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“Roll of Honour”, Amandeep Sandhu, a few comments

16 Sept 2012
Earlier in the year Amandeep wrote to me requesting me to read his manuscript. Now that the book has been published with his permission I am sharing some of the comments I made on the draft I read.

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First things first. Your novel, Roll of Honour, IMHO is going to break new ground for English-language fiction from India. It is a combination of YA, cross-over, a bildungsroman and a very disturbing account of adolescence. Is it also a part-memoir? If I may say so, you have achieved something that I have only seen in Chinese, Japanese and French literature. I am as yet to see it in Indian fiction. You said you wanted to attempt the grittiness to show, and it does. It is very readable and flows well.

You have worked hard at the research and I suspect, raking up old and buried (at times, painful) memories. It is not easy to write the kind of stuff that you have written. First in the present tense and then in the past continuous, reflecting upon what you did. It is as if you split yourself into two.

I am not sure if you know this, but when victims of any traumatic encounter, especially those of conflict zones have to recount the actual moment of horror, are never able to do so in the first person. It is always in the third person, as if that particular moment of impact is too dreadful to recall. The brain blocks it out and memory softens the blow. Whereas in your case, you have tortured yourself to write as is. Remarkable! Having said this, have you read Howard Zinn and Paul Fussell on conflict, especially WWII. Why I mention it is, you are talking about violence and horror that is very similar to what they have tried to document. Through the eyes of the common man and the inordinate pressures, and circumstances they have to face.

Roll of Honour is a very tough book. Yet it is extraordinary for you having highlighted the very common, everyday occurrence in a boarding school, especially a military school. The pressures of society. The pressures of living in the early 1980s in Punjab. Your novel brought back many memories for me of the 1980s, the violence that we saw and read in the papers, the horror of the 1984 riots, etc etc.

For me, Roll of Honour is a neat bildungsroman. Ever since I read it, it has been swirling in my head. You are doing something that is well documented in literature. It takes at least a generational gap for a major socio-political event to make its mark in literature. It takes time, primarily because immediately after the event, people who have witnessed it, prefer to block it in their minds. A generation later the questions begin to emerge, research develops and oral history begins to be recorded. It is time for 1984. It is time for Punjab.

For me this novel works well as for the YA genre. You have created Appu as a trapped teenager, who is confused by his school, the choices he has to make, the social changes etc. For a teenager, the raging hormones are a nightmare. To top it, the horror of the school, witnessing the crumbling of society as you know it and more importantly, the very foundations on which you have been brought up being challenged – the sacrosanct Golden Temple being stormed; the idea of fighting for the country, but having to experience military school; the dissonance in what is taught to what is expected of you. … (With this book) you are doing something very original.
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Publishing Next, 2012, Goa (14-15 Sept)

14 09 , 2012 No Comments

All those wanting to know about interesting trends/discussions in publishing, get on to Twitter. Use #pubnext to follow the conversations being uploaded in real time by CinnamonTeal Print & Publishing Service, organisers of Publishing Next, Goa.

Jerry Pinto’s facebook status message (repeated from Oct 2008)

13 09 , 2012 No Comments

3066 EM and the big HOOM

Jerry Pinto’s facebook status today ( 13 Sept 2012, 6:30PM IST).

Uploaded with his permission.

Written in October 2008
Dear All,
I just wanted to say that I went to a reading of the Sahitya Akademi and I came back with a little more utsah.
Dilip Chitre, speaking first perfect Hindi, then elegant Marathi and then English, named names. He asked whether creative writing could happen in times of terror. He asked whether it was reflected in our writing and whether we could choose to ignore it. He talked about the BJP and he named Thackeray and the Bajrang Dal and the terrorists and the naxalites. He said this with the air of a man who has nothing to lose. I was weeping at the end of his speech because I felt that I belonged to a tribe of people, writers, who still dare.
Then came Sunil Gangopadhyay. He read out a poem which had a title that said something like Now, we can’t laugh at each other’s beliefs. It was a badly translated poem but it talked about his tarakkipasand friend who now wears a ring because his health is bad, about his Marxvaadi friend with a huge Ganesha over the door, of his sense that the revolution has failed because we can no longer laugh at each other’s beliefs. It was a brave poem and one that made me think. I wish you could all have been there.
Later in the day, a Gujarati short story writer read out a short story about a Hindu woman catching a train and feeling terrified by the burqewaali next to her. And at the end of the journey, the burqewaali thanks the Hindu woman for being in the train because it is so difficult to travel alone. The train compartment is filled with the smell of her sweat and the hariyaali of the peas that someone is shelling and the fisherwoman’s tokri.
And there was a brilliant poem by a Manipuri writer named Sinha. He opens his window and the five elements wander into the room. They are earth and fire and air and water and ether. They announce they are there to kill him. “I want to die with an Indian bullet,” the poet says, “Kill me with an Indian bullet because I love Bharat.” We do not have Indian bullets, the elements answer because India does not make great guns. Indians don’t make anything well. Ask them to make plastic flowers and they make toothbrushes. What’s wrong with toothbrushes, the poet asks. “Well you can’t put toothbrushes in vases,” they reply. It was bizarre, it was allegorical, it was heartening.
A Hindi poet tells the fanatic, “Those matches you are carrying in your pocket? To burn someone else’s house? Don’t look now but they’ve set fire to your clothes.”
I was happy to be there.
I wish you could have been too.
Let’s shatter the silence.
Around Dalit injustice and atrocities committed on Hindus in the Valley and the branding of every Muslim as a terrorist and the attacks on Christians.
Peace! Shanti! Shalom!
Jerry
PS: All translations mine. I will try and get originals but poets are not techsavvy in the main.

