Historical Fiction wins the Booker

Winging Historical Fiction !

Another historical fiction wins the Man Booker Prize again! That too, a new writer on the bloc Eleanor Catton for her tomb of a book ‘The Luminaries’, based on the gold rush in Victorian New Zealand.  Before her, the British author Hilary Mantel bagged it twice for her historical narrative on the reign of Henry VIII. Historical fiction, a specialized genre of writing, seems to be giving an edge to other forms of writing, not that it has not won accolades for authors through the times, but consecutive wins have added to its enigmatic flavor.

Historical fiction, a wonderful and satisfying blend of storytelling and history, lends an aura of mystic to the otherwise dry, prosaic and academic pursuit of history.  Historical fiction writing is like making a period film. The frames have to come alive with meticulous details of life in that period of history. The author has to conjure up the times, imbuing it with the authentic aromas of sight, smell and taste unique to that span of time. The fashion and clothes that people wore, the language and dialects they spoke, (River of Smoke by Amitav Ghosh), the belief systems that perpetuated the society, the religion that communities followed, the political  and social set-ups , the economy and trade of the people….. such that when we read the book, we enter the scene in history and breathe and feel the feel of the place and duration in time as a palpable truth ; the then becomes now. Historical narrative in the hands of a skilled writer acquires the scope of a Tolstoy, the depth of a Dickens and the pace of a thriller, a fatal unputdownable reading experience par excellence. I would any day pick up a historical narrative or watch a period film rather than pursue a historical record to explore history.  Just waiting to lay my hands on Catton’s work!

Historical novels, the winners make a long list.  My earlier reads would be Roots by Alex Hailey, Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy, and Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell.  Roots left an indelible impression on my youthful mind of the long-long journey from slavery to freedom, about the trials and tribulations of men, of mastery of humans over other men, of subjugation, fight for freedom, search for identity, racism, oblivion of entire cultures and rich heritage and hybridization. Anna Karenina’s search for truth in relationships mirrors a hypocritical society mired in supercilious wealth and hollow principles. Gone With the Wind, set against the civil war background, glorifies the South and demonizes the North, centering on a sympathetic depiction of slavery and the Klu Flux Klan. My recent reads have been Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall and Bring up the Bodies. To be able to bag the coveted booker prize in quick succession for the two sequels of her trilogy on Tudor History is equally astounding and bewildering.  But I would rather not delve into the intricacies of the process of deciding a Booker winner, for the subject of historical fiction writing intrigues me more. Wolf Hall is a book which portrays the break from Rome, a process where one man is wolf to another and the divorce of Henry VIII from Catherine of Aragon.  Bring up the Bodies deals with the reign of the second Queen Anne Boleyn, and at the end, her execution ordered by Henry himself.  Further researching and reading the Tudor history, you discover why the cocktail ‘Bloody Mary’ is called such. The latter, the daughter of the first queen ordered the beheading and slaying of innumerable courtiers from the reign of Henry VIII, because the state reverted back to a Catholic state and the Church became  supreme again for a time.  Intervening these have been other very interesting books like The Girl With A Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier.  A story of a domestic help who, because of her intelligent disposition and sensitivity, becomes a confidante of the famous painter, Vermeer. The ensuing relationship paints a portrait of Vermeer’s work, personality, household and 17^th century Delfit town. ‘Beloved’ by Toni Morrison haunted me just as she haunts the home of her mother who mercy-killed her to save her from a life of slavery.  One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez is the delineation of a fictional town Macondo and the story of a noble, ridiculous, beautiful family, a reflection of all of humanity, just as in the history, myths, growth and decay of Macondo, one sees all of Latin America.

