Crime investigations and intricate procedurals are my go-to genres when it comes to television series and movies. I love the process of deduction, forCrime investigations and intricate procedurals are my go-to genres when it comes to television series and movies. I love the process of deduction, forensics, and the science behind it. So, I was thrilled when I came across B. Umadathan’s memoir “Dead Men Tell Tales.” Umadathan was a prominent forensic surgeon from Kerala and played a key role in solving some sensational cases across India during his career. Well translated by Priya K. Nair, the memoir chronicles Umadathan’s rise in the field of forensics and, along the way, he talks about techniques, procedures, and some of the thinking that went behind solving many puzzling cases.
I think one of the most fascinating ones for me was the Chacko murder case from 1984. In a bid to escape the authorities, a notorious criminal named Sukumara Kurup tried to fake his own death by placing Chacko’s body in a car and setting fire to it. With no other evidence, Umadathan arrived at the conclusion solely from the post-mortem, and managed to find justice for Chacko’s family.
The book reads more like numerous entries from a journal put together than a planned, structured memoir. The chapters are divided by different cases and there’s a little bit of information about Umadathan’s personal life included every now and then. The reading experience could have been enhanced with tighter editing.
I thoroughly enjoyed reading this peek into a very different line of work. If you, like me, enjoy crime investigations, pick this book up right away. ...more
Illustrator and cartoonist Rumi Hara’s ‘Nori’ is a short and sweet debut collection of stories based on her childhood experiences in Japan. Three-yearIllustrator and cartoonist Rumi Hara’s ‘Nori’ is a short and sweet debut collection of stories based on her childhood experiences in Japan. Three-year-old Nori is looked after by her grandmother and the book narrates a series of slice-of-life stories full of whimsy and humour.
Her grandmother sometimes has a tough time managing a rambunctious and curious toddler like Nori who has a fertile imagination. In one, for example, she imagines a giant white rabbit who lives on the moon and makes mochi.
There’s also plenty of nostalgia. Nori’s childhood summers are filled with running around with her friends, getting into small scrapes, and playing made-up games. Hara deftly interweaves Japanese folklore and cultural references with magical realism to bring alive what seems like a joyful, memorable childhood.
This is a great contrast with her grandmother’s childhood in the 1940s when, as a schoolgirl during the war, she had to work in a factory and was constantly exposed to bombs. I thought this was brought out subtly and simply through illustrations and was a great device to convey so much more about Japan.
The illustrations are mostly black and white, which sometimes added to the charm but at times left me wanting. The book is also set in 1980s suburban Japan which offered many opportunities for a child like Nori to wander off on her own down wooded paths or leafy lanes bordered by rivers. Reminded me of some of the Ghibli movies a lot!
The title. That’s what caught my attention first. No, not “Half Pants Full Pants” but the line that said “Real-Life Tales from Shimoga.” Who writes soThe title. That’s what caught my attention first. No, not “Half Pants Full Pants” but the line that said “Real-Life Tales from Shimoga.” Who writes so specifically about Shimoga?!, I thought. I read the first 2 pages, and my mind was made up. I had just completed The Decagon House Murders by Yukito Ayatsuji but the review had to wait until I finished Anand Suspi’s utterly delightful memoir about his childhood shenanigans in rural Shimoga.
“‘Half Pants’ is from KG to Class 7, while ‘Full Pants’ is from Class 8 onwards – hence the title,” explains Suspi in an interview with AdGully. The book has several chapters and each one is not as much as a story as it is a recollection of a memory or an incident. They range from the excitement of eating Gud Bud ice-cream or getting a tv and blender for the first time to the seriousness of playing cops and robbers or hatching different schemes to earn some pocket money.
“Half Pants Full Pants” allowed me to escape into a time when there were no gadgets or mobiles to distract. Comparisons have been made to Malgudi Days and Swami and Friends and while it’s similar, Suspi’s book stands apart for having a child’s raw, unfiltered voice and perspective. You get a sense of the insouciant attitude that Anand and his friends had towards life and a childhood filled with very relatable instances of sibling rivalry, running away from home, playing pranks on friends etc. Throughout, stories like practising kung fu with mosquitoes, modifying a bicycle, coming up with cool names instead of their given names, all made me smile, giggle, and laugh-out-loud in some places.
