Showing posts with label India. Show all posts
Showing posts with label India. Show all posts

The God of Small Things, by Arundhati Roy, Reviewed.

on Sunday, January 19, 2014
A prose poem of a novel, with bite. This Indian tale of love, loss, class and betrayal starts, against all the literary school advice, with the weather. But the language is so engaging, so intriguing, that the reader is drawn into this strange world at once.

I love well-rounded characters and this book explodes with them. I love the use of good and entertaining English and this book drips with it. I won’t bore you with a synopsis; there are plenty of those around if you want a truncated version of the story. Suffice to say that the story centres on the relationships within a middle class business family and those that family loves and relies upon.

I learned a great deal about Indian life during the read. The chaos, out-dated traditions, values, iniquities of the caste system, attitudes to authority, God, and religion are all exposed in the narrative. The climate and the landscape become added characters, playing their parts in this complex tale and bringing even more life to a story already teeming with it.

There are flaws, for a reader from England. There are references to Indian culture, tradition and history that arrive unannounced and leave without explanation, often failing to reveal their origins or meanings in the process.  And there are very short, occasional, passages in an untranslated language I could not identify or understand. How much of the richness of the novel I failed to appreciate because of these flaws, I have no way of knowing.

There are a couple of chapters that, for me, appeared to serve no purpose in the story and I confess to skipping through those.

The book is written in a way that keeps the reader engaged, not through action or tension necessarily, but through the exquisite combination of words. This is poetry presented as prose. And the final chapter is so brilliantly drawn, so brutally emotional, that it left me feeling raw; the empathy imposed is such that I doubt any sensitive reader could leave it without tears.

I loved this book, and read the last half at one sitting, reluctant to put it down even though there were fairly pressing reasons I should do so. Thoroughly recommended for those readers who love literature in its accessible form and for whom a story of people in love matters. It’s no surprise this won the Booker Prize.
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The Unheard I, by Kiriti Sengupta, Reviewed.

on Wednesday, August 28, 2013
This short piece of esoteric literature came my way via contacts on Facebook. The book is divided into three sections: A Serious ToF (Twist of Fate); Yogic Poetry: the Indian Heritage; The Translator ‘I’. So, I think you will realise this is not a work of interest to what might be called the ‘common reader’. It is a scholarly piece that will appeal to those with an interest in poetry, particularly spiritual poetry expressed as literature, as well as those who have a leaning toward or a significant interest in Indian myth and religion.

The Twist of Fate referred to above is an anthology of pieces collected together to present to readers as a way of gathering funds to help those left in distress by the tornado that hit Oklahoma in May 2013. And this first chapter of the book is a presentation of the author’s experiences in contributing to that anthology.

Poetry, let alone Yogic Poetry, is a genre of which I have little experience. My admiration of the craft lies within the bounds of the variety of works produced by the two Dylans (Bob and Thomas). And my knowledge of Indian culture is minimal. So, I found this section both illuminating and confusing. The many references to the Yogic culture were lost on me, but the general sense of spirituality came through.

The Translator ‘I’ deals with the author’s work and attitudes regarding translation as a craft. He is an acknowledged translator of work from Bengali to English. I’m no linguist, but I have always admired the skill that allows those who understand more than one language to translate not just words but meaning. The ability to convey the essence of a piece written in one language when converting it into another is almost magical to me.


So, not a general reader’s book, but a piece of work that will undoubtedly find favour with those interested in the subject matter discussed. It is to those readers that I recommend the book.

The book is currently only available via Smashwords; link here.
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Life of Pi, by Yann Martel, Reviewed.

on Wednesday, February 6, 2013

A fantasy novel written in the style of a documentary narrative: that does the book a great injustice. Although the germ came from an earlier work about a man at sea with a leopard, this book is a work of great and unique imagination. The clever attempts to make the reader believe this is a true story lend the tale a veracity that would be diminished had it been written simply as a conventional novel.

Much that happens is, of course, incredible. The comment that the book will make even an atheist believe in God, along with the stated distrust of agnostics, struck a chord with me, since I am that agnostic, and proudly so. And, for the record, whether intended or not, it certainly didn’t convince me that there is a god.
The plight of the protagonist, the description of his early life in India with his eccentric parents and odd upbringing, lead the reader to empathise in surprising ways. The courage and inventiveness of the young man, his tenacity, his honesty and his duplicity make for internal contrasts that enliven the whole tale. It becomes difficult to determine what is ‘true’, what is the product of his imagination as he attempts to remain both sane and alive in a perilous situation, what is illusion or mirage, and what is sheer invention on his behalf.

