Rashmi bookmarks “Thakurda” (Grandfather)

Thakurda is a short story by Rabindranath Tagore (translated by William Radice). I have reviewed a short story by Tagore previously on this blog, so I will not repeat that unmatched resume that is Tagore’s alone! But I will once again say how much in awe I am of Tagore’s poetic genius, which lifts simple, everyday events into a realm of literary brilliance; and how much I am amazed by the creative heart that places the strength of human dignity above all the petty joys and sorrows of this world.

Thakurda is about Kailaschandra Raychaudhuri, or Kailas Babu, one of the last remnants of an era gone by - an era of ‘zamindars’ and ‘babus’, of titled landowners and noble gentlemen, of an old and aristocratic Calcutta. The core struggle of the story comes from the passing of that era, the coming of a new world, and the struggle faced by Kailas Babu, who was never quite able to make a successful transition.

What was most fascinating about this story was the characterization of the two main characters - the narrator and Kailas Babu - and a beautiful narrative that made me start off by identifying with the narrator, and end up with empathizing with Kailas Babu.

As the story starts off and the narrator describes an aging Kailas Babu and his annoying pretentious ways, I easily felt the irritation he did! Haven’t we all met with or heard of some old man, financially wanting, yet with all the airs and mannerisms of the wealthy? But then, there came the day when the narrator decided to play a trick on Kailas Babu - partly irritated by the endless stories of the past glory of the Babus of Nayanjor, and partly to amuse himself at the expense of the ridiculous old man. Building on Kailas Babu’s self-confessed close relationship with the rich and the famous, he told him that the Lieutenant-Governer was coming over for a visit. Confident beyond reason, Kailas Babu did not question this, and started preparing for the visit. What followed was a detailed plan, including a fake Lieutenant-Governer in a horse-driven carriage with liveried footmen, and an elaborate preparation by the host Kailas Babu and his faithful old servant… And yet, as the drama unfolds, the joke slowly begins to gain an air of pathos. Dressed up in the one presentable yet old-fashioned outfit, offering the last carefully preserved family heirloom, and making a final attempt at creating an old world charm with the last rose-water sprinkler… the old man’s near worshipful treatment of the fake Lieutenant-Governer was no longer funny. When Kusum, Kailas Babu’s granddaughter, cries out “What has my grandfather done to you? Why have you come to trick him?” realization hits us and - along with the narrator - we see the cruel joke for exactly what it is - a mean attack on a scared and insecure person.

For, in the end, that’s all Thakurda was: an old man desperately clinging to a bygone age because he was confused by all the changes in the world; he was too old to understand it and too tired to move with it, but above all, he was too afraid to let go of the only world he had known and lost… And suddenly his mannerisms were no longer comical; his self-importance just brought tears to my eyes… Thakurda’s final acceptance of the narrator - with a complete breakdown of all bravado - took me to the very core of the human heart.

Rashmi bookmarks “The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon”

I will begin this blog by saying that I did not like this novel by Stephen King at all. Everything that follows from this point on will just be my reason why.

The Girl Who… is the story of 9-year-old Patricia (Trisha) McFarland who, while on a family hiking trip, takes a bathroom break in the woods and gets lost. The story consists of her trying to stay alive and be rescued. For the most part, she draws strength from thoughts about her idol, baseball’s Tom Gordon.

Here is my main reason for not liking this book: nothing happens. Girl gets lost. Girl walks through the forest. Girl is rescued. The end.

In all that nothingness, there were a few glimmers of hope - when the three evil entities appeared, I thought it finally got interesting. Barely had I finished the thought, when they left - only to come back very rarely, and very briefly through the remainder of the book. Worse, it was very possible that the supernatural beings were just her hallucinations.

To add to those false hopes, every now and then, there was a spooky mention of “the cold voice” - was that intended to scare the reader? For it was quite obviously her inner voice.

Also every now and then, a “scary” image was abruptly thrown upon us - like the deer’s head, or the bloody intestines - again, was that supposed to shock us? It’s a forest. It is natural to find dead animals that have fallen prey to some other animal.

That reminds me: all attempts at comedy were so feeble. Example, when Trisha was fleeing, petrified by the sight of the head, her running was awkward, and - in the midst of all her fear - she actually managed to picture herself in a leotard, as a guest on a T.V. exercise show and even branded the “getting away from the torn-off deer’s head” move. Considering she was genuinely scared, that comment seemed to come from an outsider - the writer - trying to be funny, and was one of the many jarring moments in the story.

In fact, like the humour, all the dialogue, all the likes and dislikes of the girl and her friends as she reminisces, were quite cheesy. I got the impression that an older person created the character of a young girl, but was quite out of his depths when it came to writing what would be considered “cool” by the next generation.

