Desicritics Category: Culture: Books - Fiction

Book Review : Identity and Violence by Amartya Sen

Shantanu Dutta — Wed, 11 Mar 2009 14:04:51 EDT

Amartya Sen’s book, “Identity and Violence’ examines the unfortunate connection between violence and our tendency to identify with one key trait — our ethnicity, or religion, for example — to the exclusion of all others. Sen argues that we can combat this tendency by rejecting this narrowly defined, limited sense of identity, and embracing a broader, richer and more complex understanding of ourselves.

Speaking of his own identities, he says:

I can be, at the same time, an Asian, a British citizen, a Bengali with Bangladeshi ancestry, an American or British resident, an economist, a dabbler in philosophy, an author, a Sanskritist, a strong believer in secularism and democracy, a man, a feminist, a heterosexual, a defender of gay and lesbian rights, with a nonreligious lifestyle, from a Hindu background, a non-Brahmin...This is just a small sample of diverse categories to each of which I may simultaneously belong.

He bemoans our predisposition to separate human kind into many different boxes – he cites Samuel Huntington and his Clash of Civilizations stereo types. Huntington of course contrasts Western civilization with "Islamic civilization," "Hindu civilization," "Buddhist civilization," and so on. The supposed conflicts of religious differences are incorporated into a sharply fractured vision of hard-boiled divisiveness. In fact, of course, the people of the world can be pigeonholed according to many other subsets, each of which has some—often far-reaching— importance in our lives: nationalities, locations, classes, occupations, social status, languages, politics, and many others. While religious groupings have received much expression in recent years, they cannot be supposed to eliminate other characteristics. Amartya Sen contends that our society is driven as much by confusion as by hatred. Challenging the division of people by race, religion, and class, he presents an alternate understanding of a world that can be made to move toward peace as firmly as it has spiralled in recent years toward brutality and war.

Sen also notes the inclination to create a random -often historically inaccurate- identity of the self in order to distinguish it from the other. Here he criticizes the idea of the Western mind whereby certain ideas (e.g., democracy) are claimed to be the sole property of the Occident. Citing examples of Buddhist councils during the reign of Emperor Ashoka (3rd Century BC) and tracts on religious freedom during that of the Mughal Emperor Akbar (16th Century AD), Sen attempts to demonstrate how such an identity can be quickly disputed.

A lot of the book is preoccupied with the Muslim identity because much of the attention is directed towards the perception and understanding of this identity in the world. Moreover, much that is valuable in the Western civilisation is a legacy of Muslim as well of other, such as the ancient Hindu, civilisations. In other words, watertight compartments between civilisations are historically unsustainable. And, of course, people themselves are blends of several civilisations so that it is not correct to assume that there is such a thing as a uniform, homogenous, monolithic Muslim civilisation.

But is it really possible to fix the responsibility for all the violence that we witness today on the failure of people to recognize the various identities of others? Would that not be as naive an attitude to take towards the occurrence of violence as the perpetrators of aggression take towards identity? How are identities really shaped and very importantly how are they correlated to more concrete, real-life processes that go on in the world? Again, while it is true that everyone has multiple identities what compels one person to prioritize one of these many identities over all others? that is for us, the readers to figure.

Book Review : The Likeness

Amodini Sharma — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 01:03:51 EST

Tana French’s second novel, set in Dublin, Ireland, has a fairly traditional beginning for a murder mystery novel. A murder is committed and the detectives swarm in to investigate the crime. So, “The Likeness” begins when the dead body of a young girl is found. However what is unsettling about this particular murder, is that the murdered girl, Alexandra Madison, looks exactly like Detective Cassandra (Cassie) Maddox, and her name is that of an identity that Maddox created and assumed in her work as an under-cover agent.

Now, Cassie has no twin that she knows of, and the “created” identity – that of Alexandra or Lexie as she is called - was created for the sole purpose of police undercover work, and never used again. Cassie Maddox is now off Undercover and working Domestic Violence, but agrees to go back undercover as Lexie (the police makes it appear like “Lexie” recovered from her stab wounds) to try and sniff out the murderer.

Lexie is (or was) a student and shares a house, Whitethorn House, with 4 other students. The House has it’s own story, and the students who live in it have their own mysterious pasts. It is obvious, upon some police research, that they all share some sort of common bond, are close-knit (almost like a family) and appear to be clique-ish to the outside world. It is also obvious that the four know Lexie pretty well, and Cassie in her masquerade as Lexie will have to be on her guard always. Apart from the fact that the police need to find Lexie’s murderer they also need to find out who Lexie was, and how she came into being, as a “fictional” character.

This novel is unlike any that I have read in this genre. For a murder mystery this has more than it’s fair share of pop psychology. French weaves her characters lovingly, little details and subtle nuances, make this novel an engrossing read. The characters in the novel are described in great detail, we know of their habits, their likes and dislikes, and their personalities. The fluidity of her prose and the almost lyrical quality of it is something I’m used to seeing in more of a “literature” style of book. Her style of writing is quite unusual in this usually pprosaic genre, in that the words pour out until you’re enveloped in atmosphere; you can see and feel what the protagonist is feeling – so beautifully done is it. French describes the story from only one point of view – Cassie’s, but does it so effectively that you can almost see the characters for yourself. Her words suck you in, draw you into the story, and into Cassie’s head.

