The Small House - Timeri N Murari

Timeri N Murari is a name that you will see tucked away among the likes of Rohinton Mistry, Anita Desai, Anita Nair, etc in the Indian Fiction section of libraries and book shops. I had never tried reading Murari before and if this book is any reflection of his skill I won’t be reading anymore.

The novel is based on the concept of ‘chinnaveedu’ (made famous by Maniratnam in Agni Natchathiram and Bhagyaraj in Chinnaveedu), a social norm that has an unspoken acceptance in Tamil Nadu. It is the tradition of bigamy where a man has two houses, one to house his mistress which is the chinnaveedu or literally the small house. Politicians and thespians in Tamil Nadu indulge in this even to this day. ‘The Small House’ is the story of Roopmati a modern day princess from a derelict lineage, who is a Professor in History. Her failing marriage sees her business tycoon husband Khris finding solace in the scheming TV journalist Maya. There is a parallel plot of her friend Tazneem who is also battling a similar crisis, except that her husband Hari finds comfort in Sanjay, a famous film actor. There is also the convoluted story of her Roopmati’s long-lost brother Tommy. In the background there is the legend of Rupmati, the shepherdess who charmed Sultan Baz Bahadur. She is Roopmati’s friend, confidante and companion in her sleeping hours.

This novel is feeble in its appeal at best. Murari could have done so much with the theme of chinnaveedu, the interplay of characters and emotions is totally lacking. He just does not make use of it to make the narrative stronger. The plot is very weak and so are the characters. Rupmati’s story served no purpose as well. This again could have been used to the author’s advantage. And Tommy the brother, played no real part and one wouldn’t have missed him even if he lay dead in the sea. And the denoument is so farcical like a Bollywood movie where all the characters come together and there is the resolution. Barring the cops, who made their appearance one scene too early unlike in the movies. And even in the resolution there are so many loose ends - we are left wondering what happens to Maya, Tazneem and Hari. Murari could have done better even with his choice of words. He does take a bold step with the intimate scenes but even there his choice of words is quite jarring and seems contrived.

I don’t know if I will take a risk with Murari’s more accomplished works. It may take a while for me to forget the disappointment with this one.

A Journey Out Of India - Anna K Chacko

I am thoroughly confused about this book, I searched the book for clues, I trawled the Internet and yet I am not sure - some say this book is a memoir, some say fictionalised autobiography and some others say it is a novel. And what exactly is a fictionalised autobiography? It can only be one of the two - fiction or autobiography. I don’t know if it is deliberate, but the author also does not clarify anywhere. And why am I caught up with on that one point? Because any review will revolve around that critical aspect. If it is an autobiography, I would say it is a very brave attempt. If its fiction then it is lacking on several fronts.

‘A Journey Out of India’ is the story of Anna, a Syrian Orthodox Christian growing up in Hyderabad. Born into an affluent family, she is living under illusions of external grandeur and contentment. Underneath the exterior of domestic harmony, Anna is battling feelings of inadequacy, neglect and abuse. Her father is disappointed that his first born is a girl child and that actually starts the downward spiral of the family’s fortunes. Adding to this misery is the fact that Anna is born with a congenital problem. There is a simmering conflict between her parents and she finds love and care in Lakshmi her maid. She is abused by her uncle and molested by a family friend and therefore grows up confused about her own sexuality. A failed marriage, familial betrayal and exodus from India are offset by her success as a doctor in Hawai. Her ally till the end is her sister Rachel. Together with her mother and sister she finds freedom and contentment.      

While Anna is an amusing character, she exhibits shades of grey. On the one hand she is independent, perceptive and intelligent but there are times when she prefers to be led and has no clarity or purpose. Rachel is a much more firm character. The mother scores no points for tenderness or concern barring a few instances. One cannot ignore the strains of Lear in the father, more sinned against than sinning. The men obviously take the brunt in terms of characterisation, with the exception of her father the others including Uncle Joey, her husband James are amorous and devious. (One can’t fathom how one man can abuse three women in the same family despite being so close knit, especially since Anna and Rachel share practically everything). What makes the characterisation realistic is that all of them are flawed - her aunt Anna (her role model), her upright uncle Matthew, her mother, her father even Lakshmi.

