an unbreakable bond. And a simple gesture became a monumental symbol of everlasting love.

Rashmi bookmarks “Bleak House”

It is easy to see why Charles Dickens has been universally acknowledged as one of, if not, the greatest writers of all time. From the tragedy of “Smoke lowering down from chimney-pots, making a soft black drizzle, with flakes of soot in it as big as full-grown snowflakes - gone into mourning, one might imagine, for the death of the sun”, to the comedy of “ … at street-corners, where tens of thousands of other foot passengers have been slipping and sliding since the day broke (if this day ever broke), adding new deposits to the crust upon crust of mud, sticking at those points tenaciously to the pavement, and accumulating at compound interest”, to the drama of “Chance people on the bridges peeping over the parapets into a nether sky of fog, with fog all round them, as if they were up in a balloon and hanging in the misty clouds”, Bleak House is a powerful story worded in powerful poetry. It was that, that became one of the more moving aspects of this book for me, as we move between the aristocratic Dedlock estate of Chesney Wold, and the fog and filth laden Tom-All-Alone’s, and Bleak House itself.

A very unique feature of this story was its dual narrative - recounted in flashback by one of the central characters, Esther Summerson, and in present tense by the third-person narrator; I can’t recollect another Dickens book that employs this style of writing; the juxtaposition of the two very different tones and timelines made it an interesting read.

The story revolves around, and is a scathing comment on, the epic failure of the Court of Chancery, epitomized in its central litigation of Jarndyce v Jarndyce, at the core of which rests a testator who made several wills. Adding to a long history of countless years, immeasurable sums of money, and a growing list of people who have waited in vain for a verdict, are Richard Carstone and Ada Clare, and - in conflicting wills - John Jarndyce and Lady Dedlock. In the incident where, in a courtroom bursting with official procedures and official terms, the jury gives the verdict of “accidental death” of Nemo, the great farce that is the legal system takes on a tragic hue as the testimony of the one person who knew him and could have shed some light on the matter, is dismissed, as it comes from a homeless boy who doesn’t even know his own last name.

This book goes beyond the legal system to become a strong commentary on the condition of most of the so-called pillars of society. It showcases the rot that has reached all areas from Charity to Religion to Government - not once becoming in any way didactic. So-called charity work is denounced in the great irony of Mrs. Pardiggle going about her “good works” for the poor in such a demeaning manner as to have counter-productive results. At the brick maker’s hut, where the wife - with clear marks of physical abuse on her face - nurses her baby even as it dies before their eyes, Mrs. Pardiggle focuses on teaching them the merits of reading and nursing dolls and doing work. And then there is Mrs. Jellyby, the philanthropist obsessed with a faraway African tribe, but shockingly unaware of her own children, be it even a son missing or a daughter getting married.

Religious fervour is satirized in the portrayal of such characters as Mr. Chadband, the preacher whose outrageous statements combined with his poor treatment of the less fortunate make him, and all he supposedly stands for, not at all likeable.

And of course there is constant humour directed at the Government and its functioning! - “He perceives with astonishment that supposing the present government to be overthrown, the limited choice of the Crown, in the formation of a new ministry, would lie between Lord Coodle and Sir Thomas Doodle - supposing it to be impossible for the Duke of Foodle to act with Goodle, which may be assumed to be the case in consequence of the breach arising out of that affair with Hoodle.” Quite obviously, it is always a choice between the lesser of two evils!

One of my favourite things about reading a Dickens novel is the way the characters are placed. All characters are introduced to us one incident at a time, but as we slowly discover, all of them are linked together and eventually come together in a cohesive story.

Other than the central protagonists, some of my more memorable characters (both good and bad) include Harold Skimpole, the self-proclaimed “child” who is not above living a remorseless life based on money handed out to him; the despicable Mr. Vholes, forever professing extreme professionalism and morality, yet - in a manner that reminded me of Uriah Heep - crafty and self-serving to the last; Jo, the young boy who lived on the streets and even there was forever asked to “move along” and whose life was wrought with so much pain and sorrow; and Mr. William Guppy who, along with Mr. Tulkinghorn, played a part in revealing the mystery that surrounds Esther and Lady Dedlock. Grandfather and Mrs. Smallweed sat “ … in their two porter's chairs, like a couple of sentinels long forgotten on their post by the Black Serjeant, Death” - Dickens does characters so well! But not just in the creation of their mannerisms, but also in their voices and even accents - from the cockney to the Scottish, all the voices come alive, and after a point you feel you are not reading a great book, you are watching an epic movie!