The plot of this novel is unusual to begin with – and that spikes the interest. What keeps up the interest level is the captivating quality of the prose. Going undercover again, and pretending to be Lexie to Lexie’s friends and house-mates (and deceiving them) is emotional upheaval for Cassie. The situation is also dangerous since the murderer is still at large, and might try again. Plus Cassie has her own demons to vanquish.

Cassie Maddox, along with Detective Rob Ryan (mentioned here but not an active character) also starred in French’s first novel, the Edgar award winning “In the woods”. However the books do not have to be read in order, since they are their own separate tales. And although there are several mentions of Rob and Operation Vestal, (which happened in the previous book) they do not affect this one.

Emotional tension, the hint of hidden secrets, and Cassie’s unexpected warmth for the foursome and their way of life, makes this an interesting tale. “The Likeness” is intriguing but slow-paced, taking it’s own sweet time to reach climax. It is a tribute to French’s skills that she can confidently tell a slow, languorous tale, and have us hanging on her every word. “The Likeness” is enticing – even if murder and a hint of the macabre isn’t your cup of tea.

Book Review: Suite Francaise

Shantanu Dutta — Sat, 21 Feb 2009 08:45:51 EST

Suite Française is an interesting book for several reasons. The book is written by a Russian Jew and consists of two novellas bundled into one. They portray life in France from June 4, 1940, as German forces prepare to invade Paris, through July 1, 1941, when some of Hitler's occupying troops leave France to join the assault on the Soviet Union.

The second novella ends abruptly, because the author was not able to finish the manuscript. This was because she was arrested and sent to the concentration camps and eventually to the gas chamber. Irène Némirovsky was a Russian Jew who had lived in France since 1919 and had established herself in her adopted country's literary community, publishing nine novels and a biography of Chekhov. The edition of the book that I read ends with lots of correspondence between Irene’s husband and many of her associates in the publishing industry and the occupation regime of Marshal Petain. The family tries hard to establish her whereabouts after she was arrested and sent off without any information provided to her family. =The correspondence reveals that her husband’s efforts at tracing her continued for long after she had been sent to the gas chambers ; of course these facts became known only after the war ended.

Suite Francaise was originally meant to be a set of five vignettes of French life under the Nazis but of course only two were completed. “Storm in June” is the first novella. What is interesting about the book is the diversity of characters that Irene has created and their range of responses as German bombs dropped over the Paris sky and people were forced to retreat to the countryside. So there is the aristocracy, the artistes and writers, the trading and merchant class, middle class bureaucrats and commoners; all of whose familiar way of life comes to an end and they must no prepare to move to the countryside. How they do so, the priorities in their lives as they surface under the pressure and the eventual choices they make seems to underscore the basic selfishness of the human race and the instinct for self preservation that overrides every thing when the chips are down.

“Dolce” is the second novella where the occupation is now a reality and German Army is stationed in the villages of France and most things have been requisitioned by the occupation army for military use. Again the reactions and responses of the French villagers are beautifully captured. The young women are welcoming of the German Army – the French young men are all away fighting and the German officers and men are invariably polite and respectful.

The older generation (and mostly women are portrayed) are more confused. they have memories of the First World War when the French were victorious; their husbands and sons are away fighting – some are prisoners of war and some are killed and the fate of many is not clear as France has just surrendered, and here they are; under duress, having to provided hospitality to the enemy who seen and heard close by is courteous, polite and even embarrassed at what is now happening.

A great strength of the book is that although it depicts the political scenario and the military occupation of France for what it was, it doesn’t not demonize the occupying German Army, but rather portrays them warmly with families and loved ones of their own.

How To Make A Small Fortune

Dr Bhaskar Dasgupta — Sat, 21 Feb 2009 05:37:50 EST

There is a joke which you will appreciate, especially in these days of plunging asset prices. The joke goes something like this: how do you make a small fortune? You start with a large one. As the newspapers mentioned in a recent item, Russian multi-billionaires are actually just ordinary billionaires because of the sheer drop in stock and other financial markets around the world. But then there was the original billionaire, when there were no other billionaires. I am referring to the Nizam of Hyderabad, the erstwhile richest man in the world, the last living Caliph of Islam, a man, who is currently living in a seedy anonymous seedy two bedroom apartment somewhere in Istanbul, Turkey. This essay is not about him, but is about my frustration and regret and bout the sheer waste of it all.

First, here are the bald facts. Of course, there are no official kings and queens in India any more. The last living Nizam was His Exalted Highness Rustam-i-Dauran, Arustu-i-Zaman, Wal Mamaluk, Asaf Jah VII, Muzaffarul- Mulk-Wal-Mumilak, Nizam-ul- Mulk, Nizam ud Daula Nawab Mir Sir Osman Ali Khan Bahadur, Sipah Saula, Fateh Jung, Nizam of Hyderabad and of Berar, Knight Grand Commander of the Most Exalted Order of the Star of India, Knight Grand Cross of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire, Honourable General in the Army, Faithful Ally of the British Government who died in 1967. He was reputed to be worth roughly $2 billion in the 1940s. Despite him being divested of much of his kingdom and properties by circumstances and the Government of India, he still died a billionaire. I quote from Wikipedia:

Adjusting for inflation, however, he today ranks as the 5th richest person in the history of the world, the wealthiest-ever Asian, the wealthiest-ever Indian and the second-wealthiest monarch in world history, with a fortune that at its high point was $225 billion (in 2008 US dollars).

