Christos Tsiolkas - The Slap

A Gen-X story, The Slap is set in Melbourne with a Greek family at the pivot point. Hector, the protagonist, is married to Aisha, an Indian girl. The two of them are the envy of their friends, set in their perfect lives, with two children. Of course, there is no such thing as perfection, once you peel away the layers, but on the face of it, they are pretty much "perfect." Aisha is vet; Hector is a bureaucrat. The two of them host a barbecue one afternoon, inviting their friends and family as well as the children. Disagreements between the kids (Spiderman on TV?), unease with the in-laws, and tensions building between some friends sums up the afternoon, although again, on the face of it, everyone seems to be having a good time. But then, the facade falls when Harry, Hector's cousin, slaps a brattish four-year old across the face, and that's the tipping point.

The drama that unfolds is almost unbelievable, with the parents looking to press charges - the mother is one of Aisha's best friends - and Hector and Aisha trying to maintain some kind of decorum. Hector sides with his cousin, and Aisha with her friend. Stalemate.

But, this linear narrative isn't just focused on the slap. One could argue for days as to whether the slap was deserved or not, and still not reach a verdict. Instead it focuses on the people at the barbecue, their reaction to the slap, and which side they're on. It also gives us a peek into the lives and thoughts of a bunch of people living in the middle-class Melbourne community. Apparently, affairs are rampant, alcoholism and recreational drugs common and racism and homophobia normal. Oh, and the slang is profanity-intensive.

I'm not sure I enjoyed the peek though. While some seemingly perfect characters had a massive fall from grace, the lack of self-awareness to the degree of coming across as complete morons was evident in others. Some people had over-inflated opinions of themselves, and some had haunting pasts. As the narrative progressed, we learnt more about all of them, and for the most part, they became more and more unlikeable. I'm an idealist, hate the very idea of cheating and don't really care about the boxes that society puts people in. As long as someone's "nice," it's good enough for me. So, reading this book had alarm bells jangling in my head almost like there's no tomorrow.

It's not a literary novel, and personally, I think the author tries too hard to be too controversial. Each chapter is written from the point of view of one of the characters (including Hector, Aisha, Harry, Hector's father, the slapped child's mother etc), and each chapter brings with it a plethora of expletives. Do parents, grand-parents and children actually use four letter words with one another as part of normal conversation? Again, maybe I'm super-conservative, but I don't think I've ever sworn in front of my parents... and vice versa.

I was really looking forward to reading this book, and I guess I had extremely high expectations from this book, which were unfortunately not met. Maybe I would've enjoyed this book a lot more if I hadn't opened it with about a million pre-conceived notions! That always happens to me!

What did you think of The Slap? Do you think badly behaved children deserve to be slapped? And does it have a place in the Booker shortlist?

I'm inclined to reply in the negative to the last question, but hey! What do I know?!

Alice Munro - Runaway

As some of you may already know, I'm not a big fan of short stories. So, when I started this collection, I was almost prepared to be underwhelmed and dissatisfied. Yet, I had heard wonderful things about Munro, and figured I really should give at least one collection a try. Worst case, I'll shelve it mid-way. Boy, it's time to eat my words, for I absolutely loved this collection. My usual complaints about plot depth and shallow characterisations fall short, simply because of Munro's writing style. She keeps it short, succinct, simple, and portrays real people at particular moments in time - those moments in time when they're at their weakest, most vulnerable, or most reflective. The history is irrelevant. The future still unseen.

She hopes as people who know better hope for undeserved blessings, spontaneous remissions, things of that sort.

There are eight stories in the collection, each with a one word title. While I could delve into what each story is about, I shall refrain from doing so. It's pointless summarising eight different short stories, simply because I don't think I'll be able to do any justice to them. And then of course, there's the threat of a spoiler....

I will say this though, the first (and title) story of the collection didn't really do it for me, but the subsequent stories were wonderful. Three of them featured the same protagonist at different stages of her life - as an academic, a young mother, and then her return to academia, and those three stories stood out, in my opinion. Both, Trespasses and Tricks were wonderful, and there was something incredibly refreshing about them.

Apologies for the short review, and lack of detail, but I think it's something you have to pick up on your own to enjoy. There's no hero. No villain. No victim. It's just regular people. Another place, another time, and it could just as easily be you or me.

As I'm re-thinking my stance on short-stories, do you have any to recommend? Have you read anything by Munro? Would you endorse other collections by her?