Jeet Thayil, “Narcopolis” — a review and an interview, Feb 2012

12 09 , 2012 1 Comment

(Congratulations to Jeet Thayil for being shortlisted for the ManBooker Prize yesterday. I am reproducing a review and an interview with him that was published earlier in the year.)

Baptised into One Body

‘Narcopolis’ has created a new benchmark in literary fiction. Kudos to Jeet Thayil for having made a neat transition from verse to prose

Narcopolis

Jeet Thayil

Faber and Faber Limited, London

Pages: 304

Price: 499

Year: 2011

Narcopolis is a ground-breaking novel in the use of language, structure of its prose and content. Zeenat is a eunuch who leads the story, by meeting all the other characters in the book. The action is set in Rashid’s opium den on Shuklaji Street, in Old Bombay. All shades of humanity stop by. The air is thick with narcotic fumes. It is peppered with interesting conversation, led mostly by Zeenat. She is a neo-literate, who, by the end of the novel, is a voracious reader who reads anything that comes her way. There is a Bengali, a drug-addict too, of whom Jeet Thayil says in a recent Facebook post that “he appears with his name unchanged. I knew him about 30 years ago in Shuklaji Street, Bombay. I’d heard of Pablo’s (Bartholomew’s) photo, and then I finally saw it and the intervening years disappeared.”

There is Mr Lee, the Chinaman who settled in Bombay. After escaping persecution from Communist China he operated a legendary opium den. Upon his death he bequeathed Zeenat a couple of exquisitely crafted handmade opium pipes that were at least 500 years old. These helped Zeenat forge a new relationship with Rashid and made his business prosper like never before.

According to the omniscient narrator, the novel is by, “a thinking someone who’s writing these words, who’s arranging time in a logical chronological sequence, someone with an overall plan, an engineer-god in the machine, well, that isn’t the I who’s telling this story, that’s the I who’s being told, thinking of my first pipe at Rashid’s, trawling my head for images, a face, a bit of music, or the sound of someone’s voice, trying to remember whether it was like, the past, recall it as I would the landscape and light of a foreign country, because that’s what it is, not fiction or dead history but a place you lived in once and cannot return to…” He goes on to say that “…my memory is like blotting paper, my full-of-holes, porous, shreddable non-memory, remembering details from 30 years ago …” (but) …“I’m not separating but connecting, I’m giving in to the lovely stories.”

Narcopolis is a multi-layered novel, quite unlike any other in contemporary literary fiction. Probably, being a poet first, helps Jeet Thayil in the structure of his prose. There are instances when parts of the story read as if it were poetry. The introduction to the novel is a paragraph of seven pages, but it is not dull to read. In other sections, it is as if one is reading performance poetry. The passage has a strong rhythm, a well-defined story of its own (contributes to the main narrative, but works well as a standalone too) and has a chorus (quite unusual for prose).

It is fascinating to read how the author incorporates various literary discourses in Narcopolis, with delicious references to the dadas of the English literature canon like John Ruskin and TS Eliot. The overwhelming presence of classical literature like the Bible and Illiad seem to have influenced the writing. There are strong echoes of a fundamental teaching of Christ that everyone – all the minorities like the Gentiles, the circumcised, and prostitutes – are equal for God. “For by one Spirit are we all baptized into one body, whether we be Jews or Gentiles, whether we be bond or free; and have been all made to drink into one Spirit.” In the structure of the novel itself, of a story within a story, and the balanced structure with Mr Lee’s autobiographical account forming the centerpiece, it is reminiscent of the Illiad. Is it a mere coincidence that the narrator reveals his name as Ullis? There are moments that create a physical reaction, quite like any other I have experienced while reading fiction, but I would attribute it to the power of the author’s writing.