There’s humour here, inspiration, some subtle education and a great deal of entertainment on many levels. The author has gone to considerable lengths to understand the difficulties a boy in a lifeboat in the Pacific might face. He’s researched his biology and botany well, and gives a good account of the nature of the tiger and the other animals that feature. He makes an impassioned plea for the support of zoos and drives a wonderful stake through the heart of divisions that make religions enemies of each other and of some of those who have no faith.

The story is engaging, fascinating, moving, terrifying, bizarre and extraordinary. If you like your fiction to surprise and delight, to undermine and provoke, then you will enjoy this novel. I did, and I thoroughly recommend it.

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Whose Water Is It, Anyway?

on Sunday, October 14, 2012
Water cycle http://ga.water.usgs.gov/edu/water...
Water cycle http://ga.water.usgs.gov/edu/watercycleprint.html Other language versions: Català Czech español Finnish Greek Japanese Norwegian (bokmål) Portugese Romanian עברית Diné bizaad (Navajo) and no text and guess water vapor (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

As far as I know, no individual or corporation has laid claim to the air we breathe or the light that stems from sun, moon and stars (though the possibility clearly exists in this materially-obsessed world of ours). We accept that these are naturally occurring phenomena that have enabled life on the planet we inhabit. Logic suggests that water be included in that short list. It’s a natural consequence of a long-established cycle that was not initiated by human activity and it’s a substance that’s the very essence of life. Yet there are those who lay claim to the water that exists in a given region. My view is that water, like air and sunlight, should not be allowed to ‘belong’ to anyone.

I hear the cries of those who either run or own shares in water companies, berating me for robbing them of their profits, and telling me that treated water doesn’t get that way for free. I know. I wouldn’t dream of arguing that it does. That isn’t what I’m suggesting. I’m saying that they do not and cannot make water.

We may clean and modify the raw material. But that raw material is a natural resource and is therefore not something over which someone can rightly claim ownership. The processing, storage and delivery are those elements for which we should expect to pay, allowing the companies concerned to add their reasonable profit for future investment and to pay their workers a living wage. But, to allow anyone to claim rain, which is what all drinking water is at source, as an owned resource is patently mad, bad and stupid. So, as a society, and I am talking worldwide here, we should accept that water, which exists without our intervention, isn’t a commodity to be traded but a resource to be distributed without reference to either profit or boundaries.

Treatment, modification, extraction, storage and delivery are the only elements that should be subject to cost. The raw material should be considered a zero cost component of such a business.

Drinking Water
Drinking Water (Photo credit: SEDACMaps)
Logic suggests that I should go further in my argument. Is rainfall a matter of human control? Only inasmuch as, occasionally, societies have seeded clouds in order to encourage precipitation at a specific time in a specific place, with variable success. We have no control over where and when those clouds are formed. That’s a natural process. It’s true that our activities are increasingly distorting it, but that’s an accidental by-product of our irresponsible behaviour.

So, it follows that not only is water not the property of any individual or company; it isn’t the property of any country or state either. The water cycle knows no boundaries. The presence or absence of water in any given location is due to a combination of natural influences: geology, geography and climate. Of course, there are man-made aquifers, reservoirs and other capture and storage facilities where man has usurped the natural product to direct it for his own purposes. But such activity doesn’t constitute ownership of the actual resource, it merely permits the transient capture of a quantity of it for local consumption and is therefore part of what I’ve referred to as storage.

Over the history of our species, we have instinctively tended to settle near sources of drinking, or fresh, water. The exceptions are nomadic peoples who have taken their chances and followed certain natural cycles in order to obtain their food and water. These are stateless peoples who, for historical reasons often lost in the annals of unrecorded history, have not been able, or allowed, to settle in any given location. But, for the majority of us, a settled existence has been the norm for millennia. And settlements have almost always developed near sources of drinking water simply because its absence would prevent expansion.

English: Mwamanongu Village water source, Tanz...
English: Mwamanongu Village water source, Tanzania. "In Meatu district, Shinyanga region, Tanzania, water most often comes from open holes dug in the sand of dry riverbeds, and it is invariably contaminated." . Français : Point d'eau du village de Mwamanongu, en Tanzanie. "Dans le district de Meatu (région de Shinyanga, Tanzanie), L'eau provient le plus souvent de trous creusés dans le sable de lits de rivières asséchées. Elle est systématiquement contaminée." (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
So, whether that water is obtained from boreholes, lakes, wells or rivers, it remains a natural resource. Yes, there have been more recent settlements that have provided their own man-made storage facilities and collected or redirected the water needed to fill them. But the water, the result of rainfall, remains a natural resource, along with sunlight and air. (I’m aware that my argument can be developed to include other natural resources, by the way, but I intend to discuss that in a later piece).

It follows that national borders are irrelevant to the incidence of water. Presence or absence is an accident of geography for any state, since this aspect of the cycle is unfixed. A city can grow up on the banks of a river which then changes course. A settlement can develop around a lake which subsequently drains due to tectonic or mineralogical activity. The boreholes leading to an underground aquifer can end up as mere holes in the ground when natural changes shift the level of that aquifer.