Lloyd Jones - Mister Pip

Set in Papua New Guinea, in the 1990s, this book is narrated by Matilda, an adolescent, who witnesses the horrors of civil war first hand. The book opens with many people fleeing the island, and it being lost to the outside world, as the 'redskins' (the government soldies) and the 'rambos' (rebels) advances.

One white man ("the last white man on the island"), however, commonly referred to as Pop Eye, stays on in the village, despite the odds of him fleeing being far greater than some of the others. Mr. Watts is his name, and he's a massive fan of Dickens. The responsibility of teaching the children falls on him, and he reads them the epic novel, Great Expectations, which allows the children's imagination to run away to the Victorian England, and befriend Pip (the protagonist of Great Expectations).

During the blockade, we could not waste fuel or candles. But as the rebels and the redskins went on butchering one other, we had another reason for hiding under the cover of night. Mr. Watts had given us kids another world to spend the night in. We could escape to another place. It didn't matter that it was Victorian England. We found we could easily get there. It was just the blimmin' dogs and the blimmin' roosters that tried to keep us here.

The redskins mistake Pip to be an actual person, though - the result of a shrine created by Matilda on the beach - and, they initiate a horrific manhunt, which leads to the thin line between reality and fiction being erased. Houses and possessions are burnt down, makeshift roofs are created, and the children continue trying to find an escape in the world so artfully created by Dickens.

This is an amazing book, that brings in multifarious cultural thoughts and highlights the great divides. For example, Matilda's mother believes that Mr. Watts is not providing the children with proper education, due to the lack of religious education. Instead, he spends time talking of a fictional character which doesn't exist, and says that the devil is a symbol.

It's barbaric, emotional, heart-wrenching and fascinating. There's despair, which is always highlighted by hope. There are sacrifices made, nightmarish experiences, death, and the consequences of each decision render the reader awed and despondent. I cannot help but wonder what would've been, if Matilda's mother had not made that one impulsive decision...

The power of story-telling, the wonder of literature, and the importance of the imagination are themes so beautifully brought out, that they almost perfectly accentuate the diabolic war. Beauty and ugliness will always be held in the same hand.

This is the second book by Lloyd Jones that I've read in recent times, and I have to say that I found The Book Of Fame more lyrical, although the story didn't really appeal to me. However, the story of Mister Pip is amazing, but I found myself yearning for the writing present in The Book Of Fame.

Rating: 4

J.M. Coetzee - Disgrace {Weekly Geeks Q&A}

This is the final post on the Weekly Geeks Q&A from 13th June. It's taken me about a month to 'catch up', and I will still have a trilogy to go. As I'm planning on re-reading His Dark Materials in August, I'll hold off until then. Yes, I tend to procrastinate ever so often.

I read Disgrace last year, and really enjoyed it, mostly because the story starts off on one note, but just spins off, and the sequence of events that follow seem very surreal.

On with the questions... Well, umm, question (singular) in this case.

From gautami tripathy:

Disgrace: what is it about? Do you recommend Coetzee to your readers? Is it your first by that author?

'Disgrace' is about a professor, David Lurie, at the Technical University in Cape Town. He has an affair with a student, and her parents lodge a complaint with the University. At a formal inquiry, he admits to sleeping with the student, but refuses to seek clemency or admit that he was wrong. Instead, he resigns to his daughter's farm in rural South Africa, as he waits for the whole thing in Cape Town to blow over.

This, according to me, is where the story starts: about Lurie's relationship with Lucy (his daughter), and their life on the farm. It touches upon them being victimized by racial attacks, where Lucy is raped and Lurie burnt, and its aftermath, which leads to Lurie's perspective on life and women changing.

I recommend Coetzee to anyone who listens to me! I loved this book, and its straightforward simple writing, that touches on many thought-provoking and difficult subjects: racism, rape, redemption, reality. It doesn't offer a quick-fix to the disgrace of apartheid, but, it does end on a note of hope...

Nope. I read Diary of a Bad Year before I picked this one up. I was completely enthralled by that book, due to its quirky writing style. It might be one of the most 'intelligent' books I've read in the recent past, and hence, when I saw Disgrace, I had to pick it up.

I have both, Youth and The Life and Times of Michael K on my TBR. The latter is supposed to be Coetzee's best book 'til date, so I'm really looking forward to that.

Margaret Atwood - The Handmaid's Tale {Weekly Geeks Q&A}

I'm still playing catch-up on 13th June's Weekly Geeks. I know, I know, it's been about a month, and that's ample time to catch up! However, after this, I'll just have two more to do: Disgrace, and His Dark Materials. Am planning to re-read the latter this month, so might end up doing that one after!