The importance of the urban landscape and historical events like the 1991 communal riots in Mumbai form a neat backdrop to the novel. Unlike other fiction, where the socio-political climate intrudes forcefully, this one abstains, as if life carries on normally. For an addict, it is the next fix that is of paramount importance, nothing else really. The novel is powerful, but also very disturbing to read. Maybe the reader’s sensibilities are lulled into an artificial sense of well-being with plenty of literary fiction that abounds. So much so that even ‘conflict fiction’ is easier to stomach, but the everyday rawness and jagged edges of this text is what probably adds to the disturbance.

Narcopolis is a book that has created a new benchmark in literary fiction. Kudos to Jeet Thayil for having made a clever and a neat transition from verse to prose.

‘Most Indian publishers rejected the manuscript’

Author Jeet Thayil in conversation with Jaya Bhattacharji Rose, via e-mail

Being a poet and a performance poet, has it influenced your style of writing prose?
A novel is a different sort of animal. It has its own engine. Unlike a poem, which can be written in a burst, a novel requires sustained work. You have to be physically fit and you have to live in your mind for long periods of time.

With all first novels, there is always a strong semi-autobiographical sense. Is it true of Narcopolis as well?
There is an autobiographical element in Narcopolis, but it is hidden in the story and it isn’t important. This is why the narrator is treated like a cipher, he is the least well-developed character in the novel.

Your novel is replete with characters who would normally be dismissed as inconsequential, invisibilised or totally marginalised by society. But here you have given them centre stage. I don’t know why, but the teachings of Christ keep resounding in my mind while reading the novel. Am I way off the mark to be making this connection?
You’re not off the mark. Religion is a constant in the book, specifically, Hinduism, Islam and Christianity. It is a kind of narrative thread.

I find it very peculiar that Dimple/Zeenat who begins the novel as a neo-literate, by the end of the novel is reading reams and reams of anything that she can lay her hands upon. Why so? Or is this a strong autobiographical element making its presence felt?
Dimple’s character, and the growth of her character is, in many ways, the point of the novel. There’s nothing autobiographical about it. She’s a ‘charismatic autodidact’ who chooses reading as a way to escape narrowness. She reads every day and reads everything she can find, and later, as soporo, she puts her reading to good use.

I have always found it a pleasure to read your writing. You are so very correct in the use of language. Now, I see it unfurl in this novel. I cannot think of too many other instances in fiction, where the words leap out at you in rhythm (for instance, p. 23-24). Or, the introduction. It is an interior monologue, the prose is more like poetry. Apart from Henry James, I cannot recall any other prose that has such large chunks of matter clumped together, yet suck you in immediately into the text. Am I right or wrong? Have you consciously or subconsciously tinkered with the prose structure as if it were poetry?
I worked hard on the language, by that I mean, on the sentences. I often read them aloud to get the rhythm right. I don’t think it has anything to do with poetry or prose, it’s just writing to the best of one’s ability.

This kind of multilayered reading is today reserved for poetry. So, I am glad to see it in prose. Recently, your book was termed as a cult in the making. But was that your intention?
It wasn’t my intention to write ‘an instant cult classic’, but I understand what he’s getting at. This is not the kind of novel that will find its readers, or reviewers, in the first few months of its existence. It will find its readership in time, or so I hope.

Could you please explain why do you have such a long break in China? I have read it twice and have not understood its purpose at all! Unless you are merely playing with time and “giving into the lovely stories”. The China section is a crucial part of the story.
In the first four decades of the 19th century, Bombay became India’s premier metropolis, because of the opium trade. The East India Company and a small group of Parsi ship owners transformed the city from a collection of malarial islands to India’s financial capital. How can you write a history of opium in Bombay and skip the connection with China? I was lucky in a way. I grew up in Hong Kong and I was familiar with the Chinese. Also, I’d lived in Bombay for many years. I was uniquely, if accidentally, placed to tell the story.

I have heard that this manuscript received numerous rejection slips, but ultimately your agent, David Godwin, sold it for a neat sum at FBF 2010. Is that correct? Was this edited considerably after you submitted it for publication or was it accepted, without any major change?
Most Indian publishers rejected the manuscript. It was depressing at the time, but it turned out to be a stroke of luck. The manuscript was picked up by an editor, Lee Brackstone, and a publishing house, Faber, who were and are passionate about the book. I’m glad it went to the right house.

