Apu’s World

Show a people as one thing, as only one thing, over and over again, and that is what they become. It is impossible to talk about the single story without talking about power…Power is the ability not just to tell the story of another person, but to make it the definitive story of another person….The single story creates stereotypes and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete.

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s ‘Half of a Yellow Sun’ is one novel I really enjoyed reading last year and at Racialicious is a video of Adichie’s fantastic talk on the harm that literature can do by giving us only ‘a single story.’ It’s so relevant in the context of the endless debates on what is ‘authentic’ Indian writing.

The talk is about 20 mins long, but every single word there earns its place and makes it totally worth your time.

apu The Literary life

The dictionary definition of a note is ‘a brief record, especially one written down to aid the memory’, ‘a brief informal letter’ or ‘a comment or explanation’. Going by that definition, Notes is an extremely humble, modest, deprecating sort of name for an effort like Atul Gawande’s ‘Better; A Surgeon’s Notes on Performance’. For, this book is no brief record, informal letter, comment or explanation. Rather, it is a highly accomplished work on improving performance in the medical field, the result of much thought, introspection, research, and really what makes it shine through, the result of much heart.

Dr. Gawande is the sort of superstar surgeon who makes lesser mortals feel ridiculous when they complain of the lack of time. A working surgeon and medical professor in the United States, he nevertheless makes the time to write long and incisive works on the medical field, for the New Yorker. Having read and enjoyed many of those, I pounced on Better when I chanced upon it at the Bengaluru Book Festival, and have read it since, in two quick sittings.

In the introduction, Gawande says,

Betterment is a perpetual labor. The world is chaotic, disorganized, and vexing, and medicine is nowhere spared that reality. To complicate matters, we in medicine are only humans ourselves. We are distractible, weak and given to our own concerns. Yet still, to live as a doctor is to live so that one’s life is bound up in others’ and in science and in the messy, complicated connection between the two. It is to live a life of responsibility. The question, then, is not whether one accepts the responsibility. Just by doing this work, one has. The question is, having accepted the responsibility, how one does such work well. (italics mine).

This is the central thought that informs the book, and makes it so enjoyable for the lay reader. For, Dr. Gawande does not focus purely on what many of us may think of as medical marvels - the new discoveries, the excitements in genetic studies, the availability of radical new theories. There is little of these. Instead, he gets down to the basics, which may be applied to hospitals in the US with their cornucopia of equipment, funding and specialized teams as well as to healthcare initiatives in the poorest parts of the world, often managed by a single doctor or surgeon working with a makeshift team. What Dr. Gawande does is to examine improved performance and success in surgery in the context of three essential elements - diligence, medical ethics and ingenuity.

He then takes of each of these elements and with the help of examples from live projects and cases around the world, illustrates how sometimes, simple solutions such as medical professionals washing their hands can make a big difference to infection rates, and at other times, how there are no easy answers at all. In the chapter The Mop-Up, on the drive to eradicate polio in India, he says,

People underestimate the importance of diligence as a virtue. No doubt this has something to do with how supremely mundane it seems… Understood, however, as the prerequisite of great accomplishment, diligence stands as one of the most difficult challenges facing any group of people who take on tasks of risk and consequence.

Part of what makes Better such a good read is that, at every step, he shows us how doctors and surgeons are only human. Even in a developed country like the US, they must not only focus on their individual effort, but constantly keep in mind other things such as hospital logistics and issues with insurance providers. Above all, being human, there is always the possibility that, even if rarely, they will make mistakes. And since their work is to do with people’s lives, doctors’ mistakes are costlier than any other mistakes. Dr. Gawande addresses this issue with much honesty and clarity in the chapter What Doctors Owe.

Overall, it is this sense of I don’t have all the answers, but I’m working to find them that makes Better such a heartening read. In a general climate of cynicism, where medicine is no longer seen as such a saintly and esteemed profession, Better offers lay readers the hope that around the world, there are indeed good people working to make things better. For doctors and surgeons who may feel disheartened by the magnitude of the challenges they face, it offers no easy answers but provides reinforcement that being a positive deviant is a worthwhile thing.

Publisher: Penguin Books

Price: Rs. 250

apu The Literary life

The Bangalore Book Festival is around at the Palace Grounds, just as it was last November, and the hubby and I went around to it on Saturday, despite the wind and rain that makes you want to just huddle in bed. Seriously, I cannot remember Bangalore winters being this rainy even 10 years ago. Global warming, I suppose. Still, the book fair is an unmissable at least as far as I’m concerned. And was it totally worth it!

