It struck chord again, overwhelmed me with its language, images, ideas, and the disquiet of loss. At the end of the book, I stopped at two words that should have resonated with promise but carry emptiness in their wombs. “Naaley. Tomorrow.” In the narrative, that tomorrow never comes. What does come though is the never-ness of this promise, the futility of its utterance, the exquisite pain of its hopeless hopefulness. This pathos permeates the narrative, its external manifestations and internal ramifications. It curls itself into the dreams that Rahel and Estha’s mother, Ammu, dream in the afternoon, what Estha calls her “afternoon-mares” transcribing the idea of a nightmare on to afternoon dreams. It is not mere wordplay in a child’s mind but a symbol of the long, endless nightmare into which the characters plunge.

Words. And there are plenty of them that Arundhati Roy plays around with in this sensitively written story of a pair of twins and their mother, of their life sans a father, of Ayemenem, of mean minded, manipulating adults with whom the kids share space, of dreams that are meant to break, of local politics that plays its dirty games. Amidst all the cacophony and silence, Ammu, around whom the events unfold and crash, holds her own in a Syrian Christian, male dominated, chauvinistic society, trying to hold on to and protect her fatherless twins, yet giving them enough leeway to learn on their own, from mistakes and escapades. The two-egg twins, bound by their twin-ness, practice their unusual language on everybody, both hilarious and tender at the same time. Like their backward reading, “Ot pots niart llup niach” (To stop train pull chain) or their arbitrary use of words that would defy the rabid etymologist, fast, faster, fest.

The family in Ayemenm is a microcosm of families in many other Indian villages, towns and cities, tossed around by wiles and guiles, desires and unfulfilled longing, biases and prejudices, socio-political machinations of tradition and disinheritance. When Ammu begins her long slow slide into a financial and emotional abyss, the kids are scattered, their thoughts and emotions, fused in their mother’s womb, a silent burden in their adult lives, a weight that finds release only in sharing, breaking taboo laws of love and belonging, fusing into one, two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Their mother defies taboos too, with Velutha, the man whom her children loved by day and she by night. Velutha, the Paravan, the untouchable, whom no “touchable” was meant to touch, Velutha, who glides into Ammu’s dreams and binds her two kids together in an indescribable bond with him.

Arundhati Roy was accused of obscenity in the scenes where Velutha and Ammu come together. The slander is unfortunate, because those scenes are infinitely tender, infinitely agonizing, ripped out of the characters’ lives as though without their creator’s conscious effort, without their own efforts. It is this tenderness that permeates the novel, setting new standards for pain and longing, love and loss.
The God of Small Things brings big pleasures, sensitizes the reader, and touches a hidden chord within us. It celebrates the senses, each one of them, and is the perfect example of sensual writing at its best. The unusual word plays jar at times, but that is a small cost for lyricism that stays with one long after the book is stacked away, waiting for nostalgia to strike again.

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The book traverses a vast canvas of historical, political, and social events, starting with the British invasion of Burma in 1885 to Aung San Suu Kyi and the junta-ruled Myanmar of 1996. Between the two framing epochs of repression and dominance, we find Russo-Japanese turmoil, the World Wars, India’s epic struggle for independence, and a family’s search for its roots. The characters that dominate these events and places are fascinating as real people with real struggles, not angst-ridden traumatized people stilted in their ability to carry on with their lives.

The story starts with the British entry into Burma, as seen and heard by the young orphan Rajkumar, who becomes the central figure of consciousness in the novel. Entering the Palace changes his life forever for there he meets the defeated Queen’s beautiful maid, Dolly, the woman who will shape his life and thoughts for years to come. Many lives intersect—Dolly, Rajkumar, Uma and her Collector husband, and later, Jaya, Bela, Kishan Singh, Arjun, Dinu, and even the iconic Aung San Suu Kyi. Through these intersecting and defiant characters, imperialism and colonialism become bywords for political upheavals that rend asunder a nation and its culture and people. The Burmese royal family’s removal to Ratnagiri reflect an earlier national shame, the removal of Bahadur Shah Zafar to Rangoon, in an imperialist attempt to wipe out a nation’s history and the collective conscious. With royalty banished from its kingdom, the Burmese people, as were Indians earlier, lose their symbol of resilience and defiance. The symbol is resurrected in the book much later, in another epoch, through the riveting figure of Aung San Suu Kyi.