From the print issue of Hardnews : FEBRUARY 2012
http://www.hardnewsmedia.com/2012/02/4374

Publishing and Indian cinema, Asian Age, 9 Sept 2012

09 09 , 2012 No Comments

An article published in Asian Age , 9 Sept 2012

Bookmark Bollywood
September 9, 2012 By Jaya Bhattacharji Rose
Tags: Bollywood publications

Over the years fascinating behind-the-scenes documentaries about cinema have been made yet little literature has been published. Even veterans like Oscar-winner costume designer Bhanu Athaiya and choreographer Shiamak Davar have focused on their professions; only recently have they opted to write biographies. Or Kareena Kapoor’s forthcoming style diary of a “Bollywood diva” where she will give a peek into her life and reveal her beauty secrets. By comparison a relatively new entrant to films award-winning actress Tisca Chopra has taken the plunge to write a book that aims to demystify Bollywood from the perspective of an actor/model — with its many stories, anecdotes and first-hand experiences. All of which begs to ask the question — why are so many books being published on Indian cinema now?

Dadasaheb Phalke’s Raja Harishchandra, India’s first full-length film, was released in May 1913, so 2012 is being celebrated as Indian cinema’s centenary. In fact the theme for the World Book Fair, Feb 2012 organised by National Book Trust was Indian Cinema.

Udayan Mitra, Publisher, Allen Lane, Penguin Books India says, “There is more interest now than ever before in reading about the world of cinema — the making of films, celebrity lives, the reception of movies. This indicates a readership that is more clued in than ever, and curious about cultural productions.”

This statement is corroborated by Jerry Pinto, author of Helen, the life and times of an H-Bomb, “There is a new interest in Bollywood because we are now a nation that can be confident of our own cultural products. It takes self-confidence to be able to declare oneself for kitsch. To say that one appreciates kitsch, one must believe that others see us as having good taste and so we are capable of appreciating that which lacks good taste but with such bravura that it attains to the status of kitsch. This is what is happening to Bollywood right now; you can see it in films like Om Shanti Om, Action Replayy, Luck by Chance. And this has translated into an awareness of the possibilities of publishing.”

Some of the forthcoming books focused upon the industry are HarperCollins’ list of film monologues. It consists of commentaries, analysis, reading of the film subtext and the making of the film. Forthcoming are Amar Akbar Anthony by Sidharth Bhatia, Pakeezah by Meghnad Desai, Mughal-e-Azam by Anil Zankar, and Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak by Gautam Chintamani. Other titles are a biography of S.D. Burman by Sathya Saran and of Sahir Ludhianvi by Akshay Manwani, plus A Southern View: Cinema of the South edited by M.K. Raghavendra.

According to Pradipta Sarkar, Commissioning Editor, Rupa, “Cashing in upon the success of superstar Rajinikanth’s 2010 film Enthiran/Robot that broke box-office records of all kinds and all notions of regional/ linguistic barriers led us to publish this year Rajini’s Punchtantra: Business and Life Management the Rajinikanth Way by P.C. Balasubramanian and Raja Krishnamoorthy — a unique self-help book and management guide that uses the superstar’s legendary punchlines as mantras for work as well as life.”

Penguin Books India is slated to publish the definitive biography of Rajinikanth by Naman Ramachandran; Conversations with Mani Ratnam by Baradwaj Rangan; Oscar-winning sound designer Resul Puokootty’s autobiography Sounding Off and a cinema diary for the year 2013 called A Sideways Glance at Hindi Cinema by Nasreen Munni Kabir.

Neeta Gupta, Publisher, Yatra Books, who recently announced a co-publishing agreement with Westland Books says, “I think Bollywood has been ignored for the longest time — and we as publishers are now in the process of addressing this lacuna. I found that there is a huge demand for books on musicians, lyricists and singers. We are now working on a biography of Mohammad Rafi (My Abba — A Memoir by Yasmin Khalid Rafi).”

Om Books has published film journalist Anna M.M. Vetticad’s Adventures of an Intrepid Film Critic, a humorous look at the dynamics that drives the essential and fringe Bollywood; to be followed by Housefull: The Golden Age of Hindi Cinema edited by Ziya Us Salam on cinema of the Fifties and the Sixties; Shammi Kapoor: The Untold Tale by Rauf Ahmed; and Anupama Chopra and Tula Goenka’s books on interactions with Indian directors, actors, with analytical pieces as well.

It is probably a coincidence that in 2012 publishing houses are suddenly producing several fascinating books on the industry. In fact R.D. Burman: The Man, The Music by Anirudha Bhattacharjee and Balaji Vittal won the National Award for Best Book on Cinema, 2011.

