The English Teacher - R.K. Narayanan

The English Teacher is about Krishnan, an English teacher who is living a close to perfect life in his idyllic town, with his loving wife and an adorable daughter. Krishnan, after having enjoyed his pseudo bachelor-hood because his wife stays away from him, eventually becomes a family man and starts appreciating the little joys that come along with having a wife and daughter in his life. The day to day squabbles with his wife, the making up after the quarrels, the playful stubbornness of his child, and all the other things become an essential part of his life. All that changes when his wife falls sick, and despite reassurances from his doctor, eventually succumbs. Krishnan’s entire life breaks down, and despite doing his best as a single father, is perpetually unhappy. He receives his strength from his ever loving wife, when she finds a way to communicate with him from the other side. And that spurs Krishnan to lead the life he always wanted, but was too scared to pursue with his own petty concerns hounding him. From being suicidal after losing his wife, he finds new meaning in life as he breaks away the shackles that tied down his meaningless existence. The little joys, laughter and pain from his life are well captured by the author of Malgudi days. But then, while the environmental serenity are extremely well written, it can not really make up for a real story. The English Teacher, as far as my opinion goes, lacks severely in that department. No, I wasn’t expecting a Ludlum-like edge of the seat thriller. An ordinary story of an ordinary man can be quite profound in some ways. And The English Teacher probably would have worked for me as a short-story, but as a full-fledged novel, it seriously lacks content, and then the author resorts to depicting the mundane happenings of the protagonist’s life. Some trivial incidents are required to give the reader an idea about a character, his setting and his lifestyle. But page after page of every little detail gets tiring.

Do not get me wrong. The story, in itself, is not bad. It does well to portray the insecurities and the unpredictability in life of the most un-happening and simple individuals. But then, the writing style, which works so well in Malgudi Days, at times, leaves you a little confused about what really is going on in a character’s head. Eventually, the book is about its conclusion though. And coming from R.K.Narayanan, a tight slap to our education system probably speaks volumes.

But as I said, the story was more suited for a shorter version. But if someone is really a fan of ‘Indian-writing’ (don’t ask me what I mean), I don’t think there will be too many complains for The English Teacher.

If - Neeru Nanda

I have always found short stories very appealing. And while I started writing them, a very naïve prejudice, that a short story is simple to write, has been rethought of. It is extremely difficult to build characters, show relationships and narrate a story.

Neeru Nanda, through various settings, achieves that end goal quite satisfyingly as a reader. But if you are the kind of a reader who likes reading a short story with a traditional framework of a beginning, a twist and a conclusion, then If might not be the book for you. Because while the stories are beautifully depicted, they are meant to touch your emotional sensibilities rather than introduce a problem and take it to a logical conclusion.

The writer explores different settings in her stories with the flair of an accomplished writer. You’d expect a debutant writer, to stick to his sphere and write stories on them. If I ever came out with a book, it would be difficult for me to write a story about a monk and do justice to the character and the story.

The writing is definitely that of an accomplished writer. A lazy writing style turns me off immediately and getting through the book feels like reading an essay of a twelve year old boy has written it simply out of the fear of a cane snapping on his knuckles if he didn’t write it.

If you are the more sensitive sorts, then you might run the risk of getting into a depression for some time going ahead since the stories in the book talk about solely the rough side of the protagonist’s lives. Some stories are hopeful, like Lonely, Not Dead, and The Ghost Writer. But those are all. The rest of the nine are so grim that they will rub away all silver linings you are capable of seeing.

The book is a quick read that you would get through in a 3-4 hour journey between cities or something. And the book will keep you entertained for the duration. On the other hand it is nothing too spectacular to rave about either.

Night Train at Deoli and Other Stories - Ruskin Bond

Short stories, since I was in school, have always had a special appeal for me. I loved reading English Text books because all they had were short stories and poems. I do wish I had preserved those books.
Anyways, Ruskin Bond, in the introduction to this book, claims his love for short stories as well, and admits unabashedly his unwillingness, and inability to write the more adrenalin generating stories. And most endearingly begins his introduction with, and I quote:

Gentle reader,

I use the old fashioned term to address you, because I like it, and because I know only the more gentle kind of person is likely to care much for my stories.

That captures for you, the tone and the heart of the book. Each of the story has something poignant about it which will touch your heart. And yes, if that kind of writing is boring for you, keep your hands off it. But there is a message about humanity in each of the stories. And really, you don’t have to be extra-sensitive or extra-intellectual to get that message.
I have always believed that the kind of stories Ruskin Bond writes, are best suited to the shorter version, that much he too believes. The problem is that a whole bunch of writers don’t get that and end up writing whole novels on this theme, which are invariably slow and boring.
A lot of the stories are autobiographical in nature. But not all of them. And Ruskin Bond covers a wide range of human life through the stories, including writers, of course, thieves, flute players, army people, commercial sex workers, and a lot of children. Nothing is too dramatic in any story. Rather, there has been no attempt to put drama in anything. It is a very simple, heart touching narration.
My favourite story, undoubtedly, is “The Boy who Broke the Bank” which I had also read during my school days. And it carries as much charm for me today as it did when I was twelve. That’s Ruskin Bond for you. He takes you away to the hills, amongst gentle breeze and flowers, and from there to an overpowering flood, and then to a waterfall where lovers might escape the wicked eyes of the world… all of it, in one book. And even if not all stories are fantastic, the book as a whole is immensely enjoyable.