The setting is in old nawabi Hyderabad, where religion has not yet divided the people, where there is harmony. Anna uses plants and flowers like Chitra Divakaruni does with spices in ‘Mistress of Spices’ to give clues of how the plot will unfold. It is a little hard to understand how plants can govern human destiny. The author seems much more well versed in Urdu than with Malayalam and she has made errors in her translations of malayalam words and phrases. Aban she says is malayalam for brother when it is malay. One glaring instance is when she writes ‘kurielaison’, as ‘kyrielaison’ and says it is Aramaic while it is actually Syriac for ‘Lord have mercy upon us’ (atleast that is what I believe). There are several typos and errors in the book that the editing team has missed - leaves a bad taste.

Give it a miss and you won’t have missed much.

Tunnel Vision - Shandana Minhas

I have started to widen my reading just to keep myself aware of what is else is out there. I looked at books coming out of our neighbours including Sri Lanka and Bangladesh. I read ‘Shodh’ by Taslima, ‘The Match’ by Romesh Gunesekera and ‘Turtle Nest’ by Chandani Lokuge. Amidst all the clamour about Taslima and her being bundled about, it was surprising to see the criticism that came even from literary circles about her being an average writer. However, I found ‘Shodh’ to be a decent read. As for Gunasekera and Lokuge, I didn’t go very far with their novels. So it was with doubts that I picked up ‘Tunnel Vision’ by Shandana Minhas. My only other exposure to Pakistani literature was Saadat Hasan Manto , though I don’t know if he classifies as one. More about Manto later.

Now here is a book that is a clear winner. Everything about it is right. The cover has a face half covered by a shroud with a hazy picture of a busy thoroughfare. I like the play on the title - Tunnel Vision. It connotes the myopic view of the average South Asian, narrow and coloured. It also refers to the  blinding light at the end of the tunnel that supposedly hits departed souls as they enter the afterworld. This is a super debut novel and certainly promises some great work coming to us from Minhas. She has an easy style of writing and engages the reader right through the novel. A refreshing sense of humor and brilliant sense of comic timing sets this book apart.

Ayesha, the central character meets with a near fatal accident and lies in a coma. Her soul hovers over her body and she is watching the drama of her family’s grief, their hidden angers, while hidden secrets are revealed. The style is ’stream of consciousness’ as Ayesha reveals her past, her fears and the reason for her angst. She is an attractive middle class working woman in Karachi who is dealing with a multitude of problems - the disappearance of her father, the lack of love from her mother, her inability to sustain a relationship. A strong willed lady, her prickly exterior is actually her defence and her way of dealing with her lot. Her views about her mother are quite severe and is her response to her mother’s total severance of tenderness after the birth of her brother Adil. Jahan, the mother is also a very strong character with two sides to her, her apathy towards Ayesha and her infatuation with Adil. Throughout the novel Ayesha is fighting the inevitable, her slow but steady transition to a splitting image of her mother. She is also acidic, bitter and selfish. Beneath the dry humour and bitterness there is a sad young woman who just wants to live her life by her rules and her beliefs and is unwilling to conform.

As is expected the male characters are weak and almost inconsequential. Abba lives two lives and is hollow. Her love interests Omar and Saad are tied to their respective mother’s apron strings. Adil is self centred and cares more about self perservation and his new girlfriend even in the time of grief. The uncles are simpletons who are timid and intimidated by their wives and their sister.

Minhas scores with her humour and uses lines and phrases from various sources like the rear of rickshaws, trucks, buses and jingles as chapter titles. This gives it the sense of realism in a setting that is astral and nowhere near believable. Karachi is almost a character and has a huge role to play in the narrative. Karachi is like any metropolis in India, the same traffic jams, the same filthy government hospitals, the same pollution and corruption. There is so much in common between us and our neighbours, our middle class norms, our hatred for the political class, our views of forward thinking womenfolk. May be that was why I related to it more.

The narrative slips and so does the editing in a few places. But then those are minor flaws in an otherwise brilliant novel.

Purple Hibiscus - Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

The Evening Standard said the ‘Purple Hibiscus’ is as revealing as Arundhati Roy’s ‘The God of Small Things’, which I did not really believe. To my amusement I found that the likeness grew stronger as the novel progressed. There are so many striking similarities that at times you wonder if Chimamanda had read Ms. Roy’s book. The sibling attachment, the abusive fathers - Papa and Pappachi, the silent suffering Mama and Mammachi, the biscuit factory and the pickle factory and even the use of the local dialect in both the books. To me the biggest similarity is the relationship between Kambili and Jaja and the asusu anya, the non verbal language of the eyes they share. This is so similar to the ties between Rahel and Estha. Well the differences are in the intensity of the plot and the narrative. While Ms. Roy’s imagery and language have layers and layers of meaning Chimamanda is strikingly simple and direct.