For a while now there have been books on Indian cinema across genres — biographies, memoirs, screenplays and academic commentaries. For instance, Om Puri: Unlikely Hero (which caused a few ripples with its scandalous revelations); Shaukat Kaifi’s memoir Kaifi and I; Dadasaheb Phalke: The Father of Indian Cinema by Bapu Vatave; Guru Dutt, A Life in Cinema by Nasreen Munni Kabir. Publishers, authors and film journalists are of the opinion that the centenary celebrations gave a boost to the number of books being produced on Indian cinema. But the readership for this niche market has been growing steadily. A strong indicator of this has been the establishment by Om Book Shop of India’s first exclusive cinema book store at PVR Director’s Cut, Delhi. According to Dipa Chaudhuri, Managing Editor, Om Books, “The constituency of readers interested in cinema titles is definitely on the rise, a sign that cinema is here to stay on a publisher’s list.”

Rachel Dwyer, Professor of Indian Cultures and Cinema at SOAS, University of London feels that the centenary may be the immediate reason for a number of books appearing on Indian cinema but this has been increasing over the last decade. “I think publishing houses are looking for them because they sell well — or at least the biographies do — and also because I think they’re looking for a big book on Indian cinema — although no one seems to know what that would be.”

London-based documentary filmmaker and author of 12 books on Indian cinema, Nasreen Munni Kabir sums it up well when she tracks the recent history of publications on Indian cinema. She recounts, “When I first wrote a book on Guru Dutt in 1996, there were very few books in English on popular cinema, and this situation was largely unchanged till the early 2000s. I think the middle classes’ revived interest in Hindi cinema really took off by the mid-90s, perhaps with the popularity of the Khans, the middle-class youth found Hindi film ‘cool’. And it is most likely that this section of the audience would be the ones buying and reading English language books, so it was natural that a spate of publications on the subject would follow. Universities all around the world, including in India, also started courses on Indian film, so the demand for publications of film books grew. Today film celebrities wield a tremendous power, so learning more about stars and films has intensified.”

The writer is an international publishing consultant and columnist

Where are digital books headed? Publishing Next, Goa, Sept 2011

08 09 , 2012 No Comments

I had moderated the opening panel discussion at the first edition of Publishing Next, Goa in Sept 2011.

Next week the second edition of Publishing Next is to be held in Goa: 14-15 Sept 2012. It promises to be a very interesting two days.

Metro Reads, Penguin Books India’s commercial fiction list, 2 Sept 2012

02 09 , 2012 No Comments

(This article was published in the Hindu Literary Review on 2 Sept 2012. Here is the link: http://www.thehindu.com/todays-paper/tp-features/tp-literaryreview/article3849375.ece )

Rajni blew her hair away from her face. My heart skipped a beat. ‘I love you!’ I blurted out. Her cheeks turned a deep pink. I could sense that her anger had completely disappeared.

Anup, a happy-go-lucky boy next door, finds himself a misfit in an IT company. On the bright side, he has great friends in office—Chetan, Subbu and Parag—to help him out of sticky situations. Also, in the same office is the love of his life, Rajni. But Rajni’s strict family and her paranoia of tongue-wagging colleagues play villain in their love story forcing him to be satisfied with clandestine meetings, secret phone conversations and emails. Just as Anup decides to turn over a new leaf, sinister happenings at work force him to take some life-changing decisions—to quit his job and pursue his long-cherished dream of becoming a writer; and also, to marry Rajni.
Love Over Coffee by Amrit N. Shetty

‘All these bangers have gone and simply put us in trouble.’
I blinked. ‘Bangers?’
‘All those foreign bangers, you know,’ he said. ‘Recession, sub-prime, liquidity crunch. All bloody bakwaas. Making a fool of us.’
I remained silent. I hoped he wouldn’t ask me about my work!
Jack Patel’s Dubai Dreams by P.G. Bhaskar

Metro Reads. A list of commercial fiction established by Penguin Books India that has gained sufficient significance in less than two years to be granted its own space as an imprint. (It now boasts of its own logo!) It was established in January 2010 with Love Over Coffee by Amrit N. Shetty; Where Girls Dare by Bhavna Chauhan and Dreams in Prussian Blue by Paritosh Uttam. According to its website, these books “do not weigh you down with complicated stories, don’t ask for much time or do not required to be lugged about”, they are “fun, feisty and easy-to-read” books. This is a list that encompasses all genres – chik lit, murder mysteries, “romance-thriller” etc. According to Vaishali Mathur, Commissioning Editor, Metro Reads, “We felt that there was a great need in the market to have books for the youth. The college students and the working population which finds difficult to read heavy literature and prefers to read books that they enjoy, storylines that they can relate to and characters whom they can identify with. Penguin Metro Reads basically publishes what the reader would enjoy rather than what we as publishers would like them to read.” Earlier about 8-10 books a year were being published, but due to the great response from the readers, in 2012 the number has grown over a hundred per cent to about 20 titles. To put this in perspective, it is one-third more than the average output of a successful independent publisher.

