The Private Life of Henry VIII. on Super 8mm film

'Blood and Sand' on Super 8

'Judith of Bethulia' on Super 8 film

'College' on film

The Projectionist

Man Booker 2011: Shortlist to the Winner

Enthusiasm towards cinema often saw me on the road to the Oscars, and film awards in India, well prepared. Oftentimes, I'd have watched most movies nominated for the Oscars in several categories. Guessing the winner was always fun in a social setting. See, cinema doesn't take as much effort as reading. So, everybody finds it easier to keep up, thereby making it more fun to predict the winners as a group. The Booker Prize being literary, poses more social challenges. People being unable to "find time" to read transmutes into individual rumination over Longlists and Shortlists. Fortunately, with Revathi managing to keep pace, to some extent, this road is hasn't been as lonely.

Man Booker and I go back, not way back, but back. From 2010, I eventually read the entire Shortlist, and one from the Longlist. In 2009, I was AWOL, but I will read the winner and the Byatt soon. 2008 had Aravind Adiga, in addition to which I read Ghosh and Hanif, and have a personal copy of the Barry one at home. The years before these are a blur with books here and there: Indra Sinha, Salman Rushdie, Kiran Desai, J.G. Farrell, and V.S. Naipail. This prize, and its archive, have given Revathi and me a lot to talk about.

Shadowing this award has been a wish for the last two years. Last year, the availability of novels in the US became my biggest obstacle. This year, I have read the entire Shortlist, one from the Longlist, and, will read at least two more from the Longlist at some point of time. Revathi has read three from the Shortlist. With no one, other than my wife, into whose gullet I can force my expositions, I have turned to my blog. My views on the Shortlist, arranged in sequential order of reading, and a look into possible winners, follow.

Jamrach's Menagerie was my first novel from the Longlist. Even now, as I look at the illustration the novel opens with, I can recall the book in near entirety. I love this book. Revathi loves this book. Wait, ..... A.S. Byatt loves this book. Jay Parini loves this book. Even fellow Longlisted author, D.J. Taylor, likes this book. Praises on the cover, the blurb, and on the first few pages, raised expectations sky-high. Despite this, the book exceeded expectations. The Victorian setting at the start didn't suck me in, but from the time Jaffy boarded that ship I was tuned in. I hunted a whale, outsmarted a dragon [sic], then, three waterspouts sunk my ship, ....... I could just go on. Those 100 pages, as a critic put it, "there is a 100 page section where you can't breathe", are unforgettable. Then the surprisingly emotional third act, sealed the deal for me. So often I have come across a story where I just hate the third act; just waiting for it to finish. Here, and am not lying, when my book finished on the last line of page 295, I turned to rue the blank page that followed. Now, I own a copy of Moby Dick that I must read, I purchased Treasure Island and read it, borrowed, read and loved The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. There have been many putting this book down saying it is too similar to works from the past. To them I ask, how many novels make you want to look back at literature? I annunciate that this one does. Even Life of Pi can be more appreciated now. Carol Birch has produced a book that can win the Booker this year. If she does, there will not a happier fan than me.

I followed the adventure on the high seas with The Sisters Brothers. Revathi, having already read this, didn't fall in love with the book. Last week, Salman Rushdie tweeted it among his two "best (recent) reads". As for me, there are sections of the book I enjoyed - the visit to the dentist, the innovation of the toothbrush, the re-imagining of the toothbrush as romantic device, the horse - Tub, the duel, the narrator, anesthesia and more - but, I am reserved about calling this a winner. I liked Patrick deWitt's second novel enough to grab his first novel, at 10% of its cover price when Borders shut down. In fact, the premise of his first novel intrigues me more than this book's did. I will be faintly surprised if this won, but it can win.

The meaning of Snowdrops, in Russia, came into my vocabulary after the deWitt. I liked the confessional epistlesque style of this book. How do we judge the narrator here? Is he truthful? Is he hiding behind his words? These were constantly running through my mind as I turned the pages. The unreliable narrator was brought to focus, if am right, by Gunter Grass in his The Tin Drum. Whilst I gathered evidence to judge the narrator, I enjoyed the year described in Moscow - the weather, the women, the businessmen, Kremlin, real-estate fraud, Snowdrops. It reminded me of The White Tiger where an inside view of India was presented, here it's the outsider's perspective. With its visuals, scope for debates on the narrator's character, this is a very good first work by Andrew Miller. However, being too limited in scope by the confines and vices of fiction, I don't expect this to win.