There are several critics that say it is the story of the sexual awakening of a 15 year old, I disagree vehemently. This is more a story of exploitation and liberation; of abuse, domestic and religious; of clash of faiths, of love and responsibility. Kambili and Jaja are the children of Eugene, a rich neo convert, and live their lives in fear and unquestioning obedience to their father. Their lives are dictated by the daily schedule handed down by Papa. Kambili lives in constant terror of her father and does everything to please him and so does her mother. Everything changes when the siblings go to Nsukka to visit their university lecturer aunt, Ifeoma and her children (here again the initial rivalry between the cousins and the final camaraderie is similar to the visit of Sophiemol in Arundhati’s book). In Nsukka they learn to be indepedent and understand the value of tradition and heritage. Here they learn to be free with their thoughts, their fears and their joys. They also learn to question the way they have been ill treated and tortured by their father. In a matter of five days Kambili metamorphises into a woman capable of knowing what love is and Jaja becomes an adult with an acute sense of his responsibility to his family. In death and loss the family is united and hopeful of better times.

Chimamanda’s characterisation is her biggest strength as shown in ‘Half of a Yellow Sun’.  She says that she wanted Papa to be a character who did horrible things but was not a monster. Eugene who towers in the book is a fanatic and a sadist. He rules the lives of his family and is a benefactor to all those who live by his tenets and laws. And like all power hungry and egotistical characters, he feels undermined when someone stands upto him be it Papa-Nnukwu, Aunt Ifeoma and finally Jaja. Ifeoma is a brilliant creation, strong, unafraid, practical and very loving. Mama is pusillanimous and irritatingly subservient but ultimately surprises everyone. Kambili is a cloistered teenager who does not trust her feelings and her needs. Jaja is a very strong character - sensitive, rebellious and sacrificing. The relationship between Father Amada and Kambili is a let down  - almost like a chick flick.

I would recommend that readers ideally should try this book before reading her other celebrated novel. ’Purple Hibiscus’ wilts under the brilliance of ’Half of a Yellow Sun’.

The Village Before Time - Madhavan Kutty

I do regret missing out on the works of Thakazhi, O V Vijayan, M Mukundan, M T Vasudevan Nair and Vaikom Basheer in their original forms. I believe that at times the texture is lost in translations. However, Gita Krishnankutty who translated this book by Madhavan Kutty has done an excellent job. People who can understand Malayalam can comprehend the retention of the original nuances and the essence of the experience. There definitely is an art in translating and ‘The Village Before Time’ is a good illustration of that.

“Whether this book is fiction or memory is besides the point. There is an incredible abundance of characters and situations. This sheer exuberance leave us with a deep fictional experience”, says O V Vijayan. This is an apt summing up of the book, though I disagree on the exuberance part. The book is definitely not sprightly or joyful, it is realistic and simple. This is an autobiographical book narrated from the view of a young boy. It is a child’s perspective, and the child does not read into people or situations deeper than what is visible. It is for the reader to do that. The characters are people you meet in any village in Kerala, the events are not really unique and can happen in any family. There is this poignant part about Kuttimalu, his grand aunt. Her beauty is her curse like Midas’ touch. It really is heart wrenching despite the fact that it narrated with no artifice. The uncle Kittunni Nair, his friend Gopalan, the Post Master Abraham are delightfully Pickwickian. Paruthipally is strongly remniscent of R K Narayan’s Malgudi - the distinct characters, the buildings, the roads, the post office. The reader is also taken through Nair customs, beliefs and traditions including marumakkathayam (the matriarchal set up), and untouchability.   

One enduring aspect of the book is that Madhavan Kutty takes no stance, makes no judgement and peddles no philosophy.There is no plot, there is no deep delineation in terms of characterisation, no effort in symbolism or imagery and yet it keeps you hooked. One issue I have with the book is that there are so many characters that sometimes you have to flip back to place him or her. A family tree would have worked well.

Three and a half stars on five is my verdict

Under The Rain Tree - Vatsala Balachandran Warrier

I should have judged the book by its cover this time. Sometimes my quest for checking out unheralded authors backfires, and how. This is another book that I regret having bought, not for the cost but the anticipation and effort. After having read short story collections by Kunal Basu, Shinie Antony, Vassanji and Rohinton Mistry, may be I set my expectations too high. This book was thoroughly disappointing to say the least.

So what’s wrong with the book? Everything. Published from Cedar Books, ‘an imprint of Pustak Mahal’, the very appearance of the book is juvenile. They have a caricature of a tree with an umbrella and drops of rain drawn like students draw short lines to indicate water. Methinks they re-used the cover of a pre-school coloring book minus the see saw, the merry-go-round and the smiling children with pigtails and colored cheeks. They should have had a statutory warning ‘Not for Children Above 13′. The stories are like those short stories in Women’s Era.