Vaishali adds that most of “these authors are new as this imprint encourages them. In the past two years we’ve published more than thirteen new authors, but we are publishing Ravinder Singh’s Can Love Happen Twice? in December and this is his second book. With a target audience of 18-35 year olds, it does tend to blur the lines between young adult and trade fiction, and yet, it has created a neat little identity of its own. The tag line for these books is that it is meant “For the Reader on the Go”. The average sales of this list are doing well and if stories doing the rounds of publishing are to be believed, then even the pre-order sales of some titles are phenomenally robust. More often than not, these books work on volume sales. Some of the biggest bestsellers of this list have been Madhuri Bannerjee’s Losing My Virginity and Other Dumb Ideas, Love Over Coffee, and P.G. Bhasker’s Jack Patel’s Dubai Dreams. Last December, Ravinder Singh’s Can Love Happen Twice? has sold over two lakh copies. It has also been translated into Hindi. Considering the range of genres it tackles it has the potential of doing well overseas as well, especially amongst the Indian diaspora. Having said that, the rights of some of these books have only been sold into Malayalam, otherwise customers have been buying their copies directly from India.

Metro Reads has a distinctive identity with its snazzy book covers in pure colours and the edge of the pages painted red (very reminiscent of the Georgette Heyer books published in the 1950s). With Metro Reads, Penguin Books India is tapping a niche market that is growing rapidly. It consists of more than thirty per cent of the population that is literate, and eager to read in English and improve their language skills. Plus they have the disposable income (and plastic money) to buy what appeals to them at an impulse. These books are largely conversation-driven plots, with barely any use of nuanced language, but edited well, so easy to read. Reading light fiction also helps to kill time while commuting daily to work or stuck for long hours in a long distance journey. In a sense, after eighty years, Sir Allen Lane’s vision of high quality paperback fiction being made available to the mass market, at an affordable price and edited well is finally coming true. Yet, it does take away from the personalized attention of an editor once the list begins to grow at this rapid pace.

Vaishali is extremely upbeat about this imprint and the future plans for it are plenty. “We already have readers who identify with this imprint and want to read books published under it. We also have writers who send their manuscripts for this imprint. We are already working with the vision of building a stronger author list, introducing more and more variety by publishing in different genres of commercial writing, making the brand stronger.”

Aryavarta Chronicles 1:Govinda, Krishna Udayasankar, interviewed on 9 Aug 2012, Delhi

28 08 , 2012 No Comments

Krishna Udayasankar The Aryavarta Chronicles, Book 1: Govinda
Hachette India, 2012. Pb, Rs. 350. pp. 458

Early in August I met Krishna Udayasankar in Delhi. She was here for the launch of her debut novel, Govinda. Krishna is a lawyer and based in Singapore, living with her husband and two huskies. She writes although she has a day job as a lecturer at Nanyang Business School. She has a PhD in Business (Strategic Management). According to her, “I write whenever I can – i.e. any available moment. My typical ‘work’ day starts around noon (unless I have classes or meetings in the morning) after a round at the gym, and it goes on past midnight. Of this day, whatever time is not spent on teaching, prep and other university-related duties I try to write, or do research and other things book-related. But lest I sound too hard-working, let me confess that I spend a lot of this time online on FB or mail, passing it off as ‘work’, I do however try to write every day, even for just a few minutes, as a matter of discipline.”

Govinda is the first in the Aryavarta Chronicles, a new version of the Mahabharata. The difference being that in her story, Krishna’s characters come across as ordinary mortals who have to face extraordinary challenges. Plus the women characters are far more strongly etched than ever before. She admits that there are “no passive characters” in her book. (No surprises there, especially a) the canon of contemporary literature that relies heavily upon the epics like Chitra Bannerjee Divakurni’s The Palace of Illusions did set a trend and b) meeting Krishna, who is a feisty and strong personality herself.) In her introduction the author is quick to affirm that these chronicles “are neither reinterpretation or retelling”. She would prefer to term her book as mytho-history. This is an excerpt from an email exchange where we discussed the terminology:

The most oft-quoted definitions of mytho-history trace back to Prof. Mohammed Arkoun (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mohammed_Arkoun ), who is credited with having developed a theory of mytho-history and mytho-ideology. Of course, while the processes that we define as mytho-history are age-old ones, in modern times Prof. Arkoun is credited with giving it theoretical definition, as well as practical application.