Staying in the spirit of Stephen Kelman's writing - Asweh, Pigeon English is the funniest book I ever read. Okay, if not the funniest, it's at least one of the funnier books I have read. The joys in the forefront are plenty, and, the portentous backdrop brings a twinge of fear to every smile. Although hackneyed, I like this kind of writing device wherein the reader is aware of the threat that looms whilst the protagonist is mirthful. Of the three from the shortlist Revathi has read, this is her favorite. The present day social relevance gives this book an edge over the likes of Jamrach's Menagerie. This, to me, is reminiscent of the The White Tiger being preferred by the judges over, like say, Sea of Poppies, which was I feel due to Adiga's choice of a socially relevant theme over some Ghosh's brilliant writing. I love this novel, and can see this winning on Tuesday.

I'd finished only these four books after the declaration of the Longlist. At this stage, I liked all four enough to see them progress to the Shortlist. Could the four I have read from thirteen all proceed to a Shortlist of six? Despite the mathematical odds, all four books are now in the Shortlist. Next, I read D.J. Taylor's Derby Day. Despite liking it, I felt it justified that book remained in the Longlist.

Opportunity to finish the shortlist arrived with Half Blood Blues. Esi Edugyan, I love you. Since am learning to play the trumpet, I accidentally switched on TCM to watch Young Man with a Trumpet, and now this novel comes along. First up, I have to mention that I didn't enjoy the first few pages. Then, so many things drew me in - the male narrator's voice by a female writer, the life of Blacks during the Second World War, a cameo by Louis Armstrong, love, friendship, the few paragraphs that describe the feeling of jazz. Despite its cinematic disfigurement of chronology to withold key plot points , and the fictional vice of life-altering-betrayal, I love this novel. Currently, a close friend and I have hit some speed bumps, so this book, Edugyan's interview on the Booker site, and Shehan Karunatilaka's Chinaman: The Legend of Pradeep Mathew, all tell me that real friendship forgives the greatest of character follies. Then, there is the trite, but possibly true, remark by Louis Armstrong suggesting excelling in music is just one facet of life, people skills are just as important. Oh, am now getting pansy. Let me stop with: I love this novel, it will probably be made in a much-loved Hollywood Oscar contender, Esi Edugyan has potential for great writing, and I wouldn't mind her winning. Unfortunately, I think it probably won't.

As I reached The Sense of an Ending, I couldn't help but feel an ironic sense of a finality, to this Shortlist, to a summer of intense reading stretching a bit into fall, to a feeling this maybe the first and last time I get through a Shortlist, etc. Everyone says it will be Julian Barnes' year. He says he'd like to win, although in the past, I believe, he has spoken against this prize. Now, I must admit to not reading this with the best of my powers of concentration. So, had to read up on the Booker forums to understand it better. There I noticed others too were grappling with the story, some had read it twice. Me, I was just as confused as the narrator was right through the book. In the last three pages, I lost faith in the narrator to even unravel the mystery. Finally, reading online I think I have understood the mystery. My opinion, there's so much happening in a mere 150 pages - characterization, mystery, love, friendship, education, and all with new interpretations and feelings. I respect the work, I admire it. I didn't enjoy it as much as I usually do a good book. Perhaps the writing was too abstruse for me, maybe this is my reason for feeling that this book is light years ahead of the other five on the Shortlist, and my literary capacity at present. Final word, this is most likely going to win. Julian Barnes has been flirting with the prize for long, and when you do that, you increase your chances of winning, much like Scorsese winning an Oscar for The Departed.

Which would I like to see win? Jamrach's Menagerie gets my vote.

Which will win? Word of mouth, bookies, stature - all point to The Sense of an Ending.

Inefficacy of the Colossal

Is SRT greater than all other Indian batsmen? I agree, he is great. In addition to cricketing matters, there lie social and political reasons placing him above every other cricketer, maybe even all other sportsmen, in the world. His influence goes beyond a mere twenty-two yards. However, purely from cricketing point of view, let me argue my case. I shall try to use facts, and sporting discretion only.

For the case of SRT versus the Rest of the World, in this case India, let's recall all of our wins in the last decade, in reverse chronological order. Wins I can't forget are in bold, and, wins I will ensure my grand-children won't forget are underlined. In parentheses are, in my opinion, the defining moments.