Coming to the content the stories are superficial and hollow. Some of them have plots that are strongly remniscent of some mallu movies - like Time and Tide, Mist in the Mountain, A Rainbow in my Heart. The plots are predictable and uninteresting. But for one story, ‘The Champion’, the author does not let the reader draw his own conclusions nor does it tickle your imagination. After all the beauty of short stories is to be crisp and let the reader draw up the story line in his own head. Here everything is staring in your face and is disappointing.  The editing could have been tighter, there are errors in punctuations, there are avoidable repetitions. The language and the descriptions are laboured and quite tedious.

Buy and read at your own risk.

Maya - George Thundiparampil

Of late I have been focusing on English Writers of Keralite origins and that was the only reason for me to pick up this book that I have never heard of - Maya by George Thundiparampil. “The turbulent past amid the clamour of contemporary Kerala” begins the back of book write up and also says it is centred around Fort Kochi. The author’s note promised a lot of history that kind of got me making up my mind.

The story is about Kaappiri, a ‘homogenous being’ who is waiting for moksha. He can attain redemption only if he can narrate the story of his existence of 336 years to a predestined apsara, the nymph from the kingdom of gods as predicted by his guru. In Maya, a young sensual collegian, he meets his deliverer who is the only person who can see him. He becomes an integral part of her life and they finally fall in love, a highly risky develpment for Kaappiri. Their intimate ‘The Entity’ like encounter shakes his focus on his eternal mission. Will it mean that he will have to wait another millenium for freedom? Will his ‘human weaknesses’, like love, loyalty and honesty finally prove to be his undoing? That is the crux of the story.

Mr. Thundiparampil has used a unique plot for the structure of the novel. The novel takes the reader through time - the Portugese foray into India, the Dutch in India, the spread of Christianity. Kaappiri’s atman manifests itself across these historical events as Lam, the African slave warrior, his son Kannan and as Ajay a slave in Goa. Each of these characters also interact with famous historical personalities like Vasco da Gama, the general Duarte Pacheco Pereira, the evangelist Francis Xavier and the poet Luis de Camoes. There is also the strong element of Hindu philosophy including occultism, tantric rites and the central theme of birth and rebirth. The story is interesting, the mileu is compelling and it is spaced out well. We also get an insight into the atrocities perpetrated by the Portugese and the Dutch particularly in Kerala, a change from our obsession on the crimes of the English.

The fact that the author has done vast research and analysis is evident throughout the book. However, that exactly is the biggest failing of the book. The details are at times excruciating and I was almost at the point of giving it up especially at the chapter on Lam. I did skip 40 - 50 pages. The story-teller in Mr. Thundiparampil is overcome by the inherent historian for a major part of the book, which is when the narrative becomes almost unbearable. There are instances when the author takes liberties with his own interpretations of history especially his dismissal of the visit of the apostle Thomas to India as a myth.

A decent attempt. Try it if you can drum up patience.

One Little Indian - Richard Crasta

One of my favourite book shops in Bangalore is Blossom on Church Street. It is a real book lover’s den, no fancy decor, no piped music, no PYTs in bright tees flashing plastic smiles. The good thing about the store is that the shelves are stacked with books and it has this nice smell of books remniscent of a University Library. You get used books and some rare books as well, I saw a hard bound edition of ‘The God of Small Things’. The only problem is that arrangement of books is a wee haphazard. I went straight to the Indian Authors section and I was looking for Richard Crasta, there were lots of books by R K Narayan and Ruskin Bond under the R section. Finally I asked one of the attendants who took me to the general section and dug out a book of Crasta, ‘One Little Indian’. To my question on why it was not under Indian Writing, he replied with a wan smile. I also found Purple Hibiscus in the Indian Authors section. I now have enough material to last me a couple of weeks, Crasta, Adichie and Vassanji. I was smacking my lips as I left.

I couldn’t wait to start on Crasta, I remember reading ‘The Revised Kama Sutra’ almost six years ago and cracking up. I did find some parts of Rohiton Mistry’s ‘Such a Long Journey’ humorous, but this one had me giggling. Most reviews of Crasta’s works have one recurring word - irreverent. And yes, he definitely mocks at established norms, icons and attitudes through his brand of self depreciating humor.  The book is about the endearing Vijay Prabhu, living in a Mangalore that is repressive and highly orthodox. All the characters are seen through the eyes of Vijay, he paints each in his own shades and his own interpretations. His parents are typical of the meek Indian middle class, just trying to get along. The frustrations of a mediocre existence with no hope of affluence comes through pretty strongly despite being couched in humor. The uncles, the aunts, his Jesuit teachers are all living in that very sense of a time wrap. His trysts with sex, be it the anatomical exploration with Leela in school, his quest for erotic information from books, his unsuccessful visit to the brothel are quite comical.

