Persepolis - Marjane Satrapi

'Persepolis' was, if I remember correctly, a recommendation on goodreads. I don't quite remember what about the book had caught my fancy. Perhaps it was the cover image, or maybe the plot seemed interesting. Anyhow, the book was there when I was looking for something fresh to read.

Slowly, yet steadily, I have come to appreciate the graphic medium of story telling. It is perhaps less intense in it's plots than it's purely literary cousin but it too has it's own charms. It tends to bring together multiple forms of arts together and the beauty lies in how seamlessly they integrate rather the intensity of one. 'Persepolis' is Satrapi's autobiography between the ages of ten and twenty four (1980 - 1994). Unfortunately, 'Persepolis' is also a one woman show with Marjane Satrapi playing the author, the subject and the illustrator, the three main components of a graphic novel (colours are important to but 'Persepolis' does away with it). Satrapi talks of a childhood in the war infested Iran, a child's naive reaction to political upheaval, her brief separation from her family and life of a third world person in Europe. Thence she talks about her return to Iran and life in times of "peace". There are glimpses of Iranian life, of the horror of war and sorrow of life without family but all is in context of our protagonist. Satrapi has made no special effort to portray a life or section of the society that she did not come directly in contact with. Every third person who could have had a story of his own is touched only briefly. Her only forte is her ability to add humour to almost every situation.

'Persepolis' starts in 1980, at the end of the Iranian revolution and the introduction of the veil in the country. Satrapi recounts the revolution and her understanding of it. Her family was quite progressive and educated her about the history of the revolution. And by the end of the Shah's regime, the government landed in the hands of religious fanatics. Iraq invaded soon after and Iran suffered a catastrophic hit to it's population. Dissenters of the religious government were prosecuted and taken prisoners within the country. Young boys were promised heaven and sent to the battlefields to be blown up. Women lost their rights. Marjane's family sent her to Austria to continue her study away from the oppressive air of Iran. She suffered as a third-worlder amidst her European friends. But she managed to get good grades. Teenage heartache and cannabis led to her eventual wrecking. She eventually returned home to Iran admitting herself as a failure. After a period of depression she got hold of her life again and eventually left Iran promising her mother that she would not return this time.

I really liked the first part of 'Persepolis', where Satrapi talks more about the Iranian revolution and the population's oppression under the new regime. In the second book she gets more self centered. The life of a third world child in Europe and her pains might interest readers in the "first world" but it was a mighty drag to me. Anyhow, I am glad that I read this book, if even for just the first part. As for the author, I did not find any special attraction to her style.

Yuganta - Irawati Karve

A friend posted on facebook that she was giving off her books. Of the list only this one caught my fancy enough to make me look it up. 'Yuganta' was a treatise on Mahabharata, an epic that had captured my imagination to the hilt in my childhood. So I rode half way across the city to her "small" going away party, realised that it was a too big a gathering of unknowns for me to feel in place, wished her luck and got the book with a warning that I was not to expect much of it. Since then it was stowed away in my shelf and came up at last when I was running out of options.

I had picked up the book idly to flip through the introductory pages of the book. It was interesting enough to make me keep it on the desk as the primary read. Karve had compiled together a bunch of essays on Mahabharata in this book, so the structure of short independent pieces was appealing to my current taste in books. As I read on, I gradually came to like the way the author had approached the entire subject. Karve warns the reader in the very beginning that what follows is her interpretation of the Mahabharata and its characters; an interpretation that she is wholly entitled to and which she does not presume the reader to agree with. Karve then picks up a few of the main characters of the story and scans them in an analytical light, trying to identify their wisdom and follies. In her belief that the Mahabharata (or the original form of it : Jaya) is a recording of actual history, she tries to pry out the most realistic meaning and interpretation of events.