Back home, I have thoroughly enjoyed revisiting history through the works of Amitav Ghosh. He said of his work, ‘The Glass Palace, “one can examine the truths of individuals in history definitely more completely in fiction than one can in history”. The release of the first two books of the Ibis trilogy engrossed me further. The books outdo theory as well as history in terms of its subtle treatment of colonialism.  Amitav’s broad canvas in the books is big enough to include insights into 20^th century Burma after the 3^rd Anglo Burmese War in 1885 and the Opium Wars between China and Britain – a classic portrayal of British hegemony and despotism.  Before these, Salman Rushdie’s Midnight Children and Enchantress of Florence held me captive with their stylistic writing technique of magic realism used superbly to portray the birth of a nation and in the latter, the Mughal Courts and the Medici family of Florence. The Twentieth Wife by Indu Sundaresan  transports the reader to the court of Prince Salim and his involvement with Mehrunissa, the wife of an Afghan commander, who with the turn of history becomes the empress of the Mughal empire – Nur Jahan.

History is the story of mankind on earth.  Classics, from Homers’ Odyssey,  Kalidasa’s Shakuntala, Shakespeare’s Othello,  ‘The Qissa of Heer Ranjha’ by Waris Shah to contemporary literature,  portray the tales of man which are ever repetitive.  These great classics live on and can never die, for human nature and behavioural patterns recur again and again. Historical fiction intrigues, baffles, astounds, disgusts and imbues us with more such emotions – and the question remains , ‘Do we really learn from history?’  Primary aim of life is to live it forwards, but we can learn only when we look backwards. ‘Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it’, seems to hold more true for mankind.

Gandhi before India

Gandhi the Man: How One Man Changed Himself to Change the World

Yet another book is out on Gandhi, ‘Gandhi before India’ written by our popular historian Ramachandra Guha. A book with a difference, as it seeks to explore the context of Gandhi’s words and actions in the context of the words and opinion of his associates, friends and acquaintances. ‘The Collected Works’, the hundred-volume mammoth writings of Gandhi comprising of letters, speeches, interviews, essays, has been an authentic source and a mainstay of writers and critics, who have wanted to reflect, write or film him. The volumes are indicative of his prolific writings throughout his life. It is available today as a CDROM, but Ramachandra deviates from the norm and has based his research on the archives in India, London and Africa, in  government papers, documented court cases, letters to Gandhi from friends and adversaries. He distills a space for the reader to view Gandhi from a perspective, other than his own voice. Secondly, his emphasis is on the making of the Mahatma, given the set of circumstances, influences and experiments that he encountered in Victorian London and colonial Africa, which shaped his philosophy of non-violence, and school of thought about racism, imperialism, civil rights movement, woman emancipation and a deliverance from social evils.

Guha’s preoccupation in the book is study of the colossal metamorphosis in the persona of Gandhi which happened overseas, and turned an average man into a Mahatma. A man born in an orthodox Gujarati Bania family, was drawn by the prestige of law college in London, where he practiced vegetarianism, and returned a barrister. If the barrister had made it big in his profession in India, he would have continued as a wealthy Gujju bania, confined to his conservative community, beset with prejudices, but the failure sent him to Africa where his experiences propelled him to first defend Muslims and then discover a diasporic Indian community of Bengalis, Tamilians, Punjabis…… of hawkers, tradesmen, street urchins, professionals, lawyers, representing    India’s cultural, linguistic and religious diversities. Guha says,’Gandhi’s  skills as a writer, propagandist, organiser and fund-collector were also shaped and developed there.  He wanted to pay close attention to these decades and the interesting cast of characters he worked with — his housemates Henry and Millie Pollak; the Tamil radical Thambi Naidoo who with his fellow Tamils saved the Satyagraha movement; his secretary Sonja Schlesin who pushed him to take a more sympathetic stance on gender rights; his friend Pranjivan Mehta who funded and supported him and who played a fundamental role in shaping Gandhi. In South Africa, Gandhi had real friends, colleagues, companions; in India, he had mostly followers, disciples or rivals. He also wanted to flesh out his life in Gujarat and London in more detail. It was while he was writing for the Vegetarian Society in London that he learnt how to craft an argument, how to make a case, to collaborate with other people in an organization and how to build relationships — all very important to his later work in his homeland.’ Guha has balanced his approach by also delineating his patriarchal approach to his married life and his abominable failure with his elder son.

