Arundhati Roy’s early work

This time in Bangalore I spent a lot of time in bookstores (Not just time, notes my wife, but lots of money and baggage weight that could have been used to bring back foodstuff). On one such occasion when I was scanning shelves marked ‘Penquin Books’ at Gangarams, I found a title that lit my eyes up: Arundhati Roy’s In which Annie gives it those ones : The original screenplay.

I picked it from the shelf and began to read from the blurb:

In 1988, Arundhati Roy wrote the story and screenplay for In which Annie gives it those ones, a low-budget production produced and directed by Pradip Krishnen. The film had almost no big names, and was shown just once on national television in a late night slot, when few people saw it. Despite this it acquired near cult status, especially among young English-speaking urban Indians.

I had watched it that night on Doordarshan. My memory of the movie was sketchy, but I remembered enjoying it thoroughly. Next day at school – I was in 10th std then – a few of us got together and talked about the movie: we laughed recollecting the student who arrived on a chauffeur driven two-wheeler; we loved the nickname ‘Yamdoot’ and wondered why we hadn’t been so creative in naming our teachers; we talked endlessly about the “kissing scene in the elevator” and wondered how such a pretty girl (Arundhati Roy) could kiss someone so hairy and unkempt. Some of us even decided to apply to the Delhi School of Planning and Architecture; the subject of the course mattered little as long as one studied with girls who wore sleeveless tops and were willing to kiss in elevators.

The book also contained crisp black & white photos of stills from the movie. A collector’s item, I thought, as I added yet another book to the pile I was carrying.

Roy_and_seth

The script was a funny, entertaining read. It also revealed that even at that time Arundhati had a fiercely political bent of mind that made its presence felt in whatever she wrote. Radha, her character in this movie, tells her examiners during her presentation of the final thesis:

“… So in the way he designs these institutions… these symbols, the architect-engineer is telling the non-citizen to ‘keep out’, ‘stay out of here’, ‘this does not belong to you’… It’s a way of establishing territory… like animals… Bears leave scratch marks on trees, tigers have a spray, a mixture of urine and scent gland which says ‘This is my territory’. In human beings this urine and scent gland is replaced by the architect, who establishes territory by manipulating the built environment…”

She clarifies this further in her foreword to the book:

It was as a student of architecture that I began to see that in India we have citizens and ‘non-citizens’, those who matter and those who don’t. Those who are visible and those who are not. Those who are included in our planners’ plans and those who are reflexively excluded from them. It was as a student of architecture that I began to ask questions of my mediocre professors about why I was being brainwashed into becoming yet another mediocre manufacturer of concrete boxes who unquestioningly served the interests of the privileged. It was there that I began to try and understand the endless conflict between power and powerlessness – the conflict that is the central preoccupation of much of my work now.

Reading this, it becomes clear that the seeds of activism were sown quite early in her life. Another aspect the script reveals (through the character of Radha) is her non-conformist, rebellious nature. For her final thesis, she comes dressed in “a bright purple cotton saree, a bright pink blouse, a trilby on her head, a bright pink bindi and spectacles.” When an examiner asks if this is “some type of a new fashion”, she replies “No… I’m just trying to stand out in the crowd.”

The final moments of the movie reveal the conflicts and uncertainties that are passing through her mind:

“Yamdoot was right about this whole guilt thing. I mean you eat and you know guys are starving. You dress and you know guys are walking around nanga. You speak a language that 90 per cent of your country doesn’t understand. Talk about it and you feel like a pseud… at least I feel like a pseud… I don’t want to talk about it, don’t want to write about it, don’t want to go to seminars about it, and I definitely don’t want to build. So what the hell do I do?”

“So what the hell do I do?” She decided to write, which was fine until she wrote The God of Small Things. But after that, her writing took a different turn altogether. More on that topic some other day.