The book starts with a short piece on Gandhari, one of the lost characters of the epic poem. Karve tries to put life into the character and tries to tell her story; her pains and sufferings. Then she goes on to pick out other characters from the story, Kunti, Bhishma, Karna, Draupadi, etc. and tries to tell the story from their point of view. She tries to draw connections and relations between the characters that are rather lost in the grandeur of the current Mahabharata. She also treats various events and themes from the epic in a similar manner. The book ends with a tone of regret of how the 'bhakti' movement had led to the loss of the objectivity and self confidence that was shown in our great civilization at the time of Mahabharata war; the end of which marked the end of an age.

I have mixed feelings about Karve's writing. While I was wholly in awe of her attitude and the way she had treated the epic, I found the writing style too heavily lined with feminist themes. The entire book also had a didactic undertone that puts one off. And then there was the raving about "our grand ancestors" towards the end. I liked the content, I did not like the presentation. But the one thing that Karve left me with was 'Jaya'. I think Devdutt Pattanaik has a book by that name. It definitely goes on my list.

Batman : The Long Halloween - Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale

It had been a while since I had read a graphic novel. I was more or less craving for a light and easy read; something that would not be too much of a burden to finish along with my recent hectic professional schedule. I was looking at Moore's 'Promethea' series but then I have something against series or probably it was cost that worked in favour of Loeb's 'The Long Halloween'. This one had been on my list of Batman essentials since I had read Nolan's review of it. So, swearing to myself that it will be the last of my Batman graphic novels (at least for now), I ordered the book.

There is a conversation with Nolan and Goyer right in the introductory pages of the book. They talk about how 'The Long Halloween' had been a major influence in the scripting of 'The Dark Knight Trilogy'. One thing that they mention in particular is how in this book Loeb brings to life the several characters around Batman who inhabit and shape Gotham but are remarkably characterless in most other works. In 'The Long Halloween' Batman is more human, more attached and more helpless in the face of the numerous adversaries he has to face. He needs his friends in the department, he needs an ally in the Catwoman. He seeks help from the lunatics in the Arkham Asylum. He is a lost man in an abyssal world trying to hold on the the bleak light of hope in any form, man or phantasm.

'The Long Halloween' is the story of Batman, Gordon and Dent trying to bring down Carmine "The Roman" Falcone and his empire of crime. They decide that they will do so without breaking the laws that separate him from them. But starting that Halloween night, a serial killer starts murdering the ballasts of Falcone's system. He ruins Falcone's business, kills his son, kills his muscle. All on public holidays, hence gaining the name "Holiday" killer. Roman and Batman both look to Arkham to gain clues to this killer's identity. But the Halloween drags on, long and cold, for almost a year.

I liked the book. So much so that I finished it the same night that I started it. The way Loeb had brought out the human in Batman and Sale's dark artwork are astounding to say the least. All the auxiliary characters are made more complete and real, specially Selina Kyle, the Catwoman. It is to this touch of realism (I know it is a superhero story) that I credit this novel's wonderful enchantment. But for now, I have had my fill of Batman and Gotham.

Flatland : A Romance of Many Dimensions - Edwin A. Abbott

A friend had told me about 'Flatland' quite recently, after Nolan's recent movie about space and dimensions : Interstellar. It sounded quite fascinating but (as the introduction asserts) higher dimensions are very much a layman topic now. So I was in no rush to get to this book although it remained in my list. One fine day while ordering Borges's 'The Book of Imaginary Beings' I decided to add 'Flatland' to the order and picked it up almost immediately.

The book was way more succint than I had imagined it to be. The edition I read had a mere eighty-two pages and since I am currently a sucker for short and gripping stories I had no qualms in pushing it to the top of the list of pending books. To be honest, I did not have much expectations from the book. I had imagined it to be another treatise on the philosophy of higher dimensions and I had read enough crap about it recently to expect nothing more than a modification of the same old story. So imagine my surprise at finding myself immersed in the book and reading it cover to cover on a lazy Sunday. It is downright the most amazing book I have read in quite some time! And to think that it was written more than a century ago! I read the book with a stupid smile on my face that was a result of the incredulity of Abbott. He treats the idea of multiple dimensions with such crude simplicity that one wonders why dimensions is an abstract science anyway.