The book, a voluminous edition and outcome of eight years of research parlayed from his series of lectures on ‘Arguments with Gandhi’ at the University of California in Berkeley. The authorities were a little skeptical about the enrollment for the course, but the full-class attendance got Guha thinking of the great worldwide impact Gandhi had on minds transcending time, geography, and national boundaries. His epigraphic quote of Gandhi from his book ‘My Experiments with Truth’ admits to  inadequacy of autobiography as history which is an individual’s subjective truth – but our wide diverse reading as avid readers leads us to discern our own truth about man and history. In this endeavor, Guha’s book is an appreciated attempt.

The book  unintentionally draws the attention of the people away from two recent  writings:  A famous historian Jad Adams who wrote many revealing facts on Mahatma Gandhi in his book, ‘Gandhi: Naked Ambition’. The book no doubt caused a lot of swirl in the public and media, but at the same time it also invoked many questions in people’s minds about the truth of Gandhi.  Joseph Lelyveld’s ‘Great Soul’ explored the homoerotic relationship of Gandhi with his Jewish friend, Hermann Kallenbach.

‘Touchzing Media, an iOS app development company, announced  the release and immediate availability of Mahatma Gandhi Interactive Biography 1.0, its latest book title developed exclusively for Apple's revolutionary iPad device. Designed specifically for the iPad screen, this app features a complete interactive biography of Gandhi with rare photographs, videos and articles covering all the major events and people of his life. Gandhi was famous as a man of peace and this app presents his life story in an interactive format. This app aims to inspire today's generation with Gandhi's message of peace, just like he inspired millions of people, years back.’

Gandhi lives on in the contemporary world of power structures, rivalries and hatred. A flame that burns over a dark void, but its very existence and prevalence sustains hope and light in our hearts. And the cycle of life goes on! 

After "Eliot"

After “Eliot”

It happened simultaneously. A new track ‘After Eliot’  from Johnny Flynn’s album ‘Country Mile’ to be released 30^th Sep, surfaced online premiering on Spin and the book reading held at ICG last week  ‘Clear light of Day’ written by Anita Desai, foregrounded the main theme of time as destroyer and preserver from Eliots’ poems. T.S Eliot continues to drive authors,  pop stars , playwrights alike.  What is it about him that fires minds and creatives can’t seem to leave his work alone?  Recreating, adapting and reconstructing it over and over. 

Bob Dylan, the greatest legend in pop and rock, set a precedent for literate songwriters,  when in 1965, he wrote and sang his song ‘Desolation Row’ inspired by T. S Eliot.  Heavy with allusions and classical references, the song formed the last track of his sixth studio album ‘Highway 61 Revisited’.  Rock and pop age could also be a meaningful montage of competing voices endeavoring to seize on the raw material of life:  its uselessness and meaninglessness.  Eliot shunned the modern world yearning for old patterns but his writing was modernist when he wrote The Wasteland, The Hollow Men , The Four Quartets and The Love Song of Alfred Prufrock.  The poems are full of shadows- whispering voices, a heap of broken images, pealing bells-thrumming engines, shattering noise-deafening silences – the imagery appeals to the blood pounding minds of youth. When students read Eliot in their course in English literature, the doom and desolation fires the minds with pleasurable dread.  The heavy pungent phrases like "I will show you fear in a handful of dust" or "This is the way the world ends/ Not with a bang but a whimper" tells them that the chaos and decadence they see around themselves is true and that Eliot is directing them to the core where all is not right but the light is also out of the same darkness and chaos. They eye the storm and test its strength through their verses of allusion, pastiche and impersonation sourcing life from dance bars, streets, drug dens, political rallies, war ravaged lands of antiquity to the last carnage.

Anita’s book Clear Light of Day reads like a well-orchestrated musical composition. She quotes poets sixteen times through her narrative, which is divided into four untitled parts paralleling Eliot’s Four Quartets. The poems Burnt Norton and The Wasteland are intricately woven into the narrative to foreground the themes of continuity and change and that time past and time future, dwells in time present. That deliverance from agony and pain is in intuitive meditative symbols of unity through music where all is one. Other books that I can think of now are Catch 22, Lolita and Stephen King’s books.

