Book Review: Who To Believe by Edwin Hill

A restaurateur is murdered in Monreith, a relatively calm New England community, and her husband, a gambling addict, becomes the prime suspect. When a group of six friends meet to celebrate the birthday of one of them, theories and gossip about the killing start flowing around. Slowly, it emerges that everyone of them is leading a double life and possessing dark secrets that the others aren't aware of, and anyone could be a potential suspect. One more murder committed in the same night opens all the skeletons hidden deep inside them, and from then on starts the game of blowing whistles.

Who To Believe is the latest crime mystery novel written by Edwin Hill, who is a best-selling writer of several domestic suspense novels. The novel explores how, even among seemingly peaceful individuals, a deep undercurrent of dissatisfaction with past choices lies and how everyone, who is perpetually sitting on a volcano of suppressed emotions, is capable of disturbing deeds when situations force them to. I received an advance review copy of the book from its publisher, Kensington Books, through Netgalley in exchange for my honest feedback.

The novel follows a non-linear story-telling style where we are narrated the same incidents from the varied perspectives of different characters. The book has seven parts, and each one follows the event of the birthday party and the aftermath from the viewpoint of one of the participants. We even get the perspective of the dog, Harper. The narrative, which starts as a normal murder mystery with stock characters, soon evolves into a complex web of deception, greed, revenge, betrayal, and crime. Each perspective of the participants makes us aware of new motives and inspirations for these characters, thus adding more layers to the plot.

The main asset of this book is the grip that it maintains on the reader until the last page. The plot proceeds at breakneck speed, though told in a non-linear way, with many elements of the plot repeating from different points of view. Instead of boring the reader, these elements help us see new or hidden facets of the characters. The author makes the interaction between the characters very complex and unpredictable. So the narrative has numerous twists and turns enough to keep us guessing till the end.

The characterization is top-notch. We can relate to each character, as their motivations are pretty convincingly portrayed. The author chooses every shade of grey to colour them. Even when they do abominable deeds, we kind of empathise with their angle of the story. Each of them exhibits their own distinct style, philosophy, and outlook on life. They occupy varied levels of social standing. We find a cop, a priest, a gay mechanic, a shrink, a film maker, a teenager, and a dog. Two of them confess to the reader that they used to be serial killers! We are in for a madcap ride with this bunch.

Who To Believe is a tight mystery thriller told non-linearly by multiple narrators. The writer does a great job of constructing a motley assortment of desperate characters and uses their fears, moral dilemmas, and complex psychology to create a tense narrative. Like a magician, he uses several sleight of hand tricks to control the flow of information to his readers. Even while dealing with repetition, he has succeeded in ensuring that each such instance reveals a new angle of the plot to his reader. With great pacing, the writer ties up all the narrational voices convincingly at the climax. This is a thrill ride that I have enjoyed for a long time.

Book Review: The Sanctuary by Andrew Hunter Murray

 

Ben Parr makes his living by painting portraits of wealthy families living in Villages, designed and constructed by the billionaire businessman John Pemberley. Ben is content with his life in the city. But his ambitious fiancee, Cara, works for Pemberley on one of his secret projects on an island called Sanctuary Rock. When she stops communicating, Ben decides to travel to the island. After an arduous journey, he gets there but realises Cara is no longer working there. He begins to adore Pemberley and likes the life inside the experimental settlement. But soon he realises that there are dangerous secrets connected with Pemberley, and all is not as well as it seems.

The Sanctuary is a dystopian mystery novel written by Andrew Hunter Murray, who is already a best-selling writer and who also writes for the BBC. The novel tries to explore the themes of environmental degradation caused by humans and the manipulation of the public by businesses. I received a review copy of the novel from its publisher, Blackstone Publishing, through Netgalley in exchange for honest feedback. Unfortunately, my honest feedback is that the book is a colossal bore, and the only reason I read this through is to witness the spectacle of this junk's final crash landing.

The readers who regularly follow my book reviews (who can be counted on fingers; incidentally, good news to the publisher and the author of the book) may be aware that it is very rare that I dislike a book so vehemently. But I realise that when I opt for advance review copies of unpublished books, there is bound to be an end to my streak of reading good books. It's inevitable that I end up with a stinker at some point in time. So I am not complaining. The going was pretty solid while it lasted.

The Sanctuary is an exhibition hall of cliches that inhabits thriller and mystery novels. It follows every beat and every turn that better novels have already established, albeit in an unimaginative manner. The use of tried-and-tested plot devices only tires out the already redundant story line. The twists are visible from miles ahead. Being a novel set in the future, it miserably fails in world-building too. The mainland never looks too terrible, and the Sanctuary never feels as enticing as described in the novel. Even the social issues it tries to address failed to connect with me.

The character development in this novel is a joke. The protagonist doesn't show any defining traits and seems to just flow the way the story flows. The antagonist is supposed to be an imposing figure. The reader realises this only when the author uses the word imposing to describe him a few times in the story. His plans for the world are also supposed to be revolutionary, but they are never convincingly explained. The other characters are all one-note characters and never get a chance to show off their personalities. Cara, the fiancee of Ben, is an invisible presence throughout the plot but gets relegated to just an adjective for him most of the time. There is a portion where Ben converses with her in his imagination. That part wasn't any good, but considering his interactions with other characters, it was kind of tolerable.

The conversations between John and Ben were, to some extent, readable and had a chance to take the story to some interesting levels. The writer never followed up on the sparks, and that possibility was also missed. The climatic showdown was pathetic, to say the least, and never created any impact. Overall, The Sanctuary failed to impress me. It isn't well written, it doesn't build an interesting universe, its characters don't possess individuality, their motives aren't convincing, and it fails to build any suspense or tension that could captivate me.

