"Can angels lie spine to spine?" Raheen wonders to herself. "If not, how they must envy us humans."
-Kartography, Kamila Shamsie

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Four and a Half Books.

Been travelling for a long time, mostly on a holiday. Been around a bit and some evidence of that is already on the blog. But also been reading a bit, and reading does tend to send me through this set of emotions. At least some of it. The following part may contain spoilers.

The first of my Three and Half Books is Never Let Me Go. Started reading somewhere over the Bay of Bengal, on my way to a far east Asian desitnation. Frankly, I hadn't read any Ishiguro till then but always taken in by the alluring titles of his books- Never Let Me Go, Remains of the Day, An Artist of the Floating World, The Unconsoled and of course, A Pale View of the Hills. However, I have always strongly believed that one writes best in one's native tongue. That's a flawed analysis, but it is just one of my idiosyncracies. However, there are exceptions, but that later.

I finally bought Never Let Me Go one Sunday afternoon, when I was feeling particularly soft and touchy. The name just stuck - and the deal was done. However, it hung about on one of the bookshelves for weeks before this trip came on and I had to pack something for long distance in-flight reading. The book was nice and it didn't really turn out to be not letting go in the way that I thought it would be- you know man-woman-relationship-mush. It was a very nicely written book, especially, since it touched a topic which I knew very little about. The book is essentially about human cloning and honestly I didn't figure that in the first 50 odd pages. You can imagine how confused I was with the way things were going.

It is about 3 persons from a school of clones who are reared for for organ transplants. They go about their early lives in much the same way as we would- reading, writing, painitng, crafting and so on. However, they are also made to understand the grim prospects that await them later on in life. Herein lies the first salvo of the book- the way in which these little facts about the futures are presented to them. A little bit before they can gauge the full impact of the disclosure. And by the time they actually do, it is as if they have known it all along and thus reconciling to that fate is not so difficult. I think in our world too, very often our friends, parents and colleagues reveal sensitive things to us at a stage where we are yet to comprehend their significance.

Later on the book goes on to explore another aspect which is also extremely interesting. The book explores whether clones have souls or not, and that for me was the central theme which remains with you long after the last lines have been read.

The best thing I liked about the book was the handling of an issue as sensitive as this. The subtleity, without really taking sides, was quite interesting. Nevertheless, it leaves the reader thinking and that I consider as its greatest achievement. Moreover the language in use is the very best and the few descriptions of the English countryside takes your breath away.

The second book I read, despite my contempt for Indian authors writing in English was "The Hungry Tide". It came frequently recommended in a series of "Who's reading what" mails. The book is about the tide country- the Sundarban delta region and the lives of people there- and however every thing changes once an ABCD marine biologist lands up to conduct research on local dolphins. There she meets with another visitor- a translator by profession, who has come down to meet distant relations. The book delves into relationships, political conflicts, nature and every thing else. Quite readable ("How does one forget words? Do they just fall from one's memory like dead birds from the sky?") but nothing really like the next book I read.

I had never never read Amitava Ghosh and neither do I intend to after I finished The Glass Palace. Sometimes when you read a book, you realize that it was that one book that was supposed to be the swan song for this author. The one book which is the culmination of a lifetimes memories, of stories heard. A book that took a millenia to brew and years to pen down. The Glass Palace is just that. Set in Rangoon, Malay, Calcutta and Ratnagiri the book follows the life of Rajkumar to staert with and then his family, over a period of over a hundred years as they go through the cycles of struggles and prosperity. The book also touches upon the life of King Thebaw Burma's last emperor, exiled to live his days in Ratnagiri. It is a big and beautiful book and elicits dismay from the reader at its completion.

The best part part about the book is something which after reading Hungry Tide have come to associate with the author- his tendency to store grand, slow and idyllic discourses for the first half of the book and then breeze thorugh the story in the latter. It is an interesting style and certainly helps in a book the size of The Glass Palace. However, this tool is far more effectively used in this than in any other. In fact the best part of the book is that last chapter, wherein having breezed through the events of the life of so many, the author delivers a salvo, whose parallel I am yet to come across. So much so- the last line changed my perspective of the entire entire book and answered so many questions.

You may ask, why I choose not read any more of this author. Of course there is nothing definitive about it, but it has more to do with the next book that I begun reading.

I bought Two Lives with much fanfare, considering the coincidence of the timing of its release with my annual holiday a divine intervention. However, much as I admire Vikram Seth I couldn't manage to get beyond the first 200 odd pages and that too with great effort. There is little in the book by way of a story and much of what I read was largely about the Holocaust. It is ironical, since the Holocaust is the one event in history which I am deeply interested in. However, I have read too many fine and deeply moving accounts of what I consider Europe's darkest period, to be impressed by Seth's narrative and find it out of place in his book.

Seth is brilliant when it comes to creating a vast multitude of characters and spinning a web of his grand story around them. He has the ability to hold his reader and characters together as one through an interesting mix of rythm, play of words and imagination. It is a talent which is rare and some thing that he uses to the hilt. Unfortunately, not so this time around. It delves too deep into history without providing any new insights to any half-intelligent reader. He meanders around the lives of two real life characters, without realizing that real, real life is after all not as interesting as the fictional one. It is not too say that people have not lived interesting lives, but that they only serve to inspire writers into weaving stories around them. It is flattering to have a story written about your life, but it is a much better read if the real you emerges only in pieces and the rest is all that you think would have made your life interesting (for instance, FPS, The Glass Palace and why even, A Suitable Boy).

Personally, I have very little interest in other peoples' lives. It was a disappointment. It lies on my shelves- half-read alongside Tokyo Cancelled, which has suffered a similar fate.

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John Keating: We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman,"O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless... of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life? Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse." That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?

Dead Poets Society

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