The lure of print

Three and a half years ago when we relocated to Germany, life changed in many ways. The newspaper at our doorstep each morning was one element we missed a lot – the only English daily distributed in this region was International Herald Tribune, which, at 30 Euros a month, was a luxury we thought we could do without.

We adjusted our schedule to the new surroundings: breakfast was at our office desks, where the first half hour was spent browsing online newspapers and magazines, munching croissants and sipping orange juice. Thus, the familiar sight of The Hindu that greeted sleepy eyes each morning was replaced by its online sibling that popped up distracting ads in every corner of the screen.

We slowly got used to our altered sources of information, but the longing for print editions remained. So when the International Herald Tribune recently sent us a free four-week trial, I jumped at the offer and applied.

The last two weeks have seen a different routine taking shape. Breakfast is at home – Idlis and Dosas have replaced Croissants and Pretzels, thanks to my mother who is here on a short visit – and is accompanied by the silence that descends upon a room where two greedy souls pore into spreads of paper with news from far and wide. And since our interests are complementary (I go for the comic strips and sports first, while my wife looks into politics and general news) we manage without bisecting the sheets.

iht

As it appears, we will continue with the paper beyond these four weeks. For someone who spends over forty hours a week glued to a computer, the lure of print media is substantial; I would welcome anything that helps me reduce the time I spend in front of a monitor.

(As an aside, that is an interesting thought, the idea about ways to reduce time spent online. I spend quite some time reading through blogs I like, so wouldn’t it be wonderful if someone comes up with a service that allows me to select from a list my favourite bloggers, and then have a weekly print edition of Blogger’s Digest delivered at my doorstep every Saturday? I’ll miss the comments and the links, yes, but I could catch up with those that interest me later, online.

The image of holding in my hands a neatly bound magazine containing write-ups from Alpha, Anita, Hekate, Leela, Patrix, Ph, Rash, and Unratiosenatic was so alluring that I stopped writing and checked whether these blogs offered RSS feeds (a mechanism that allows tools to scan them for updates and inform subscribers periodically). I found that but for Hekate and Rash, all others offer syndication, which meant posts from these could be aggregated weekly, printed each Friday and taken home for the weekend!)

Another factor that influences my preference for news-on-print is mobility: I can carry around a newspaper or magazine anywhere, read it in any corner. However, with the advent of Wi-Fi hotspots, one can imagine a day when we can carry around a Tablet PC and get online in most urban surroundings. While that may tilt the balance further away from print media, it surely cannot be a substitute for those crispy pages, which, as one advertisement suggested, slip in the world under your door.

My mother agrees, for different reasons though. She uses old newspapers to sift through rice and flour, keep ends of vegetables while cutting them, and make packets to store odds-and-ends. “Will your computer help in these matters?” she asks, in proud defence of paper.

Indisputable logic, that. One even the smart marketing people of International Herald Tribune would not have thought of when they sent out those irresistible free-trials.

The Connection factor

Last week I was at it again: hopping from one blog to another, sifting through streams of consciousness emerging from hyperlinked text bound to anonymous identities, searching for nuggets of gold, for literary gems that will not embrace print and find glory, and yet, in their own small world will entertain and edify.

After wandering a while without much success, I encountered Unratiosenatic, where, after reading a few engaging pieces I stumbled upon this one.

The beginning, addressed as a letter to another blogger, conveyed the promise of something novel: a form within a form, a genre within a genre – in this case, a missive within a journal.

I read on, intrigued by the writer’s openness, and even though the postscript clarified some things, my curiosity to know what prompted the letter made me turn towards the blogger to whom it was addressed. A few more engaging reads later I found the post that triggered the letter.

The posts that stood alone were good, but these two had something special about them – they talked to each other, they connected two disparate threads of existence in a way that gave new meaning to each. And for the reader, observing this connection from a detached frame of reference was a bit like watching, with fascination, a conversation between two strangers revealing their innermost thoughts to one another.