The language is largely hyperbole and at times there is an element of strain in his effort to be consistently funny. However, he uses the unique nuances and expressions of Mangaloreans to good effect. Though the book is largely slapstick comedy, there is pain and frustration at a deeper level. The publishers could have done a better job with the packaging and layout, it is unappealing and has the risk of being passed over unless someone is hunting for this very book.

My recommendation is, read it; society can do with a good laugh.

Seance on a Sunday Afternoon - Shinie Antony

I had bought Kardamom Kisses almost a year ago and gave it up after a few chapters. It somehow didn’t keep me wanting to finish it. Last week I bought Shinie Antony’s collection of short stories, ‘Seance on a Sunday Afternoon’ spurred on by the recent coverage about her book launch. After reading that I tried to give Kardamom Kisses another shot and I think I have figured out why I couldn’t complete it earlier. I am not a seasoned critic but in my opinion it has to do with the pace. Shinie’s writing is brisk and fast, almost staccato. This works admirably well in the short story genre but in a novel one tends to be attuned to a leisurely pace.

I almost fell in the same trap as with my earlier failed attempt and was beginning to lose interest with the first three stories - ‘Contact’, ‘Monkey Darling’, ‘Opposites’. These were totally over the top and had more shock value than any real content. However, the next one ‘In the Night’ was a good one dealing about conflict and loss. And soon I was kind of hooked. ‘The Sofa’ was a poignant story about old age and the tussle between parental love and marital amity. ‘Oveheard’ is a brilliant piece on stray conversations with no real connection between them. These are 26 separate monotones that talk about things that an ordinary person goes through everyday. The others that stood out for me are ‘Seance on a Sunday Afternoon’, a story about despair, futility and ennui. The protagonist lives a despairing life without any hope of deliverance except in suicide. ’Tasteless’ has middle aged Devi trying to take control over her domain, the kitchen and establish her culinary skills only to realise that she is just not as good as her mother. Her final comfort comes when her son announces that he is a chef in the US and a noted one at that. A simple but delightful story. As is usual in short story collections consistency is an issue in this one as well.

As stated earlier, Shinie’s style is perfectly suited for short stories, its fast paced and rapid. The themes are ’slice of life’ and very realistic. The stories do not run on like novellas and usually don’t go beyond 6 pages at best. Therefore it is easy to finish a story between ad breaks if you multitask like me between a book and ‘CSI’ or Last Comic Standing’.

Madras on Rainy Days - Samina Ali

I read this book several years ago, but I can still vividly recall the plot and the characters. This is one of those books that haunt you. For a debut effort, ’Madras on Rainy Days’ is definitely a great piece of work. The feelings, the emotions, and the situations feel authentic and realistic. Samina Ali in one of her interviews candidly says that the book has grown out of personal experiences and personal challenges. She recounts an interesting anecdote about the actual genesis of the idea behind the book. She had written out a scene as part of an assignment for a creative writing course and her professor was so impressed with it that she asked her to write a novel. The scene which is set in Madras on a rainy night is the one where the muslim healer performs exorcism on Layla to set right her marriage. And obviously that scene is one that stands out in the book as highly charged. Sameer is hoping that divine intervention will help despite his awareness of the root cause for his marital problems. The alim is trapped between his divine mission and carnal temptation as the beautiful Layla lies half undressed before him. The fear of the unknown and the fear of futility plagues Layla.

The story is set in Hyderabad and not in Madras and recounts the story of the young NRI Layla’s tryst with love, betrayal, abuse and religious restrictions. Samina has based Layla on herself, she herself was married off young to an Indian and went through similar emotions in her life. Therefore Layla as a character is very strongly and intricately crafted. Sameer is a weak caricature and lacks depth. The others are all fringe actors and are obscure. The plot is well thought out and keeps the reader interested. The twist in the tale is also well planned and does take you by surprise.

However, there are some criticisms about the book that are valid. She tries to pack too much in one book - sexuality, repression, child abuse, religious intolerance, irrational beliefs, divorce and several more. She is quite dramatic with her symbolism and tries to shock the reader at times with her candour.

My recco? worth a shot.