Asaf Jah’s eldest son got married to Durrushehvar, daughter of Abdul Mejid II, the last Ottoman Caliph. Abdul Mejid left a will stating that his grandson, Mukarram Jah, should be the next Caliph. Can you imagine the ancestry? Three of the most powerful empires all rested and ended on Mukarram’s shoulders. One of the most powerful and richest empires in the world, the Mughal Empire, which gave rise to the Nizam’s empire of Hyderabad, perhaps the richest empire in the world (arguably exceeding the Inca or any other empires in history) and finally the third empire, namely the Ottoman Empire.

And what did Mukarram Jah do? He literally pissed away his inheritance by way of an unholy mixture of incompetence, corruption, five marriages, legal battles and basically being a silly sod. He is still alive today, the man who would never think twice about ordering a charter flight or thousands of Tattinger champagne bottles is now restricted in a tiny seedy apartment in Turkey. Abandoned by all - family, courtiers, jewellery, friends, lawyers, everyone, with nothing is left other than some mouldering palaces and buildings; a pile of rotting and decaying furniture; hundreds of civil and criminal court cases in various courts across the world ranging from London to Delhi to Hyderabad; hundreds of blood sucking relatives and hangers on and so on and so forth.

I have lots of connections to Hyderabad and have been there many times in my childhood. It was fascinating to go around the Salar Jung Museum. I have gone there on Ma’s shopping trips to purchase pearls and now I have recently been there several times, as one of my offices is based in Hyderabad. While I am quite impressed and proud of seeing those lovely collections of jewels, artefacts, buildings and works of art, something burns inside me whenever I see these.

Recently reading a recent book, The Last Nizam, by John Zubrzycki, bought it to the fore. The author has written a biography of Mukarram Jah. And I think Mr. Zubrzycki lets off Jah far too easily. He skates over his faults and does not talk much about the basic tragedy of India, namely to have rulers such as Jah and his ancestors.

India was called as the golden bird of antiquity. Its fields were so verdant and fertile, its people so industrious, the metals/gems/mining so bountiful, that it kept a huge motley crew of royals well fed and watered over hundreds and thousands of years. Not only that, all this wealth called those thieves and buzzards over from all over the world ranging from Central Asia and Persia to the United Kingdom, Netherlands, France etc. to come rob India. And how they robbed India! You go to Lucknow and find that it was considered to be one of the richest nation states in the world. Where and how did these Nawabs spend their money? They send the money to Karbala in Iraq to build canals and hostels ignoring the crying need to build even a single canal in Lucknow. What about tiny Bhopal? The Begums of Bhopal sent millions of rupees to Mecca to make pilgrimage hostels and ignored building up Bhopal. What about the Nizams? They owned hundreds and thousands of jewellery pieces, massive buildings and automobiles but gave nothing to their peasants and citizens.

Nothing for the peasants! They spent their countless generations toiling away for their kings, queens, Nawabs, Maharaja’s, Nizams who were bloodsuckers. They sucked out the life of so many Indian citizens. I know you can accuse me of judging them by today’s standards, but that is not really true. Every religion that they followed, whether Buddhism, Sikhism, Jainism, Islam, Hinduism, nothing influenced them to rule justly. Maybe one ruler in a thousand would be just and do something for his or her people. And not that these rulers were driven by love for their country either! And this is not a communist/socialist polemic against the rich, if you have earned your dough by virtue of business or inventions, have fun with it. But this wealth was based on coercion and to make things worse, it was used purely for their own individual pleasure, almost nothing went back to the poor peasants.

Think back to the first war of independence. Some war - where most of the rulers rushed to the assistance of the British. See the titles given to the Nizam: Knight Grand Commander of the Most Exalted Order of the Star of India, Knight Grand Cross of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire, Honourable General in the Army, Faithful Ally of the British Government. You don’t get these titles for revolting against the British. Heck, most of the rulers who actually fought against the British were fighting for their own gaddis and rights, the idea of fighting for their people/country was totally foreign to them.

All these countless diamonds, all those huge opulent palaces, those shimmering silks and expensive clothes, those hunting trips, the vast fleets of automobiles Were for what? Can you see the tragedy of lost opportunities? All that wealth, amassed out of the blood and sweat of the common Indian peasants, went to the maintenance of an inefficient and ruinously expensive Australian sheep farm, a huge boat, jewellery, travel, banquets and massively expensive parties.

Can you imagine what Hyderabad could have been like if a fraction of all this wealth had been invested in developing the agriculture, mining, factories in the state? But no, the Nizam stood on the top of a pyramid of blood sucking royals, courtiers and hangers on, who were simply rent seeking. No development, just keep on giving me tax/rent and I will simply spend my time in enjoyment. In a way, the fact that the last Caliph and Nizam ended up in genteel penury, coughing his lungs away, unloved and hated by his friends, relatives and other assorted cockroaches, might seem to be poetic justice.