The Glass Palace tugs at our memory of a past that nobody remembers, an era that changed the course of history, repression that needs to be remembered in order to fight modern day imperialist tendencies. Most importantly, the novel chronicles the history of two nations that were intrinsically related through commerce and shared traditions.

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Related on this blog:

• Andromache—Unrequited Passion
• My Name is Red: Orhan Pamuk
• The Assassin’s Song by M.G. Vassanji

Adjectives create images and we cannot play around with them needlessly. We writers have to constantly remember that at the editing table, unnecessary or incorrect adjectives and over-the-top adverbs will face the axe, almost instantaneously. So, will “ravenous hair” pass the test? Most probably not. But the unusual adjective use here does throw up an interesting and erotic image, that of hair that engulfs the senses, gorges on the admirer’s or lover’s sensuality, darkens the lover’s vision with mysterious promises of endearment and sensuousness. In this form, the usage shows courage, though writing needs precision, not wayward bravery.

But if the word intends to convey the idea of jet black, the writer may need to do some serious head scratching to come up with a more apt adjective. The editor’s pen knows no mercy.

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The novel posits Nigeria’s power politics and colonial machinations in the conversation of a bunch of intellectuals, seen and heard in turn by a houseboy called Ugwu, from the bush land, thrown into the turmoil and intricacies of urbane society. Do the intellectuals see things as they are? The war proves to be their undoing; their conversation seems to belong to a distant idyllic realm that has nothing to do with the realities of the situation and the demands it exerts on them. The newly independent Nigeria burns, gets divided, and along with it, her people feel the split, right down the middle, an erratic, uneven split that pits tribe against tribe, sister against sister, husband against wife, neighbor against neighbor. And yet, before you turn the last page, the relationships disentangle, the country limps to a modicum of normalcy, and life picks up slowly, limping and sweating under the assault of war and crisis—both emotional and political.

Half of a Yellow Sun won the Orange Broadband Prize for Fiction in 2007. It is a fascinating and exciting book from a very young writer, still a student herself. It follows the lives of five people: Ugwu the houseboy, his Master Odenigbo, his companion the beautiful Olanna, Olanna’s fascinating sister Kainene and her lover Richard, the only white man among the Nigerians. As the drawing room discussions and arguments metamorphose into real time war, Ugwu witnesses events up close, giving in and rising up to the occasion as a soldier, returning a changed man, and writing the native Nigerian’s view of the war. His is the book within the book, his the view that replaces Richard, the white man’s view of the tribal and colonial conflicts, his the voice that the writer uses to show the veracity of the native’s experience and understanding rather than the outsider’s.

Want to know what this experience is? Pick up your copy of Adichie’s inspiring novel and read it. I promise you, every page will be worth the time you take to read it. The language is lucid and simple, the narrative brisk without any high wattage symbolism or metaphorical density, the plot moves at an even though angst-ridden pace, and the images of a ravaged country are realistic and rooted. Adichie has delivered a masterpiece that should feature in every book lover’s library.

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Culinary Media Network

Cork and Knife

Eating Well

Bon Apetit and Happy Writing!

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• Market News - Health and Environment

We’ve grown up on a solid diet of Enid Blyton books, Russian fairy tales and Nancy Drews and Girls Best Loves Stories….but for the tiny tots in India today, there are plenty of book options to choose from in India itself. While they enjoy their sojourns with the Famous Five or Betty and Jane in the English countryside, share a pucca English picnic fare of buttered scones, muffins and bread and jam, they can also skip around the alleys of India, sharing an adventure with Basava, the little tribal boy or Norbu, the boy in Sikkim or Moyna, the Why-why girl.

While there are quite a few reading options for children in India, I am speaking about the lovely books by Tulika, a small publishing house in Chennai that brings out some lovely, warm and colourful books…as piquant and interesting as the multi-hued spices that India is so famous for.

I am well-past my single-digit years, but you can’t keep me away from these books. I’ve got a pile of them in my bookshelf, sharing space with mystery, romance, history and humour. Cute characters with an Indian feel and Indian names - Bhadur the baby elephant, Shanmugam the lion, Sunu-sunu the snail, Kali, the snake charmer’s son romp around the playgrounds of these books.