The story is narrated by "our friend Square" who is an inhabitant of Flatland. This realm of his is two dimensional and has various classes and sects of society not very different from our own (or atleast similar to what it must have been in later 1800's). There are also laws : natural and social, that govern a creature's existence and conduct in this two dimensional "Space". He addresses us, the readers in the three dimensional world, Spaceland, and tells us all about his flat world. And he talks about his vision of meeting the monarch of Lineland and receiving visions of Spaceland.

Abbott's genius is evident in every line of the book; his prose exposed in every sentence. It is the rare comination of good authorship and logically sound writing that one rarely finds in scientific literature or fictional writing. I thoroughly enjoyed reading the eigthy-two pages of this book and marvelled at the comprehensiveness with which the author treated the subjects that would have been obvious questions while switching dimensions. I do not know much of Abbott's other works but I am sure enough to start digging.

The Myth of Sisyphus - Albert Camus

'The Myth of Sisyphus' had come up in a discussion I was having with a dear friend of mine (one of the many we had had). She had suggested me this book when I had told her that I had read Camus's 'The Outsider'. The topic, as she had described it to be, did interest me. So I got hold of a copy but I was not expecting an essay. Not having the appetite for it back then and feeling myself rather lost in Camus's reasoning, I had put the book back on the shelf using the excuse that his arguments were rather difficult to follow because I had no idea about the references that he was making My friend did assure me that the references did not matter, and that if I persisted it would all be lucid in a bit. But I shelfed the book anyway. It was only when I recently read Sartre's 'Nausea' that I thought of getting back to this book.

I would like to believe that I now had the required existentialist knowledge to follow Camus. He builds up on the theory of Absurdism and looks at the possible options that an absurd man has for himself. He tries to argue the futility of suicide as an answer to the existentialist question. Camus recognises the absurd and advocates the acceptance of the absurd as the only reasonable option to counter it. He uses the works of other philosophers and writers, like Kierkegaard, Dostoyevsky, Nietzsche, Kafka, etc., to make his case against suicide as a viable option. He argues that ending one's life serves only to reinforce the absurd. He even dismisses the leap of faith as shown in the works of Dostoyevsky and Kafka as a philosophical suicide and suggests that it does nothing to defy the absurd. His solution is acceptance and rebellion; to live out the absurd as an act of defiance. Camus does make a convincing case of it. Though I think that he (and probably others) disregards other options that are present to the "absurd man". Sisyphus, who has been condemned by the Gods to the task of pushing a boulder up a hill and watching it roll back down as he sets to repeat his effort again, strikes Camus as the quintessential of absurd. The acceptance of his fate by Sisyphus, says Camus, is his true freedom; his rebellion against the absurd that he has been condemned to.

The other essays in the book were pieces on his Algerian travels. These were far easier to assimilate than the main one. They were also far more personal and engaging. Camus describes, not so much in events than the emotions stirred in him, a summer spent in Algiers, his travel to Oran and a nostalgic return to Tipasa. Any travel writer could look for inspiration in these short works.

Camus was as brilliant as I remember him to be. I think it is the personal touch that he lends to his works that make them even more endearing; more real. I am not sure whether I which of his works I will pick up next, fiction or non-fiction; but I surely will read more of him.

Love in the Time of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

'Love in the Time of Cholera' was recommended to me by a friend. I usually disregard books that blatantly seem like love stories. I am simply not a big fan. However, her last recommendation was Pamuk's 'My Name is Red', one that I thoroughly enjoyed. So despite the name, I decided to give this one a shot as well.