 

Book Review: An Oak Tree in the Garden by Narendra Murty

 Zen stories are always either a hit or a miss for the common reader. Some of them bring to you an 'aha' moment, unveiling the mist that covers your intellect and making you observe the entire world around you in a new light. But most of them go right above your field of perception. You are not able to make any sense, but you always get the notion that if you were able to appreciate the story, it would change you profoundly. It's not that Zen stories are very long, complex, or confusing to the reader. They often use ordinary settings and feature ordinary people and snippets of their ordinary lives, but somehow they come out extraordinarily dense. This ordinary nature of them makes it too embarrassing to accept our failure to grasp them.

For example, consider the story where a monk asks a Zen master the reason for Bodhidharma's arrival in China. His reply is simply, "an oak tree in the garden." That's it! There is no punch line, no final revelation, or a surprise twist. What sense can be made out of this? Is it just a wise reply with a profound inner meaning, or is there a botanical metaphor in it? How should our minds approach the story in order to decipher it? I have read some collections of Zen stories before and have had this unsettling feeling inside me while reading such stories. They defy our common sense and try to escape out of the reach of our intellect.

In his book, An Oak Tree in the Garden, Narendra Murty attempts to demystify such stories and take his readers more deeply into Zen living. I used the expression 'Zen living' consciously because, after reading the book, I feel that it cannot be called a philosophy or religion in a practical sense. A philosophy or religion needs scriptural backing that uses human intellect, knowledge, and authority in its construction. Zen is beyond such a conventional approach. To understand Zen, conventional knowledge is a hindrance. One must come out of the shackles of knowledge, preconditioning, prejudices, and learning and get ready to unlearn. Only with an empty cup can one comprehend it fully and immerse oneself in it.

In one of his previous books, Eating His Money, Narendra Murty tried to decipher the hidden philosophy and metaphysics of Mulla Nasruddin's jokes. He has tried something similar in this volume with Zen stories. The author recounts thirty short stories pertaining to Zen Buddhism and explains them so that a reader who isn't familiar with the concept of Zen can understand it. It is different from the book about Mulla Nasruddin because his jokes are open to interpretation, but Zen stories are not. They are like those sharp arrows designed to pierce the toughest of armour at precise points. The explanation needs to be accurate and to the point, and any deviation from the intended meaning of the stories will do a great disservice to its reader.

After reading the entire collection of the thirty stories, I could understand the logic that the author has used in the order of their placement. It is intended for the reader to lay a strong foundation in the concept and then to go to a higher level progressively. For example, the first story, The Zen Transmission, that explains the starting point of Zen also makes us realise how it is not something to be understood by conventional learning by hearing the talks of a master. We understand that the aim of Zen is enlightenment. Then we go on to learn more about the state of enlightenment and how to attain it. We also appreciate the importance of shedding all preconceived notions in order to attain enlightenment. We realise that the fear of the future and the despair about the past are two roadblocks on our path, and complete awareness of the present moment is important.

I was enamoured, particularly by a concept that compares religious scriptures to menus in restaurants. The reason we enter a restaurant is to have good food. But instead of that, we just read the menu of the restaurant and come out. We never strive for the complete spiritual experience, but find ourselves satisfied by filling ourselves with knowledge from texts and considering ourselves spiritual beings. By the end of the book, we also realise that the ultimate Zen experience is not just about enlightenment. That experience only reaches fulfilment when the enlightened master reaches back to the world and works among the poor, emanating his Zen to others, as established in the final tale of The Laughing Buddha.

An Oak Tree in the Garden is another achievement for the author, in which he helps the readers on their first step towards a concept that sounds very simple but is rather tough to follow through. It is so important to not miss the forward by Abhay Mishra, in which he gives a perfect preparatory introduction to Zen. Also considerate is the detailed list of works by different philosophers that the author consulted, as it can help the readers continue their journey towards Zen and finding their inner Buddha.

Book Review: Stations of the Tide by Michael Swanwick

 

An unnamed bureaucrat is sent to the planet Miranda on a mission to track down Gregorian, a supposed magician, who is accused of smuggling forbidden technology from the Outer Circles. Miranda is a planet on which the proliferation of the latest technology is strictly forbidden. It is a place of magic, shapeshifters, witches, and surreal happenings, and it will soon be underwater due to a heavy tide called the Jubilee Tides. While the bureaucrat is searching for him and juggling with a corrupt system, Gregorian, who is way ahead of him, already has his plans ready for him.

Stations of the Tide is a science fiction masterpiece that was published way back in 1990 by the author Michael Swanwick. Tor Essentials has published a new edition of this seminal work that won the Nebula Award, and this one is also equipped with an introduction by John Clute, an expert in the history of science fiction. I received a review copy of this work from its publisher through Netgalley in exchange for my feedback. I am not a connoisseur of science fiction and have dabbled only very rarely in the genre. But Stations of the Tide is not a standard sci-fi novel and possesses high literary value.

The plot of the novel is narrated like a fever dream, with heavy surrealism and fantastic elements thrown liberally in. It is intentionally ambiguous and demands that its readers pick and place everything that the author throws at them in a seemingly random manner to make any overarching sense. This is a very dense novel and not at all an easy read. The author mentions several technological advancements in its plot but never describes them in detail. The same can be said about the magical elements mentioned in the novel. Several characters are thrown into the plot, and most of them are thrown out as unceremoniously as they come in. But all these elements, which may sound threatening to the reader, come together beautifully to form a literary behemoth that demands respect.

The novel is told from the point of view of the bureaucrat, its protagonist, in the third person. We find him totally out of his element from the opening. He doesn't have a clue about the antagonist, and everyone whom he meets plays him while he flits in and out of various misadventures, some of them orchestrated by Gregorian. The only quality that we find in him is his dogged perseverance, even when he finds that on one side the entire mission was a betrayal and on the other side assured death.