The “supernatural” being that was hinted at briefly along the way, finally appears in about the last 30 pages of the book. Unfortunately by this time I had lost all interest in this creature from hell… Which was good, because it was actually a bear. Trisha hallucinates (again) about it. But it was just a bear. To add to that weak end of a dull adventure, hitherto unknown Travis Herrick, a random passer-by, emerged as one of the - if not the - final hero.

The cover of the book I read has this quote from a major newspaper - “Frightening… feverish terror”. I think it was meant to be printed on some other book.

Rashmi bookmarks “The Salmon of Doubt”

The Salmon of Doubt: Hitchhiking the Galaxy One Last Time is a posthumously published collection of Douglas Adams’ notes, excerpts, speeches, interviews, journal entries… what Stephen Fry refers to as his “bottom drawer”. I already knew that he was a very funny man; I now got to see a man who was well read, intelligent, and always questioning; a man who had a great passion for traveling and a great love of technology. I have developed a deeper admiration for this man, and that was a very moving experience.

All the matter in this book has been categorized into three sections - Life, The Universe, And Everything. (By the way, I have to say that I was thrilled to see the Foreword by Stephen Fry. He has introduced all the P.G. Wodehouse books I have read/own, and so I know that he recognizes true wit. It was fitting that he should have his say here as well).

“Life” is a collection of little snippets of Adams’ life. A remarkable introduction to P.G. Wodehouse’s Sunset at Blandings; a look at some funny boyhood experiences arising from his exceptional height (he grew to be 6 feet, 5 inches); his great fascination for the Beatles; teaching children the difference between Friday and fried egg and teaching Americans how to make tea; calling the lame ‘placeholder’ lyrics of “La a note to follow so” one of the great unfinished businesses of this century; talking about his travels around the world including a fascinating ride on a Sub Bug along with manta rays in Australia… this section was a wonderful glimpse into the heart and mind of Douglas Adams.

“The Universe” focuses on two main concepts: Technology and Religion / God. From the former we get to know how passionate Adams was about gadgets and gizmos! From the latest in computers to the greatest in cameras, he kept up with the most up-to-date in technology. The other chapters deal with his views on Religion and God. ‘Is There an Artificial God?’ - the speech he gave at Digital Biota 2 in September of 1998 - was a phenomenal read. An “out-and-out atheist” as he called himself, Douglas Adams explores the concept of God - where and why it originated, its importance in shaping the history of mankind, and its relevance in a scientific world.

“And Everything” contains various interviews as well as letters (one of my favourite sections was the frustrated letter Douglas Adams wrote to David Vogel of Walt Disney Pictures, after being strung along for about 20 years, while Hollywood was trying - or not trying, it seems - to make a movie out of the hugely successful book The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy)! The highlight of this section was of course The Salmon of Doubt assembled from various versions of this work-in-progress. The search for half a cat; a friendship with Thunder God Thor; a dog named Kierkegaard; a mysterious weekly deposit of over ₤3000; a botched stalking; a carjacking at gunpoint; a forecast about meeting a rhinoceros named Desmond - that actually comes true; a haunted manor… it is a pity this book could not get completed - it would have been awesome.

Richard Dawkins’ epilogue read like I imagine news of Douglas Adams’ death would have: a rude interruption of joyous reading. It was an honour to go inside the mind of the man that created such a unique world, combining the best of science fiction and comedy.

Rashmi bookmarks “Ringu” (Ring)

Some of the books that I count among my favourites are Japanese books, and Ringu, the first of the horror trilogy by Koji Suzuki is one that I now add to that list!

Ringu (translated by Robert B. Rohmer and Glynne Walley) follows reporter Kazuyuki Asakawa as he, with the help of his friend Ryuji Takayama, investigates the sudden and mysterious deaths - on the same day and at the same time - of 4 teenagers: Tomoko Oishi, Shuichi Iwata, Haruko Tsuji and Takehiko Nomi.

A row of condominium buildings… the oily surface of the ocean… a single two-story home… a beam of fluorescent light from an open window… and we are launched into the story and into a world of fear and mystery right away! The story moves rapidly and takes us through a slowly rising sense of dread as we see the first two victims - as we drive to cabin B4 - as we read the journal entries - and as we discover the tape with the anti-erasure tabs broken off.

A surreal introduction. Red fluid. An erupting volcano. An old woman. A new-born baby. A man whose face gives rise to inexplicable feelings of hatred… “Those who have viewed these images are fated to die at this exact hour one week from now. If you do not wish to die, you must follow these instructions exactly– …” Asakawa’s frenzied efforts to work out what the deleted instructions are form the basis of this story.