I could not have been wronger about the book. It was absolutely not a love story. It was rather a romantic story, and disgustingly misogynist. Fortunately I had read a pedantic work by A.L. Basham between this and Khushwant Singh's 'Company of Women', else it would have been an overdose of sexual fantasies of old men. Gabo's version was much more polished though. But his virile fantasies were staring back at me through the pages. His story is full of "selfless women" who were willing to please Florentino Ariza at any hour of the day. Women whose door our dear protagonist knocks and is received with great love. A womanizer who can make prostitutes fall in love with him, get married women killed for infidelity and stir passion in the hearts of widows. All this he does without the help of good looks. Gabo had created an amalgamation of every man's fantasies! On the other hand was Fermina Daza who time and again kept contradicting her own character. Gabo ties these two in a timeless love (?) and a Dr. Juvenal Urbino is thrown in to make things more interesting.

The story is about how Florentino Ariza falls in love with Fermina Daza. His pathetic self moves Daza to accept his proposal and they fall in a feverish young love. Daza's father tries to intimidate Florentino, failing which he takes away Fermina for a long vacation to her home land, in the hope that she would forget Florentino, but they manage to keep in touch and remain in love. However, when Fermina returns, she is another, more mature, woman and on the first meeting with Florentino, she refutes him and their engagement. Dr. Urbino is a local hero and the saviour of the city from the grips of cholera. He sees Fermina and falls in love with her "plebeian charms". Fermina keeps on turning down his various advances and one fine day she changes her mind and marries him. They have a stable marriage where they travel and have two children and are the center of the town's affairs. Florentino Ariza, on the other hand runs amok and keeps laying one girl after another in the hope that they would cure him of Fermina's love. But none do and he is still in love with her when Dr. Urbino dies of an accident fifty years after Daza had said no to Florentino. He woos Fermina again, makes her fall in love with him and their "young love finds a new life in the twilight of their lives".

For multiple reasons I did not like the story. The characters were inconsistent, the plot was too unrealistic at times. However, the only ting that made it bearable was Gabriel Garcia Marquez's writing. His style was rather simple but the way he connected his stories was very seamless. There were fillers that did not seem so and in no part was I actually bored, despite not liking the story too much. People tell me that his 'One Hundred Years of Solitude' is better. But I don't think I am picking up another Gabo unless I have nothing else on my plate.

The Company of Women - Khushwant Singh

I admit it. I had always been curious about what Khushwant Singh wrote like. He was openly lauded as the 'dirty old man' when I was growing up. But since I had never read any work of his apart from a small snippet (which turned out to be from this very book) in a magazine, I remained curious. So when I was browsing around for a new set of books, I suddenly recalled my curiosity. The result of which was this book which I chose since Khushwant Singh is known for his 'expertise' on the matter. It sat in the shelf for a few months before it was its turn.

I developed an apprehension in the opening pages of the book that turned into mild amusement when I was a couple of scores down. I think it was the puerility of my mind that had led me to be intrigued by the snippet in the magazine years back. But when the cover boasts :

Khushwant Singh is India's best known writer and columnist.

and 

This book is a triumph.

then one can do little but shake his head at the sorry state that India's literature has been in for so many years. No wonder people hail the likes of Chetan Bhagat as a writer in India. Half baked stories and mindless plots grab the country's interest. Our brains have been rotted over the ages. Anyway, back to the book, it was one of the most pathetic attempts at literature I have ever read. Though it was not exactly literotica, it failed to match up to the standards of the free pieces available online as well. I breezed through the 230 odd pages in a couple of days and put the book back in the shelf.

The story is about a certain Mohan Kumar who went to went to Princeton and was a lauded scholar. He comes back to India to his widowed father who gets him married. He calls it quits after a few years of tumultuous married life and his wife goes to her parents with their two children. He places an advertisement for female companionship in the newspapers. The story is about his recollections of his trysts in Princeton and the women who respond to the advertisement. Oh, he also has a huge penis.

Now I am not too sure what made Khushwant Singh's books so popular. Maybe this was a bad specimen to judge by. But even the fact that it was a book published by a reputable publisher in his name makes me doubt a lot of things now. Even though he adds a disclaimer that it was just his fancies, it could have been done better. I am not even remotely inclined to try any of his other books now. Good bye and good riddance.