It is a more sociological or anthropological sense to describe the process or body of myths that have become part of the collective history of a people and their culture — particularly origin-stories or tales that explain why or how the world around them is the way it is — prevailing norms and cultures. For example, in India, many people believe — irrespective of historical evidence or otherwise — that the characters of the Mahabharata did exist, though with powers and abilities that would today be considered super-normal, such as extended lifespans. By rationalizing what may be abnormal (it was another Yuga, evil has since diminished humanity, etc.) there is an attempt to preserve a logical engagement, which becomes less necessary when we talk of ‘pure myth’.

What I try to capture when I use the word is not just the phenomenon, the attempt at logic that distinguished the narrative from pure myth, but also the rationale. I do so by asking why are the certain stories that become mytho-histories while others remain pure myth. Again, to illustrate by example, we do we never quite ‘believe’ that some of the events described in the Vedas happened the way they did, choosing instead to interpret them as spiritual verse or even mystical metaphor?; possibly because the parts of the Vedas are not historical accounts, but a collection of scientific Arcanum, carefully disguised as metaphor in a bid to protect knowledge (or the keepers thereof). The Mahabharata, on the other, contains the categorical assertion as part of its text that it is history – or was history contemporaneous to its composition.

So, what I mean by myth-history, though perhaps an anthropologist may take exception: Mytho-history is that body of narrative that may well have had enough historical evidence in support of it in the past, to find an enduring place in culture, but today lacks sufficient evidence to be presented as historical fact – even though its half-sister, mythology, is able to recollect the finer details.

Govinda is an example of commercial fiction with a decent print run. Based upon the initial reports from the market, it seems that Krishna’s fast paced story is selling well (and deservedly so!). I met a bookseller two days ago who had displayed the book prominently at his shop and was hoping the sequel would arrive soon. If that is the case, then the author has achieved her intention of getting the reader to engage with the novel even if it is to disagree.

28 August 2012

Powder Room, Shefalee Vasudev, book review

26 08 , 2012 No Comments

In 1999, an exhibition was organised in Delhi to support artisans in cyclone-hit Orissa. At the event, I spotted a young student working with an equally young Patachitra artisan. The way the student interacted with the artisan seemed odd. While she was ‘instructing’ the man to do things, the artisan meekly obeyed her and created dull Patachitra creations. I knew the man. He had retold some classic tales beautifully on dried palm leaves, and was using his art to record contemporary events and their impact. He had an entire Patachitra telling the story of lynched missionary Graham Staines. Hence, the lack of sensitivity of the student was bewildering.

Equally or even more bewildering are stories that Shefalee Vasudev tells about the fashion industry in Powder Room. The book is a gripping narrative of the fashion eco-system in India. Vasudev, former India editor of fashion magazine Marie Claire, offers a strong perspective and weaves an excellent story about how fashion brands are lapped up by the nouveau riche and by the powerful. The bling factor is so high. Sample this: at an exclusive designer exhibition in Ludhiana, the author noticed a woman wearing six big brands, all at the same time, and wanting to buy some more.

Vasudev starts with an admission that till she was in Class 12, she had not heard of Coco Chanel. But she goes on to prove that she is arguably the best hand around to decode the glam factory. She documents the aspirations of many of those who struggle to rise to the top within the fashion fraternity and the evolution of those who stay ahead by working hard and adapting.

Vasudev interviewed over 300 people for the book, including people in small towns and big cities, well-established designers, shop assistants with dreams of their own, struggling and successful models and tailors. Statistics reeled out in the book explain the dynamics propelling the fashion market in India to the levels where it is today and beyond. For instance, clothing is a $33.2 billion dollar industry in India and accounts for the second largest pie in the country’s spending chart. In 2007, a McKinsey report — ‘The Bird of Gold’ — on India’s consumer market said there would be over 570 million middle class Indians by 2025 and India would be the world’s fifth-biggest consumer market. By July 2012, Louis Vuitton had 2,468 stores worldwide with 495 in Asia, and its growth rate in India was pegged above 20 per cent in 2011. A few months ago, consultancy firm AT Kearney said the fashion market was growing at 20 per cent and would reach $15 billion by 2015.