It made me think about the beauty of this medium, the elegance with which it lends itself to enable connections between independent sources of thought. I also thought about the power of TrackBack, a technology that would, by permitting connections in the reverse direction, allow a reader who came first to the post in RandomRiting to navigate backwards to the letter in Unratiosenatic.

And then there was the epistolary angle.

Like journals, letters reveal subliminal elements of existence that are difficult to grasp from day-to-day conversations, but they go beyond journals in portraying an intimate picture of a relationship. Take for instance Franz Kafka, in Letters to Felice:

Just look, how many impossibilities there are in our letters. Can I remove the flavour of nauseating false generosity from my request that you write me only five lines? That is impossible. And is my request not sincere? Certainly it is sincere. And is it not perhaps also insincere? Of course it is insincere, and how insincere it is!

If we read because what we can experience first hand is limited, then reading letters would fill, partially, the void created by relationships we cannot have in our lives. And like online journals, letters exchanged online would give glimpses of lives that can reveal and instruct.

So there I was, on a working day in the middle of a busy week, sitting up well past midnight poring into this exchange between two people who were strangers until they ‘met’ on the web, thinking about how the confluence of technology and open-cultures made all this possible, when I heard my wife call out.

“What are you doing, so late?!” she asked.

“Er..well..browsing.” I replied. Somehow, the word – browsing – seemed too casual to be associated with the activity I was indulging in.

“What are you browsing?” She persisted.

“Connections.” I replied. “Connections between people.”

That sounded more appropriate; it was about connections, after all.

Book of Uncertain Knowledge

If, in some cataclysm, all of scientific knowledge were to be destroyed, and only one sentence passed on to the next generation of creatures, what statement would contain the most information in the fewest words? I believe it is the atomic hypothesis that all things are made of atoms…”

You have probably come across these lines by Richard Feynman. Now assuming we had the luxury of sending across not one sentence but one book to the next generation of creatures, which one would you choose? My vote would fall upon John L. Casti’s Paradigms lost. Its value – in the context of this enterprise – lies in addressing important issues about which we do not have conclusive answers yet: origins of life, search for extra-terrestrial intelligence, quantum mechanics, artificial intelligence, human capacity for language, and genetic basis for human behaviour. Each of these six topics merits a book in itself, but Casti does a great job of condensing these diverse and controversial subjects within a single volume while covering the different sides of each story in the form of a jury trial, before finally playing judge and pronouncing his verdict.

I first learnt about this book about a decade back, and I’ve kept coming back to it from time to time. Each chapter can be read independently, and that makes it managable in parts. Currently I’m reading the chapter on the unique ability of humans to communicate using language (and the theories surrounding this capacity, with Noam Chomsky dominating the initial pages). I hope to discuss – in the coming days or weeks – this topic in greater detail.

Art of Writing

One of the best quotes I’ve seen so far on the art of writing is one I found quoted in John D. Barrow’s The Universe That Discovered Itself. Among the quotes at the beginning of this book is one from Mary Heaton Vorse :

The art of writing is the art of applying

the seat of the pants to the seat of the chair.

Well, it is precisely the kind of advice a person like me needs. I should hang this up in every corner of my house.

Year end inventory

As the year draws to a close, it is time to take stock. So here is a laundry list of books read in 2003.

Books read

Bones of the master (George Crane): A beautifully written account by an American poet who accompanies a Buddhist monk to Inner Mongolia in search of the bones of his master, whom he had left around 50 years earlier when he fled China in the wake of the Red Army onslaught on Buddhist establishments. The confrontations between East and West are subtly conveyed through conflicts between monk and poet, and glimpses of rural China bring out rarely encountered qualities about the country.

Swami and Friends (R.K. Narayan): A delightful read. Swami is one of the most endearing characters I’ve encountered so far.

