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Saturday, 20 January 2018

Cracking India (1991)

It's been a while since I've last posted something up on here, but I have been reading in the meantime. I have quite a few pending books I need to write about. I'll start with Cracking India a novel by Bapsi Sidhwa, which was published in 1991 by Milkweed Editions. The title was initially The Ice-Candy Man and Deepa Mehta directed the film Earth based on this novel in 1998. The book comprises of 32 chapters and I read the kindle edition. I'll discuss some of the key themes in the novel, the perspective of the narrator(s) and its link to the author and issues relating to the India-Pakistan partition/ Independence. This novel is set in Lahore a few years before Independence, during the Partition and continues to some months after the change. I have been reading and comparing various partition narratives and this will influence my analysis. 




The first-person narrator for the majority of the novel is Lenny, a young girl who belongs to the Parsee community. The Parsee community is a minority community in India and Pakistan that originated from Persia; they follow the Zoroastrian faith. This is significant because it provides a perspective of the Partition from within and yet from outside the Muslim-Hindu-Sikh conflict that dominated this period of history.  Their position during this time is simultaneously precarious and protected. Bapsi Sidhwa is a Parsee Pakistani-American herself and lived through the Partition of India. Not only did this novel give my an insight into a new religious culture in the Indian subcontinent, it provides "Partition literature" with a voice independent of the religious bias and hurt of the fighting groups. In the chapter 25 there is a part dedicated to "Ranna's Story", which is written with an authorial narrator, and this is based on a real personal experience. These two narratives allow for Sidhwa to provide an insight into both urban and countryside effects of the riots and fight for territory. 



Religion held a decisive role in the fight for Independence and Sidhwa chooses to include a wealth of characters to describe the dynamics between people of different faiths. This allows the reader to learn of the varied fates of these people, from immigration, death, conversion or safety. Instead of identifying all the characters by name, Sidhwa chooses to identify them with their profession or the role they hold in relation to Lenny. This creates religious ambiguity and readers have to decipher the faith later on. Sidhwa also refers to the issue of caste in Hinduism and how this affects social structures and relations. 




Politically speaking, Sidhwa refers to the most varied set of political figures of the time namely, Gandhi, Nehru Jinnah, Tara Singh and Mountbatten. Many of the other texts I've read only make reference to one or two of these men and thus ignoring significant political narratives of the time. The British are called out for their seemingly "random" allocation of cities and states to India or Pakistan, regardless of the residing population. 




Some other key themes in the novel include love, friendship and betrayal. The child narrator provides a naivety and innocence to worldly matters as well as frank observations of sexuality in her surroundings. The childish vision of the world does not mean that the novel ignores or removes the violence or brutality of the time, for children were not necessarily sheltered from the atrocities. 




This novel is well-written and has been deservedly praised. It is enriched by the poetry, language and the varied characters. If anything, I wish I had an insight into the origin of the hierarchy between Lenny's Godmother and her sister but that is a minor curiosity that may just be my own. A valuable book about the Partition that combines some of the strongest elements of the handful of novels I've read on the same subject matter. 



   


Friday, 17 November 2017

Train to Pakistan (1956)

Train to Pakistan was originally written by Khushwant Singh* in 1956 but my Kindle edition, published by Penguin, was produced in 2016. The digital edition is 190 pages long and the novel comprises of four chapters. I read this for my university course in an attempt to explore partition literature. I'll discuss the writing style and literary devices as well as bias and political motives for independence.


The novel is set in a Sikh village on the Indian side of the newly-created border and has a mixed population of Sikhs and Muslims; they all live happily and harmoniously together. The village is "Sikh" in that all the land belongs to Sikhs, while Muslims only work on the land or have other trades. The interfaith love affair is controversially that of a young Sikh man and a Muslim girl, which may be considered a metaphor for the male power over women suggesting a sense of domination just as the land is owned by the Sikhs. 

Part of my analysis has me searching for bias and balance in my readings. Singh begins his novel diplomatically, noting that all parties involved contributed to the bloodshed and harm during the partition. However, I noticed that Muslims, in the novel, committed grave crimes while the Sikhs committed fewer crimes or only expressed the desire, motivation and attempts to retaliate equally or with twice as much force. In the end the violence appears to be realised by Muslims and only desired by Sikhs. In this way I felt there was a disproportion, yet I'm sure there were equally heroes and villains on both sides and the crimes equally heinous. 

