Apu’s World

This blog has been neglected for a while. Revamp issues on Women’s Web (why do web developers say 1 month when they really mean 2 months and some-more-time-please?) and a cold-turned-minor-lung-infection have kept me away. Despite the weird noises and gross stuff that issued from my chest and throat, I managed to squeeze in a visit to the Bangalore book fair. Given that I’ve pretty much issued myself an embargo on buying books the rest of the year, the book fair is the annual respite I permit myself.

This year’s haul included an equal balance of English and Tamizh books. The list goes as follows:

In English:

• Bill Bryson’s ‘At Home: A short history of private life‘. Bill Bryson is one of the few authors I will pay over Rs. 500 for, because I know I’ll re-read the book and laugh each time. Otherwise I’m done with shelling out big bucks for books that I will read only once - the library is good enough.
• Arshia Sattar’s translation of the Valmiki Ramayana - been wanting this for a long time and the Penguin stall had a good discount on too. Lovely leather-bound version, not the paperback in that link.
• A strangely titled book called ‘It’s a long way to Muckle Flugga‘ by one WR Mitchell. It seems to be an account of the author’s wanderings in remote parts of Scotland, and the only reason I picked it up is because the title sounded weirdly interesting. (Plus, it was second-hand and cost Rs. 50, which doesn’t hurt!)

The last of these, which translates loosely as ‘Snow falls on Chekhov’ (hence the post title) is what I am currently reading. It is an insightful and deeply personal collection of essays on great European (mostly, Russian) writers.

My acquaintance with the Russian greats is limited. I have read Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina and a few short stories by Chekhov. That’s about it, I think, which is of course a shameful thing for any serious reader to confess.  Dostoevsky, Gogol, Gorky, Turgenev, Lemontov - all completely unknown to me, and all due to a fear that Russian writers are “difficult.”

Reading Ramakrishnan’s ‘Chekhovin meedu pani peygiradu/Snow falls on Chekhov’, it is hard not to be seduced by these writers. He writes lovingly about these writers’ styles, motifs, themes and influences, but what is different is that he doesn’t hesitate to delve into their lives and talk about the connections between their lives and their work.

This can be dangerous of course, since fiction is not autobiography, but in the title essay, for e.g. he narrates an incident in Chekhov’s life when, as a young boy, he stands in the freezing cold and snow of a Russian winter, after seeing a horse standing out in the cold. It is hard not to nod when he connects this empathy for a mere horse to the humanism that pervades all of Chekhov’s writing. (In one essay alone, when Ramakrishnan discusses the relationship between Vincent Van Gogh and his brother Theo, did I get the feeling that the personal story sidetracked, in fact, hijacked his observations on the artist’s work).

I still haven’t lost the feeling that Russian writers are difficult, but I’m eager to take on the challenge now!

apu The Literary life

Loss of control over bodily functions, pain, depression, indifferent doctors - childbirth is not easy at best, and for some women, can be very tough. Blogger R’s Mom shares her painful childbirth experience with amazing honesty.

Warning, it’s not an easy read, and some readers may find her honesty hard to stomach; I know some people believe that there is no point ’scaring’ pregnant women with the gory details, but I feel that it’s better to be prepared. Everyone associates the labour and delivery process itself with pain, but the other details are not as widely discussed. So, if you feel like reading a totally honest (and helpful) account, do proceed!

apu Women & Feminism

For the last year or so now, I have been avidly pursuing murder mysteries by an Indian author or with an Indian connection - some have turned out very good (The Englishman’s Cameo, A Nice, Quiet Holiday) and some tolerable (Piggies on the Railway, The Case of the Missing Servant).

The latest in this genre to fall in my way is The Monochrome Madonna by Kalpana Swaminathan (of Kalpish Ratna fame). I approached the book very positively, having read much praise of their work, but I have to confess, The Monochrome Madonna left me feeling let down.

First, a quick outline. The Monochrome Madonna is a ‘Lalli mystery’, Lalli being an ageing detective who has retired from the Bombay police. For much of the novel, however, she is away and it is her niece Sita (Sita, not Seeta, she reminds you, though I still can’t tell the difference) who is stuck with the corpse and the sleuthing. Sita is all at ends and the involvement of Ramona, a friend’s suicidal teenaged daughter doesn’t help. The couple in whose flat the corpse is found, are an odd pair, and for much of the novel, it is not clear what any of the characters are thinking. It is only upon Lalli’s return that things start falling into place - slowly.

Part of the reason the book didn’t appeal to me much is the somewhat florid language. Especially in the first half of the book, everything is simile, and rather outlandish ones at that.