The planet Miranda is another important character in the novel. It's on the verge of becoming uninhabitable, and large-scale evacuations are going on. We find the entire planet in a dilapidated state. The people of the planet are unpredictable and seemingly superstitious. The prohibition of technology has affected the entire population. The prevalence of magic is another peculiarity, and magic offsets the need for technology to some extent. It is mentioned that there was a time when Miranda was at the pinnacle of technological advancement. It is implied that it is about to share the fate of Earth, which became uninhabitable and humans immigrated to different planets, destroying the indigenous inhabitants of that planet like the haunts of Miranda. Earth exists in the form of an AI construct at the Puzzle Palace, a place where all the technical marvels converge.

The novel contains several allusions to other classics, the most prominent being Shakespeare's The Tempest. Miranda, Prospero, and Caliban appear as celestial bodies, along with Pantagruel and Gargantua, lifted from the novel of François Rabelais. The journey of the bureaucrat reminded me of the arduous one that is taken by Captain Willard in the movie Apocalypse Now. The fate of him, for most of the novel, made me think of Kafka's The Castle. The plot has a mysterious maze-like structure, and we find the bureaucrat struggling to make any progress.

Stations of the Tide by Michael Swanwick is a delightful read for those who love enigmatic novels, enriched by combining several philosophies and strands of thought. It confuses, scares, and unhinges its reader in a marvellous manner. The novel explores the standard themes common to good sci-fi, like the invasion of technology, the identity of AI constructs, and the concept of thought and freedom in a dystopian world. But along with them, it also touches upon other philosophical and mystical thoughts that normally occupy literary fiction books.

Book Review: How Can I Help You? by Laura Sims

 Margo works in a library. She is efficient, considerate, and takes on any additional responsibilities happily. Her co-workers like her. Her boss is happy with her. The patrons adore her. But she has a past. She is an absconding serial killer nurse. The entry of the employee, Patricia, a failed writer, clicks open a lock inside Margo's brain that hid her old urges. All hell breaks loose when an old patron is found dead in the library and a suspicious Patricia digs deeper into the past. Her fixation soon becomes an all-consuming obsession to revive her career as a novelist. Thus begins a cat-and-mouse game inside the silent, cosy library, which could turn violent at any moment.

How Can I Help You? is a suspense thriller set against the background of a library. The novel is written by Laura Sims and comes with much critical praise for its suspense and thrills. More than that, it is an intense character study of two women who could go to any depths for the sake of fulfilling their acute longings. I received an advance review copy of the UK edition from Verve Books, its publisher, through Netgalley in exchange for my honest feedback.

The novel is narrated from twin perspectives. The characters Margo and Patricia take turns narrating their respective versions of the story in alternating chapters. Both narrations happen in the first person and give the reader a panoramic insight into the minds of both of them. We see several events from alternating perspectives and observe how the same thing can be interpreted differently by different minds. This is also an efficient way to break the reader's concentration and subtly use diversion tactics inside the plot.

We realise that even when one of them is the perpetrator and the other is the detector of crimes, both of them have a skewed perspective on the world they live in. While Margo is a slave to her desires and is incapable of escaping them, Patricia, on the other hand, uses Margo to further her career as a writer. I feel Patricia, with all her sophistication, is more in the wrong and even accomplices Margo knowingly. Her behaviour with her boyfriend also shows a side of her personality that is brutally selfish. But as the writer uses her perspective to tell her side of the story, the reader will take time to realise this streak that is within her.

The novel also points fingers at the crumbling state of libraries and how they struggle to find their relevance in the age of the internet and sources of easy access to knowledge. The crowd that throngs the library is no longer the studious kind, with a thirst for knowledge and an interest in books. We find that it is thronged by senile elderly people on the edge of losing their sense of reality, unemployed or unemployable ones who use it just as a hangout, and many perverts. The reference phone calls that Patricia has to attend as part of her job are useless prank calls or those asking for irrelevant questions, like the TV schedule.

How Can I Help You? is a novel that excels in contrasting the setting of a library, which is usually considered the quiet sanctum santorum, with a tense atmospheric terror where unprovoked bad things can happen at any moment. The novel is essentially a slow burn, where the two characters eye each other, intently studying the opponent's state of mind and intentions, all the while trying to find the right moment to strike. It is through this close observation between the two opposing forces that the plot generates the much-needed tension and claustrophobia within the reader's mind.

Laura Sims has succeeded in producing a slow-paced thriller that generates enough suspense through the psychological battle between two contrasting figures. It is also satisfying to the addicted reader in me that the setting of a library and the importance of the plot points of certain books to the plot have been used wisely by her.

A Beginner's Guide To Literary Theory: A Short Story

 I refuse to add guns to my stories. If I pull out a gun, it somehow becomes my responsibility to ensure that it fires by the end of the story. Some guy called Chekhov insists, it seems. A friend of mine who's an English lecturer and who's now sitting opposite me says so. But I don't want to be dictated by these theories and limit myself by them. 

How does it work if my reader also knows about the gun rule? The moment he sees the gun in my first chapter, he will be waiting to hear the gunshot in the last chapter. How does it work for an ambitious writer like me? I want to be the sole owner of my writing. I want my writing to be boundaryless. My words should shoot out of the pages unexpectedly and wound the reader. I want that quality for my writing.

I slowly tried to get up. I could sense that the entire world was slightly tilted. I could sense my senses going to war against my brain. I could feel my insides struggling to break away from me and force themselves out of my mouth. I need to reach somewhere urgently, and I tried to remember where. My loin seems to be bulging out and forcing me to assuage them through a pain that is slowly building up. My ears were hearing the uproarious buzz formed by dozens of men speaking around me. 