But what I really regret are the missed opportunities. Just imagine what could have been done by an enlightened ruler with all that wealth and opportunities? And reading the book constantly reiterated that Jah, the last Nizam did not find anything surprising in his behaviour or the fact that nothing was done. It was simply his right and his money to do what he wished. It was not like he was uneducated or did not know what was happening. He has been very well educated in the best Indian and British educational institutions. Presumably he has seen and read about his people. But no, nothing. This is what I find frustrating. So he not only ended up with a tiny fortune, he has also made sure that couple of generations of Hyderabadi’s missed out on a chance to improve themselves. And finally, if he still thinks that it’s a god given right, then I can only quote two quotes, “The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away” Bible, Job 1:20-21 and “If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to” – Dorothy Parker.

All this to be taken with a grain of piquant salt!

Technorati Tags: History, India

A Landmark Love Story

IdeaSmith — Wed, 21 Jan 2009 09:14:26 EST

The Landmark bookstore opens its doors on 23rd January 2009. Landmark has been shut these past three months after a fire broke out in Infinity Mall where it is housed, causing much damage to merchandise and fittings. Mercifully no human casualties except of course for avid Landmarkers who've missed the store sorely all this while that it has been undergoing renovation.

I'm irrationally excited over this. Come Friday and I'm making no plans, except to trek back to my favorite bookspot and just savour the feeling of being able to walk around in its interiors again. Is this an indication of the shallow, consumerist lifestyle I lead, that I miss a shop so much? Let me tell you just what Landmark means to me.

I've been an avid reader from my early childhood, dating right back to when I missed having siblings to play with, fight with and keep me occupied and hence turned to books for company, for entertainment, for solace, for answers and finally for identification. I've also been a loner all my life, never mind the huge groups of people I always seem to have around me.

For the longest time ever, in Mumbai, a booklover's only source of soul nourishment was to scour the neighborhood raddiwallas and make an occasional trip to Churchgate to browse the street stalls at Flora Fountain. Then came Crossword with its ubiquitous yellow-and-black stores, retailing books. So books were available in a shop close to home. Though, if your tastes extended beyond potboiler bestsellers and management/self-help books, you were still obliged to fall back on your bohemian book-haunts or still brave the journey to town to visit Oxford.

Landmark opened its first store in Mumbai in 2006.

I remember stopping and staring at the poster announcing its soon-arrival at the mall and smiling with sheer joy. My Chennai soujourns had made me quite familiar with this bookstore chain famous in the south. On my first visit to the store, I wandered in curiously, wondering whether the insofar bookstore had only decided to set up its music and movie business in Mumbai. All I could see were aisles and aisles of DVDs and CDs! And then at the very end, almost like a tunnel suddenly opening up, I stumbled into a huge...paradise. Books, books, books as far as I could see.

I'd only ever seen so many books in one place at the annual Strand book sale, which would still be unorganized piles of books, stacked onto cloth-covered tables. But here I was standing among rows and rows of gleaming shelves neatly categorized as Humour, Literary Fiction, Classics, Romance, Spirituality, Teen Fiction, Children's books, Feminism, Travel, Science, Architecture, Movies, Art and so on. I walked passed authors I'd never known existed, genres I'd never conceived and books I'd never heard of.

Landmark became an integral part of my weekend schedule. I'd plan to catch a movie or lunch or dinner with a friend and find an excuse to be at Landmark. I'd either ask to meet them at the mall that also has a theatre and a food-court. Sometimes I'd drop by after an outing or arrange to meet someone between Magazines and Featured Books. Some days I'd go there by myself and spend hours browsing, walking out for a snack, poring over a book I'd bought or just feeling - something - just walking around.

My relationship with Landmark has grown in parallel with my relationship with my own writing. For a very long time, writing and creative endeavours were distant dreams, fantasies that I never really thought about seriously. I started my blog on a whim, to 'get it out of my system' so to speak. Surprisingly I found, my inspiration and my inclination...and my obsession to write only grew with time. After much teenage angst, anxiety-ridden desicions of education and work, job-switches and on/off relationships, I've discovered my passion. Words are my one and only real passion.

Writing is an indescribable feeling, one that rejuvenates me and one that takes me over in a fury and leaves me feeling quite spent - and fulfiled. I've never felt the same sense of completion with anyone or anything or anywhere else. The best thing about my job is how much it allows me to write. And where is a poet more at home than in a garden? Landmark is a garden of ideas, of people and stories and poems and articles and books all the many different ways we find to share our impressions with each other. The world outside disappoints me, hurts me, wears me down. But I walk back into a world of books and I find authors I deeply admire, words that bring me comfort, ideas that rekindle my zest for life, so much inspiration to just be me.

You might argue that I could have this in any other bookshop in the world. Yes, perhaps, if only there were others that offered the mind-boggling variety of books, a friendly but not intrusive staff and the convenience of location. If you've seen the movie 'You've got mail', you might say that Landmark has the staggering variety of Fox books set in the cosy ambience of the corner bookshop.