But the author says fashion is a labour dominated industry, which includes not just the brands, but also artisans and craftsmen who, until recently, were the second largest contributors to the Indian economy. In many cases, it is creating a dichotomy in the fashion world. Probably, much of this is set to change as is evident by the recent news of Louis Vuitton Moet Hennesy buying an 8 per cent stake in Fabindia.

Vasudev builds a natural narrative and creates sympathy for the profiled. She understands their ambitions and compulsions, but is emotionally detached to encapsulate relevant details. Hers is an in-depth understanding of the industry — “it is not a clean, decent industry… for those who want to hold on to values, fashion is not the easiest place to be in.”

She, too, became disillusioned with the industry, losing interest in her job at Marie Claire as she was not sure what an editor’s job meant in a fashion magazine “except for being the smartest cookie in a team”. She felt it was “brochure journalism” and you had to figure out the “least common denominator between advertisers, celebs, the marketing wish list, personal obligations, put seven cover lines out of which three had to be international and get it right”.

The reviewer is a publishing consultant

(This story was published in Businessworld Issue Dated 03-09-2012)

On book reviewing, my column in Books &More

25 08 , 2012 5 Comments

On Book Reviewing

In December 2011 journalist Mihir Sharma published a 6000-word review article about well-known PR executive Suhel Seth’s new book Get To The Top–The Ten Rules For Social Success. It was an intensely written, strong and provocative essay that caused a storm in literary circles. The opening section was the review, but the remaining two-thirds of the essay was a deprecating profile of Suhel Seth. The link to the article went viral. It resulted in some unpleasant mudslinging between the reviewer and author on twitter, with the magazine’s editor fiercely defending the reviewer. The author after a few tweets deleted the conversation string from his twitter channel and locked it from public access. But by then the tweets exchanged had been preserved and shared across all social media platforms and emailed. But my point is about the review article. Did it achieve what it meant to — sell the book? It probably did. Sure, the focus of the article was Suhel Seth and his book, but it was the quality of writing of a professional critic that created the extraordinary buzz, it did.

Book reviewing is not as easy as it looks. Today with the internet and social media platforms, it is possible for anyone to upload their point of view, opinion or comment on a book. A detailed response like Mihir Sharma’s to a book takes time, effort, knowledge and the confidence to go public with what you actually believe in, and later — to stand by your words. But 98% of the time, book reviewing– published in print or on blogs – is a regurgitation of the plot. It is more often than not opinionated (not an analysis) and tough to read. Obviously this is not a new phenomenon. In his essay, “Confessions of a book reviewer” (1946) George Orwell says, “The great majority of reviews give an inadequate or misleading account of the book that is dealt with.” More than sixty years later, this statement still holds true.

Literary Journalism spaces like the international literary review spaces (print and portals/blogs) worth reading are the New York Review of Books; London Review of Books; the Times Literary Supplement; Granta; the New Yorker; and the New York Times Books pages. In India (of the same calibre) it would be the books pages of all the main newspapers. Special mention can be made of the Hindustan Times; the Times of India; the Hindu Literary Supplement; the Book Review; Businessworld online books portal and bloggers like Jai Arjun (Jabberwock), Chandrahas Choudhary (The Middle Stage), and Nilanjana Roy (Akhond of Swat). Professional critics act as a quality filter for the readers. They help in guiding reading tastes. They also perform a valuable task for editors, publishers and even booksellers with their constructive criticism. Let me explain through a personal anecdote. Last year I reviewed a well-written narrative non-fiction, which was caught between classifying itself as a biography or a memoir; or to use David Lodge’s phrase – bio-fic. In my opinion (after much research and in-depth analysis), I felt that despite the excellent effort at garnering empirical evidence about the woman whose life (and is still alive) she was documenting, the author found it difficult acknowledge that what she had written was a bio-fic. This was even more distressing (to me) since the author admitted in her afterword she had tinkered with the data and story elements, including fudging the letters to supposedly reproduce or quote from them as is. I suspect the review did not go down too well with the author since she “delinked” from me on a social media site. But I did get a tremendous response from readers appreciating the honest and frank assessment of a book. I even heard a bookstore owner, who had till then been displaying the book prominently, wonder if he should even continue to stock copies of it.

Whatever the response a reviewer may have to a book, even if it is a knee-jerk one, it is best to be correct. Reviewers should be honest, but not nasty and vituperative, for the sake of being so. If there is nothing worth talking about in the book, then say so, but always remember that trashing a book without any valid and just reason, is not professional reviewing.

Jaya Bhattacharji Rose is an international publishing consultant and columnist.
Published in Books&More, April-May 2012, pg. 58

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