The biggest connecting factor for me was all the conversations written in Kannada (in English words) with the translation right beneath. I loved that so much because it made the book so much more impactful. I would only read the Kannada lines and it felt like the conversation was happening right in front of me. Here’s a sample,
(No need for any announcements. Let it come first, we can break the news then.)”
“Appa, irli. Kalthana yenu maadilla.
Dad, let it be. We haven’t stolen it.)”
Suspi’s stories are a wistful reminder of how much childhoods have changed now. It’s more wired, indoors, screen-bound. Nobody even dreams of climbing guava trees or playing with marbles.
In the end, I was reminded of lines from a P.B. Sreenivas song that embodies the essence of the novel - Nagu nagutha nali nali, yene aagali (Keep smiling whatever happens)....more
Unrequited love is perhaps one of the most painful feelings there is. In Mohanaswamy, the eponymously named protagonist, experiences that feeling manyUnrequited love is perhaps one of the most painful feelings there is. In Mohanaswamy, the eponymously named protagonist, experiences that feeling many times over. Mohanaswamy is a gay man from rural Karnataka in India. Gay, rural, India – there, that’s three times right there. In this pioneering work of gay Kannada literature, Vasudhendra opens up a world of hate, disgust, and every other feeling that’s not unadulterated love to show a charcoal grey picture of what one side of humanity faces on a daily basis. The book is less a novel and more a series of vignettes predominantly focusing on Mohanaswamy but also on people associated with him.
Mohanaswamy’s childhood is spent in people ‘correcting’ him on every aspect of his being. His posture, his voice, his mannerisms. Everything needed to be set straight. Consequently, he lives in a constant state of confusion for a long time. He tries to curb the deep desire that rises in him when he sees a brawny arm or muscled shoulders. He tells himself he needs to stop doing certain things to be ‘normal’. And it’s not just him. It’s the family too. In “Anagha-the Sinless,” Kalleshi is punished simply for not being interested in women. His life would be better if he had been a philanderer like his father. Shankar Gowda’s family disowns him for ‘bringing disgrace’ to their name. Loneliness is a constant for all of them and I felt a myriad of emotions while reading the book – anger, sadness, disbelief.
Mohanaswamy comes across as unbelievably naïve sometimes. He is also led by lust more than love, and this aspect mars the overall impact of the book at times. The translation, although tells the stories faithfully, lacked finesse and finish. I could see that many of the sentences were literal translations from Kannada, and it could have been told better in English. That said, the importance and need for more books like this cannot be undermined. We don’t have to be ‘liberal’, we just need to be kinder and more accepting. And only more books like this can bring about that change. ...more
“Whether we are at home or in a public spot or caught in a traffic jam or walking into a movie, we can stop and look at the other peopMy rating is 3.5
“Whether we are at home or in a public spot or caught in a traffic jam or walking into a movie, we can stop and look at the other people there and realize that in pain and in joy they are just like me,” Pema Chodron says in her book “Taking the Leap.”
I see a similar premise in Kiran Bhat’s We of the Forsaken World, a collection of stories strung together by recurring characters and timelessness. There are sixteen interconnected stories based on themes like poverty, abuse, revenge, and love.
I loved the unique structure of the book and the notion of a single world where no matter the location some things remain the same. And no matter who or where the reader they can relate to the story in some way. That said, the stories do unfold in four locations with nameless narrators and perspectives. There is a milkmaid, a journalist, a grandfather, a street vendor and so on. In his introduction, Bhat lays out points to keep in mind before the reader embarks on this journey “The reader is expected to handle this balancing act of individualising the narrators, constructing the stories of each world, and most importantly, being tossed back and forth through four localities the way technology is currently transcending our definitions of place.”
