The Prophet - Khalil Gibran

Khalil Gibran was recommended to me by my senior. I had heard the author's name in passing but had never actually planned on reading him. It so happened that upon coming to Hyderabad, despite my humongous list of books that were pending to be read, I borrowed "The Prophet" from my senior.

It turned out to be a good decision after all. The book is a olio of philosophies regarding life, work, love, God and possibly any other topic than one could imagine. It feebly defines a way of life and the manner in which one can be happy while going through the motions in general. It is inspiring and written in a simple and poetic language. Plus it is a very thin book, which makes the philosophy all the more bearable and appreciable.

There was not much of a story in the book. It speaks of a prophet, exiled on an island, awaiting the ships on the day of his return to his land. As the ships come in sight, he feels the pain of parting from the people of Orphalese and even they come to him and impetrate him to advice them on the ways of life. Hence he philosophises the answers to their questions. He finally departs, tristful and with the promise that he would return some day, in one body or the other. The ending also hints of romance between Almustafa, the prophet and Almitra, the priestess.

The book contains the usual social norms and the conventional philosophies. But what was originally attractive about "The Prophet" was the author's poetic way of writing. The lines flow into each other; contiguous and smoothly. And Gibran never exaggerated a point to boredom. He was crisp and eloquent, unlike most philosophers. I would like to read more of him, though he will not be on the top of my list.

This Side Of Paradise - F. Scott Fitzgerald

Fitzgerald was an unknown name to me when I picked this random book in a bookshop. Owing to the name and the cheap price, the book persevered to the cashier and thence to my library. I read the book with a rather speculative interest. Having finished Ghosh's disappointing work I had picked up Hesse's "Steppenwolf". But the book seemed too beyond my age for appreciation. So a few pages down the man-wolf's life, I swapped it for "This Side Of Paradise".

Fitzgerald was rather young when this work of his was put into print. Inspiring is his story as is his book impressive. "This Side Of Paradise" was his first novel with bits and pieces written in between wartime skirmishes and parts constructed in romantic depressions. The eloquence is rather abrupt. But it was the story that gripped my interest and rather haunted me.

The novel plots the life of a certain Amory Blaine from his childhood to his youth and ends at a mere age of twenty-three (Fitzgerald's own age at the time) in an abstract that was, in a frail sense, disappointing for me. Amory Blaine is shown as a 'romantic egoist' who considers himself in a league above others. His life in Princeton and the ongoing evolution in him is described. His ambitions; his loss of ambitions; his romantic ventures; his poetic heartbreaks; his occupational disasters and more form the story line while his reactions to all these situations and his view on certain issues grease it. The story told is the story of the generation of the Americans lost in the tempest of the Great War. The story is a simply a story; without a plot lying in the ulterior recesses. It simply tells of the mental growth of a boy to a man, a 'personage'.

The sequence of events created an uneasy interest for the book in me. The story seemed to progress much like my own (hence the disappointment at its premature end). Albeit I found the thoughts described in the book disagreeable most of the time, there were a few cases where I could understand and symapthise with Amory's point of view. All this gave a rather pleasant flavour to the story.

Fitzgerald certainly thrilled. But I believe it was more due to the story than his way of writing. Though there was nothing wrong with his style, there was nothing dazzling about it either. This book being a rather random assortment of writings rather than a single fluent work, I will delay my opinion on Fitzgerald as an author till I happen to read another of his work.

The Calcutta Chromosome - Amitav Ghosh

Amitav Ghosh's work was introduced to me in the days of my convalescence from typhoid. Apart from the few other interesting books that I had managed to finish in my monotonic surroundings of the days, Ghosh's "In An Antique Land" was one that impressed me in ways more than one. So on my last visit to the bookstore, I picked up "The Calcutta Chromosome" with an intent to read more of the man who had benevolently helped me kill some cumbersome time.

"The Calcutta Chromosome" turned out to be a surprise. I had expected something on the similar lines as "In An Ancient Land". But it was far from the theme. Ghosh made a very disheartening attempt at science fiction. The plot was perhaps the only saving grace. The choice of words and the style of writing were so bleak that I found myself thinking that I could have done a better job than him! And then there was the very sudden and abrupt mention of sex in the story. Ill fitted and much inconvenient to the plot, it only went to show the outrageous fixation of the contemporary readership with the explicitness of sex.