Carefully crafted and brightly illustrated, books by Tulika sure are a treat to the child within. You do not have to be an Indian to read their books - in fact, we suggest you buy some to peek into the warm and wonderful culture of the country. Well, I’m off to take another peek at my books, while you can check out the website to get a glimpse of the books.

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Finish your morning chores—write a page—organize breakfast—send kids off to school—write a few sentences—then dash off to the bank or laundry—cook lunch—write a page or two—drive to the kids’ school to pick them up—give them their snacks—write a couple of sentences—cook dinner, fold the laundry, tuck kiddo into bed—eat—write in the bleary-eyed hours of the night. Deadline? Yesterday. Always.

Well it may not be so choc-a-bloc for all freelance writers. I know of some who write blissfully through morning and afternoon and night, the world’s time on their hands. If you are one of the hapless majorities, what do you do to get started with some solid, heavy duty writing in an organized and undisturbed manner?

• Wake up early. That’s still the best way to get a head start on work for the day

• Make a to-do list of deadlines, queries, feedback, and responses

• Prioritize, prioritize, and prioritize—the mantra for a successful writing effort

• Reserve space and a time slot for your writing. All other work will crowd in upon this space but get   at it with a determined pen. Cut through the other work to write, write, and write

• Follow up on the queries and respond to the messages without fail. Today’s query could be tomorrow’s bread and butter for you.

• Write a page every day, even when there are no projects, deadlines, or inspiration

Before the rain washes away all resolve, why not start with writing that compulsory one page now? Or better still, dash off the pending query. You never know what tomorrow brings.

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Related on this blog:

• Peopling the Yarn
• The “Sense” of Writing
• Guest bloggers wanted

Its book review day again and this week I am in the mood for some nostalgia, especially for the classics. Sifting among my books, I came across Jean Racine’s Andromache in the English translation by R.C. Knight, and that’s what triggered the sentimentality. The smell of old books reminds one of old friends you chance upon on a busy thoroughfare and don’t want to let go. That’s what happened with me and I picked up the play once again after many years. Andromache marked Racine’s transition from Baroque to Modern and is set against the backdrop of the post Trojan War Epirus, Achilles’ son Pyrrhus’ kingdom. Pyrrhus brings back Andromache, the legendary Hector’s wife as slave but loves her much more than he does Hermione, his betrothed. Andromache lives only for her son and the memory of her dead husband but eventually agrees to marry her master to save her son. Hermione, in love with the noble Pyrrhus, is wooed passionately by Orestes, Clytemnestra and Agammemnon’s son, sent to Epirus as an envoy by the Greeks to warn Pyrrhus against love for the vanquished Trojan’s wife. This chain of emotions and betrayal, passion given and rejected sets off a train of actions that leads to the tragic fall of Pyrrhus. Hermione, having ordered Orestes to murder him, is crazed with remorse at the death and kills herself, but not before berating Orestes for the parricide. Orestes is spurned and disillusioned, mad at his own crime and the betrayal of Hermione, and in the last scene, swoons in impassioned rage and despair. The Trojan infant who appears to be a threat to the Greeks lives, as does his mother Andromache.

This then is the basic plot of Racine’s Andromache, rich with irony. The Trojan slave lives to see her Greek conqueror die. What sweet revenge it must have been for the proud and tragic Andromache, who yet tries to save her new husband’s legacy by rousing his people against the other Greeks who murder him. Hermione herself is full of paradox and irony. Having used the hapless Orestes as a murder intermediary, she assails him with vindictiveness, lashes his feelings verbally with a diatribe that plunges him into mad despair.

Racine’s poetry brings alive the passion of love and unrequited affection and proves the fact—difficult to accept in his time—that even royals have flaws and are all too human. What really excited me in this second reading of Andromache though, was the timelessness of the themes—jealousy of a spurned lover, war’s painful realities, passion killing, remorse. While the themes resonate in the modern age, Racine’s characters attain tragic grandeur in the style of all great tragedies.