My legs are wobbling, and I had to grab the table to stand upright. I was aware of the disruption that this act caused to the things laid on the table. A half-bottle of cheap rum, two glasses, and the dead remains of an ugly half-eaten bird on a greasy plate revolted against my attempt. I forgot to mention my friend, the lecturer, whose upper half is being supported by the table. He is blabbering something about the structure of a story.

My companion was trying desperately to fix a cigarette on his lips. I wanted to check if he was lighting the filter side of it, but my eyes aren't letting me. I stood there, swaying lightly, holding the tablecloth, and trying to concentrate my eyes on him. I wanted to tell him something. But his eyes are on the lighter that he held in his unsteady hands, trying to light it, all the while his cigarette rests in an unnatural position on his lips.

I lifted my pinky finger, but just then he lit the lighter and tried moving the flame to the place where he felt the tip of his cigarette was. I wanted to caution him about lighting fire on his lips, which I imagined were already inflammable due to the contact with alcohol. But he abandoned his attempt, threw the lighter on the table in despair, and looked at me with irritation. When he saw my raised finger, he gave an uninterested nod and picked a bare bone from the plate and tried to chew on it.

I moved towards the loo, or where my inebriated senses told me it was. I heard a mention of Chekhov's gun from somewhere behind. I was lucid enough to realise that was my friend, the English lecturer's voice, reminding me of it. Who else will mention literature theory inside a seedy bar that blares item songs from movies and a single red bulb illuminating the entire shabby hall?

I hoped my unsteady steps were taking me towards my destination. I also hoped that the lecturer would forget his shitty theories by the time I finish my business in the loo and get back to the unfinished business on the table, if the bugger doesn't gulp it all down by then. I located the dirty panel door in the stinky washroom, pulled it open, and entered.

The stench was enough to drop anyone's head. The place was pretty big for a dirty, third-class bar. There were six cabins and a long line of open urinals, a wash basin, and a tissue dispenser. Sound of someone vomiting inside a cabin. Someone is leaning on the wall, possibly passed out. I went inside one cabin and finished my business. I felt relaxed and in the mood for a smoke. I foraged my pockets and found a cigarette. No matches. I sat there for a few more minutes. A sliver of head ache. Nothing a snake can't clear.

I came out. The other man, who was vomiting, has left the place. Will the passed-out guy have a match? I staggered towards him and slightly tapped his shoulder. He fell headlong in front of me. I jumped back. His shirt was quenched in blood. My head was feeling. I left out a shriek, but the sound never came out. Then I saw it. Below the washbasin, near the waste bin, there is something black lying. The shape seems familiar. Someone has gotten rid of it after their work is finished.

I picked it up. It was still hot. I turned back, opened the door, and entered back into the reddish luminescence and ear-splitting music. I tried to locate my table. It took a few turns of my head and a lot of concentration, but ultimately I saw it. The lecturer's head was dropped on the table, and one of his hands clutched the bottle. One glass was lying on the floor, and I think I also saw a bit of his vomit there.

In spite of the growing commotion inside and outside my head, I stumbled towards my table. I negotiated the treacherous walkway and finally made it. Then, with my right hand, I shook the lecturer's head. When I saw that one of his eyes was open and he was looking inquisitively at me, I pointed the object towards his head and said,

"This is the last sentence of this story," and then pulled the trigger.

 

Book Review: Ice For Martians by Claudia Ulloa Donosa

 Are you qualified to write a review if you've read only half of a book? My review for Ice for Martians is being written after only reading the first fifty percent of it, because the next fifty percent is 'testo original en español'. It means the second half is all Greek to me.

Ice for Martians is an upcoming collection of six short stories written by Peruvian writer Claudia Ulloa Donosa, originally in Spanish. The book is translated ably by Lily Meyer. I received an advance copy of this bilingual edition from its publisher, Sundial House, through Netgalley in exchange for my honest feedback.

To be honest, I am never convinced of releasing a book in a bilingual edition. If it's meant for a reader who is well versed in both languages, which evidently forms a small subset of the total readers, would they take the trouble to read the same story in two languages? I have seen some poetry books using this gimmick. But at least in them, the printing is done in a parallel way and aesthetically, which gives them a certain beauty. I don't see its necessity in this volume other than as just a page-filler. Consider buying all 120 pages of a book but being unable to read only 60 of them. There is only one instant in my memory where I encountered a bigger folly.

Years ago, in a bookshop, I found a copy of Gitanjali, renowned mystic poetry by the great Bengali cultural icon Tagore, with its title in Malayalam. As it came with a heavy discount, I didn't inspect it as I should have. Later, when I opened it, I found that it's not a translation, but the Bengali verses are just written verbatim in Malayalam script. I could read the poetry but couldn't make any sense of it.

Ice for Martians consists of six stories that are pretty simple from the outset. All the stories deal with ordinary people who find themselves outcast from the larger cross-section of society. They are essentially aliens among humans, and they find it difficult to function within society. The term Martians in the title of the book probably denotes this behavioural difference.

The reason for the behaviour of the protagonists varies from story to story, and the final effects of it range from ecstatic to fatal. In most of the stories, there is an element of black humour that arises from their interactions with society, while in some cases, their interactions turn out to be so painful that it becomes difficult to proceed with the reading. In one story, though, the 'climax', because it is literally the protagonist climaxing, is very blissful, and one feels elated while reading it.

Among the six, my favourite is the most harrowing one, titled Animal, which describes the travail of its protagonist trying to run from her abusive partner. The reader travels with her, experiencing her fears, embarrassments, and the trepidation of a return to him. The stories of these Martian-Human protagonists, who find it impossible to connect with the larger society, are narrated with very few embellishments. I loved the unadorned nature of them. Even though I love novels that are obese, I prefer my short stories bareboned, never reluctant to hit where it hurts most. Ice for Martians delivers its verbal thwacks pretty fiercely.