Bachelor of Arts (R.K. Narayan): Narayan’s second novel about a young man passing through the difficult phase of young-adulthood. With characteristic simplicity Narayan brings forth the conflicts the young man faces, and finally comes to terms with. The book makes us look back at that phase of life and smile at ourselves, at the ideologies youth clings to, at the rebel that billows within.

Youth (J.M.Coetzee) : reviewed here in The Literary Soul.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (J.K.Rowling): Not Rowling’s best. Parts of it made me wonder who was the central character: Harry or Hermione. Nothing much happens through the book, and that highlighted a principle difference between this and the Lord of the Rings: movement. While Lord Of The Rings is like Voyager II – moving across the solar system exploring one planet after another in a journey to the unknown – the Potter series is like a geostationary satellite – circling the Earth and crossing the same path once every year.

The Business of Books (Andre Schiffrin) : reviewed here in The Literary Soul.

J.K.Rowling : A Biography (Sean Smith) : A few comments here.

Books read in parts

Invisible Cities (Italo Calvino) : Magic, sheer magic. That is the only way I can describe Italo Calvino’s writing. I hope to write more about this book once I complete it.

Essays of E.B White (E.B.White): Excellent collection of essays from a master of prose.

The Picador Book of Modern Indian Literature (Amit Chaudhuri): Good starting point to a number of Indian writers writing in English and the vernacular. The most memorable piece I’ve read so far in this collection is a memoir titled “Edmund Wilson in Benaras” by Pankaj Misra. Misra, known for having spotted The God of Small Things and for coining the term “Rushdieitis”, is one bright young star in the horizon of Indian Literature. I’ve read a few of his articles so far, and I’m looking forward to his book on The Buddha he is currently working on.

The Vintage book of Indian Writing (Salman Rushdie & Elizabeth West): Interesting collection, but slanted towards Indians writing in English ( a point that caused quite some animated discussions about the selection ).

Interpreter of Maladies (Jhumpa Lahiri): Beautiful collection of short stories, mostly touching upon the condition of the Indian Immigrant. What struck me was the author’s understanding of human nature – at so young an age – that came across in those pages. This year I re-read some of the stories in this collection, and the experience left me convinced Lahiri was a writer to relish. Her next book The Namesake is on my to-be-read list.

Chess Master Vs Chess Amateur (Max Euwe): Great book for serious amateurs who wish to rise beyond the ranks of hobbyists.

The development of Chess Style (Max Euwe and John Nunn): Traces the history of chess champions from the 17th century upto the present, focussing on how the style of each great player influenced other players and the general style of play in that era.

What should I do with my life? (Po Bronson): Could not go beyond first few chapters – too much authorial intrusion makes it unreadable. Instead of trying to find out from his subjects, he tries to influence his own views – on what they should do in their life, or how they should go about finding it – upon them. Instead of letting the subjects speak for themselves, he inserts – very often – his own judgements about their ways of thinking.

White Mughals (William Darlymple): I picked this up on our India Trip and read around fifty absorbing pages while travelling. I somehow haven’t been able to pick it up again after we got back. In 2004, perhaps…

Books apart, this has been the year where I overcame my inertia and started writing a bit. This site, begun early this year in Geocities and later transferred to Typepad, is what little there is to indicate this small beginning. I’m sure it will grow in time; I may not write a lot, but I know this isn’t a fad, so slowly but surely – atom by atom – this mostly private universe will grow, documenting a progression in thought, and in life.

Middle East month

When I entered the American library in Heidelberg this morning, I saw a stack of books on a stand that had a label stuck on it which read “Topic of the month : War & the Middle East”. This was a new practice – there had not been any ‘topics of the month’ earlier – and it was clearly welcome since it brought under one shelf books relating to a specific theme, but not necessarily pertaining to a specific category in the library. ( I wonder if library search catalogues offer methods to search the title database along such orthogonal directions ).