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Related on this blog:

• Chronicle of a Past Forgotten-Amitav Ghosh's The Glass Palace
• My Name is Red: Orhan Pamuk
• The Assassin’s Song by M.G. Vassanji

The market news is a day late…sorry about that. And the weekend post has been washed away in the rains. Well..well…excuses…excuses. Aren’t you tired of that? I am too. I promise to make it up to you next Friday with an entertaining TGIF post. For now…here are some links you can check out for health and environment writing.

Natural Family

Health on MSN

Stitches for patients

Emagazine

Have a great weekend.

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• Thursday Markets - Food Writing

A Look at Life
During a session of our creative writing class, the teacher asked students to take a walk in the university campus and observe. Hesitantly, reluctantly, we did. Took a walk, that is, and observed people. We saw students of the Fine Arts faculty chiseling away at stone busts, their eyes focused on the shape before them, their fingers moving with an energy of their own; a man sat on the garden wall picking his nose with apparently no distraction to pull the digging finger away; a couple engrossed in a love fight by the pond that buzzed with afternoon flies. We watched how the boy held on to the girl’s hand as she tried to strike that eternal miffed-lover-pose in that dense afternoon warmth. By the end of our walk, we had a wealth of notes on people’s mannerisms, gait, smells and odors, behavior, the works.
We compared notes in class and tried to give a story to each character we had observed; what we had before us were real people heightened and made exciting with the help of our imagination.

Real and Imaginary
A fictional character is some amount of reality combined with a strong dash of invention. Think of Huckleberry Finn or the comic book character Tintin, or on a totally different plane, the people in Gabriel Garcia Marquez’ books. The fantastic merges with the real in a stimulating narrative of people, places, and events. We remember the characters long after we put aside the book.
So for starters, as we create characters for our books, we have to observe people, make notes, and then begin to play around. Those people we watch on the road, in the café, at the bus depot, in class, or at the quarry are grist for our stories. They come alive as characters, dynamic, organic, vibrant, our own creation from the life we see around.

A Matter of Choice
So what’s the hitch? Selection. How do we select those characteristics that help us create convincing people? While real is important, what creates great characters is the selection of those traits that can be made dramatic for effect and relevance. The most mundane trait can be heightened to make it dramatic, but it should have the potential for drama. A harmless quirk could be the gateway to a wonderful and fantastic character. Imagine a man who cannot stop tweaking his moustache or a woman who believes only fat men. The idiosyncrasy opens up a window, provides a clue to creating the persona but cannot be used as a support system for the entire character. The crux is judicious selection.
What’s at stake in this selection is the character’s credibility. The quirk should fit the structure of the character, not jar as a loose overhanging piece that cannot be accounted for. Imagine Anna Karenina with a twitch that renders her comic and undignified in bits and parts of the novel. Doesn’t fit, does it?
Credibility could make or mar a character, so we have to keep an eye on that detail that fits the rest of the picture and takes it ahead. Detail is the key, and observation never harmed any writer.

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• Freelancing—The Write Time
• The “Sense” of Writing
• Guest bloggers wanted

Good chick lit is like chocolate – delicious, creamy, chocolaty. And like a bar of good chocolate, a chick lit book gets over quickly, leaving behind a trail of creamy sweetness.

Chick lit simply means literature for and by chicks…err…I mean books mainly written by and for women. While reading up on what Chick lit means, I came across an interesting description in a website about chick lit – “The books range from having main characters in their early 20’s to their late 60’s. There is usually a personal, light, and humorous tone to the books. Sometimes they are written in first-person narrative; other time they are written from multiple viewpoints. The plots usually consist of women experiencing usual life issues, such as love, marriage, dating, relationships, friendships, roommates, corporate environments, weight issues, addiction, and much more.

So how does that differ from regular women’s fiction, you might be wondering? Well, it’s all in the tone. Chick lit is told in a more confiding, personal tone. It’s like having a best friend tell you about her life. Humor is a strong point in chick lit, too. Nearly every chick lit book I have read has had some type of humor in it. THAT is what really separates chick lit from regular women’s fiction.”

As you read on, the protagonist almost becomes like your friend – you get to know her warts and all. And many-a-times, you can find yourself empathizing with her too. She can be a few pounds overweight, maybe just like you. She might have a problem hitching the right guy – does that seem familiar? She might have a massive crush on the hunk next door – ah! Quite like you? She might also be independent, smart, sassy – well, that’s gotta be you.