Anyway, on with it...

From gautami tripathy:

The Handmaid’s Tale is one of the best books I have read. What did you think of it? Do you think it is possible? Can you see a future like that? Did it scare you?

I thought it was fantastic. It's well-written, a page-turner, and depicts a heavily dystopian futuristic society, which scared the living daylights out of me!

However, when you ask if I find it possible or not, I have to say, I don't. Maybe, it's only me, but I find the dystopias presented in 1984, Brave New World, and Fahrenheit 451 much more realistic than this. I know people have found this book scarily possible, but, in my opinion, the human race has progressed way too much, to let women be reduced to nothing but maids and handmaids ("Handmaids" are women who have only one purpose: conceive a child for the family that looks after her). With each generation, women are becoming more powerful, and more career-oriented, at the expense of not having families, and settling down. The world is becoming smaller, and the cries of democracy are louder than ever. I just can't see the government of the United States being overthrown, and replaced by this totalitarian nightmare. That said, I can see this happening in some extremist countries, where women are not allowed to drive, vote, or leave their house without a man.

I am not American, but, with today being 4th of July, one has to ask the question: can the 'leaders of the free world' ever be the polar opposite?

The book scares me. I think Offred, the protagonist, said something along the lines of many handmaids tend to commit suicide, instead of living life as they do - under constant pressure and no guarantees. To be honest, if I was ever unlucky to exist in a society like that, I'd probably just kill myself. Luckily, I don't think something this horrible will happen in my lifetime. For that, I'm grateful.

From Maree:

I loved The Handmaid’s Tale – did you find it scarily possible?

I didn't. I just can't see a society like that coming into existence. Maybe I'm in denial. Maybe I'm an optimist. But... I just don't see it!

From Kristen:

I have a slight fear of reading Margaret Atwood again – she’s so revered in Canada that it’s intimidating. Talk me into why I should read the Handmaid’s Tale :o)

Jeez, I'm not very convincing. :( I'll try though...

Atwood is probably revered in Canada for a reason: she's that good! That should be reason enough to read the book. What makes this book really special, is, realizing how lucky we are, as things stand. Feminism is rampant right now, and women are allowed to make their own decisions, with respect to what to wear, and when to settle down and have kids. Their choice isn't restricted to being a 'martha' (a maid), or a handmaid. Can you imagine having to flip a coin between those two options, and nothing else?

It's well-written, it's a page-turner, and Atwood's made the story as real as possible: from Offred being your regular American woman, to feeling semi-conscious seeing Japanese tourists in shorts (revealing their legs). Can people be conditioned that easily? Or, in a society where there are no choices, people just accept things the way they are to make their life that much easier? It raises some provocative questions, which you probably don't want to think about, and which will haunt you for a long long time.

Did I do a good job of talking you into it?

From Rebecca:

The Handmaid’s Tale haunted me for weeks after I read it. I loved it and don’t think I’ll ever forget it, but I know that not everyone feels that way. What was your reaction to it? Did you find it believable and frightening or too futuristic and extreme? How would you describe it in 1 or 2 sentences to someone who’s never heard of it before?

As already mentioned above, it scared me. A lot. More than I want to admit. I can't imagine ever living in a society like that, and frankly speaking, death might be more viable. But... I also thought it was out and out fiction, and too extremist to be 'real'.

Two sentence summary:

The United States has been replaced by the Republic of Gilead, a futuristic society, where women are reduced to being 'reproductive' machines for unknown men, and then give up the child to the wife of these men. Everyone knows what their purpose is... and ironically enough, most other women envy the 'handmaids' for the alternative is being a maid, and not being treated with dignity or respect.

From Jodie:

Why do you think so many dystopian novels set in the future find women subjugated once again? What did you think of the rich women’s complicity in the other women’s fate in The Handmaid’s Tale?

I don't know. Will we do the full 360, and go back to the beginning, where women are subjugated for their role in the 'Original Sin' again? Is there another episode that will replace the 'Original Sin'? Or, will some radical extremist group take over the world, and ensure that some of their customs regarding women will take precedence over what the Western world knows today.

Well, that's a tough one. I think it depends on the rich woman - they are dependent on the handmaid for one thing, and one thing only. While some of the rich women are likely to be grateful to their handmaid for providing them with a child - something they can now 'buy', they are not obliged to be so. Simultaneously, some women will hold the handmaids in contempt, for it cannot be easy for them to see their husband indulging in sexual activities with another woman, out of 'protocol'. Probably this coupled with their own sense of incompletion leads to the untoward fate of handmaids. Of course, if and when the handmaids are having an actual relationship with the husband, without the wife's knowledge, and she finds out, the fate is much worse....