 

 

Book Review: Love at Six Thousand Degrees by Maki Kashimada

 

If one has truly forgotten, if one’s memory is a blank canvas, from where comes that stubborn urge to paint over all traces of violence? From where arises that unconscious power of discernment that allows one not only to erase violence, but also to hide it from others?

A Japanese housewife has a sudden vision of a mushroom cloud while cooking. She abruptly abandons her husband and child and flies to Nagasaki. There, she meets a young Japanese-Russian man and starts an affair with him. Affected by skin issues, he is seemingly a weak person, and she believes she can torment him to get back at all her previous lovers who never took her seriously when she spoke about her difficult past involving an alcoholic brother who committed suicide after turning sober and an insane mother. But is it that easy to shed your soul of trauma, especially when you bleed not just for yourself but for others who are also affected?

Love at Six Thousand Degrees is the upcoming English translation of a Japanese novel written by Maki Kashimada and published originally in 2005. The English translator is Haydn Trowell. The book is the winner of the prestigious Yukio Mishima Prize, an award established in memory of Mishima, one of my favourite Japanese novelists. I received the book from its publisher, Europa Editions, through Netgalley in exchange for honest feedback.

The book examines the effects of generational trauma and works as an allegory for the traumatic effects of the nuclear explosions in Hiroshima and Nagasaki on Japanese society, the effects of which plague them even decades after the incident. The writer chose the deeply personal story of an unnamed woman to illuminate this subject. The six thousand degrees mentioned in the title are the immediate temperatures generated during the nuclear explosion. On the cover, we find a picture of a woman who has a mushroom cloud in place of her hair. Her pose very obviously reminds me of the images of the explosion.

The writer begins the story in the third person and then suddenly shifts to the first-person narration by the unnamed woman. She reveals her wish to write a book and declares that she can write only her own tale, following which she starts recounting what we already read at the beginning. Curiously, in this story within, she addresses herself as a woman. The story proceeds in alternating first- and third-person narratives. We aren't sure if whatever is happening is the story of the woman or a fantasy that she is weaving.

The book isn't divided into chapters. There are no quotation marks for conversations. The dialogue just flows without many 'he said','she asked' interruptions. The present, past, passages about the explosion, the woman's thoughts—the narrative is like a soup of non-linearity. Ultimately, it creates an environment that confuses the reader, like something exploding somewhere near and everybody is running around without any concrete plan or method. Her travelling to Nagasaki and the exploration of churches and buildings that were destroyed in the nuclear explosion connect her past with the present, and we realise that it is her past, of a dead brother and a crazy mother that no one in her present bothers to acknowledge, that has erupted in her, causing the vision.

In the young man—half Japanese and half Russian—she finds herself and her weakness. His skin problems point us again to the descriptions of the burning skins of people during the nuclear explosion. The woman begins her relationship with the weak, tormented youth because she feels that she has to take out all the make-up that she applied to her body and soul in order to conceal the wounds from her past. Will this relationship help her to come to terms with her past? Will not concealing her weaknesses and her past allow her to live forward?

Love at Six Thousand Degrees is a small novel, but it is a slow burn. It is not the kind of novel that uses plot devices to take it forward. The book deals with generational trauma and explains how it is transferred from person to person and generation to generation. It explains that covering the wound with makeup won't let that wound heal. We haven't forgotten our past, even though we make ourselves believe that, and the past comes out, erupting at a moment we least expect. We have to confront it at some point and make peace with it. Maki Kashimada has written a dense, warm, and profound novel that explores trauma, forgetting, and reconciliation with the past.

നവീന തമിഴ് ചെറുകഥകൾ: അയൽക്കാരന്റെ സർവാണിസദ്യ...

 പണ്ട് ബാംഗ്ലൂരിൽ വെച്ച് ഒരു ബംഗാളിയെ പരിചയപ്പെടുകയും, അയാളോട് ഞാൻ വായിച്ച ബംഗാളി സാഹിത്യകാരന്മാരെ കുറിച്ച് സംസാരിക്കുകയും ചെയ്തിരുന്നു. നിങ്ങൾ വേഷപ്രച്ഛന്നനായ ബംഗാളി ആണോ എന്നായിരുന്നു അയാളുടെ ചോദ്യം. (അക്കാലത്ത് ബംഗാളി എന്നത് സാംസ്കാരിക പുരോഗതിയുടെയും, ഉയർന്ന മൂല്യങ്ങളുടെയും പര്യായമായിരുന്നു, കേരളത്തിലെങ്കിലും. ഇന്ന് ഇതേ ചോദ്യം കേട്ടാൽ ചിലപ്പോൾ വിഷമം തോന്നിയേക്കാം. കാലോ ഹി ദുരതിക്രമഃ എന്നല്ലേ?) എനിക്കു ബംഗാളിനേക്കുറിച്ച് കുറച്ച് അറിയാം, എന്നാൽ അയാൾക്ക് കേരളമോ മലയാളമോ വെറും പൊതുവിജ്ഞാന പാഠത്തിലെ റ്റ്രിവിയ മാത്രം. 