I liked how Bhat tests the boundaries of textuality, and the relationship between the text and the reader. By placing the stories in a very global context, Bhat wants to “guide readers to think globally.” This distant-yet-familiar, fictional-yet-real approach makes the narrative pliant and striking to read.
Yet, personally, I found the adaptability restricted to a cerebral level. Although the characters go through a lot of different situations, I found it difficult to empathise. I didn’t feel pulled towards any of the characters nor did I root for any of them. I felt like a bystander watching the goings-on rather than be a part of the scene.
Part fable, part magical realism, part gritty reality, We of the Forsaken World leaves you with a few thoughts. But not the deep feelings needed to pursue them.
Thanks to Kiran Bhat for kindly sending a copy for review! ...more
Reading "Left From the Nameless Shop" is like entering a friend's house and being introduced to a few acquaintances. You stay there for a while, and vReading "Left From the Nameless Shop" is like entering a friend's house and being introduced to a few acquaintances. You stay there for a while, and very soon the acquaintances turn into friends with whom you can crack an inside joke or have comfortable conversations about anything. Finally, when you leave it's like you have gained a family.
Adithi Rao's prose hugs you in that familiar way when she explores love in all its forms. There is the love for one's art (Devendrappa), friendship (all the people who help out Narayanamma during a difficult situation), a mother's love (Narayanamma and Srikanth), grandfatherly love (Dr Bhaskara and his granddaughter), spiritual love (Raghuvir and Goddess Parvati), and poignantly unfulfilled romantic love (Tessie's story).
Through all these interconnected stories, there is a strong sense of community. As with a small town, everyone knows everyone and everything. But the lack of privacy here is heartwarming. There's respect, honesty, and a deep acceptance of people the way they are. There's a strong bonding because of that where each one is confident of having support during times of crisis.
No, not everything is saccharine sweet. Rao infuses different shades into most of her characters making them more human. They are flawed, they have failings and that makes them more interesting. There is domestic politics, family secrets, and other small things that balance out the otherwise feel-good atmosphere.
The only problem I have with the book is the heavy handed use of Kannada dialogues, entire sentences, without translation. It wasn't a problem for me as I can follow the language perfectly well. But due to the language barrier, the majority of the readers might struggle to get into the skin of the novel entirely.
Barring this, "Left From the Nameless Shop" is a delightful, nostalgia-fuelled read....more
It's rare that you come across Konkani translations. In fact, this is only the second I have seen. I had never read anything wrMy rating is 3.5 stars.
It's rare that you come across Konkani translations. In fact, this is only the second I have seen. I had never read anything written by a Goan author, much less by one who is also a Sahitya Akademi award winner. All of these facts made me pick up Teresa's Man and Other Stories from Goa.
The stories, however, are more an evocation of Goa through the names of characters, lifestyles, and memories rather than being set in the place itself. All of them are easy to read with an interesting cast of people. But I can't really say each of the stories impressed me deeply. Some, like "Teresa's Man" and "Coinsanv's Cattle", explored the depth of human emotions and were well portrayed. I also particularly liked “For Death Does Not Come”, written from a water-snake's perspective.
Others like "A Writer's Tale" or “The Cynic” were nothing to write home about.
The characters in Dilip Kumar’s “Cat in the Agraharam and Other Stories” inhabit a banal yet strange world. Alternatively relatable and bizarre, they The characters in Dilip Kumar’s “Cat in the Agraharam and Other Stories” inhabit a banal yet strange world. Alternatively relatable and bizarre, they are people who leave a lasting impression on you despite their lives being lodged deep in the deadening routines of life.
“There are really no heroes to speak of in Dilip Kumar’s stories” says Martha Ann Selby, the translator, in her preface to the book. Yet, each one has an aura of their own, evoking pity or sadness. Most of the stories are laced with a biting irony and you feel the loneliness that the central character is going through. You feel their emptiness, their despair. Gangu Patti, for instance, is the foul-mouthed octogenarian who doles out advice on everything from career choices to sexual issues to the young women of the agraharam. Her manner of speaking grates on you but you see that it comes from soul-crushing disillusionment, and that she doesn’t mean anything by it. In fact, the more expletives she uses, the more she loves you!