On the one hand, this was a good spooky story - the kind of horror I like: minus all the clichéd trappings of gore! At its base is a story of two generations of psychic powers, with the recovered statue of En no Ozunu possibly at the heart of it all. On the other hand, it was also a very good murder mystery; we follow the clues as each frame and every element of the video is painstakingly and thoroughly studied, deciphered and its meaning traced right down to the secret that was and should have been Sadako Yamamura’s alone.

One section especially stands out in my mind. During the course of their investigation, Ryuji and Asakawa have a conversation regarding smallpox. As they wonder if a virus can ever become truly extinct, they raise some very interesting ideas about the co-existence of opposites. Asakawa is of the opinion that no matter how much you try to kill a virus, eventually it would mutate and find a way to survive. Ryuji offers the idea that genes could escape from our cells and become another life form, and then develops that thinking to believe that all opposites were originally identical. Light and darkness. Male and female. God and the Devil.

I have not watched the Hollywood version of this book, but from what I hear, that movie lays a lot of stress on the ultra-psychokinetic and the ghostly. Where this original story differs, is in its powerful combination of the supernatural and the scientific, with smallpox being as important a factor as psychic powers in this saga of the Ring Virus.

Rashmi bookmarks “Dreamcatcher”

This is the second book by Stephen King that I have read in as many weeks (broken only by a brief stopover for a Dean Koontz book that I started but abandoned in such haste, it does not warrant a ‘review’). Originally created under the working title of “Cancer”, Dreamcatcher is the story of four childhood friends Gary Ambrose ‘Jonesy’ Jones, Pete Moore, Joe ‘Beaver’ Clarendon and Henry Devlin, and Douglas ‘Duddits’ Cavell.

There are two events of prime significance in this book; totally unrelated at first, but inexplicably and inextricably woven together as later events prove. One occurs in their early teen years, when the four save Duddits from a group of sadistic bullies. The other occurs some years later, on their annual hunting trip to the Hole-in-the-Wall.

Let me start with what I liked about this book. I thought the central theme of the novel was awesome. I liked the way the childhood encounter with Duddits explains as well as resolves the alien invasion years later. I also liked the characters of this story. Each of the four friends had traits that were distinct as well as something we could all relate to. I was especially in awe of Duddits who grows from a helpless bullied boy with Down’s Syndrome, to the powerful force that brings it all together in the end. And without giving too much away, I will say that I really liked the element of telepathy - how it was first discovered, and - even more brilliant - how it is finally tied in to the novel’s title.

And now for what really put me off! First - and this, from what I hear, is just the way Stephen King writes - I found the narrative unnecessarily long-winded. A very good idea seemed buried under an avalanche of words, words, and yet more words! The other major problem I had with this book was its very gross obsession with the victims of alien invasion breaking wind and releasing the “shit-weasels” out of their… yes, anus. There may be no logical explanation to my next point, but I found the incessant references to movies, directors, actors, books, authors… quite annoying. And finally, I thought the liberal spray of bad language could have been turned down just a notch!

Having only read two books by Stephen King (one of which was by “Richard Bachman”, and obviously not intended as horror) I cannot with any authority say if this is a typical example of horror by the universally acknowledged king of horror or not; but I will say that although this book had elements ranging from grossness to science fiction, it was not Horror. That said; I have liked enough to give King a few more tries!

Rashmi bookmarks “The Long Walk”

This is the first Stephen King book that I have read, and it elicited the most changing reactions to any book that I can remember! As I was reading, I went from like to dislike, from boredom to fascination, from Oh this sounds interesting to Ok this is going nowhere, from Oh that was really good to Oh that’s just too repetitive, from That was scary to Oh that was so sad to Wow that was awesome!

Generally, people’s interpretation of this book seems to revolve around a somewhat autocratic view of corporate USA or just modern society in general. My reading is different. In the final analysis, I have come to identify The Long Walk with Life itself.

The story is about an annual walking contest called “The Long Walk” that participants or “Walkers” embark upon. There are some basic rules such as not straying from the path, maintaining a certain speed and sticking to a fixed food intake. Each infraction incurs a warning, to a maximum of three, after which the offender gets “ticketed”. The last man walking is the Winner and receives “The Prize”, which is anything he wants.

Amid all my vacillating reactions, and presented in the form of a national sport, as I read each chapter - headed, interestingly, by a quote from famous television game shows - the story slowly took on deeper levels of meaning.