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie - Half Of A Yellow Sun

War destroys all that is left of innocence. It pulls people together, and it drives them apart. People are left asking questions, as they pine for their loved ones, as they try and contemplate the horrors of war, and as they struggle to survive - just so that they can see a better day.

And it is this aspect of war that Adichie focuses on in her much-acclaimed novel, Half of a Yellow Sun. The story, based in the 1960s, revolves around the Nigeria-Biafra war - a historical event that has escaped the chapters of most history texts outside Africa - and the massacre, starvation, illness, and fear it brought in its wake, as the Igbo people battled for their independence, which was short-lived. Biafra (even my spell-check doesn't recognize it!), in 1970, returned to Nigeria, and as the book stated: a million people died, in the process.

The story's main protagonists are the twins: Olanna and Kainene, who are poles apart, both in looks and in attitude; their lovers: the 'revolutioary professor' Odenigbo, and the awkward introverted Richard - an expatriate writer, enchanted by Igbo history. And then of course, there's Ugwu, a poor village boy who has come to serve the professor, as a house-boy.

The twins, at the outset, are estranged and distant, for no reason whatsoever. Olanna is about to move in with Odenigbo, and teach in Nsukka, whereas Kainene is looking to take her father's business to greater heights. However, as things turn out, due to love and betrayal, the twins' rift grows deeper, and Olanna finds herself avoiding Kainene. She does, however, adopt Odenigbo's love-child from a brief one-night affair, and finds herself devoted to Baby's health and happiness.

When war breaks out, and strains some of the relationships, while simultaneously bridging the gap in some, we see the weakness and strength in the characters as never before.

Richard, an Englishman (and Kainene's lover) remains in the warzone, and writes articles for the international media, propagating the cause of the Igbo, instead of returning to his motherland. He is disgusted when some white journalists show up, and ask about the unfortunate death of another Englishman. His sarcastic comment at that point is along the lines of: one white person is equivalent to a thousand Biafrans.

Odenigbo finds comfort in his papers, and his theories, but when war breaks out he resorts to alcohol. Olanna, and Ugwu set up a small formal school, as all the schools around them are closed down, and transformed into refugee camps. Kainene, on the other hand, sets up a refugee camp, and tries to ensure that there are enough protein pills and food for everyone - specially the children.

As the characters are introduced, and their role in the story starts shaping up, I couldn't help but marvel at how Adichie's writing shifts from prosaic to poetic. And that, at times, is disconcerting. For example, in the opening chapter, Ugwu is overwhelmed by the richness of his new environment:

He looked up at the ceiling, so high up, so piercingly white. He closed his eyes and tried to reimagine this spacious room with the alien furniture, but he couldn't. He opened his eyes, overcome by a new wonder, and looked around to make sure it was all real. To think that he would sit on these sofas, polish this slippery-smooth floor, wash these gauzy curtains.

and I think that's a beautiful piece of writing - so vivid, and I can close my eyes, and actually imagine Ugwu's wonder, just by the above line.

But then, later on in the book, after the war had started, the descriptions were enough to make me, as a second-hand observer, feel queasy. The below is a snippet when Olanna was on a train, heading back home to her revolutionary lover, after the war had broken out, and the Igbo people were being found out and massacred.

Olanna looked at the bowl. She saw the little girl's head with the ashy-grey skin and the plaited hair and rolled back eyes and open mouth. She stared at it for a while before she looked away. Somebody screamed.

The woman closed the calabash. 'Do you know,' she said, 'it took me so long to plait this hair. She had such thick hair'.

And then there's the scene Richard witnessed at the airport, on landing from England, where his cousin was getting married.

Richard saw fear etched so deeply on to his face that it collapsed his cheeks and transfigured him into a mask that looked nothing like him. He would not say 'Allahu Akbar' because his accent would give him away. Richard willed him to say the words, anyway, to try; he willed him something, anything, to happen in the stifling silence and as if in answer to his thoughts, the rifle went off and (his) chest blew open, a splattering red mass [...]