Even the situations and scenarios might seem very familiar – a single woman in a city; a workaholic trapped in a boring job; a girl who shuns marriage…the list is endless. Fun-to-read and quick-to-complete, a pile of good chick lit is just what many of us need to race through a dull day or a languid weekend. And…I even like the way the books look, complete with their cute and funky book covers.

I just read Swati Kaushal’s ‘Piece of Cake’ and intend to lap up some of the books mentioned here: Chick Lit Books.

You might also like to hop over to: Candy Covered Books.

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The reader gets caught between reality and fantasy and Orhan Pamuk twirls the strands with a deft, artistic hand. My Name is Red is a murder mystery; it is also a treatise on the nature of love per se—love as spiritual and sexual gratification, love as art, and love as sin. Through these paradigms, we get a glimpse into the contemporary cultural and religious philosophy, religious and artistic repression and the conflict between man’s subordination to God and the newer perspective of placing him at the center of the universe. Blasphemy has different connotations in this stirring story plotted like an exquisite architectural piece.
The novel speaks in many voices, including those of a dog, a tree, a corpse, the color Red, and the miniaturists and murder suspects Olive, Stork, and Butterfly. By the end, the last three seem to blend into one another such that it is neither possible to differentiate among them, nor important to do so. That the murders have taken place and the motive has been described in painful detail is the only fact, and the density of information does not arouse the reader’s curiosity.

The Sultan has commissioned Enishte Effendi to create an illustrated book celebrating his rule and power. The style is not conventional, using the perspective technique blasphemous to fanatics of the faith. And so starts a sequel of murder and death, annihilation and conspiracy, fear and uncertainty. The murderer’s identity can be ascertained only through the illustrations and a rigorous discourse on what comprises true art. This is where the book turns into a meditation. The many voices used comprise stories within stories and each works as a window frame, leading the reader a little more into the heart of the events and the narrative.

Pamuk is brilliant; so is My Name is Red. But read it when you have ample time and leisure, for this is one book that cannot be read in starts while waiting for the bus.

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Related on this blog:

• Chronicle of a Past Forgotten-Amitav Ghosh's The Glass Palace
• Andromache—Unrequited Passion
• The Assassin’s Song by M.G. Vassanji

We can find bits of it in things around us – red-headed parrots on the mango tree; fluffy, white clouds in a satin blue sky; a cup of frothy coffee and a chocolate-chip cookie; an interesting blog….

Speaking about blogs, here are a few interesting blogs and websites to help you unleash your creativity.

Inspiration for flash fiction:

Six Sentences

Short Novels

Flash Fiction

Inspiration for creativity:

Inspiration Thursday

Inspiration for décor and design:

 Décor

Design

Inspiration for reading:

A literary resource for children

Have a happy weekend!

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Related on this blog:

• Essential reading for writers

The Green Tricycle specializes in “short bursts of fun to read pieces.” Visit Green Tricycle for guidelines.

A Journal for the New Literary Paradigm, posts flash fiction and runs contests. Find their guidelines and read the archives at Net Author.  They pay $25 per story.

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• Fiction in a Flash
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Here’s how you can introduce your children to the world of words, pictures and magic.

Start reading to your baby. Now, does that sound weird? Well, the truth is – it’s never too early to begin reading to your child.

Do a lot of reading together. Read to them while they are digging into their lunch; read when they are clustered around the work table; read while they prepare to sail off to the Land of Nods. Also, take turns in reading – children will enjoy reading out their favourite stories to you too.

Get a library card for the family and visit the place as often as you can. It’s a good idea to give the kids plenty of time to browse through books and pick out what they like. Help them to find some great books to take home.

Discuss children’s books with your kids. Tell them stories about authors, ask them what they enjoy reading at school, discuss about their favourite reads.

Take your children to story times, and author visits. There might be a story telling session or a puppet show or a book signing event at your local book store. Check to see if they have an event calendar and plan out trips to such events.

Buy books that will interest your children.

Well, you might also like to create a cozy reading corner with comfortable chairs, plump cushions and lamps – a perfect place to snuggle in and read with your children.

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