PJ Harvey’s latest album ‘Let England Shake’ with videos by Seamus Murphy is an experiment in poetry about the timeless cycle of conflict in England and the world. The tensions, rivalry, power structures and grotesque imagery of war ravaged England  It took her two years to get the words right, based on her research of works of TS Eliot, Harold Pinter....To offset the weight of the gruesome words, the music is hauntingly beautiful,  imbuing the  poetry with great energy. Gone is her gutted moan, she strums and sings on her autoharp finding the right chord to carry weighted lyrics of her Eliot-driven laborious honest research.

  

How is our glorious country ploughed?
Not by iron ploughs
Our land is ploughed by tanks and feet,
Feet Marching.I've seen and done things I want to forget;
I've seen soldiers fall like lumps of meat.

Strains of guitar interrupted by war trumpet charge….. Tracks in ‘Let England Shake’ are :  Let England Shake, The Last Living Rose, The Glorious Land, The Words That Maketh Murder, All And Everyone, On Battleship Hill, England, In The Dark Places, Bitter Branches, Hanging In The Wire, Written On The Forehead, The Colour Of The Earth – it is like reading a book.

Johnny Flynn does not so much as pick lines from Eliot’s poetry but surely the uneasy, discomforting atmosphere. If we were to do a workshop on modern poetry in the lyrics of literate pop songwriters like we did do one on Bob Dylan and Bob Marley an year back at Gitanjali Gallery, we shall find echoes, continuations, parody, mimetic  of  Eliot’s without doubt.
“Long live TS Eliot – The Pop Star’s Poet!”