Now, three years later, I have a sentimental attachment to the Landmark store as well. The staff not only knows me by face and name, one of their employees has become a close, personal friend. I remember meeting Lord Jeffrey Archer, idol of my teenage years and buying a book for a special lady in my life. I walked through the aisles playing a 'now-you-see-me-now-you-don't' with a date who enjoyed books as much and picked out Knots by R.D.Laing for him. Weeks later, when he broke my heart, I healed myself in the comfort of Milan Kundera and Alexander McCall-Smith. I found a new friend, a new circle of people, a new interest and a new path to the future in Graphic Novels. I nurtured the early stages of a long-distance relationship through my SMS-chats and whispered conversations about the books I was browsing (while he'd be doing the same in the store in another city).

In these past three months, I've visited two countries, been in love and out of it, borne two deaths, has my sense of stability shaken by the terror attacks, discarded a friendship, renewed a few, acquired some more. I haven't had that haven that Zen calls 'the place of stillness' through all this. My friends have made babies, celebrated wedding anniversaries, had birthdays, returned to India after years. And I haven't been able to greet them with my choice of gift - a book specially chosen for the person and the occasion. Yes, I've missed Landmark so much. Friday, reunion!

And of course if any of you reading this post, have decided you love me enough to send me a gift, Landmark has a gift voucher program! ;-)

Book Review : The Jewel of Medina

Kim — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 05:21:05 EST

I had heard of the controversy surrounding "The Jewel of Medina" a couple of months ago, but it hadn't really inspired me to go out and buy the book immediately. Of course there was the other matter of it not being available in a Middle Eastern country. But when a friend of mine told me she had the book in case I was interested, I decided to see what the fuss was all about.

The book was initially quite ho-hum (compared to some of the other books I have read on the subject) while it covered the childhood politics around a little girl growing up in a polygamous family where her own mother was the second wife. The girl just happens to be Aisha Bint Abi Bakr, herself an extremely controversial character in Islam. After the Prophets death, she led an army against his son-in-law Ali, which was the cause for the Sunni-Shia split.

Sunnis claim Aisha was the favorite wife of the Prophet, while Shiites believe that he disliked her for her disobedience. Sunni accounts put the Prophet in Aisha's embrace at the time of his death and Shiites believe that he died in Ali's arms.

Why is The Jewel so inflammatory?

Conservative Catholics across the globe were vociferously against "The DaVinci Code" as it was based on the anti-thesis of a non-negotiable fact - that Jesus was married and sired a bloodline. This questioned the foundations of the Catholic faith and the vows of celibacy taken by priests and nuns.

"The Jewel of Medina" portrays each edict passed by Mohamed as being one for personal gain. It also caricatures him as an old man in constant sexual overdrive, whose only interest was in finding the next beautiful young bride. Drawing conclusions and elaborating on the fact that, when his male followers were allowed only 4 wives, the limitations did not apply to him. And other such incendiary conclusions.

For someone who is not familiar with the basics behind the Islamic teachings, it is a disastrous book to read, because it will completely distort the idea of Islam and its foundations. Ms Jones in her interviews has claimed that she wrote this book to make Islam more accessible and understandable to the general public in USA.

If this is her target audience, it will only serve to further aggravate the differences between Muslims and non-Muslims in America where a majority of non-Muslims already look upon Muslims with suspicion and in extreme cases, even hatred. Among the non-Muslims in America, there is a wide spread belief that women are completely dominated by men in this religion, they are forced to cover up from head to toe by overbearing fathers and husbands. This book will only serve to deepen and worsen those beliefs. I do not see any "understanding" coming out of this book.

The problem with writing fiction with characters from real life is that very few readers actually have the ability or knowledge to distinguish the line between the blurred lines of fact and fiction in a novel. And how much of this book is fiction? As a non-Muslim with basic information about Islam from my Muslim friends, I was quite riled up about certain injustices being described in certain sections of this book. This is a normal process when reading a book, the skill of the author is in making you feel for the characters. But the way it is portrayed as fact, brings these feelings out back into the world beyond the reading of a book.

What Ms Jones has written is a piece of fiction and not even a well researched one at that. Friends of mine who are scholars in Islamic studies, say that the inaccuracies are innumerable.

Geraldine Brooks (who has extensively researched the history of this era), author of the 1995 nonfiction book, "Nine Parts of Desire" whom Jones has cited as one her initial inspiration, says this in her review of The Jewel of Medina, "if you wish to claim that your novel is "extensively researched", why lurch around in time and space, grabbing at concepts such as hatun, or leading wife, which Jones knows full well belongs to the Ottoman empire of centuries later, or purdah, which exists in Persian, Urdu and Hindi but not Arabic? Why refer to an Islamic veil by the modern Western term "wrapper"? Why have Muslims bowing to Aisha, when bowing is an alien custom to desert Arabia and to Islam's egalitarian ethos?"

Is "The Jewel of Medina" a good story? - Well, it manages to keep your interest going after the initial chapters, wondering what is going to come next? and How will Aisha manage this latest calamity?. But in most parts it reads like Mills & Boone/ Silhouette kind of Soft Porn.

I ask a larger question : "Is it ethical to write a book like this, which caricatures a person who is the cornerstone of a particular religion?

Disclaimer : I do not want to get into a debate about death threats, riots and fatwas that inevitably follow a book of this kind.

Chick Lit

IdeaSmith — Fri, 19 Dec 2008 10:21:51 EST

My new literary obsession is Chick Lit. Helen Fielding, Sophie Kinsella and Marian Keyes keep me in chocolate-box mood while Meera Syal and Advaita Kala add the desi tadka. Why, even fellow-blogger/'I-know-this-girl-friend-acquaintance' Compulsive Confessor flashes her characteristic grin at me from my bedside bookstack.