I recognized a few titles I had seen earlier in the library. Most others were new, and one among these was a book by Bernard Lewis, an author whose books on the Middle East I had come across before. This book was about a change, and looked into what brought about the change. The change the book talked about was the decline of the Islamic empire from the heights it had reached in the medieval ages, from the perspective of the impact western civilizations ( armies, societies and cultures ) had upon the Middle East.

The preface of the book contained the following text :

“This book was already in page proof when the terrorist attacks in New York and Washington took place on September 11 2001. It does not therefore deal with them, nor with their immediate causes and after-effects. It is however related to these attacks, examining not what happened and what followed, but what went before – the longer sequence and larger pattern of events, ideas, and attitudes that preceded and in some measure produced them.”

I picked up the title “What went wrong ( Western impact and Middle Eastern response )”. It now appears on the Currently Reading list.

The Voyeur in me

Some days ago I was lying in bed reading J.K.Rowling’s biography by Sean Smith, while my wife was trying to catch my attention – something that is next to impossible when I have my nose sticking between the pages of an interesting book.

After a few unsuccessful nudges, she exclaimed : “Voyeur !”

“What ?” I didn’t quite understand her.

“I said you’re a Voyeur.”

“What did I do now ?!”

“Well, you don’t pay attention to your wife, and instead involve yourself in the pursuit of knowing the details of another woman’s life.” she replied, plainly.

My initial reaction was laughter. I had never heard anyone equate the pursuit of reading a biography to voyeurism, and it seemed rather amusing to do so. My wife, however, was not amused at all. I kept the book aside, for the time being at least….

Much later, I thought about that seemingly innocuous statement again. There was an interest in knowing the personal details of another person’s life, yes, and I realized that this had always been the case with the people whom I admired. Richard Feynman, J.Krishnamurti, M.K.Gandhi, S.Ramanujam and Garry Kasparov were some people whose biographies ( or autobiographies ) that I could recollect reading. The statement struck home more in the case of J.K.Rowling, since she had resented the large amount of public attention and interest in her personal life that her phenomenal success had generated, and it resulted her in withdrawing into a shell.

It seemed to me that it was debatable whether such an interest in the personal affairs of another human being was tantamount to an intellectual type of voyeurism. One could not, as I did earlier, dismiss it lightly ( it had indirectly lead to the death of Princess Diana ), and one could not take it too seriously either ( there is a lot to be learned from the lives of others ). What was needed was a balance between curiosity and obsession. Easier said than done, clearly.

The book itself turned out to be an engrossing read ( and I could not find anything which the celebrity author would possibly object to ). It is not as authoritative and fascinating as a good biography should be, but it is still the best single source we have yet about J.K.Rowling – I would recommend it to anyone who loves Harry Potter and has some desire to get to know the person behind the creation of the world of Magic and Muggles.

Reminiscences of a booklover

Years ago when I was in school, I discovered books from the Soviet Union available in select bookstores at unbelievably inexpensive prices. For around 5 Indian Rupees ( a little less than quarter of a US dollar, in those days ) one could buy a collection of short stories by Leo Tolstoy. The bulk of these books came from MIR publishers, and the subjects ranged over a wide array of topics, literature and science being my favorite picks.

I knew little about political science to understand the reason for the difference in prices of books from the western countries ( mainly US ) and the Soviet Union. To me, these books were simply a source of joy since they offered a luxury I never could dream of while still in school : buying books. The little scraps of currency notes I managed to save went into these books, some of which were too advanced for me to read in that stage of mental development. Two of my earliest books were “Entertaining Electronics” and “Diseases of the Ear Nose and Throat”; I bought these when I was only 11 years old, in a book exhibition held at the boarding school I was studying in. The rationale behind the purchase, as I can remember it now, was that these were books from the most likely streams of study I would choose later ( engineering and medicine ), so it was an investment for a future I believed I would be a part of.

With the break up of the Soviet Union, the source of these books ceased to exist. Bookstores which stocked books only from the erstwhile Soviet Union had to shift their product line completely, or face shutdown. The stores that managed to survive went through a phase where they had books from the Soviet Union juxtaposed with their counterparts from the western world. In such a setting, the difference in prices appeared more unreal, especially to someone who was oblivious to the past.

