I was wading through Lament of Mohini by Shreekumar Varma and feeling any book would be a reprieve when I started on ‘In The Country of Deceit’. I have to admit that it started off well and then it just tapered off especially towards the end as though the author also lost interest and just was not sure how to end the story. While Varma tries too hard to impress with a convoluted plot marred by stilted language, Deshpande skims across barely scratching the surface.
Devyani is a young unmarried woman living alone in a small town in Karnataka called Rajnur. She is just recovering from the loss of her mother and starting life anew, symbolised by the demolition of her ancestral home and the building of a modern house. And with the modern house Devyani sheds her conservative outlook on life and her inhibitions. And this alteration comes with the arrival of Rani, a retired actress and Ashok, a police officer into Devyani’s life. Devyani has a brush with the filmdom given Rani’s persistence as Rani makes a last ditch effort to court the camera. Devyani walks on the wildside with her relationship with Ashok and that is the pivot of the story. The novel peters out to a predictable end without much fuss.
In terms of characters, as is expected Devyani is the only well developed character. She is generous, long-suffering and patient with all the calamities thrown her way. Above all she is honest, honest to her own self. At times she is sickeningly subservient and lets herself be led. The other characters are bit shadows, Ashok included. There was so much potential to fill out his character which Deshpande has missed out on. There is this one instance where Ashok assaults a young man who drives carelessly in front of Ashok’s car and one saw a glimpse of the dark side of this man. Sadly he remains unidimensional and indistinct. Another event that held the potential for a gripping plot was the accosting of young Devyani and her friends by a man on their way home from school. It showed glimpses of terror, guilt and self preservation. Again Deshpande glosses over that as well as part of a conversation.
Savi, the sister Sindhu, the aunt are all weak and listless. Rani who plays the alter ego is also tepid. Again here is another wasted character when the author could have delved deeper into why she did the things she did.The author tries to draw Rajnur on the lines of another Malgudi, again another let down.
The narrative is in first person and from Devyani’s perspective. Deshpande uses letters from various people to Devyani to probably fill out the other characters and their perspectives. However, this falls flat as the content of the letters is stilted and definitely not realistic. Simply put they are more like conversations than missives. There is no discernable difference between the regular narrative and the letters in language or tone. The lines exchanged in those intimate scenes between Devyani and Ashok are cheesy and repetitive.
The jacket say the book is a subtle, many-layered exploration of the consequences of betrayal on people’s lives and relationships. There is nothing subtle, there are not many layers and as for exploration it is like taking a straw to drink from a river.
‘In The Country of Deceit’ is an example of missed opportunities and unrealised potential.
this is the best thing which Shashi Deshpande has done to the indian society coz she has shown the truth of a woman who is trying to live her life on her own trems and conditions.i feel like she is telling the story of every other girl.
Thanks Apeksha for visiting. I think it is a good plot too, my issue was with the delivery.
Dear Davematt, have forwarded the first paragraph to Mr. Shreekumar Varma
Thank you for that favour Ashvin.
Hi Dave (David Matthew ?), this is not for the blog, but am forced to use this forum as I don’t have your email id….
Pretty savage below, huh ?
This was from India Today
Regards Ashvin.
June 26, 2000
Seeking Susan
From the literary galaxy of Kerala, a new star. Plus an early eclipse.
By Ravi Shankar
SOMETHING BARELY REMEMBERED
BY SUSAN VISVANATHAN
LAMENT OF MOHINI
BY SHREEKUMAR VARMA
Something Barely Remembered is a title that shows the red rag to any bull of a literary critic. But this delicate collection of 15 short stories written by Susan Visvanathan is going to be remembered quite a lot. The stories are set in Kerala — suddenly spouting more English authors than monsoon vegetation in Ayemenem — and the rest of the world: Rome, Zurich, Casablanca and back to Kottayam. Visvanathan’s stories seem autobiographical in snatches, the voice of each protagonist overlapping like echoes in a shadowy play.
The imagery, unlike Arundhati Roy’s, is carefully crafted and meticulously executed, the style of writing economical yet beautiful. The overpowering scent of nostalgia is like pollen in the air: “Sometimes in the dark green Roman street, ancient cobbles under my feet, I would think of the old house where I grew up … One day I would go back to my ancient village, where the wind brought to us the sound of the sea, and the hush of river water.”
It is difficult to be lyrical in prose without appearing florid and foolish mostly, unless you invent a completely new idiom like Joyce with his Ulysses or you are gifted with the genius of a Marquez. Ondaatje plays his violin of words. But Visvanathan seems to have somehow become a lepidopterist of prose, and her stories have the quality of butterflies dreaming in her net.
The stories appear fragmented and transient, with no apparent connection other than a few common names that keep cropping up, a Syrian Christian legacy and the protagonist’s inner self-indulgence. But as one reads on one becomes aware of an underlying superior cunning; this crafty Lady of Shallott has been sitting and spinning a pattern that overknits seemingly disconnected vignettes of narrative.
The art of coincidence is worthy of a Calvino, and Visvanathan uses it with delightful control: Chacko who comes to the small village called Puthenkavu and meets the child Anna whose mother deserted her for Azor, who doesn’t speak the language, but woos her with wordless romance.
Stories later, Anna is a hausfrau in Puthenkavu and you enter the mind of a Syrian Christian housewife living within the value systems of cashew-rubber Kerala. Lukose Achen who was marked by God to be His own from childhood, Ivan who comes home to die and feels the trees dark and soft with rain, and the air cool on his body, and a last nostalgic wish to walk barefoot down the canal at the moment of his death.
Visvanathan appears to have entered her candidature for being a major writer in the years to come. But there also exist authors who have leapt onto the Kerala bandwagon, authors like Shreekumar Varma, who write for the only purpose of falling on their face. His The Lament of Mohini is the most avoidable book I have come across in recent years.
The novel deserves a better storyteller; it spans five generations of Kerala’s Travancore aristocracy, across the medieval period to modern Madras. There is some fantastic sepia in the book: the elephants’ graveyard, the falling father, the occult sigil and the neglected painting. Unfortunately in Varma’s hands the book reads like disconnected articles in The Indian Express randomly stapled together.
The characters are not even unidimensional, they seem to exist only by virtue of the printer’s kindness. The imagery is appalling: “nails fallen like artificial dewdrops” and “bald head like a mud pot”. Attempts at humour are pathetic, like the case of the Namboodiri who wore a woman’s blue panties under his semi-transparent sarong.
It was Roy who first opened the Pandora’s box: of Kerala’s rich and stormy landscape, and the stories that have collected in its ancient houses, depths of green village lakes, and the incessant mantra of the Arabian Sea. Visvanathan succeeds in becoming a worthy heir to that sea of stories. Unlike Varma, heir to the great Raja Ravi Varma but not to his genius.
Thanks Ashvin, somehow I missed Susan Visvanathan’s book. Will try and pick it up. Speaking of novels on Kerala, see my post on another similar disaster (http://swameth.wordpress.com/2008/05/21/by-the-river-pampa-i-stood/)
Whoa that was quite a review and quite a feedback. I was just searching In The country of deceit as one of the possibles for our book club and came across your review. Will not vote for it, thanks for the heads up.
You have a great blog going, will keep visiting.
Thanks Jaya…you have spurred me