I found this rather interesting piece on the internet, describing Chick Lit:

"Chick lit" is a term used to denote genre fiction written for and marketed to young women, especially single, working women in their twenties and thirties.

Now, I know I'm doing an about-face, especially after such rabid commmentary. I'm coming to this acceptance with much prior reluctance. I still have trouble accepting the term 'chick' to describe me or any woman I know. It's degrading. However, I'm willing to lay down my shackles and admit that I've been reading (and enjoying) the genre called Chick Lit.

Chick Lit is the new Romance Novel. And it isn't. As a genre it certainly is finding as much favour and spawning as many writers (and books) as the ubiquitous M&Bs. On the other hand, one may argue that romantic fiction was a genre built on common women's fantasies while Chick Lit inter-twines what we consider our ideal life along with the proverbial gang-cribbing that each of us indulges in with our galpals over men, weight loss problems, career concerns and PMS.

Chick Lit, as most of the definitions state, is usually about twenty-something women, career-minded or not, married or not, successful or not. One thing they all are, is discontent with their lot. The careerwoman struggles with loneliness and jerky boyfriends, the beauty queen is slapped around and paraded as a sex toy/trophy partner and the housewife is wistful about missed opportunities. The Chick Lit heroine is Superwoman who survives on a steady dose of gal/pal advice, gay friends, alcohol-and-career swings and roller-coaster relationships. Friends are family, chocolate is the manna for all evils and the root of all evils can be summed up into one word - MEN.

Bosses, colleagues, friends, lovers, ex-boyfriends, flings, husbands of friends, partner's buddies, friends' partners, gardeners, milkmen, grumpy old men, uncles, teachers, fathers, cheery grocers, lecherous neighbors....men in every possible shape, size and relationship are examined back and forth. It is the Chick Lit'ter's favorite hobby - Men.

If the Indian versions are different, it is only in that they're usually set in Mumbai/Delhi instead of London/New York. The protagonists gorge on chicken tikkas and grab their capuccinos from Barista instead of M&S or Starbucks. Their mothers want to see them 'well-settled' instead of 'settled down'. The men are just as committment-phobic, the careers just as unsatisfying, their bosses are just as demanding, their married neighbors consider them just as flighty and sluttish and their credit card bills are equally long.

Why do I like the genre so much? Simple. Because it is about me. That's my life, my friends, my mistakes and my victories that are getting written about. Every page brings a, "Don't I know it!", an "Aha! You got 'im there, girl!" and a "Bullshit, I heard the same thing from my second boyfriend when he was cheating on me." It's almost like having a new set of friends with every book.

You might even say it's the modern, literary woman's Soap Opera in a book format. If the women of yore wanted fantasy to keep them entertained, at least this I can say for my generation - we're thriving on reality...or some warped version of it. Who needs a perfect fairytale when our own messed-up, vodka-spiked, overstressed lives are so much more interesting?

Chick Lit is empowering in a very strange way. It tells me that other women are having a hell of it too. That having a zero social life at twenty, in favour of slogging away at work was not a mistake. That getting married at twenty-three would not have spelt 'happily ever after' either. That my smug married, whiz-in-the-kitchen housewife friend acts superior to me but also thinks I'm living the glamourous, carefree life she only reads about in magazines.

It tells me that it's okay to not feel diva-like at all times, to nurse worries over weight gain and cellulite. That it's even okay to worry more about these than a missed deadline. That bad temper, unreasonableness and pukey-head-feeling are permissible once a month.

Chick Lit tells me life isn't perfect (yes, I know someone said that long ago but catch me listening?). I mean look at the titles - The Undomestic Goddess, Life isn't all Hahaheehee, Shopaholic, Almost Single. It also tells me that each of us is figuring out a new way of perfect. And who knows? Maybe Perfect will be the way I do it - My perfect!

The Lord of The Rings is a Bollywood Movie

Fleiger — Thu, 4 Dec 2008 11:51:06 EST

Just a few days back, I was talking to a friend who was ranting about the hindi movies, and the completely over the top masala ingredients added in them to spice them up. After defending the Bollywood for a long time (hey, we Indians may make fun of those movies but we stand together when some outsider does it), I went back to my most recent re-reading of Lord of The Rings.

And I got an epiphany. Here are:

10 Reasons why LoTR is just another Bollywood Masala film:

10. If you are a good guy and a father, you get to die at the hands of The Villain or his Henchmen. Which of course will inspire your kid(s) and others to vanquish the villain for revenge.

9. Things are going very badly for the good guys, when BAM! Help arrives in the form of the Hero.

8. The hero has a bumbling but faithful sidekick (or a group of them), who provides the comic sidetrack, but will lay down his life for the hero.

7. There's a costumed villain, sitting in his snazzy layer, surrounded by costumed henchmen and weird looking followers.

6. The "supporting actress" loves the hero, who cannot return her affections because he is in love with the heroine. But don't worry, she will find her life partner in the "supporting actor" before the climax.

5. The hero and heroine belong to different social groups, and hence her father is not exactly happy about their union, but there is a loving aunt who will help the lovers.