ഇത് എന്നെ ചിന്തിപ്പിച്ചു. ഭാരതത്തിൽ ഇരുപത്തിമൂന്ന് ഔദ്യോഗിക ഭാഷകളടക്കം, എഴുന്നൂറ്റി എൺപതോളം ഭാഷകളുണ്ട്. ഭാഷാഭേദങ്ങൾ കണക്കിലെടുത്താൽ ആയിരത്തി അറുന്നൂറു കടക്കും. പല ഭാഷകളുടെയും സാഹിത്യം മികച്ച രീതിയിൽ പരിണമിച്ച് ലോകോത്തര നിലവാരത്തിലെത്തി നിൽക്കുന്നു. മലയാളത്തിൽ തന്നെ ഒ. വി. വിജയൻ, വി. കെ. എൻ, ബഷീർ തുടങ്ങിയവരുടെ സാഹിത്യം ഏത് നൊബേൽ ജേതാക്കളോടും കിടപിടിക്കുന്നവയാണ് എന്നാണ് എന്റെ വ്യക്തിപരമായ അഭിപ്രായം. ഇതുപോലെ മറ്റ് ഭാരതീയ ഭാഷകളിലും എത്രയെത്ര ഉന്നതമായ കൃതികൾ രചിക്കപ്പെട്ടിട്ടുണ്ടാവാം?

നാം കാഫ്കയേയും കുന്ദേരയേയും വായിക്കുന്നു. മാർക്വിസിന്റെ പോസ്റ്റ് മോഡേൺ സൌന്ദര്യ ശാസ്ത്രവും, കാമുവിന്റെ അസ്തിത്വദുഃഖവും വിശകലനം ചെയ്യുന്നു. എന്നാൽ തൊട്ടപ്പുറത്ത് തമിഴ് നാട്ടിലോ കർണ്ണാടകത്തിലോ ഉള്ള എഴുത്തുകാരന് പുല്ലു വില മാത്രം കൊടുക്കുന്നു. അനന്തമൂർത്തിയെയും ജയമോഹനേയും ഒഴിച്ചു നിർത്തിയാൽ ഒരു ശരാശരി മലയാളിയ്ക്ക് എത്ര പേരെ അറിയാം? പ്രാദേശിക ഭാഷകളിൽ നിന്ന് കാര്യമായ തർജ്ജമകൾ നടക്കുന്നില്ല എന്നു മാത്രമല്ല, വായനക്കാർക്കും അവ വായിക്കാൻ താത്പര്യമുണ്ടെന്ന് തോന്നുന്നില്ല. സുന്ദരരാമസ്വാമിയുടെ ജെ. ജെ. ചില കുറിപ്പുകൾ എന്ന മനോഹരമായ രചന എനിക്കു കിട്ടുന്നത് ഡിസിയുടെ പഴയ പുസ്തകങ്ങൾ അട്ടിയിട്ട് വെച്ച ഒരു പെട്ടിയിൽ നിന്ന് അറുപത് ശതമാനം വിലക്കുറവിലാണ്. 

അങ്ങനെയുള്ള ചില തെരച്ചിലുകൾക്ക് ഒടുവിലാണ്, പുസ്തകോത്സവങ്ങളിലെ സാഹിത്യ അക്കാദമിയുടെ സ്റ്റാളുകളിൽ നമുക്കാവശ്യമുള്ള ചില നല്ല പുസ്തകങ്ങൾ കണ്ടുകിട്ടാൻ തുടങ്ങിയത്. സാഹിത്യ അക്കാദമി എല്ലാ ഭാരതീയ ഭാഷകളിലേയും മികച്ച കൃതികൾ അങ്ങോട്ടുമിങ്ങോട്ടും തർജ്ജമ ചെയ്തു പ്രസിദ്ധീകരിക്കാറുണ്ട്. വാങ്ങുമ്പോൾ നോക്കി വാങ്ങണം എന്നു മാത്രം. ചിലപ്പോൾ കവർ ഒരു ഭാഷയിലും, ഉള്ളടക്കം മറ്റൊന്നിലും ആയേക്കാം. ചിലപ്പോൾ ചില പേജുകൾ അച്ചടിച്ചിട്ടുണ്ടാവില്ല. കെട്ടും മട്ടും ഒട്ടും ആകർഷകമായിരിക്കില്ല. അക്ഷരത്തെറ്റുകളും കുറച്ചൊക്കെ കാണും. എന്നാൽ ഉള്ളടക്കം മികച്ചതായിരിക്കും തർജ്ജമയുടെ നിലവാരവും നല്ലതായിരിക്കും. 

അങ്ങനെയാണ് നവീന തമിഴ് ചെറുകഥകൾ എന്ന സമാഹാരം എറണാകുളത്തെ ഇക്കഴിഞ്ഞ അന്താരാഷ്ട്ര (?) പുസ്തകോത്സവത്തിൽ വെച്ച് വാങ്ങി വായിച്ചത്. എഴുത്തുകാരനും സംവിധായകനുമായ സാ. കന്തസാമി സമാഹരിച്ച, കെ. എസ്. വെങ്കിടാചലം മലയാളത്തിലേക്ക് വിവർത്തനം ചെയ്ത, മുപ്പത്തി അഞ്ചു തമിഴ് ചെറുകഥകൾ ആണ് ഇതിൽ അടങ്ങിയിരിക്കുന്നത്. 1960നും 1995നും ഇടയിൽ എഴുതപ്പെട്ടവയാണ് ഇവ. മുപ്പത്തഞ്ചിൽ അച്ചടി പുരളാത്ത പേജുകൾ കാരണം രണ്ടു കഥകൾ പൂർണ്ണമല്ല. അവ വായിക്കാൻ ശ്രമിച്ചില്ല. എങ്കിലും ബാക്കിയുള്ള കഥകൾ തീർച്ചയായും മികച്ച വായനാനുഭവം തന്നെ.