Like the strong themes and strong characterizations, there were also some sections that especially left a very powerful impact on my mind. One of them was any section dealing with Tom-All-Alone’s - be it a description of the wretched place, or of its miserable inhabitants. The other was the section dealing with The Ghost’s Walk at Chesney Wold; carrying with it, a tale that was as sad as it was eerie!

If there was one thing that I found to be an annoyance in an otherwise perfect story, it was the relationship of Esther and Ada, as narrated by Esther. Although they were obviously not intended to be lovers (in which case I would have had no issue at all), it seemed to me that Esther did a lot of hugging and kissing and crying for and spying on Ada. She only calls her “my pet” or “my darling”; every time she goes to sleep, she steals into her room to kiss her; and once when she was to meet her after a considerable gap in time, she ran about everywhere nervously, finally hiding behind the door, “trembling” with excitement… it was all just a bit peculiar!

One last comment before I end this blog. Dickens can seem a little slow at times, but this is a product of a very different time. It was a time when reading was cherished and neither writers nor readers were by-products of a time-bound ‘drive-through’ culture. Slowly, but surely, Dickens’ world reveals so much - life and death, love and betrayal, marriage and affairs - and it is always such a gratifying experience!

Rashmi bookmarks “The Wendigo”

Generally acknowledged as one of Algernon Blackwood’s best-known short stories, The Wendigo is the story of Dr. Cathcart, Hank Davis, Simpson, Joseph Défago, and their cook Punk. Set in the Canadian backwoods of Rat Portage, this is the tale of how a moose-hunting party quickly turned into an unspeakable yet indelible experience when the party decided to split into two, in hopes of a more successful hunt.

What struck me most about this story was the brilliance of atmosphere that the writer has created. As I may have mentioned in a previous blog, I am not a big fan of exhibitionistic gore in the name of horror. But the eerie terror that is borne of a nameless, faceless haunting; that, I find brilliant! “The forest pressed round them with its encircling wall; the nearer tree stems gleamed like bronze in the firelight; beyond that, blackness, and, so far as he could tell, a silence of death.” - Absolutely fantastic!

When Défago and Simpson split from the group and go across the lake into Fifty Island Water, Défago becomes a victim of that horror that Punk had first experienced back at the camp. And what was initially described as just “a backwoods superstition” by Simpson turns into a nightmare that no one could quite describe, yet no one could ever forget.

The brilliance of the story is of course that beyond a few clues, a few remnants, a few stolen glimpses, nothing is conclusively said. We know something is out there. We just don’t know what. And that is always very, very terrifying! “The grey light of dawn that dropped, cold and glimmering, between the trees revealed the scene tolerably well. There stood the tent behind him, soaked with dew; the dark ashes of the fire, still warm; the lake, white beneath a coating of mist, the islands rising darkly out of it like objects packed in wool; and patches of snow beyond among the clearer spaces of the Bush... everything cold, still, waiting for the sun.”

In the end, all we are left with are bits of memory that peep through the pale gleam of the dawn: a violent movement, a foot dragged outside the tent, an uncontrollable quaking, a windy, crying voice overhead, burning feet of fire, the odour of lions, deep marks in the snow with a mysterious, reddish tinge, and a “Shadow cast by the strange Fear, never wholly exorcised”. It is never ever specified what the terrifying creature is. As to what happened to Défago, all we know is - as Punk put it - he had “seen the Wendigo”.

I must mention one small issue that I sometimes face when reading works dating back some 100 years - and that is characterization or imagery, which we instinctively deplore as ‘racist’. The book features the stereotyped Indian who is more mystic than man, sharing traits with wild beasts with his acute sense of smell and hearing that the white man lacks; there is the reference to the “mad African in a New York n----- saloon”. I do realize of course that the writing was not intentionally derogatory - it was just a manner of speaking; it still is a bit of a hindrance in an otherwise seamless reading experience.

That apart, this was a great read; it is for good reason that Blackwood is considered a master of Weird Fiction.

Rashmi bookmarks “Tales of St. Austin’s”

For years and years now, P. G. Wodehouse has remained one of my favourite authors of all time, and each time I revisit one of his works, I am astounded by his wit and brilliance all over again! Part of the “School” series, Tales of St. Austin’s is a collection of short stories and essays set in the fictional public school of St. Austin’s. It deals with life in an all-boys’ school, which includes cricket, rugby, small favours and of course the ever-popular theme of successful ways to skip classes or score one over the teacher!