4. The heroine, the one belonging to higher social group in this case, will "sacrifice" her advantages in order to marry the hero.

3. The hero has greedy, conniving, thieving relatives who have their eye on his estate.

2. You can stab him, fire arrows at him, slash at him with swords, poison him. The Hero just goes on and on and on...

1. At moment's notice, there's at least one person who has got to sing up. Sometimes that quickly grows into a group song.

Anybody got any idea which characters I am talking about here?

P.S. The comparison is based solely on the basis of the books, and those who know LoTR as only the movie trilogy may be a bit confused.

Book Review: A Soul of Steel by Carole Nelson Douglas

Fleiger — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 12:49:12 EST

If asked which one person we would have liked to see again, true Holmesians would vote for Irene Norton née Adler with a huge majority, if not by an unanimous vote. "A Soul of Steel" by Carole Nelson Douglas is a novel from her Irene Adler series which tries to fulfill that fantasy.

Irene and her husband Godfrey Norton are spending their “posthumous” lives with their friend cum housekeeper Miss Penelope Huxleigh in Paris, when a man from Nell Huxleigh’s past is thrust in their lives.

Capt. Emerson Quentin Stanhope, presumed dead in Afghanistan has found that, a decade later, somebody is trying to silence him because of the secrets he holds about battle of Maiwand. And by association, the life of the doctor who saved him in battlefield is also in danger. When he is found, sick and dying, by Irene and her friends, they decide to help him find and warn the Dr. Watson. But, helping Quentin makes them a target for an extremely dangerous hunter, and they have to knock on the doors at 221B, Baker Street to bring the mystery to a safe conclusion.

Chronologically, the story does take a few liberties with Holmes canon. Taking place some time after “Scandal in Bohemia”, during and after “Naval Treaty” (possibly placing it back by some time), it introduces a major character before it appears in canon (If we go by timeline according to this novel, there are some serious questions about Watson’s memory re: people trying to kill him). Although, that’s just the Holmesian in me cribbing.

Characters-wise, Godfrey Norton is your Standard English Gentleman, a good friend and a honourable man. He and Irene are completely in love with each other (though their married life sounds a bit more 20th century American than 19th century English) and are equal partners in their adventures. And of course, he is understandably jealous of The Man his wife remains fascinated by.

Miss “Nell” Huxleigh is the typical vicar’s daughter, governess in a respectable family kind of girl. She is Watson to Irene’s Holmes (although she will not approve of that comparison). Loyal to the fault and having lived a sheltered life before sharing in Irene’s adventures, Nell is the voice of common sense in the household. And that explains her feelings towards Holmes.

Irene on the other hand is portrayed as the equal and opposite of Holmes. They both share liking for adventure, the ennui coming out of commonplace existence, the flair for drama, as well as the immovable sense of justice. But where Holmes is an analytical machine, Irene the Prima Donna is impulsive and emotional (in short, dare I say, a woman); jumping into whatever catches her fancy without a thought for dangers involved.

This is before Watson’s stories start getting published, and hence Holmes to Irene’s friends is a just paid agent trying to swindle Irene out of her only means of danger. Since this is a story from “the other side”, that was the only reason I could read the portrayal of Holmes for most part. Given that tone of the novel, I was worried about the eventual meeting between Holmes and Irene, but a careful reading dispelled my doubts.

In short, if you can’t get enough of the world of Holmes, or (like somebody said,) you can’t get enough of The Woman who got better of Holmes, this is for you. For me, continuing the series would depend on how they talk about The Man.

Book Review: NEXT

K. M. — Thu, 13 Nov 2008 01:24:33 EST

NEXT is a novel by Michael Crichton. Or at least it claims to be. It has a disorganized plot, too many characters with too little characterization and gratuitous sex. Just about two weeks after reading it, I can hardly remember the characters or their roles in the plot.

The main plot describes the efforts of a biological research company engaged in creating genetic drugs to recover some cells that could be used to fight cancer. The cells have been obtained during a routine treatment and the patient is unaware that his cells are special. The doctor who treats him discovers that the cells are special and continues his research without informing the patient.

When he decides to commercialize the cells, the patient sues his company but loses the case. He then gets an offer from a competitor for his cells and goes into hiding. Meanwhile the cell samples are stolen and the company attempts to obtain cells from the patient’s daughter and grandson, providing enough material for all the action.

There are also some sub-plots. There is a researcher who discovers a “maturity” gene, accidentally gives it to his drug addicted brother who comes out of his addiction, then tries out the gene on some other people, only to discover that the gene actually causes premature ageing and death. There is another researcher who inseminates a female chimpanzee with his own sperm with some genetic process (I don’t recall the details) and lands up with a humanzee kid, resembling a chimpanzee in appearance but capable of human speech.

He takes the kid home and sends him to school disguised as a child with some rare medical condition. Overall, the plot is somewhat incoherant and one has to make an effort to remember the characters when they reappear after a few pages.

As a novel Airframe was much more engaging and Prey was a lot more exciting even though the plot in Prey was much worse. (Airframe and Prey are the only other novels by Crichton that I have read). If NEXT were just a novel, it would be a waste of time. But NEXT is more than a novel. It raises serious questions about patent laws in the domain of genetics, intellectual property rights, what it means to own ones body, commercialization of genetic research, role of universities and government in research etc. In fact, Crichton has a 7 page note at the end of the novel, explaining his views on these issues. Since one of the purposes of this novel (perhaps the primary purpose) is clearly to raise these issues, let me present a summary of some of the issues from the novel and Crichton’s views.