As late as 1997, I was able to visit such a store in Bangalore and pick up a full set of short stories by Chekov – the set of six books cost me around 100 Rupees. Needless to say, I was thrilled.

These thoughts, about a past long gone, came back to me while I was reading The business of books. The book is a must-read for anyone interested in books, since it delves into a matter vital to the future of this medium. The book is compact; it makes its points directly and offers a few anecdotes here and there – it does not go over the same point again and again : a malaise that is so very common in books related to management and business.

I discuss the book at length in my new section.

A Beginning

Well, here’s Yet Another Blog On The Block.

Po Bronson’s next book was released recently – “What should I do with my life ?”. I got to know about Bronson when I picked up one of his earlier books “The Nudist on the late shift and other tales of the silicon valley” sometime in mid 2000. My journal entry – a personal one, not a weblog then – records some initial impressions of that book :

2nd July 2000

I picked the book because the title looked catchy, and it gave the impression that the book was more anecdotal rather than filled with analysis of how things in the silicon valley are or should be or will be in xyz years. And I was not disappointed.

As mentioned in one of the blurbs, Po Bronson does not get judgmental in the book. He puts forward facts the way he sees it, period. There are no long winding analysis and theories, so there is little one can fault him with.

Bronson is at his best when he focuses on a single person. There are a few chapters like that ( where he talks about Sabeer Bhatia the entrepreneur or Hillis the computer scientist….)…

He begins with a problem most people have with the Silicon Valley : the lack of any physical entity which one can associate with the valley. When people come to the valley after hearing so much about it, they are disappointed since there is nothing that signifies the “valley” – it is just another place with its offices and homes. To get a feel of the valley, you have do what Bronson does : meet and talk to people working in different capacities in the valley.

This is the first of Bronson’s work that I have encountered, and I find his method interesting : he arranges for meetings with people working in the valley – programmers, salesmen, entrepreneurs, writers etc – and follows the thread of that part of their lives which has got something to do with the silicon valley ( which, in most cases, is almost their entire lives : there is little else in life these people seem to do ). He meets the same people from time to time and follows up their story. Thus, in the “Newcomers” we get to meet a few newcomers to the valley – few of whom are struggling to establish themselves; in the “Programmers” we are taken into the lives of a few freelance programmers working on a game project; in the “Entrepreneur” we get to meet Sabeer Bhatia, the man behind “HotMail”……

The new book is much more ambitious in scope – Bronson is no longer confined to the Silicon Valley. His method in the new book seems to be similar to the one outlined above : he has spoken to around 900 people all over the US and chosen a few of them to spend more time with for his “case studies”. But the new book is unlikely to have that one characteristic I found pleasing about his previous book : a non-judgmental treatment of his subjects.

The topic addresses a very fundamental question, and a very important one too, for the times we live in. The timing is clearly important for such a book to be relevant – one cannot imagine such a book being of much relevance in the last century, simply because there were not enough choices available for the common man to think about what to do with one’s life. So that is a crucial – and probably unstated – assumption in the book : asking ourselves what we want to do with our lives must rely on the assumption that we do have different alternatives to choose from ( or to create ).

For the audience it addresses – educated people all over the world ? – the assumption mostly holds true today, so for all practical purposes it is not a limiting factor. What could prove to be a limiting factor – and this is only a guess, since I have not yet read the book – is the fact that Bronson’s subjects are mostly Americans. It would be interesting to see to what extent the experience of people living in the US prove to be representative of the issues confronting people asking a similar question in other societies which are very different – culturally, socially and economically – from the US.

I’ve read an extract from the book, and ordered it from Amazon. I’m looking forward to encountering the familiar brown package at my doorstep ( Amazon’s packages are too big for my small postbox ).