I really cannot pick one or even a few favourites from the 12 short stories. There were memorable moments in all of them. When Mr. Mellish announces an examination in Livy with less than a week’s notice, it makes Pillingshot “annoyed… disgusted, mortified… He would have liked to have stalked up to Mr. Mellish’s desk, fixed him with a blazing eye, and remarked, ‘Sir, withdraw that remark. Cancel that statement instantly, or--!’ or words to that effect. What he did say was: ‘Oo, si-i-r!!’” And that’s the start of this series, which goes to depict the trials and tribulations of the St. Austin’s student. We see Pillingshot manoeuvre events to legitimately miss a test; we see Philip St H. Harrison always find subtle yet effective means of avenging himself of ‘unfair’ treatment (read, punishment for flouncing rules); we see Uncle John’s entire character described, raised and debunked just through letters exchanged between Richard Venables, his brother Archibald Venables, their father Major-General Sir Everard Venables, and his sister Mrs. James Anthony (nee Miss Dorothy Venables); we see Frederick Wackerbath Bradshaw (got to love the fantastic names!) almost get away from an Euripides exam and actually get away from a Thucydides paper; we see J. S. M. Babington and Mr. Seymour’s cat and mouse game in a story about “wholly undeserved good luck”; and we see an annual poetry prize reveal a dark and sordid tale of sickness, bribery and deception.

Of the four Essays, “Notes” was my favourite. Starting with criticism of “the master who forces the human boy to take down notes from dictation”, the essay goes on to describe different types of notes, from the useful to the convoluted to those that are written purely with a view to air one’s vanity, the following example being the very simplest of this kind: “‘See line 80.’ You look up line 80, hoping to see a translation, and there you are told that a rather similar construction occurs in Xenophades’ Lyrics from a Padded Cell.”

This was one of Wodehouse’s first series (appearing in 1903 in a compiled form) and - having read a large majority of his life’s work - I can see the seeds of brilliance that would flower in the years and decades to come! While not quite uniformly ‘laugh out loud’ funny like some of his later works, there was a soft but persistent hint of gentle comedy right through, with bursts of guffaws every now and then!

As far as I can recollect, Tales of St. Austin’s was one of the first Wodehouse books I read, and while I consider the ‘Jeeves’ series the best, I will always revisit these tales for nostalgic comfort as much as comic relief. It reminds me of my early childhood, when I harboured a deep-seated desire to be a boarding house student, as opposed to the day scholar that I was, based on amazing stories like this and - prior to this - Enid Blyton’s school stories such as The Malory Towers series and The St. Clare’s series!

Rashmi bookmarks “A Dance with Dragons”

Meanwhile… A Dance with Dragons is the fifth novel of George R. R. Martin’s series A Song of Ice and Fire, but sequentially happens alongside its predecessor, A Feast for Crows. (I was reading on Wikipedia that that book was getting to be so long that a decision was taken to split the narrative into two books: not chronologically, but by character and location, resulting in two novels taking place simultaneously).

In this book, we revisit some places and meet some people from a long time back, example; we follow a certain character to Pentos and Magister Illyrio (where Daenerys Targaryen had spent time before her marriage to Khal Drogo). It is moments like this, that made me realize what an epic journey I am on, and just how far I have come since events first began! And for that reason, one very interesting feature of this book was that I got to read about events, which were on the other side of (Roose Bolton waiting to get married to Arya Stark), or at the beginning of (Jon Snow asking Samwell Tarly and Gilly to leave with one baby) events I read in the previous book!

The inclusion of a lot of fantastic elements - not only dragons and sorcerers, but also shape shifters and monsters, such as Sixskins and Coldhands - made for a fascinating read! That entire section about Bran Stark’s journey to the secret cave where the last surviving Children of the Forest dwell, his meeting with the Three-eyed Crow, and his subsequent powers, was absolutely brilliant!

The other major reason I really liked this book - more than its predecessor in fact - was that a lot of the characters that I really like and care about, who were missing in the previous book, are back now, and we get to know so much more about Daenerys Targaryen, Tyrion Lannister and Jon Snow. On that note, Daenerys Targaryen was the most awe-inspiring character of this book. I think I mentioned this in one of my last blogs on this series, but she is someone who truly deserves to sit on the Iron Throne. From leading men to difficult victories, to pioneering care for her people, to making the most supreme sacrifices for her kingdom, she alone shows the courage and valour and adaptability I would presume would be required of one who is destined to sit on a throne.

Where the character development went a step further was in showing us characters from their early childhood years, as a result of which, we get to see how kings and kingmakers are born. It is one thing to read stories of legendary kings that are or have been, but it is quite another to see a young boy or girl grow to show signs of being a contender to the throne. Jon Snow may have been a great person to know and a good friend to have, but how is he in a position of high command? Daenerys Targaryen may have earned her title Mother of Dragons, but how will the mother behave when her dragons are considered dangerous and chained up at her subjects’ demands? That was very interesting.