When the story starts off, there is no clear concept of what is to come. As the boys begin to gather, all we know is that something big is about to start. Slowly, very slowly, we are introduced to the purpose of the gathering. And then the long walk starts. And continues. On and on and on… And we meet memorable characters like Raymond Garraty and the ever-loyal Peter McVries. We get to know of the sad past of Stebbins and see the tragic future of Hank Olson. We see the transformation from foul-mouthed bravado to madness and mayhem in Gary Barkovitch and Collie Parker. We bid farewell to Arthur Baker and Scramm and Mike. We feel the fear of dying, and see the horror of a nervous breakdown; we see some hide behind facades and some shine through with defiant dignity. And at all times we have the age-old question of “Why?” thrown at us…

And somewhere it clicked. This is what life is all about. When we start, at best, we only have a vague idea of what to expect, based upon stories that others have passed on. All we know for sure is that we need to be prepared for the road ahead, the rules to be followed, and the consequences for breaking those rules. Along the way we meet new people. Some we like, some we don’t; some always have a helping hand ready for us, and for some, we will some day be willing to die for. And if we can beat all odds, we will get exactly what we want. The simple fact is: we’re all in it. And we’re in it till we die. Against a constant reminder of our mortality, we may say it is all so trivial or we may wish we were insane just so we could bear the madness of it all. But ultimately it is up to us to decide if we want to buy our ticket at the start line, or keep walking even when half our stomach has been blown off and our entrails are hanging out. Oh, and yes, we do have the option of being a nameless member of The Crowd and cheer the heroes or just collect souvenirs including faeces from the roadside.

The narrative of an average life could get monotonous. Got up. Got dressed. Took the bus. Went to work. Came back home. Had dinner. Did the dishes. Watched TV. Went to bed. Got up. Got dressed… You get the picture! But in all this monotony, there are moments, big and small, which touch our lives and leave an impression for all time to come. Within this “pointlessness” we just have to find a point, a reason to live, and keep an eye on the Prize. It may all come to naught. But not trying just makes it worse.

On a final note, I have to highlight the section “The Importance of being Bachman”. This is the first Stephen King I have read, so I had no idea who Richard Bachman was, but once I finished the book, I read the prologue and it gave me a greater appreciation of the book and its driving theme.

This was a fantastic read, and I think I might give this book another read some day… like my life, there may be some points I have overlooked that bear revisiting.

Rashmi bookmarks “Confessions of a Crap Artist”

On the surface, Philip K. Dick’s books can come across as anything from slightly odd to very weird! (“Ubik”, a happy medium, continues to be my favourite). However, scratch the surface, and you will discover a world of novel ideas and a mirror of naked reality.

Unlike most of Dick’s works, Confessions of a Crap Artist is not science fiction, but a slice of life set in 1950’s California. It is the story of Jack Isidore, his sister Fay Hume, her husband Charley Hume, and the young couple Nathan and Gwen Anteil. So far, so normal. But as I got deeper into the book, I discovered a very weird, even twisted world.

Ostensibly the title refers to Jack Isidore, so called because of his obsession for things that other people consider junk - cataloguing old science magazines, collecting worthless objects, and for his ideas that others consider rubbish - notions that the Earth is hollow or that sunlight has weight. But once he moves in with his sister and brother-in-law, and we are introduced to the manipulative Fay Hume, the boorish Charley Hume, the philandering Nat Anteil, and the fanatic Claudia Hambro, we begin to realize that Jack may in fact be the only non ‘crap’ character.

I think the narrative style - switching the voice from character to character - enforces that belief. Jack may have accepted this title, but as every character speaks within this title, every character in essence confesses to being a crap artist. Jack may genuinely believe that the world will end on April 23, 1959, but Charley thinks it is acceptable to beat his wife brutally if she asks him to pick up tampons from the store; Nat reasons “on and on” in order to justify an extra marital affair with a woman whose husband lies in hospital, while his own wife waits at home; Fay thinks it is all right to control people and dictate relations through spreading misery; Nat and Fay see nothing wrong in coming together to fabricate an entire story attacking Gwen in court to obtain a divorce decree.

It was also interesting reading about certain interactions, which the characters took in the greatest earnestness, but which were in fact quite comical! Nat Anteil’s lengthy ruminations as he tried to rationalize his affair with Fay; Claudia Hambro’s “hypnosis” session to pick one among the “SEB”s to announce the last day of Earth; and most of all, Jack’s theatrical reporting to Charley about his wife’s affair, are striking examples!

This book was weird, not in terms of scientific fantasy or futuristic imagination but more a weirdness of characters, or relations, of motivations in this life. The shocking event that took place upon Charley’s return from the hospital was the last layer that the story descended to, with Jack’s final decision to seek psychiatric help effectively cordoning off this weird world with its crap artists.

I will end with this lament by Jack Isidore; “The irony of a slob like that… who never got through high school, calling me a “crap artist” lingered in my mind… I can just see all the Charley Humes in the world… that slack, vacant expression on their fat red faces… and it’s slobs like that who’re running… everything… A man like that in a position to blow his nose on the rest of us, on anybody who has sensitivity or talent.”