The stories set across Coimbatore and Chennai give a revealing insight into middle-class living. They speak of a universal struggle with identity, sexuality, and boundaries. They are like a peephole that gives you “conversational vignettes” of the fabric of life.
And none of this would have been ever revealed to me without Martha Ann Selby’s masterful, brilliant translation. This is the first Indian translation by a non-Indian that I have read, and I never felt the difference. Selby has not just translated words in Dilip Kumar’s work but the heart and soul of it.
I leave you with a passage from the last story in the collection, which is about Comrade K. who was a writer. The passage contains a critic’s thoughts about Comrade K.’s stories. But he could very well be talking about Dilip Kumar himself. It sums up with great accuracy what I felt after reading Cat in the Agraharam and Other Stories. It also shows the high level of self-awareness that Dilip Kumar has for his writings to mirror them within his own story.
“The bitter world that Comrade K.’s writings unfold, the spontaneity of the people without class consciousness who inhabit that world, and their coarse logics deeply impressed me. Moreover, the simplicity and maturity of his language have the power to effect a wondrous calm in a reader’s mind. With a persistent undercurrent of violence and sexuality, his works constantly unsettle society’s basic values, and keep pushing us towards life’s enduring questions. His characters trample established social mores and understanding. Comrade K. gently teases life’s abstractions through the realities of human physicality.”
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the ARC!...more
I was looking forward to reading this book with much anticipation and was really happy when NetGalley kindly sent me a copy. But about a few pages in,I was looking forward to reading this book with much anticipation and was really happy when NetGalley kindly sent me a copy. But about a few pages in, I lost my way. And somehow I could not quite find it back again. I got lost in the maze of wordy passages and descriptions and it was difficult to tell who was saying what. Was it a monologue? Was it a dialogue?
I like the themes that Bourdouxhe has portrayed; themes of oppression, suppression, and the patriarchy. My favourite story was the last one in the collection - Sous le Pont Mirabeau. There was kindness, gentleness, and warmth in this story, which is ironically about the Second World War. But the warm welcome that the young mother and her baby received everywhere, even from soldiers, was quite touching.
I enjoyed the book in parts. I just wish more of the stories had the clarity of Sous le Pont Mirabeau.
A beautiful set of stories that can be finished in one sitting. More than short stories they read like vignettes, small glimpses of an incident or emoA beautiful set of stories that can be finished in one sitting. More than short stories they read like vignettes, small glimpses of an incident or emotions. Typical of the Japanese style of writing, they are reflective pieces that invite you into the character's thoughts or prompt you to think.
I came across this book in the most unlikeliest of places. I was scrolling through my Instagram feed and one of the latest uploads was from Michael YaI came across this book in the most unlikeliest of places. I was scrolling through my Instagram feed and one of the latest uploads was from Michael Yamashita, a renowned NatGeo photographer. The picture showed a set of steps that looked like they were naturally formed in the midst of a forest. The caption beneath said that Yamashita was following Basho's Trail.
I was hooked and I immediately got the book to read. Basho needs no introduction. His travel sketches describe the beautiful countryside of Japan and his deep emotional unrest through his mellifluous haikus.
This is one of those books that you want to return to again and again....more
As always, Bibhutibhushan's stories are a treat to read. While the translation was good it could have been better edited. Right now it feels choppy inAs always, Bibhutibhushan's stories are a treat to read. While the translation was good it could have been better edited. Right now it feels choppy in places. Nevertheless, not a bad reading experience....more
Studio Ghibli’s movie “Grave of the Fireflies” about a brother and sister who try to survive during WWII in Japan is one of my favourite movies. But tStudio Ghibli’s movie “Grave of the Fireflies” about a brother and sister who try to survive during WWII in Japan is one of my favourite movies. But the fact that it was based on a short story by acclaimed Japanese novelist Akiyuki Nosaka got lost somewhere in the massive shadow of the Ghibli brand. I didn’t know it until I received “The Cake Tree in the Ruins”, a compact volume of his short stories from Pushkin Press for a review. And I can’t thank them enough for sending me this book. I read it in two sittings, and it left me wishing for more.