My favorite character of the book has to be Kainene, just because she's offbeat, and has no illusions (read delusions) of grandeus about herself. While Olanna was occasionally self-piteous, Odenigbo was a character I couldn't relate to. He was an intellect, but came across as a know-it-all. Ugwu was a character I had grown quite fond of, as I could actually relate to some of his thoughts (hats off to Adichie for creating one of the most 'real' characters I've come across, in a long time), but without giving much away, I will say that there are certain things that make a character somewhat irredeemable. And Richard, well, I admired him for sticking to the Igbo people, as though they were his own, but, his character was probably the blandest of them all, if you know what I mean?

In this story about love, loyalty, betrayal, redemption, and survival, Adichie brings up the painful reality of war; unflinchingly discussing gang-rapes, starvation, children dying, and the horrors of air-strikes, where everyone tries to hide in a bunker. In an ironic statement, we see how everything is held together, precariously, as a girl's belly starts to swell, and her mother wonders is she pregnant or is she dying. (a swollen belly indicates 'kwashiorkar', or protein deficiency).

This is a very well-written profound book, and it really wouldn't surprise me if it became a classic of our times. However, in critique, the couple of things I will say are:

In my opinion, the flow of the book was disrupted by how the first section was based in the early 1960s, the second in the late 60s, the third in the early 60s again, and the final section was based in the late 1970s. I didn't quite understand why that was done, because I'm not at all convinced it enhanced the story in any way.

Second, why on earth was a six year old referred to as Baby throughout the whole book? Fair enough, it worked for Jennifer Grey in Dirty Dancing, but, in a warzone, even if you're trying to depict the innocence of a child, the name 'Baby' really doesn't do it. Well, it didn't for me!

And also, I found the last paragraph a weak ending to an otherwise great story. I really do not want to give much away at the time, but, it was an ending that left a bit to be desired. In fact, the way it came about was almost rushed.

Overall, a 7.5 on 10.

Rohinton Mistry - Such A Long Journey

This book is not in the same league as A Fine Balance, or even, for that matter, Family Matters. However, the more I think about this book, the more I appreciate it. Mistry has this amazing knack of bringing to life a realistic Indian society, and how they handle various crises and catastrophes that life brings in its wake.

This book centers around the life of Gustad, a god-fearing bank clerk, who puts trust, loyalty, good work ethic and friendship above all. Despite living in a congested and small apartment in Bombay, where the windows are perpetually blacked out (it’s based in the 1970s India, when war was imminent. However, the windows had been blacked out since the 1960s Indo-China war, and Gustad, much to his wife’s chagrin, had left them in that state, certain that it was only a matter of time before the ‘blackout’ was reinforced), the wall opposite is used as a public bathroom by many people, and the resultant stench attracts flies and mosquitoes, Gustad tries to make the best of everything he has without complaints or regrets. So imagine his happiness when his eldest son, who he always had the highest of aspirations for, gets admitted into IIT, an academic institution renowned world-wide for its superiority.

However, his life soon starts falling apart, with his son suddenly shunning the whole IIT ideology, and wishing to remain an Arts student in his present college, his nine year old daughter having some mysterious illness which the doctor is unable to diagnose, and an old friend who he hasn’t heard from in many years, asking him for a favor that seems to have its roots in some corrupt activities. And if that’s not bad enough, his present-day closest friend seems to be very ill, and hiding his illness behind a facade of sorts.

Gustad attempts to do the right thing: help his friend (against his better judgment), and pray continuously, hoping things will turn for the better. He meets an old friend in the local market, who accompanies him to a church where miracles are known to happen. On the other hand, his wife, influenced by one of their neighbors, is convinced the horrors that is affecting her family is being caused by an inauspicious ‘evil eye’, and she follows directives provided by the neighbor to cast off this evil eye.

This book is descriptive, seemingly accurate in its narrations, and is beautifully written - the funeral scene/’Tower of Silence’ scene specifically comes to mind. The characters are well-drawn, and well-built, and as the story unfolds, you can’t help but admire Gustad who continuously adheres to what he believes in, and genuinely attempts to make the world around him a better place.

This is not a feel-good book. It’s a book about India in the 1970s, where the government is corrupt, and money meant for the greater good is channeled to the secret bank accounts of the then Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi. It’s a book about a middle-class family who try to stay together, while the world around them is falling apart. It’s about friendship at its very deepest. It’s about seemingly silly superstitions, albeit the ‘remedies’ actually seem to work. And it’s a book about humanity, morality and integrity in a world tainted with greed, corruption, selfishness and if I may say so - the ‘evil eye’.

Overall, a 7.5 on 10. And yes, I’d definitely recommend Rohinton Mistry. The more I read books by him, the more I like them... which is saying a lot, considering the first book I read by him is probably proclaimed his best!