Festive in a hot pink and purple chaniya-choli, she looked like a designer candle, solid, waxy, sequined. Besides I didn’t like her voice. It rang like a coin at the end of every sentence, metallic, definite, with an exact sense of its value.

The scalp had unfurled like a scarlet hibiscus, trailing sticky pistils of bloof all over his matted hair.

There was a light bulb up there. It made the maw of that low space smoulder like a sulking volcano.

All this within 10 pages, by which time, I was wishing that the book had a ruthless editor who would’ve chopped off the verbiage. This is part of the reason why at 250 pages, the book feels too long.

The other (and perhaps larger) issue with the book is that the plot itself is too slow for a mystery. For long stretches, nothing much happens. Even when Lalli returns and things start ‘happening’, we are not given much insight into the motivations of any of the characters. There are interesting digressions and Sita is the one character that comes out strongly etched, but it isn’t enough to make up for the somewhat vaguely written and numerous other characters.

At the end of a mystery novel, I like to be able to plot together a logical outline and trace how the author has led up to a certain ending. It is no fun to feel that character A could as well have been the murderer as B, and the only thing preventing that was the author’s whim. I guess what I’m saying is that the reader needs to be able to work with the detective and at the end feel that the culprit had the best possible motive/opportunity.

With The Monochrone Madonna, this doesn’t happen - the end feels quite arbitrary, which to me, is the worst sort of thing one could say about a murder mystery.

Publisher: Penguin Books India

Price: Rs. 250

apu The Literary life

In response to our My Favourite Female contest, Unmana of Unmana’s Words very kindly sent me a link to this interesting Female Character Flowchart developed by Overthinking It. It nicely identifies many different kinds of stereotypes/archetypes which most female characters in popular culture usually fall into: damsel in distress, perfect wife, The prude and Crazy career woman being some.

Now, stereotypes are of course not limited to female characters. One could as easily point to male archetypes - some common ones being bumbling husband (Everybody loves Raymond, King of Queens), the strong-silent-type and the rough diamond (think Mills & Boon anti-hero). Stereotypes are basically a bundle of traits applied consistently to a particular target group - Punjabis are always boisterous, the career woman is always Westernized, selfish and bitchy, the mother is always sacrificial and so on. Stereotypes work not because a writer (or any other person) thinks them up with malicious intention but because they reflect the underlying ideas of the majority and/or because they make it easy for people to identify and remember things. After all, when one has seen a dozen Hindi movies with a jovial, good-hearted Punjabi saying Jolly Good ji!, it takes no work for the viewer to understand what another such character is about.

Can stereotypes ever be positive? Read on and share your thoughts at Women’s Web…

apu Media-Movies-Ads

Being a voracious sort of reader, and having been one ever since I was 8 or so, it’s difficult for me to talk about a single female character that I really like.

But - we have a contest up at Women’s Web, the My Favourite Female Contest, where we’re asking readers to talk about their favourite fictional female character and - win prizes for it! So, that got me thinking about my own favourites (no - this post is not eligible for the contest, just a chance for me to talk on the subject :))

I’ve liked so many of the girls and women in all the books I’ve read over the years - Heidi (of the eponymous novel), Jo of Little Women, many of the Jane Austen heroines and from more modern writing - Offred of The Handmaid’s Tale, Kinsey Millhone from the Sue Grafton alphabetical mystery series, Mma Ramotswe from The No. 1 Ladies detective agency series, Kathy H from Never let me go, Briony Tallis from Atonement…and many, many more.

Among all these women though, I guess I’d have to choose Offred from Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale, if I had to choose just one. I read this novel when I was about 15, and it was my first introduction to dystopian fiction. The warped world it presents is the very anti-thesis of feminism; here, women are subjugated and their role tied up with their ‘duty’ to procreate. Yet, the novel is feminist since this world is clearly dystopia.

Offred is not heroic. Chosen to be a ‘handmaid’, i.e. one who’s sole duty is to bear a child for a childless couple, she naturally has no liking for the new republic. But she is not an active member of the Resistance and mostly, focused on her own life rather than directly with the politics around her. At the same time, she manages to display resistance to the new ideology with the few tools available to her, such as using butter to moisturise her skin (women are not allowed cosmetics) or playing scrabble (women are not allowed intellectual pursuits), and later, having a potentially ruinous affair with the handyman.

Perhaps one of the reasons I liked Offred so much is that she is not a symbol. She is a person with all the ambiguities, doubts and many dimensions that it involves. For those of you who haven’t read The Handmaid’s Tale, do give it a try - it is among my favourite novels.

And - if you haven’t yet seen the My Favourite Female contest, go have a look! And participate - we’re giving away Flipkart vouchers, and who doesn’t want those!

apu The Literary life, Women & Feminism