Surprising, considering that all the stories deal with the depressing subject of war and its tragic effects. At least on the surface of it. All the 12 short stories in this book either take place or are building up to end on the same day – 15th August, 1945.
“On 15th August, 1945, Emperor Hirohito gave a recorded radio address across Japan, in which he announced the surrender of Japan to the Allies. As such, it is considered the day the war ended…” At once poignant, hopeful, and ironic, the stories in this collection tug at your hearts. Many of them highlight the absolute uselessness of war, and portrays the people who are really affected. It’s not governments and kingdoms but ordinary people. There are a few running themes that thread the stories together like the fight for survival, loss of family, and the effect of war on children.
There are very touching, heart wrenching moments. In “The Mother That Turned into a Kite,” little Katchan’s mother tries to save him from rapidly encroaching flames by rubbing her own sweat over his face “as if it were lotion.” In “The Old She-Wolf and The Little Girl” the titular she-wolf finds a little girl who has been abandoned by her family, and cares for her because she “didn’t smell of the things the wolf hated the most, leather and gunpowder…”
Animals and children dominate the book with the majority of the stories featuring either one or both of them. There is a certain kindness that continues to exist in Nosaka’s universe even though torn apart by war. A boy cares for his parrot till the day he dies, a pilot gets attached to his pet cockroach, a zookeeper nearly starves himself to feed his beloved elephant, and a man is determined to honour his horse’s trust in him. Love shines incandescent even during these extremely dark times.
For me, the glittering jewels of the collection are “The Whale That Fell in Love with a Submarine” and “The Cake Tree in the Ruins.” The former brought tears to my eyes when I came to the part where the poor whale was desperately trying to save his beloved even after he was hit by a bomb. I cannot describe it more without giving away the ending but I can say that this story will stay in my mind for some time.
In “The Cake Tree in the Ruins” there is a beautiful tree that continues to blossom even when the village is burning and flames lick the sky relentlessly.
“Some trees surrounding a shrine a short distance from the ruins had survived, but all their leaves had been scorched by the heat from the flames. Yet the leaves on this mysterious tree in the ruins of the big old house seemed to be sprouting one after another with fresh green growth.”
Soon, a group of children finds that the leaves of the tree are edible, sweet even, and that the bark is soft. They surmise that it’s a cake tree.
“All of the children had forgotten what cake was – or rather they had never even known. They had only heard about it from the old women…” They had no idea that cake “was so scrumptious!”
And with that one sentence where he at once informs us of this incredibly sad fact and, at the same time, elevates us with the children’s sheer joy in tasting cake for the first time, Nosaka’s supreme talent is brought to the fore. Brilliant strokes like this are rife in the book. He is probably one of the few authors I have read who totally, completely brings alive the genre of magical realism. There is hopeful magic in his stories that are also bleakly real. There are moments of illusory joy amidst tragic reality. Every story is a fairy tale. Every story is also something that happened just a few decades ago.
Nosaka’s words cling to you like steam to glass. Or should I say those of Ginny Tapley Takemori? If someone had handed over this book to me without telling me that it’s a translation, I never would have noticed. Smooth, evocative, and finely translated, Takemori’s words never waver but firmly places us in the setting and sentiment that Nosaka would have wanted us to feel.
This book might deal with a dark subject and you do feel the weight of senseless death. Yet, there are parts that I might venture to say are sweet and luminous. The stories are as deep and multi-layered, as beautiful and unique as the baumkuchen in the story of the cake tree. They are meant to be similarly savoured. Now, how can I not wish for more of them?...more
I have always loved reading Russian authors for their ability to delve deep into the psyche of life. I had never heard of Gaito Gazdanov before I got I have always loved reading Russian authors for their ability to delve deep into the psyche of life. I had never heard of Gaito Gazdanov before I got “The Beggar and Other Stories” from NetGalley and Pushkin Press (one of my favourite publishers now). Thank you for sending me the ARC for a review.