The plot revolves around a malarial research and the history involved in it. It moves in the past, present and the future, with bits and pieces of the stories unfurling simultaneously. Though not very gripping in the beginning, it turns out well towards the middle. It was a bitter disappointment that the plot turned to the supernatural and sex as a resort for covering up a weak ending.

Ghosh surely deserves credit for the vast research that must have accompanied the project (I am assuming that he has his facts straight), but it seems that the story was written in a hurry with little review. Although I hate ridiculing the author like this (he did help me against boredom), I could never gather the courage to pick up another book that has "Amitav Ghosh" imprinted on its covers. I still recommend "In An Antique Land", but the phantom of it is lost in the abyss that "The Calcutta Chromosome" created. Ironically I had forgot about reading this book completely until I was recently reminded by my friend. I intended to be laconic in the review but the disappointment is overwhelming.

Animal Farm - George Orwell

The book's fame preceded it. And hence my surprise at finding it a short story. A hundred pages or so. I was amazed at the concept of such a small story being so famous. Not that I was naive enough to reject the thought of short stories being famous, but I had fancied Orwell to be a novelist, much due to having seen the motion picture based on his book "1984", which , I will add in parentheses, was an utter disappointment.

George Orwell was famous for his anti-imperialist views. And in "Animal Farm" he seems to be mocking the socialist system. Or rather, any system in general. The story takes to a fantasy where animals organise a revolution against the human masters, or at least plan to. A revolt breaks out in a particular farm. The animals drive out their masters and run the farm by themselves. But of course, where there is a system, there are hierarchies. The story beautifully associates the various animal characters with the variety of people we meet every day. There are the leaders, the propagandists, the intelligentsia, the labour, etc.

The symbolism is shockingly real. One never feels out of context while reading the story. The way Orwell has described the human psychology (rather, the mass psychology) is worthy of many appraises, as it has already had. George Orwell delivers a smack on the faces of all the socio-political systems with a panache and mockery that is rarely as complete.

The concept was very entertaining; the story amusing. But I did not find his style of writing anything special. I do intend to read "1984" sometime in the future. But George Orwell is not as yet close to being on my list of authors who compel you to pick another book of theirs as soon as you put one down.

Crime And Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Dostoyevsky had impressed me immensely in "The Idiot". His style of story telling was utterly grasping, even though he frequently digressed from the topic at hand to discuss unrelated philosophies which might have been more applicable in the Russian society of his times but were still interesting enough to stir the contemporary reader into thought. So it was with high hopes that I picked up this book : hailed as the greatest of Dostoyevsky's novels.

The inception of the story was in a time when the Russians were facing a society divided between the thought schools of socialism and nihilism. On one hand was the idea of a society that was communal, where every one would live for the society as a whole, working for the benefit of every comrade. On the other hand were the nihilists who defied all authority and believed in their own right to make their life better by any necessary means. Dostoyevsky is supposedly inspired into the concept by the happenings around him when certain members of the intelligentsia abused their power to reason.

The book begins with an immediate focus on the protagonist and the narration sticks to him throughout without any change in the vantage point. The book relays the emotional tumult that the protagonist goes through in his views regarding what a crime is and who the concept of crime applies to. The emotional uncertainty and the nagging moral conscience are real enough to relate to on a much lower level. The various characters throwing light on how a human brain works and why it reasons as it does. The visions of grandeur that one is better than the crowd around him. The craving to prove himself in some way. The hesitation of "the first step" and the belief in a justification beyond. All these are very clearly expressed in either the discussions among the characters or the subauditions of the protagonist, Raskolnikov. Raskolnikov finally gives in to the physical strain that the mental harassment puts him under. But his final salvation comes from Sofya, a religious girl forced into prostitution because of poverty. Utterly symbolic of the corruption that has crept into the thoughts of the educated middle classes of every society where the rightfulness of a person is judged by his profession and social status.

The plot was gripping beyond comparison. There were times towards the middle and the end of the story when I simply could not help turning page after page, pushing back my sleep till after another chapter, then yet another chapter. The character building was nothing short of brilliant. The unnecessary details left out. The story ran as smoothly as conceivable.

"Crime And Punishment" exceeded it's reputation. An excellent read to say the least. Dostoyevsky impressed again and I will surely pick up another work of his before long.

One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest - Ken Kesey

Having seen the movie, I was biased against picking up this book ere I found myself browsing through the ever hypnotic shelves of fiction in a frequently haunted bookshop. I however wanted to prove to myself that Nicholson could not be surpassed. Hence the book; though the consequences could have hardly appealed to the imagination.