An interesting political remark was that Indian (and Pakistani) Independence was a movement for the rich Indians, who would be thus allowed to replace the British in higher governmental positions. The poorer members of society, including peasants, had little to gain and history shows us just how much they lost, including their lands and lives. The contrast in motivation for Independence highlights the disconnect between social classes amongst Indians themselves. 

I found the writing style to be fairly stiff and simple. Oftentimes I felt that the expressions and dialogue did not sit well in English yet when I thought about them in Punjabi, they sounded better. I suppose they were not well translated to capture the right tone. I noted that Rushdie did this well in Midnight's Children. The use of Iqbal as a foreign-educated youth was an effective way to introduce Western impressions in contrast to the Indian peasant world. He also functions as a connecting figure to a Western audience and mentality. There is a pretty linear plot, although Singh does play with chronology in his first chapter. 

Overall, I found that the novel's language was not its strength but rather its historical significance is what makes it a valuable addition to partition literature. It is a tribute to all the unknown heroes in times of intense conflict. Train to Pakistan was one of Singh's earlier writings so perhaps his later works adopted a more complex style. 

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*While Khushwant Singh was born into a Sikh family, apparently (Wikipedia notes) he adopted an agnostic/ atheist-inclined worldview later in his life. I do not know whether this novel was written before or after his change of faith and whether this affected or would have affected his work. 




Thursday, 16 November 2017

The Ministry of Utmost Happiness (2017)

This post is long overdue but I needed to think about the novel for some time before compiling any sort of review. In all honesty I feel like I shouldn't really write one until I read the novel again but that seems like it will be many months away considering my current schedule and reading list. For the reason of not wanting to delay it any further, I'm now making my attempt at this review.

For the record this is Arundhati Roy's second novel, after an immense gap of 20 years (see note) and was published by Hamish Hamilton (Penguin) in 2017. The hardback copy is 445 pages including acknowledgements and 438 without, making it a pretty chunky read; I can't say I didn't wish I had it in a kindle edition just for that reason (there is one by the way). The novel is divided into 12 chapters, plus a short passage prior to chapter one. I will discuss her style as well as some of the key issues or themes she deals with, although a blog post is far from sufficient.


Roy begins the novel with a short passage on how consumerism is harming the environment. This issue is revisited especially at the end of the novel, although it is one of many threads and is linked closely to her political stance. She raises so many issues concerning the effects of modernisation, consumerism and capitalism, especially on the poor, which are linked to her arguments from non-fiction.

The Ministry of Utmost Happiness begins in Dehli, India where we follow the story of a transgender woman, Anjum previously Aftab. I found myself quite "settled" into the novel when Roy changes the scene and begins the parallel plot in Kashmir. My knowledge of the Kashmir affair is vague, at best, and Roy illustrates just how much of a nuanced and delicate issue it is. This definitely made it heavy reading despite the captivating narrative and suspense. She is clearly well-informed and has produced an insight into a region that has been in a state of conflict for decades.

In terms of style Roy uses both the first person narrative as well as an omniscient narrator. She uses a very different writing style to The God of Small Things and shifts in chronology (flashbacks and flashforwards) thus allowing the reader to recreate the order of events. Her writing is full of wit, sarcasm and beautiful turns of phrase.; it's a pleasure to read. I believe she used layers of microcosms with Anjum's internal turmoil reflected in Kashmir, which is a microcosm for the problems affecting India, which is in itself a microcosm of the global crises we face.

Roy doesn't shy away from addressing some sensitive yet core social issues. She makes consistent references to the social relationships between Hindus and Muslims in India, including some severe political consequences. She raises awareness on the increased religious discrimination towards Muslims in India and in other parts of the world. One of the ways she made this novel so rich is by including various beliefs and cultures- from shrine visiting to references to jinn and witchcraft and omens- which highlight the complex and nuanced mentalities of the people, which affect how people live with one another in a context of differences.

The Ministry of Utmost Happiness is a dark, dense and richly crafted novel. It is about love and heartbreak in the broadest sense and of all types. I struggled with this novel because while it is fiction, it is based on some of the harshest realities and truths of our modern world. It provokes thoughts on who we are in the novel: those who contribute to the conflict and chaos or those who attempt to relieve it. It ends on a note of hope, yet I'm not really sure how hopeful it really is. This is definitely an important read and a reality check packaged in fiction.

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Note: Although Roy hadn't written a novel in a good few years, she was still actively writing non-fiction in the interval. I was fortunate enough to read her Algebra of Infinite Justice last semester and this definitely gave me a grounding in Roy's activist positions and the issues she relates in this monumental piece.