There was an overriding sense, more than ever before that events are closing in and people are moving ahead with a very definite purpose towards sitting on the Iron Throne… events such as the return of ‘The Lost Lord’, or Roose Bolton’s taking over of Moat Cailin, etc. marked that definite movement.

Equally, there was a sense of people having to undergo vast journeys - in time, over distance, and of character. Tyrion Lannister’s sense of loss as he relives his relation with his father, with Tysha, with Jaime Lannister, was one of the higher emotional touch points. A prince becomes an entertainer and fights perched on ‘Pretty’ the pig against Penny atop ‘Crunch’ the dog… A queen is declared a sinner, and makes a long and humiliating ‘walk of shame’… From Tyrion to Hugor Hill, from Jeyne Poole to Arya Stark, from Arya across so many avatars to now the Ugly Little Girl, and from Theon to Reek (without question, one of the most horrific torture stories of the series); amid much waiting and suffering there is a life changing journey that all must undertake.

If there was one negative point about this novel, it was the pace of the storytelling, which tended to fall back and linger at times. Example, Davos’ journey to Stannis Baratheon’s court or Tyrion’s journey on the ‘Shy Maid’ - although followed by stormy encounters - were in themselves somewhat slow.

Davos Seaworth and Lord Wyman Manderly. Tyrion Lannister and the Widow of the Waterfront. Daenerys Targaryen and Hizdahr zo Loraq. As Tyrion says at one point, “a plot within a plot”… of which, there was no shortage! And there is the twist in the end as we meet a kingmaker, and a possible future king - one who, as the kingmaker says, has not been brought up to believe that kingship is his right, but rather has been trained from birth in everything from arms to languages, religion, history and law, to poetry, fishing, cooking and even medicine. And, not uncommonly, the book leaves this and other plot points (notably what happened to Jon Snow or Daenerys Targaryen!) unresolved.

Slightly off-topic, I’d like to end with a quote from Jojen, who tells Bran, “A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one”.

Rashmi bookmarks “Die Verwandlung” (The Metamorphosis)

Franz Kafka’s novella The Metamorphosis or The Transformation is one of the more amazing books I have read. There have been many translations of this work, and I read David Wyllie’s version. I am drawn to the weird, the unexplained, the deeper interpretations of life, and this story was such a perfect combination of all that. “One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin.” - and that’s the very first sentence of the book; the first sentence of a story that raises as many questions as it inspires answers.

The Metamorphosis is the story of Gregor Samsa, a traveling salesman, who wakes one morning to find himself transformed into a giant insect, complete with an “armour-like back”, “brown belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff sections” and “many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked.” It is the story of how that inexplicable transformation changed everyday life for Gregor and his family. On a deeper level, it is the story that raises certain fundamental questions about the very meaning of existence.

In a not too unfamiliar situation, Gregor is stuck in a job he doesn’t like, because he needs to offset a financial need. The job has all those typical elements, right from the hateful work to the spineless assistant and the mean boss; yet he has not wavered from his utter and complete devotion to his work on any grounds.

The great irony of the story is that even after being turned into an insect, Gregor still continues to think of how to make up for being late to work. The great tragedy of the story is that after devoting 15 unflinching years of his life to his job, the very first time that he is late, the chief clerk comes over, and derides him for being unprofessional.

From human to bug, from shock and scare to disgust and hatred, and then finally, the moving on of Life like nothing ever happened… this was a story that got me as angry as it got me sad, as outraged as it got me helpless… it stirred so many, many emotions.

At the end, it felt like we are all bugs, insignificant little creatures scurrying about our unimportant jobs in a meaningless existence. Even when faced with physical proof of our triviality, we continue to work conscientiously at a thing that has long lost its meaning. We do things we hate - even excel at it - because of an inescapable obligation. Sadly, at the time of need, none of those people for whom we toil, dare to step over to our side of the battle. As we see with Gregor, at best, his family did ‘well-meaning’ things that made it worse (as when his sister and mother decided to remove all his favourite belongings to give him space to crawl about in, but made the room more strange and hostile), or, at worst, completely shunned and even shooed him away with a stick or a newspaper (as his father did; ironically, because of whom, Gregor was stuck in that job to begin with).

Because no explanation is ever given for what happened to Gregor Samsa, this blog is of course just conjecture; I would be interested to see what your thoughts on the matter are, and invite you to post a comment!