അശോക മിത്രൻ രചിച്ച അച്ഛനോട് എന്താണ് പറയേണ്ടത്? എന്ന കഥയോടെയാണ് പുസ്തകം തുടങ്ങുന്നത്. രാത്രി വളരെ വൈകി റെയിൽവേ സ്റ്റേഷനിൽ എത്തുന്ന ഒരു മുത്തശ്ശിയും, അവരെ യാത്രയാക്കാൻ വന്ന പെൺകുട്ടിയും, അതേ വണ്ടിക്ക് കയറുവാൻ ഒരുങ്ങി നിൽക്കുന്ന ഒരു കുടുംബവും. ഇവരാണ് കഥാപാത്രങ്ങൾ. ലളിതമായ ഈ കഥയിൽ ദാരിദ്ര്യവും, കുടുംബ പ്രശ്നങ്ങളും, എന്നാൽ ഇതിനിടയിലും തമ്മിലുള്ള സ്നേഹവും, എല്ലാം കടന്നു വരുന്നു. തുടർന്നുള്ള മിക്ക കഥകളും ഏതാണ്ടൊക്കെ ഈ ഒരു ചുവടു പിടിച്ചു തന്നെയാണ് മുന്നോട്ടുപോകുന്നത്.

60 മുതൽ 90 വരെയുള്ള കാലഘട്ടത്തിൽ ഗ്രാമീണ ഭാരതത്തിൻറെ ഏറ്റവും വലിയ നഗ്നസത്യം ദാരിദ്ര്യം തന്നെയായിരുന്നു. ഇന്നും ഇവിടെ പാവപ്പെട്ടവർ ഉണ്ടെങ്കിലും, ആ കാലഘട്ടം പട്ടിണി, വരൾച്ച, എന്നിങ്ങനെ പലവിധ ദുരിതങ്ങൾ കാരണം ബുദ്ധിമുട്ട് അനുഭവിക്കുന്നവരുടെ സമയമായിരുന്നു. വലിയ ഒരു പങ്ക് പൗരന്മാരും, ഇതേ അവസ്ഥയിലൂടെ കടന്നുപോയിരുന്ന ആ കാലഘട്ടത്തിൽ എഴുതിയ മിക്ക കഥകളിലും ദാരിദ്ര്യം ഒരു പ്രധാന തീമായി കടന്നുവരുന്നത് സ്വാഭാവികം മാത്രം. ദാരിദ്ര്യത്തിന്റെ തിരശീലയിലൂടെ മനുഷ്യബന്ധങ്ങളെ നോക്കിക്കാണുന്ന കഥകളാണ് ഇതിൽ അടങ്ങിയ മിക്കവയും. എന്നാൽ ഈ ബന്ധങ്ങളിലെ വൈവിധ്യത്തെ എടുത്തുകാട്ടുന്നവയുമാണ്. ആഗ്രഹങ്ങളും അത് നിറവേറ്റാനുള്ള കഴിവും തമ്മിലുള്ള അന്തരം ഇതിലെ മിക്ക കഥകളിലും ദർശിക്കാം. ഈ അന്തരം കാരണം ബന്ധങ്ങളിൽ ഉണ്ടാകുന്ന സംഘട്ടനങ്ങൾ ഹൃദയസ്പർശിയായി അവതരിപ്പിക്കുന്നു. 

 കല്യാണത്തിന് പോകാൻ ഒരു കുപ്പായമില്ലാതെ വലയുന്ന മുത്തുസ്വാമിയുടെ കഥ പറയുന്ന കൃഷ്ണൻ നമ്പി എഴുതിയ കുപ്പായം, പാ. ജയപ്രകാശം എഴുതിയ ഒരു ചിലമ്പാട്ടക്കാരൻ തന്റെ ഗ്രാമത്തിന്റെ അധഃപതനം മനസ്സിലാക്കുന്ന ഗ്രാമത്തലവന്റെ വീട്, വണ്ണ നിലവൻ രചിച്ച ചക്കപ്പഴം, എന്നിങ്ങനെ നിരവധി കഥകൾ കൊടും ദാരിദ്ര്യം മനുഷ്യരുടെ പ്രതീക്ഷകളേപ്പോലും തച്ചുടയ്ക്കുന്ന ചിത്രങ്ങൾ വരച്ചിടുന്നു. വാർദ്ധക്യത്തിൽ മനുഷ്യന് സംഭവിക്കുന്ന പതനമാണ് ചില മികച്ച കഥകൾ പ്രതിപാദിക്കുന്നത്. ചുറ്റും ഉള്ള ഓരോരുത്തരും മരണപ്പെടുമ്പോഴും ഒരു ദുഃശ്ശകുനം പോലെ താൻ ബാക്കിയാവുന്ന വൃദ്ധയുടെ കഥയായ വാസന്തിയുടെ യാത്ര, ഏതാണ്ട് ഇതേ പ്രമേയം നർമ്മം ചാലിച്ച് അവതരിപ്പിക്കുന്ന, ദിലീപ് കുമാർ എഴുതിയ കത്ത്, മാമാങ്കം കാണാനായി ഒറ്റയ്ക്ക് ഒരു വൃദ്ധൻ കുംഭകോണത്തിലേക്ക് പോകുന്ന കഥയായ സാ. കന്തസാമി രചിച്ച മൂന്നാമത്തെ പ്രാർത്ഥന എന്നിങ്ങനെയുള്ളവ ഇക്കൂട്ടത്തിൽ മുന്നിട്ടു നിൽക്കുന്നു. 