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Tuesday, 3 October 2017

milk and honey (2015)

Milk and honey was published by Andrews McMeal Publishing in 2015 and consists of 206 pages of poetry, divided into four chapters: the hurting, the loving , the breaking, the healing, with an additional two pages, one about the book and one about Rupi Kaur. The format of the book is black and white, including several black pages with white print. Kaur includes several of her own illustrations alongside her poetry to complement her words.



I finally decided to jump on the bandwagon, albeit far too late. The reason for this review and even reading milk and honey in the first place was my sister's references to the book, her underwhelmed opinion and her seeking my thoughts on the matter. Naturally I wasn't quite in a position to give a fair opinion on Kaur's work without having read it. So now here we are. No doubt I had heard a lot about this book and consequently I went in expecting a certain kind of narrative. I also know that Rupi Kaur's work seemed to bring joy to many women of colour. I'll describe what she writes about, how she writes, the nature of love in her work and some references to her work as a woman of colour.

Kaur uses highly emotional language in her poetry to evoke strong feelings in her readers; she appears to have wholly adopted an aesthetic approach to her writing in order to create an experience of strong sentiments and physical sensations. Kaur covers issues like rape and sexual violence and the silencing of the female voice, including abusive relationships and even angry couples. These images can be taken literally or interpreted metaphorically as various difficulties being faced in life. 

Kaur calls on "self-love", a popular term referring to caring for oneself, to be the foundation of human strength and this comes before loving others or seeking the love of others. There is a consistent desire to be loved, wanted and to belong in these poems and Kaur attempts to balance these desires out with advice on beginning with the self. However, she nonetheless values the search for love and a partner, recognising it as an added strength. 

I was quite surprised at the highly sexualised imagery Kaur used, mainly because I wasn't expecting it. The poetry felt so much about human desires, its wants and needs and they are significantly on carnal and "animal" levels. The strong sexual themes and language, for me, seem like a contemporary "necessity" for success in the arts. I remember once during my Bachelors degree having a class discussion on how it is literary critics who decide whether sexual representations in literature are pornographic or tasteful and artistic. I personally found it a little vulgar and a strategy to pander to a wider audience, considering that mainstream modern Western society is hyper-sexualised and we live in an increasingly promiscuous culture. These themes subsided towards the end of the book. 

Kaur included one poem on mainstream European standards of beauty and highlighting the richness and beauty in Indian and other coloured skin tones. There is one poem on women of colour and then one poem on being a Kaur and Sikhi. She also writes a three-lined poem on seva, selfless service, which is an element of the Sikh religion. While I was glad to read these short poems, I felt they were too little and too discreet. I could not but help compare it to Nayyirah Waheed's approach, which is far more potent as she abruptly condemns her colonisers and their languages. Kaur is far more gentle and doesn't point fingers at the colonisers or the West, which may well have allowed her to enjoy a more white, middle-class audience. 

Towards the end, the book felt like a self-help handbook for women coming out of relationships or difficult periods in their lives, which is useful to those who want to seek solace in it. However, I was somewhat disappointed with this collection of poems because I had hoped for a richer representation of Punjabi and/ or Sikh culture. Not only did I not get these, but I felt the Divine was not referred to at all and these poems were only about humans at their lowest levels, and not the transcendent. Greatness was in the "universe", terms that probably sound lovely to atheist ears. Overall Kaur's writing is definitely provocative and the themes may well resonate well with a mainstream audience but I didn't quite find them to suit my taste nor did I find them particularly uplifting (in a spiritual sense); it was a tad mundane. 

Monday, 11 September 2017

Northanger Abbey (1817)

While the original Northanger Abbey was published in 1817 after the death of Jane Austen, my copy is a Collins Classics edition published in 2010. The novel itself is 230 pages and there are an additional 27 pages of "Words and Phrases from Classic Literature" to help with any unknown terms. I'll give a little insight into my thoughts on the style and some other points of interest raised by Austen. I'll also compare this novel more to Mansfield Park, since I read it not so long ago.





Reading Northanger Abbey straight after Mansfield Park allowed me to make more direct and precise comparisons between the two. While I find the plot of Mansfield Park to be somewhat more complex and with more closely interwoven stories, I can appreciate Austen's not-so-affluent heroines and their relatively more humble family backgrounds in both of these works. That's not to say Austen isn't about high class society, but she plays on the interactions between the various levels in the hierarchy of the gentry.