“The Beggar and Other Stories” is a collection of six vivid stories, each featuring one prominent character. The book opens with the story of “Maitre Rueil” in which the titular character is a spy. In the beginning, it appears like he has everything a man could ask for – prestige, women, and adventure. But then one day, suddenly and inexplicably, he is seized with “a sensation hitherto unknown to him, one of incomprehensible irritation and utterly inexplicable alarm. No one was there to see him off…” From there, we see the melancholic descent of a seemingly perfect man into one haunted by his past.
“Happiness” explores the touching bond between Dorin and his son Andre, which is disturbed when a stepmother, Madeleine, comes into the picture. The template might be old but Gazdanov’s treatment of it is certainly different.
In “Deliverance” Alexei Stepanovich comes into a lot of money but feels that his “omnipotent wealth” is just senseless and he “realized all the unbreakable horror of his life.”
“The Mistake” has overtones of Anna Karenina and features Katja, a bored housewife married to a kind man. But his “infallibility began to unnerve her sometimes – as if he were not a man, but a perfect, thinking machine.” Katja is tormented by an affair that she has with a younger man, and we see how her personality undergoes a sea change making her an insufferable person.
“The Beggar” is the glittering star in the collection. We meet Gustave Verdier, once a wealthy man, now a beggar who lives in a crate in Paris, in Champs Elysee. This ironically translates to Elysium Fields, the place where you find perfect happiness according to Greek mythology. Verdier is disillusioned with life and his wealth, and he decides to make himself disappear from his perfectly normal life, and live like a beggar.
Lastly, there is “Ivanov’s Letters”, where we meet Nikolai Franzevich who “seemingly” is a man of letters, cultured, and wealthy. He had few friends and they too don’t seem to know much about him. But the mystery begins to unravel and we are prompted to think about his very existence.
Clearly, the biggest theme that runs through all the stories is disillusionment with life. A numbing that overtakes the characters rendering them heavily lugubrious and spiritless. The motif of blindness (Dorin goes blind, Verdier listens to a blind boy play the accordion) is peppered throughout to, perhaps, reinforce the characters’ closing their eyes to life.
My personal favourites are “The Mistake” and “The Beggar”, the former for its Tolstoy-esque feel and the latter because there were long passages that just stood out like stars on a dark night. “He was free now – because nobody needed him; he had no belongings, no money, no ability to influence anything anywhere, no ability to help or harm anyone in any way, in a word, nothing…”
How can you resist passages like this?
Although Gazdanov’s exploration of the human mind and life is not as incisive or destructive or shot through with passion like that of Tolstoy or Dostoyevsky it certainly gives us a look at modern life. Where the earlier Russian masters focused on intense emotions and feelings, most of Gazdanov’s characters are anaesthetized. This pervasive dullness is what infuses most of the stories with reality, holding up a mirror to modern life.
“…the majority of people feel constrained by those conditions that determine their existence. Their soul, their intellect demand something else, as though each of them needs to live several lives, and not just one.”
Bryan Karetnyk's brilliant and seamless translation of Gazdanov’s stories preserves their soul. Unlike the people in his stories who have lost theirs....more
After going through an interminably long book slump where at least 4 to 5 books have been abandoned, half-read (ashamed face), it was Kalki that finalAfter going through an interminably long book slump where at least 4 to 5 books have been abandoned, half-read (ashamed face), it was Kalki that finally revived the joy of reading. Deeply cultural and resonating with ideals and beliefs unusual for the time, these stories, written between 1925 and 1950, are a delight to read. The translation is not really smooth but the beauty of the stories overcomes this hurdle. This is my first encounter with Kalki and I can't wait to read more of his works. ...more
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