This year’s haul consisted of:

‘Lives in the Wilderness‘ - a collection of 3 autobiographies, that of Jim Corbett, Salim Ali and Verrier Elwin; the last of the trio, I am not familiar with, but I’ve been in the mood for some good autobiographies, so this promises well.

A Jim Corbett Omnibus - The Man-Eaters of Kumaon, The Temple Tiger and More Man-eaters of Kumaon and The Man-eating Leopard of Rudraprayag. I read these when I was about 10 or 12, during a long, aimless vacation spent in Dehradun, constantly looking over my shoulder and expecting to see tiger or at least, a leopard. I imagine these will all be fun to revisit.

Bill Bryson’s ‘The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid’ - I’ve read this one before, and while it’s not my favourite Bill Bryson book (that would be Notes from a Small Island), its still pretty worth keeping.

Atul Gawande’s ‘Better: A surgeon’s notes on performance‘; I’ve much enjoyed Gawande’s writing in the New Yorker, usually incisive work on the American Healthcare system, so - thought this should be interesting.

‘All is Burning’, a collection of short stories by Sri Lankan writer, Jean Arasanayagam. I’ve just finished reading ‘Sri Lanka, Voices from a war zone’ by Nirupama Subramanian, a political correspondent with The Hindu, so that’s prompted me to read a Sri Lankan writer; I actually haven’t read a single one before, I think. Besides, I had to have some short stories!

‘The Pregnant King’, by Devdutt Patnaik - first read about this book at the Jabberwock blog, and thought the idea of a gender-blurring work based on a story from the Mahabharata was something!

Yaamam - a Tamizh novel by S. Ramakrishnan, whose Urupasi I had read and enjoyed earlier. No idea what this one is about,  but thecover looks very attractive! (Good enough reason to buy?) and finally,

A collection of short stories by Ambai, whose work I have always read in English. Somehow the Tamizh original never seemed to be available, but managed to get it this year.

I set myself a budget of Rs. 2000 and managed to get away with exceeding that only by about Rs.700. Not bad, wasn’t it?

Bangaloreans, if you haven’t visited the book fair yet, please make space for it right away. It’s on till Nov 15th, and if the range of books isn’t enough to tempt you, there are great discounts too!

apu The Literary life

*Nostalgia alert!*

The other day, I saw a list that someone had compiled, of their 10 favourite books. Now, I doubt I can ever do that. My favourites tend to change over the years, and writers I once obsessed with, seem like interesting but hardly obsession-worthy creatures, once some water has flown under the bridge.

During my years in college and a little later too, I was absolutely crazy about John Irving. After that, it was Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Yes, I know he is a great writer, but somehow I don’t find some of his work that compelling anymore. Until a few years ago, it was Haruki Murakami (my first blog was named after a Murakami novel!), whose work I still like, but I’m sensing that I’m no longer quite that crazy about him. Perhaps its having read too much Murakami, and finding that motifs and ideas reappear a little too often. Whatever. You get the drift - I’m not likely to be compiling a list of 10 favourite books with any sort of confidence.

The favourite books of my childhood, on the other hand, are not very likely to change, and a couple of days ago, I was struck by nostalgia for these companions of my childhood. R’s Mom, a friend of mine, recently wrote about how people laugh at the idea of reading to babies, and at her because she reads to her 16 month old child. Well, all I could think of was how thankful I am to my parents who encouraged me and my sisters to read, and unlike many parents I know, never thought of it as a ‘waste of time’ that was taking us away from academics. So, here are 10 of my favourite books as a child.

The Land of Oz. Surprisingly, I’ve never read the more famous book in this series, The Wizard of Oz, but The Land of Oz was one book I loved to read again and again. So much so that it was sadly worn out, and although we still have it, is almost reduced to rags. Still, I pick it up occasionally when I visit my parents and find myself grinning, especially at the sayings and doings of Jack Pumpkinhead.

Little Women. The heart-warming story of four sisters living in the hard times of the American Civil War, I loved this one for the way it showed such ‘ordinary’ things - the fights, the making up, the amateur plays - and also how each of the sisters was so different and yet interesting. Jo March was my favourite, probably because of her writing, but Beth came a close second.

August, the month of Winds. A Soviet-era book by Vladislav Krapivin, and one which I can still read and enjoy. Written for children, but doesn’t talk down to them. The strong friendship it revolves around was one of the things I liked best then, but thinking back, I can see that the author has done a fantastic job with treating each little boy in the story, Gena, Vladek, Ilya - with utmost seriousness and respect, not just as child prototypes. It’s also a children’s book that doesn’t shy away from discussing death and unhappiness, and I remember this had a big impact on me.