The plot could not have been more lucrative; neither the emotion that the writer expressed. The late sixties being the breeding grounds of the story, the rebellious attitude of the story is apparent. However, the imagination of the writer stands out beyond all else. Kesey has written an account of the terrible oppression and the suffocation that was faced by the free/creative souls during the cold war on both sides of the curtain. The basic spirit of the book is visible a mile afar.

The book narrates on behalf of an American Indian in a mental asylum. Chief Bromden tells us how it was like to survive as eccentrics and positively insane in the sixties. Mixed with the freedom seeking and psychedelic induced life of the sixties, it all stands, but stark naked, that the fundamental theory of the book is rebellion again 'the system'. The system is defined as the classical communist propaganda that aimed at making the human species a 'resource' rather than a life form (credits to Deva for the word). The rebellion, led by a certain Mr. Randle Patrick McMurphy, was aimed at realising indivisuality inside an asylum. To see one self as a person rather than a slave of the community. The system depicted by a megalomaniac nurse is shown as an executor of conformity as well as the executer of those that did not conform. The endless tactics used by the 'society' are discussed and so are the emotions they instill in the human brain.

The story inspired me beyond measures. The thought held me culprit for not rebelling. To speak of it in the modest way, Ken Kesey is indeed an instiller. He inspires beyond expression while exposing to you the bitter truth of life. He is one of those few talented that know how to write. However in the conclusion of the root curiosity, Nicholson kept his position as McMurphy. His grinning face never failed to pop up during McMurphy's trickery. Though I would like to immensely credit Ken Kesey as a story teller.

To The Lighthouse - Virginia Woolf

Virginia Woolf. Virginia... Woolf... Woolf! The name seemed haunting. Haunting enough that I would have tried any book that publicised the name. Fortunately, there was more to the lady than the odd name working in her favour.

Seemingly incomprehensible, the way in which the author has expressed her views, is one that demands the utmost respect. Since "The Last of the Mohicans" by Cooper, Woolf is perhaps the first writer that I have encountered who expresses her ideas in an intricate web of words which swirl around you and engulf you in a meaning of their own rather that let you form one for yourself.

The entire book revolves around the perception of people from the point of view of others as well as themselves, leaving apart the underlying story which does not hold much substance (it is, as I believe, an autobiographical work by the author). The character building of the two central characters (Mrs. and Mr. Ramsay) is shown through the eyes of multiple persons. And then there is the fundamental objective of an artist: the striving for "a vision", that has been discussed over the three chapters of the story.

It was an interesting read to say the least. At the end of the book I was left wondering what the story was all about but I was very convinced about what the writer had intended to tell me, make me feel. Woolf relies on her words and sentences to do the greater part of her communication than her story. Certainly one of those few authors that I wish and intend to read in the future. Partially because of the very impressive name and partly because of the very engaging way of writing, which I find equally impressive. The play with the words is amazing. However the stories are a bit too feminist for my personal liking.

The Idiot - Fyodor Dostoyevsky

My second novel by an Russian author. And the one thing that became starking obvious: Russians have (or atleast had) a fetish for long books. Despite my earlier rumble with Tolstoy's "War and Peace", which has introduced in me a rather peculiar tendency to rebuff voluminous books, I took up "The Idiot" because of a certain reference to the author by a friend of mine. He regarded Dostoyevsky better than Tolstoy. Tolstoy's brilliance had amazed me in "War and Peace". The way he fictionalised history an so plain a language was nothing short of genius. And the plot that unfolded was probably the pinnacle of fluency. Hence Dostoyevsky intrigued me, as much as his book's title.

If I were to describe the book in one work, it would be one that I borrow from this book: eccentric. The plot revolves around an epileptic prince over an exiguous number of described days. There are very few central characters. There is seldom any narration at all. The author relies on a totally novel style to describe everything - the characters, the plot, the philosophy, the social issues. The descriptions happen in the form of extended discussions between characters. Strange, digressing discussions which at times have nothing to do with the story, but all the same, are interesting, engrossing, provoking and fatidic. These form the crux of the book. The entire appeal of Dostoyevsky's writing is in these long monologues and dialogues. Though at times they do get a bit redundant.

The plot was essentially simple but surely hard to conceive. Future events are always obscure and the ending a bit abrupt. The characters are built in the way Dostoyevsky must have intended them, and they probably were the focus of his work, rather than the story. However, in no way does that mean that the story lacks any zing. It is told beautifully.