I found Austen's style in Northanger Abbey to be rather distinct in its more overt sarcasm and wit. I believe the tongue in cheek humour in the descriptions is somewhat more discreet and subtle in some of her other works. To incorporate some Gothic thriller elements into her writing illustrates Austen's engagement with other literature of her time and her own attempts at experimentation with other genres. This is also evident in her significant emphasis on a theatrical play in Mansfield Park, another example of crossing between various art forms. She also overtly discusses the role and nature of novels of the period, especially those written by Anne Radcliffe. Austen opens up this discussion on female writers and attempts to determine where their value in society is in relation to other traditional texts, such as histories, written largely by rich men.

Austen's way of developing characters seemed different from her previous approach, such as in Mansfield Park, where she describes the character for you. I was quite fascinated this time as Austen used her protagonist, Catherine's naiveté to give every other character she interacted with a fair chance to expose themselves through their own words and actions. I found this characterisation intelligent and a refreshing change from a dictated judgement from the narrator. In terms of character, I found the hero in this novel, Henry Tilney, to be fairly likeable excepting his tendency to make general passing judgements on what is appropriate, acceptable and/ or good in the female sex. But it probably represents a fair part of ideal gender roles of the time. Austen chooses to (sarcastically) elaborate on this tendency through her narrator, who enlightens us on the advantages of ladies, especially pretty ones, to remain ignorant in order to flatter the vanity and ego of their conversational partner. Charming tips!

Another similarity between the two novels is that of the rather swift conclusions. I felt that Northanger Abbey's conclusion could have been lengthened and developed a little more as it felt unsatisfactory, considering the sudden plot twist that had to be explained and then resolved. There was little news on James, Catherine's brother, and his future. I personally felt as if Austen needed to quickly create and write her happy ending without wanting to write reams more and thus wrapped up the story in a rushed fashion. I think the emotional challenges in Mansfield Park made the quick conclusion an acceptable relief, yet insufficient in Northanger Abbey since there was less "drama" so to speak.

Overall, it was a less gripping read than Mansfield Park, yet more light and humorous. It was also a much shorter novel, comparatively, which explains the less dense plot, yet Austen still explores a wide range of issues from gender roles, social hierarchy, education, honesty and sincerity as well as the role of literature in relation to real life. She merges the concepts of fiction and reality and this makes for some thought-provoking discussion.



Friday, 25 August 2017

Mansfield Park (1814)

I'm currently catching up on some of the books on my personal reading list now that I have a little break between semesters. I thought I'd begin with Mansfield Park since it's been a while since I've read anything by Jane Austen. This edition was published in 1949 by the Novel Library and is 479 pages long on remarkably thin paper. 




I was surprised to find myself much more captivated by this novel than previous ones I've read (quite long ago), such as Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice. I'm reconsidering whether I will read them again as a more mature reader or if I'll just put it to Mansfield Park being written after the two above mentioned and thus attribute it to Austen's own matured style.

Austen's novel makes a change from more contemporary fiction in so many ways: the steady chronological style, the value given to religious and moral conduct and the lack of vulgarity. Of course Austen had her own context to consider and the novels reflect this but she clearly has a moral stance and preference in the novel where religion seems like it ought to be valued more sincerely than the upper class can admit. The religious and moral values she advocates include sincerity and humility, which are lacking in high society in favour of material wealth. Despite this critique of the upper classes, Austen demonstrates her partiality to refined upper class etiquette as being indispensable in a truly noble character. This naturally puts the lower classes at a great disadvantage.

A refreshing element in the novel was the insight into the Price family, a family who is considerably less wealthy and "refined" than the principal Bertram family. While it clearly shows the failings of character that can easily pervade with lack of financial means and poor management, it also provides some hope and an incentive for wealthier members of society or a family to take the initiative to help "raise" others in order to increase goodness, or the potential of goodness, in society.

On a less positive note, I felt that the main protagonist in the novel, Fanny, was a little too sensitive, fragile and timid for my liking and it felt like a character that was, although morally correct, difficult to identify with. This, I can argue, also allows Austen to create a perfect, angelic character, which goes against contemporary subjectivity of character, judgement and a general trend for rebellion.

Overall, it was a rather pleasant, almost indulgent, read and I look forward to reading Northanger Abbey in order to increase my exposure to Austen's writing.