The Color War

Unfair and Lovely

Be Unfair Be Beautiful, is the latest campaign championed by Nandita Das on the internet and visual media. The inherent color prejudice in Indians is the driving force behind the thriving fairness products industry in the country and psychological fallouts of low self esteem, repression, self-hatred and meager opportunities in life. The tyranny of the past is a formidable force, but it is indeed surprising to know that the narrow domestic wall of color discrimination is a very modern phenomenon. In his book, Before Color Prejudice: The Ancient View of Blacks, Frank M Snowden, best known for his study of blacks in classical antiquity, portrays the complete absence of virulent color prejudice in ancient societies of the Romans, Egyptians and the Greek. Science, religion and philosophy never differentiated people and picked on inferiors based on color. He insinuates that the trans-Atlantic slave trade needed a theory for its acceptance and perpetuation with the expanding imperialistic forays in different parts of the world. And, therefore, the belief translated into theory that human groups are born unequal with different colored skins. The colors black and white are not just skin pigmentations but have moral, ethnic and social connotations. The white is endowed with goodness, beauty and virtue and the black is evil, impure and ugly. According to Toni Morrison, the Nobel laureate, the equation of white with virtue is the most pernicious, destructive ideas in the world….
Growing up, we read Roots by Alex Hailey, Don’t Walk in the Sun by Marita Golden, Color Purple by Alice Walker, To Kill A Mocking Bird by Harper Lee and Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison – literature which delineates the arduous journey of generations affected by the practices of colorism, shadism and racism. We are beautiful, but in comparison with someone else. The pre-requisite of being good and better requires another whom we can label as not so good. Discrimination is then a powerful tool of our ego and vanity, the service of which results in divisiveness, segregation, hatred and cruelty. The Blacker the Berry, Kiswana Brown and Reena are stories about women who come to accept their dark color and thereby swear to do good by their children by giving them a sense of self, their worth and importance as blacks: ‘the children must have their identities right from the beginning, no white dolls for them.’ The documentary Shadeism, portrays four women and their experiences in varied communities who have internalized their blackness and a four-year-old Tamilian girl perceives herself as ugly and a lesser mortal in comparison to a brown-skinned aunt. ‘Bleaching and fairness creams for the vagina carry the story to bizarre ends,’ says Nandita Das, culminating in an obsessive goal for an altogether whiteness of skin.
I have undertaken a project for English literature college students by doing book readings on novels in their syllabus. My last reading in August was based on Toni Morrison’s maiden work The Bluest Eye, a quest for blue eyes by a black female poor child named Pecola. She is born sweet with sparkling soft eyes and glowing black skin but her mother who has internalized the notion of black as ugly looks at her baby girl with self-hatred and disapproval. The Dick and Jane primer at her school exposes her to an ideal white American blue-eyed family, wherein love and laughter abounds between the family members and their pets. In contrast, her family lives their ugliness by fighting, abusing and maligning each other. Every billboard and movie that she watches plays images of blue-eyed fair-child stars and celebrities who, with their blonde hair, shining white skin and light eyes, are successful, happy and joyous people. Pecola tries to make herself disappear limb by limb, retracts her stomach and her entire persona. But however tightly she shuts her eyes, the images of distaste, alienation, misery and hatred in her life from her abusing, emotionally-impoverished parents, insensitive neighborhood, white adults and other bullish black children do not vanish. They are etched in her mind’s eye starkly and explicitly. Her desperate bid for blue eyes begins as a panacea for all evils in her world, and becomes an obsession. She devours the images of Shirley Temple dancing with Bill Robinson, Jane Marlow becomes her idol and she eats candies wrapped in caricatures of Mary Jane. She eats the candy to swallow Mary Jane, to become Mary Jane. Toni Morrison started writing at the peak of Black movement in America  in the late sixties, when blacks, after centuries of being told that they were enslaved because of their ugliness, woke up to the consciousness of Black is Beautiful. We are happy, beautiful, black and good, they said. Amidst the environment of a surging black individuality, Morrison wanted to chronicle the plight of a dark, female, poor Pecola, lest we forget the pain. The writing challenges the readers to ask themselves of the part played by them in society in making Pecola a pariah, a grounded bird who flaps her wings in a grotesque, futile effort to fly. She wrote a blues narrative for a regional black audience, but the truth in it rendered it universal. The book became a cult ‘cause it absolves all the characters in Pecola’s life of their roles in her lunacy and candidly brought out the question of complicity of the blacks themselves in their own subjugation. Morrison examines with an unblinking stare the perception of blacks who view themselves with a double consciousness, through the eyes of the white population, and internalize the amused contempt, pity the condemning gaze. In the process, they come to hate themselves and others like them and begin the quest for blue eyes.
 Prejudices are deeply entrenched in our psyche and however much we may think we are evolved and have overcome the discriminations, it requires an alert consciousness to reason out and fight the die cast by them. Mississippi Masala, a production by Mira Nair, is a tale of how prejudice makes victims and instigators (Roshan Seth perpetuates what he has been through himself) of us all. Regional literature does not sell, unless it is cast in the mould of a cosmopolitan avatar. Movies make it to the box office if they have an all white cast. Black characters can mingle with a white cast, but count how many of them survived to the end?  ‘Pointing out that black characters die in movies isn't even clever anymore -- it's the kind of obvious, trite joke that bad movies make about other bad movies. But, inexplicably, it keeps happening. Black characters end up in supporting roles, instead of being well-developed characters. They're just there, so we can judge the other (white) characters by how they treat them. But our open-mindedness usually stops at the point of actually paying to see a black leading man or woman. What's weirder is when the movie pretends to be about the triumph of a minority character, but instead spends all its time talking about the white people who save him. The black character is just a thing that needs to be taken care of, not an actual character – like maybe To Kill A Mocking Bird. So what’s the deal? Money. Once again, it's money. To get people in the theater seats, the story has to revolve around white people.
Again, we can blame the studios all we want. But they've learnt from hard experience that for the most part, if they don't play to our prejudices, we simply won't go see their movie!’
 Caste discrimination, religious bigotry and color prejudice is as immutable in India as in the rest of the world. Nandita Das, we have a long way to go!