"The Idiot" was a pretty good read. I read it without losing interest at any point of time, which I am prone to doing in case of long books. But what has attracted me the most is Dostoyevsky's style of writing, about which, I believe, I have rambled enough. I intend to read more of the author now.

The Catcher In The Rye - J. D. Salinger

Another book that I started with high hopes was "The Catcher In The Rye". J. D. Salinger and his masterpiece were in the news of recent due to the sad demise of the author earlier this year. I failed to read the news pieces (for I am lousy when it comes to reading about contemporary happenings in the world) but I did manage to find out that the book was an instiller of rebellion. Curious, I began the book with almost no idea of the content; for the title provides no clue to what is to be expected from the story, much unlike my last read, "Treasure Island".

What I faced was a beauty. Something written to provoke one's sympathy, anger, disappointment, angst. The entire novel lives a few days in the life of a sixteen year old boy. It describes his 'adventures' when he is kicked out of the school and leaves it but does not return to his home. The writing beautifully captures the confusions and the anxiety of the protagonist (or of any sixteen year old) relating to academics, human tendencies, love, sex, philosophy, religion, future and life in general. To me personally, it appealed in a way that I could relate to. The sudden bouts of romanticism; the urge to shun all pretense, to hate all those that pretended; disappointment in people's failure to understand one's self; impulses to leave everything behind for a faraway land and life in anonymity; all seemed to me as feeling that I had either lived, or had felt scraping my life, or see some around me go through. Salinger writes in a way that seems very much like a teenager describing his problems, his angst, his disappointment in others for their lack of understanding, his disappointment in himself for understanding, his love for his siblings, his hatred for 'phonies'.

What struck me as the most beautiful aspect of the story was the sudden phases of romance that the condescending youth went through. The apparent irony with which he treated every subject, the meaning of the contradictions known to him but his inability to explain them explicitly. It is the second book in which I read the author speak through the mind set of a young one, the first being Harper Lee's "To Kill A Mockingbird". The story in itself is not much but nevertheless is never boring. The author keeps it to the point and off every point at the same time. I learnt to appreciate the title as I went along. An apter one might not have been possible.

The book left me exhilarated and thoughtful. Praising the author in my mind and to the ears of every person who could lend one. I recommend it to anyone who has not read it till now. It is a delight to read Salinger in this one. I hope his others turn out similarly interesting.

Treasure Island - R. L. Stevenson

'Treasure Island' has been hailed as one of the finest pirate books. None other than J. M. Barrie, the man responsible for 'Peter Pan', praised the book as : "Over Treasure Island I let my fire die in winter without knowing I was freezing." And the name is in itself alluring. So it was with much expectation that I sat down to read the book.

I would be wronging the book if I said it was not as good as I had expected, for it was I that was expecting an enchantment out of it. The book in itself is a good piece of literature. And the world that it presents to us is a conformation of all the pirate stories, movies and fantasies that has caught our fancies at various points of time. But perhaps the charm of the book lay in its novelty, for I failed to see the book leaving an etched impression upon me. I, like all of my gender, had been a fantasiser of adventures and excitement as a boy. It is that aspect of the male psychology that the book appeals to. But I still find the abridged and illustrated version of 'Peter Pan' that I read as a kid as my epitome on pirates and their adventures.

About the book itself, what I did happen to appreciate was the remarkable crispness with which the main characters are described, especially Long John Silver, the one legged buccaneer. The rowdy pirate nature, the swinging alliances, the dominating control, all mark the very exhilarations that I was seeking from the pages. The story too is inherently a very fast and gripping one. It moves from peak to peak, avoiding the ridges and plateaus of boredom. The catchy phrases and lines are best exemplified by :

"Fifteen men on the dead man's chest -

Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!"

But very ironically, the very thing that make the book fast failed to make the book great for me. The books catches your fancy fleetingly but fails to fuel your imagination. It is too quick; the descriptions are too short to live them. At times I was yearning for the story to slow down and let me "see" myself on the ship, on the island, defending the stockade, dodging the boatswain. But alas, I was thrown to the next scene as rapidly as I was put in the last.

Overall, it is a good read. Though it has lost quite a lot of its originality in the face of the several pirate movies and stories that I had already been exposed to. But I still think I would have been jumping out of excitement had I read this book as a kid. Too bad I did not.