Crichton presents a world that is almost out of control, a world in which the state of the art in genetics has far surpassed the state of the relevant laws. Here are some examples:

The lawyer representing the doctor and his research company tells the patient’s daughter after winning the case, that it would be futile for the patient to appeal the ruling. “UCLA is a state university. The Board of Regents is prepared, on behalf of the state of California, to take your father’s cells by right of eminent domain.”

The CEO of the research company wants a divorce and custody over his children but his wife doesn’t. His wife’s grandfather died from a fatal genetic disease and there is a chance that she might have it too. The CEO’s lawyer demands that the wife be genetically tested and gets a court order. The wife is unwilling to be tested since a discovery that she carries the disease would ruin her life.

An insurance company cancels a person’s coverage based on some genetic information about his father who died in circumstances that caused a legal enquiry. Someone at the company that performed the genetic tests says “Anyway the son is saying he did not authorize the release of genetic information about himself, which is true. But if we release the father’s information, as we’re required by state law to do, we also release the son’s, which we’re required by state law not to do. Because his children share half the same genes as the father. One way or another, we break the law.”

“The COX-2 inhibitor patent fight was famous. In 2000 the university of Rochester was granted a patent for a gene called COX-2, which produced an anzyme that caused pain. The university propmptly sued the pharmaceutical giant Searle, which marketed a successful arthritis drug, Celebrex, that blocked the COX-2 enzyme. Rochester said Celebrex had infringed on its gene patent, even though their patent only claimed general uses of the gene to fight pain. The university had not claimed a patent on any specific drug.”

Op-Ed commentary: “Columbia University researchers now claim to have found a sociability gene. What’s next?… In truth researchers are taking advantage of the public’s lack of knowledge… Geneticists will not speak out. They all sit on the boards of private companies, and are in a race to identify genes they can patent for their own profit…”

At the end of the novel, Crichton presents his views in the form of a 5 point course of action

1. Stop patenting genes: Crichton writes that genes are a fact of nature and such cannot be owned or patented.

2. Establish clear guidelines for the use of human tissues: Crichton writes that there should be legislation to ensure that patients can control the purpose for which their tissues are used.

3. Pass laws to ensure that data about gene testing is made public: Crichton suggests (not very clearly or convincingly) that there should be some genuinely independent verification of findings and full disclosure of research data.

4. Avoid bans on research: Crichton essentially argues that “To the best of my knowledge there has never been a successful global ban on anything. Genetic research is unlikely to be the first.”

5. Rescind the Bayh-Dole act (an act permitting university researchers to sell their discoveries for their own profit, even when that research had been funded by taxpayer money): Crichton laments that thirty years ago, universities provided a scholarly haven, a place where disinterested scientists were available to discuss any subject affecting the public. Now universities are commercialized, the haven is gone and scientists have personal interests that influence their judgement. Also “Taxpayers finance research, but when it bears fruit, the researchers sell it for their own institutional and personal gain, after which the drug is sold back to the taxpayers.”

I agree with points 1, 2 and 4 and strongly disagree with points 3 and 5. In fact I believe he has got the issue backwards.

In his support for point 3, Crichton writes “Government should take action. In the long run there is no constituency for bad information. In the short run, all sorts of groups want to bend the facts their way. And they do not hesitate to call their senators, Democratic or Republican. This will continue until the public demands a change.” This is true but his conclusion doesn’t follow. An “independent agency” in charge of verifying findings has to be under the control of politicians who will be all too willing to oblige the groups who who want to bend facts in exchange for backing. This phenomenon is not new at all. It is called lobbying. Requirements for disclosure are even more ridiculous than bans. You can force a person from doing something with limited success. How do you force a person to disclose what no one else knows? And most importantly, government has no moral right to <i>require</i> someone to do anything. Men are not slaves.

About the Bayh-Dole act, again Crichton has the facts right and the conclusion wrong. Universities are certainly commercialized today. And researchers who are funded by public money and allowed to make private profits certainly act in unscrupulous ways. The incentives are definitely wrong. But the solution is not to de-commercialize research. That is neither possible nor desirable. It ignores the context of why the act was passed in the first place. It was passed because non-commercial research does not work.

Describing a character who is a director of NIH (National Institutes of Health), another character says: “Rob’s a major player at NIH, He’s got huge research facilities and he dispenses millions in grants. He holds breakfasts with congressmen. He’s a scientist who believes in God. They love him on the Hill. He’d never be charged with misconduct. Even if we caught him buggering a lab assistant, he wouldn’t be charged.” and again “It was classic Rob Bellarmino. Talking like a preacher, subtly invoking God, and somehow getting everyone to push the envelope, no matter who got hurt, no matter what happened. Rob can justify anything. He’s brilliant at it.” The solution to unscrupulous researchers (in as much as the problem can be “solved”) is not to have more such men like Rob. It is to make them impossible, or more precisely to make it impossible for them to enjoy political clout and arbitrary powers to grant millions in grants. It is to divorce research from government.