വളരെ ശ്രദ്ധേയമായി തോന്നിയ മറ്റൊരു കാര്യം എന്തെന്നാൽ മതം, ജാതി, തുടങ്ങി മനുഷ്യരുടെ ഇടയിൽ വേർതിരിവുകൾ ഉണ്ടാക്കുന്ന ഘടകങ്ങൾ ചില കഥകളിൽ വന്നു പോകുന്നുണ്ട്, എന്നാലും പ്രധാന പ്രമേയമായി കാണുവാൻ സാധിച്ചില്ല. നൂറു സിംഹാസനങ്ങൾ പോലെ ജാതി വിവേചനത്തിന്റെ അനീതിയെ കുറിച്ച് ശക്തമായ രചന നടത്തിയ ജയമോഹന്റെ നദി എന്ന സുന്ദരമായ കഥ പോലും, നഷ്ടമായ മാതൃസ്നേഹത്തിനായുള്ള വിലാപമാണ്. പ്രമാണം എന്ന ഗന്ധർവൻ എഴുതിയ കഥയിൽ മാത്രമാണ് ജാതി ഒരു കേന്ദ്ര പ്രമേയമായി കാണുന്നത്. എന്തായിരിക്കും കാരണം? കഥാകൃത്തുക്കൾ ഈ വിഷയം കൈകാര്യം ചെയ്യാത്തതോ, അതോ പുസ്തകത്തിന് കഥകൾ തിരഞ്ഞെടുക്കുമ്പോൾ അവസരം കൊടുക്കാത്തതോ?

സമാഹാരത്തിലെ പൊതുവേയുള്ള രീതിയിൽ നിന്നും വേറിട്ടു നിൽക്കുന്ന കുറച്ച് കഥകൾ കൂടിയുണ്ട്. എസ്. രാമകൃഷ്ണൻ എഴുതിയ കാലാൾ പടയെ പറ്റിയുള്ള കുറ്റപത്രം, മാജിക്കൽ റിയലിസം കലർന്ന ആക്ഷേപഹാസ്യമാണ്. കോണങ്കി എഴുതിയ ധനുഷ്കോടി എന്ന കഥ ഒരു പോസ്റ്റ് മോഡേൺ സ്വഭാവങ്ങൾ ഉള്ള നേരിയ ഹൊറർ മൂഡിലുള്ള രചനയാണ്. മൈലാപ്പൂർ എന്ന കഥ മാ. അരങ്കനാഥൻ എഴുതിയിരിക്കുന്നത് ഡിസ്റ്റോപ്പിയൻ സയൻസ് ഫിക്ഷൻ രീതിയിലാണ്. 

തമിഴ് സാഹിത്യത്തെയും എഴുത്തുകാരെയും പരിചയപ്പെടാനും അതിൻറെ പൊതുസ്വഭാവം അറിയാനും പറ്റിയ ചെറിയൊരു സദ്യയാണ് നവീന തമിഴ് ചെറുകഥകൾ

എന്ന ഈ സമാഹാരം. 

 

Book Review: Harbor Lights by James Lee Burke

 ...terms like “dark odyssey” are the romantic stuff of poets and are hardly adequate to describe the fiction we write every day of our lives...

A boy and his father witnessed an oil tanker capsized by a German submarine in the Gulf of Mexico during 1942. They get embroiled in a situation where tough decisions have to be made, even when their family is being ruined by federal agents. We encounter the boy, Aaron, again in two other stories in this violent and draining collection of short stories titled Harbor Lights by the famous American writer James Lee Burke. I received an advance review copy of the book by the publisher, Grove Atlantic, through Netgalley in exchange for my honest feedback.

There are eight stories in this collection, and each of them deeply explores the dark past and how that horror still reverberates around us. The opening story, Harbor Lights, featuring Aaron Broussard, is a tale about how the corrupt system uses the frailties of an unsuccumbing person against him in order to exert pressure. In another story titled Deportees, we find Aaron and his mother temporarily living with his grandfather. They are forced to shelter illegal immigrants from Mexico while being threatened with the repercussions they have to face. In a third story, titled Strange Cargo, which is in fact a short novella, we encounter Aaron a third time. An old man now grieving his daughter's death, which he feels could have been avoided, has to encounter an entity from the long past that makes him aware of how things remain the same even after the passage of decades.

In the story Going Across Jordan, we find two migrant friends, one a Communist organiser and the other a runaway convict, hired to tend the farm of a Hollywood cowboy actor (Clint Wakefield!!!), only to realise that the heroic face is just a facade and behind the mask dwells evil personified. Big Midnight Special is the story of a prisoner being set up to fight another. He realises this and decides to follow the only path to avoid the confrontation. The Assualt is a painful story about a professor whose daughter suffers brain damage from an assault on her and his attempts to make it right.

The Wild Side of Life is about an oil rig worker who witnessed the decimation of a Latin American village. When he later falls in love with the wife of the person responsible for the atrocity, he decides to confront his past. A Distant War is a story that stands apart from the others in this collection. The story offers a strong dose of surrealism and elements of the supernatural. In this story, a man, along with his son, gets trapped in a village inhabited by the dead, and to escape, he has to confront the evil in his past.

Harbor Lights is the title of the book as well as its opening story. After reading the entire collection, I felt that the title binds together all the stories in it as a common thread. The protagonists in each of these stories are tormented souls with dark pasts who are forced to confront evil in the present. They cannot hide and have to fight simultaneously the past and their present. They are struggling against the turbulent waves in a dark sea because of their evil pasts, and far from them are lined the elusive harbour lights, their redemptive future.

The stories are placed in different times and spaces, the earliest one during World War 2. All the stories are intimately linked to the dark history of slavery and racism that was prevalent in the US. The stories explore the strenuous relationship between races, prejudices, and the guilt that is transferred through generations. In this background, the stories feature themes of guilt, loyalty, grief, conscience, love, and friendship.

Harbor Lights is a collection of stories that offer pretty dark and gloomy scenarios. The author refuses to serve us the anticipated tales of poetic justice. The protagonists of these stories, even when destined to suffer the injustice of the system, realise their own shortcomings and even empathise with the agents who try to defeat them. But each story, while set in a deeply dark and depressing environment, never denies its readers a glimpse of the harbor lights that are illuminated on a distant horizon.

....when good people stray into dark water, their lack of experience with human frailty can become like a millstone around their necks.