Yes, we, as a species, can and do make changes aimed at preventing such dangers to our second most essential resource. But the fact remains that the substance itself stands outside ownership or borders. Something that falls from the sky in the way that precipitation develops water sources can hardly be claimed as the property of any person, corporation or state. We are custodians only. Modifiers; nothing more.

In the near future, water, or its lack, will become an increasing source of dispute between nations. There are already signs of conflict arising from the reduction of available water in certain geographical areas. The famines in parts of Africa are almost entirely driven by changes in the water cycle in those regions; increased population has merely exacerbated the problem. My guess is that the problems in Israel are fundamentally caused by the perception that the most important source of fresh water is growing insufficient to sustain more than a given population. There are signs that drought will soon invade the fertile plains of the Punjab in India, making it impossible for them to provide the food on which that huge continent depends. The western states of the USA are finding more and more difficulty in obtaining water for agriculture, industry and human consumption. Not that this has stopped certain organisations from squandering the precious resource in displays of irresponsible excess.

If, as a world society, we fail to recognise the basic fact that water is a natural resource belonging to all and to none, regardless of source, we will have conflict in the near future. Almost certainly, the next major wars will be over the ownership of fresh water: man killing man through an inability to accept a basic truth. Water, like air and sunlight, is a natural consequence of the location and geography of the planet and belongs to no one and to everyone. It is time we dealt with it in that way.

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Organic Change or Stability in English?

on Thursday, January 5, 2012

Language, they say, with some justification, is organic. And, in common with organic structures everywhere, it must grow, develop and experiment with variations, or die. Many of the world's small languages have disappeared, often because their speakers and users refused to adapt to the changes imposed by the developing world. English, considered the most widely spoken language on this extraordinary planet of ours, has some champions who would subject it to the sort of purity that will ultimately suffocate it. On the other hand, there are those who stretch the meanings of words until they become meaningless.

To be a useful method of communication, language needs to maintain some stability. A common example of the changes imposed on English in the relatively recent past concerns the word 'wicked'. Initially stemming from the Old English 'wicca' or the female version, 'wicce', and then evolving into 'witch', this word was initially all about badness and malevolence. Though, even as early as the 17th century it could be taken as meaning 'playfully mischievous or roguish'. Last century, it took on the exact opposite meaning and came to convey the ideas of 'good, brilliant, wonderful' in the mouths of youth.

At the time, I recall being disturbed by this reversal of meaning, which appeared to have the effect of turning communication upside down and causing confusion. But the period of bewilderment proved short and it was soon evident that context would make the intended meaning clear, often depending on who was actually using the word. It continues today to have the meanings of both 'bad' and 'good'. As such, it ought to be an obstacle to comprehension but, except in the most clumsy cases, its meaning is generally obvious from its usage.

Had we employed the same sort of language police as the French have for centuries, the new meaning of the word would have been prevented and the language made poorer by its lack. English, because of its global appeal, is not only able to absorb such changes but actually seems to welcome them. We are blessed with a wide vocabulary with many words borrowed, stolen or high-jacked from other languages. This gives us, as writers, the ability to express our ideas with some niceness (I use the word in its sense of 'accuracy'). If we wish to express an idea for which there's no real English word, we can employ one from a foreign language, knowing that in most cases it will be both understood and accepted. So, to express the idea that a girl is in a state of romantic attachment to a man she intends to marry, we call her a 'fiancée', borrowing the term from our cousins over the Channel. And, is there an English equivalent for that wonderfully expressive German word, 'Schadenfreude'? (For those who don't know, it means enjoying, in a malicious way, the misfortune of another.)

Our common language, evolving from influences of Latin, early French, ancient Greek, the dialects of the Norse invaders, Celtic and Germanic origins, has borrowed words from all over the world. The days when Great Britain ruled a vast empire ensured that we collected many exotic words from lands as diverse as India, Tasmania, Borneo, Argentina, China and Egypt to mention but a few. With the development of the early United States of America, when peoples from all over Europe mingled with the native populations they eventually displaced, many more words were absorbed into the growing language.
It's said that English, as used worldwide, now contains over one million different words. That's one huge mine from which to excavate the words you need to express your ideas with clarity and exactitude.

So, this is a plea for flexibility harnessed to sensible and accurate usage of language. Metaphor and simile encourage writers and readers to expand their understanding of language and, providing such linguistic expeditions don't remove the reader from a recognisable landscape, they can act as a means of broadening horizons for all.

It really would be wicked of you not to indulge in the full splendour of our common language to make your writing as wicked as you can, don't you think?

A question for you to ponder: Why do folk say they 'slept like a baby' when babies wake up so often?

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