Phantoms In The Brain - V.S. Ramachandran

This book was a recommendation by a friend. And boy was it a great reco.
It’s very easy to fall into the trap of assuming that like all medical books, this one, being on neurology, is as boring, dull, with unnecessary medical jargons and details. You couldn’t be more wrong. The author candidly confesses about how medical authors could get into that mould and steers clear of it. And while some details of the brain structure are required, no where does it get too lengthy for you to lose interest.
The book is not really an expedition to teach the laymen the working of the brains. But what it serves to do is elucidate us with the fact that a lot of strange behavior that we ignore, or worse, viciously hate, are no more than physical shortcomings of the brain. That, therefore, would merit some sympathy from the normal section of the society who can differentiate a vertical mail slot from a horizontal one and who do not see cartoons and animals out there in the world.
It is indeed very moving to read about some of the problems people have when some interconnections of the brain go awry. Imagine the fear of the lady whose left hand (or was it right?) kept trying to strangle her. Or like Memento or Ghajini, this guy could not form any new memories. There are a lot of cases described in the book. And the least we could do is be sensitive to their problems.
The book starts off with the discussion on phantom limbs, something that I wasn’t aware of before I read this book! What a strange concept, isn’t it, for the brain to think that an amputated leg or a hand, or even removed breasts, still exist! And to register physical signals to those phantom body parts! The entire genesis, problems, potential cure for the phantom limbs is beautifully explained. And did you know that when a body part gets amputated, physical stimulation on other parts will make you feel that something is touching that missing body part. For example, if someone gets a hand amputated, and if you run a feather on a section of his face, he will feel that your brushing his palm. What a strange thing the human brain is, isn’t it?
The book tackles phantom limbs, and other strange aspects of brain functioning, like visual responses, neglect and denial symptoms, the part of brain that gives you a religious experience (it’s grossly under-developed in me) and concludes with the question of how to define the “Self” in context of the brain. The last chapter is the only one where it gets really heavy and the discussion is a mixture of philosophy as much as it is about neurology. But then, that’s the nature of brain and how we live and think isn’t it?
Think Matrix. There a whole pseudo world was created was created for people by feeding electrical signals to the brain. Does then, consciousness have any meaning? No one is doing anything really, but they are living a complete life lying in a tube.
This book will make you look at life a lot more humbly. We are all a function of our brain. But how it reacts is a function of us. It’s a relationship hard to comprehend. And I really believe that the whole exercise, however intellectually stimulating, is completely futile. But then neurology can not be completely objective with it’s only aim being curing brain ailments. Philosophy is bound to get mixed up. And in this book, V.S. Ramachandran coexists peacefully with Freud.

Shalimar the Clown - Salman Rushdie

Every read a 649 page poem? No? Read Shalimar the Clown then. It really does feel as if you are reading poetry. And before you jump to any positive conclusions, a novel feeling like a poem is not a complement. But apparently magical realism is a part of Salman Rushdie’s brand of writing. Maybe it works for his fans. It didn’t for me.

The story, if I had to encapsulate it in one sentence, is about an American Ambassador in India, Maximilian Ophulus, who comes to Kashmir and has sex with a married Kashmiri girl, whose husband is obviously pissed about being screwed over and therefore goes and kills both the girl and the American Ambassador. And there’s a whole universe that is spun around this story. And you feel as if you are drifting in space in no particular direction.

While the writing through the book is quite fantastic, no doubts about that, the story telling is extremely, should I say, devoid of energy. It is so boring that you can’t even fall off to sleep. Remember those really crappy lectures you attended in college, in which you just stared at the professor like a zombie. Reading Shalimar the Clown is somewhat akin to that. Non-linear writing is one thing, but when Rushdie kept zapping through between past, present and future like a bumble-bee from flower to flower, I couldn’t help but massage my temples to ease the pain in my head. Mixing fantasy with reality is also not something that I could digest. So metallic prophets and telepathic conversations and flying tightrope walkers are something that did not belong to this book. If I wanted to read about the atrocities in Kashmir, I would read a non-fiction book about it. And what is with all the sex? The guy is obsessed with it. And even his sex doesn’t have any eroticism in it. The words through the book while beautiful, simply don’t engross a reader.

All in all, there’s only so much of good writing that you can enjoy. I read a book for it’s story. Take that out and a book becomes an unending drag; which is what happened with this book. Yes, character development is important, conveying their thoughts and emotions is important, and giving some historical background to people is important, but all that is a part of the story. And while the Kashmir story is actually depicted quite well, it loses its sense in the larger context of the book. And the book is so depressing, intentionally I suppose, that you feel too sad, and a tad frustrated, to be enthralled by the writing itself.

Or maybe I am just too lay a man to appreciate Salman Rushdie’s works… Well, I am happy with my Wodehouse’s though. And I will need to read 2 or 3 of them to get over this book.