David Copperfield. What were my parents thinking of to get an unabridged pillow-sized Dickens novel for 9 and 12 year olds? I have no clue, but I do remember tracing my finger laboriously over the fine print and finding that if I skipped some of the big words, I enjoyed the story very much. Perhaps it was partly the thrill of mastering a big book, but David Copperfield stayed a favourite for a very long time.

What Katy Did. When I read this again in high school, it seemed somewhat preachy and boring. It’s one of those books which is a little of it’s time and doesn’t quite perhaps appeal to modern readers, but as a young girl, I found Katy’s life fascinating. She trains herself to cope with a debilitating illness and then goes on to become the heart and soul of her large family. The second part in this series, What Katy Did at School, I think reads a little better in present times, but even here, the primness and emphasis on ‘ladylike behaviour’ can get a little tiring.

Heidi. My absolute favourite and a book I probably read 10,000 times! The surly grandfather, the Swiss alps, the goats, Peter the goatherd, Peter’s loving grandmother and Heidi herself - every single thing in this book is just perfect.

How, Why, When, Where. Perhaps the first non-fiction book I read, this was a giant book of general knowledge that one of my uncles gifted us. An American or Canadian book, it was done up with lovely illustrations, including one of royalty in the European Middle Ages feasting on a whole peacock and a swan! (For a long time, I held on to the amazing idea that peacocks were a staple food for Europeans - you must remember, this was in far more innocent, pre-Internet and pre-cable TV times). The book was eclectic  - on one page you’d have an account of volcanoes and on another, one of clothing around the world. Apart from having a geologist for a dad, this book was I think responsible for the curiosity I have for learning a little bit of everything.

A Journey to the Center of the Earth. Jules Verne’s fantastic tale of a scientist who discovers a lost world deep under the surface of the earth, this book made me long for adventure and travel. Even today, I half believe that if I can just get to Reykjavik, a life of adventure awaits me!

The Naughtiest Girl. As a primary-schooler, I had surprisingly little exposure to Enid Blyton, the Queen of children’s literature. Part of the reason may have been that while my parents wanted us to read, they also saw reading as an ‘improving’ influence - we were rarely given Enid Blytons, perhaps because they were mostly seen as fun. The Naughtiest Girl in the school was possibly the first Enid Blyton I read, and thoroughly enjoyed.

Ukrainian Folk Tales. A giant book of Ukrainian folk tales with witches and princes and princesses and all sorts of talking animals. Thinking back, I think the slightly sinister nature of many of the stories was what made it such a hit! I still remember vividly the much-loved red cover of this book - the other thing going for it was that it had so many wonderful tales that each time, you could open it on a new one that you didn’t remember reading before.

I’m not tagging anyone in particular, but should you find this interesting and take it up, please feel free to leave a link in the comments.

apu The Literary life

Thanks to the number of long weekends and the holiday season in general, work has been much slower than usual this month. The silver lining to the lull is that I have managed to plough through many more books than is usual, including a couple of Georgette Heyers, a biography of Jane Austen, a re-reading of Bill Bryson’s Notes from a Small Island (accompanied by much undignified snorting aloud) and a debut novel by an Indian writer that is also a murder mystery: A Nice, Quiet Holiday.

A Nice, Quiet Holiday by Aditya Sudarshan is true to its name. Despite a murder happening in the novel, the writing has a sort of ‘nice and quiet’ character to it and the book is over almost too soon. Much credit goes of course to the skill with which Sudarshan keeps the pages turning, while throwing in dollops of murder, local courtroom drama, romance and fear. This is indeed a nicely balanced book.

Set in the hill town of Bhairavgarh, somewhere in Uttaranchal, the plot revolves around a holiday that the narrator law clerk Anant goes on, along with his boss Justice Shinde. Sudarshan contrives a setting in the tradition of the best Agatha Christie novels - a group of people, all connected in some way land up at a common destination where a murder happens, and now this becomes a world in itself, an uneasy, claustrophobic one where nothing and no one can quite be taken at face value. The local setting of Bhairavgarh is brought into the plot skilfully (and unlike the previous Indian murder mystery I read, The Case of the Missing Servant, this one doesn’t feel the need to ‘explain’ India, or Bhairavgarh for that matter, except as seen through the eyes of different characters).

Apart from the solving of the mystery, something that Sudarshan has done so well is the unrequited love and longing of early adulthood, when heartbreak seems like a condition impossible to ever get over. Some of the best scenes in the novel revolve around Anant’s awareness of and preoccupation with a girl who forms part of the entourage (and though it is not spelt out, the possibility that she may be the murderer keeps the reader anxious).

Overall, a very nicely (and finely) done mystery novel, and a good addition to the growing cache of mystery writing by Indian English authors.

Publisher: Westland Books

Price: Rs. 250

apu The Literary life