Wednesday, 5 July 2017

The Good Muslim (2011)

This is only a short entry on my thoughts on Tahmima Anam's novel, which is the second of a trilogy. The Good Muslim was published by John Murray in 2011 and follows the novel A Golden Age, which was published in 2007. The third part of the trilogy, Bones of Grace, was published in 2016. As a disclaimer I would like to clarify that I haven't read the first in the series. The kindle edition that I read is a little under 300 pages, though 305 pages including acknowledgements and a preview into the third book. The novel is set in Bangladesh soon after the war of independence and some time later, as the novel switches between years, slowly developing the narrative and context through visits to the 1970s and 1984.  It is divided into a prologue, three books, whose titles make reference to Quranic verses and an epilogue ; the first book is entitled "All that is in the Heavens and on Earth", the second, "Every soul shall taste death" and the third, "God wrongs no one, Not even by the weight of an atom".




I read Tahmima Anam's novel, The Good Muslim, as part of my self-study unit to explore whether writers from the Indian subcontinent have largely adopted the worldview of their colonisers, that of modernity and secularism. This is also the reason why I didn't read the prequel, as I had to focus on my core reading list before reading around (prequel and sequel). The novel itself is an easy and quick read and yet the cultural and historical significance is very much apparent; it plays an important role in reminding, or even teaching, people about the War and conflicts in Bangladesh, events that I presume are little known outside those directly concerned.

Anam's central protagonist is a young female doctor named Maya. Most of the chapters are given from her perspective through a third person narrator. There was one chapter in her brother, Sohail's perspective, a first person narrative chapter from the eyes of her young nephew Zaid and a part of a chapter recounting Joy's war experiences. This is significant because Maya's voice is the dominant one, and it is a voice of criticism and, more specifically, disdain towards religion, which in this case is Islam.

Her values are more closely aligned to those of secularism, as science and modernity are valued higher than religious principles. She is concerned over her brother's interest and "conversion", having discovered Islam as a source of solace after the war. I felt that Maya's negativity towards religion was not particularly nuanced, as many of the practices adopted by her recently "converted" brother bothered her, despite them being fairly common or understood in a practicing Muslim community. It seems as if those whose religion is imperceptible are the ones that Maya prefers. Maya herself appears to not consider herself a believer and only reluctantly acknowledges her taught prayers. What I found particularly unsettling was that Maya made certain remarks such as "at least he hasn't grown a beard" or referring to the Quran as "the Book", implying it was the source of the problem and her brother's increased interest was a cause for concern. The reason this is problematic is because it perpetuates negative stereotypes that Muslim/ Asian men face when they choose to grow a beard, for example, or take their faith more seriously by learning more about the Quran. The UK, among many other countries, has been known to actively discriminate against people on these bases and it would be unfair to allow that connection to be validated when, for the vast majority, it is not a sign of fundamentalism. For Maya, the problem is religion itself, not solely the injustices practised in the name of religion or misinterpreted for selfish ends.

On the other hand, I found that Sohail's behaviour was not ideal, nor necessarily a perfect reflection of a pious Muslim due to two core issues, his apparent neglect towards his son and failing to be present during his mother's illness when she was seeking him. Those are not values or types of behaviour that are encouraged in Islam, rather to contrary they are looked down upon. And yet I still found myself more sympathetic to Sohail than Maya, because she seemed to be full of absolute revolt and he appeared to be much more docile and searching a way of peace, mercy and clarity after the shock of the war. Maya's only seemingly redeeming factor was when she attempted to save her nephew from injustice. The Tablighi Jamaat, the group that Sohail joined, definitely has some peculiarities but I believe it is not as catastrophic or threatening as made out to be.

An important theme in the novel was also that of children's education and upbringing. It's an increasingly important discussion since oftentimes when children are granted an education, it is a (compulsory) secular one, and one that usually inhibits creativity, an issue that is increasingly being faced in the Western world. Maya is wary of the madrasa education chosen by her brother, which again creates an opposition of two differing worlds.

Overall, I felt that while Anam was able to create some moving, sentimental scenes, the overall tones are strongly, if not too, anti-religion, and not necessarily anti-injustice that may take place under the guise of religion or in any other given context. For Maya, at least, Bangladesh is a country full of a rich culture but ought to otherwise be secular. However, I appreciate the role of Rehana, the mother, who points out that Maya is not simply the innocent, enlightened party in regards to their family dynamics, as she played a significant role in provoking her brother into a more drastic lifestyle change.