1. West-Indies, Sabina Park
2. South-Africa, Durban (VVS plays two match-defining knocks, helps retain #1 ranking which could have been lost)
3. Australia, Bangalore
4. Australia, Mohali (VVS, Ishant, #1 ranking retained by winning the first match of series)
5. Sri-Lanka, Colombo (VVS ton seals chase, first time we don't lose a series in Sri-Lanka, #1 ranking could have been lost)
6. Sri-Lanka, Kanpur
7. Sri-Lanka, Mumbai
8. New-Zealand, Hamilton
9. England, Chennai (Sehwag sets up big chase, Gambhir, SRT, Yuvraj cash in; days later RSA chase even bigger in Perth)
10. Australia, Nagpur
11. Australia, Mohali
12. Sri-Lanka, Galle (Horrid series for Fab-Four, Sehwag carries bat for 201*)
13. South-Africa, Kolkata
14. Australia, Perth (Dravid's 91 on first day, VVS then rallies tail in second innings, Irfan is MoM)
15. Pakistan, Delhi
16. England, Nottingham (re-emergence of ZaK)
17. West-Indies, Sabina Park (Dravid twin-fifties in Sabina Park takes us to 1-0 win in West-Indies)
18. South-Africa, Johannesburg (only time I have seen an Indian bowler pelting opposition with pure pace, Sreesanth)
19. England, Mohali
20. Sri-Lanka, Ahmedabad
21. Sri-Lanka, Delhi
22. Pakistan, Kolkata
23. South-Africa, Kolkata (come back to level a two test series)
24. Australia, Mumbai (7 session test match of unremitting tension with a doctored pitch)
25. Pakistan, Rawalpindi (Dravid's monumental 270)
26. Pakistan, Multan (first Indian triple centuion: Sehwag, Dravid's debatable declaration with SRT stuck on 196*)
27. Australia, Adelaide (Branded 'The Dravid Test' by Outlook, or India Today, can't remember which one)
28. West-Indies, Chennai
29. West-Indies, Mumbai
30. England, Leeds (Dravid, no one recalls SRT and Ganguly's tons on the sun-out second day)
31. West-Indies, Port of Spain
32. Australia, Chennai (VVS, Bhajji, SRT made century under easier conditions in the first innings)
33. Australia, Kolkata (VVS, Dravid, Bhajji)

These are the victories starting with the event, Sachin and Sehwag concur with this, that changed the direction of Indian cricket in 2001: VVS Laxman's 281. I believe am not missing a single win, except those over Zimbabwe and Bangladesh. SRT has almost been comatose in these matches.

Let me point out, am not making a case again SRT. Nor am I trying to push Dravid's case. Am trying to question the basis for statistical arguments for branding someone as great. A strong case for Sachin are his "51 centuries". Now, am trying to push the case for runs made in the crucial situations of a test match, those moments in five days which define that match, sometimes even that particular series, thereby, getting seared in our heads. Surely, you don't read SRT too much on this list. So, I feel, towards Indian wins Sachin has not contributed much. His supporters like to say SRT is often the lone man standing, no one plays around him, cricket is not a one-man show, etc. I too can say that he stands tall in defeats whereby having a mere dilatory affect on the outcome. There is the undefined X-factor coming into play here.

Ditty #1

Team India's numero uno status is at stake. Yet, Zaheer Khan started the first test match at Lord's totally unfit. After thirteen-and-a-half overs, he pulled a hamstring. That day, a ditty on an e-mail notification for a casual round of cricket read:

Let's go hard at those strides in our bowling,

let's not worry 'bout hurting that hamstring,

let's lose that number one ICC ranking.

Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

Despite dizzying distinction this novel enjoys, single digit ranks in many all-time fiction lists, I didn't have it in my reading list of the next few years. Even Kubrick's screen adaptation wasn't going to make me read it any time soon. When an erudite friend started the novel, I felt it might make engaging dinner discourse.

Oftentimes with great novels I am surprised. This novel was no different, at least in two ways, it's first person narration and deft changes in genre.

A few lines in, I realized, this is a first person narration. Knowing the theme of the book, old-man-falling-for-an-adolescent, I didn't expect this, that too being put in the mind of the old man. If at all, POV from the pubescent seemed the way to go to evoke pity. This takes guts, irrespective of the era, telling the story from the mind of a tyrant. Nabokov manipulated me in the first few pages even. H.H., two first names, same first and last names, loses his first love in adolescence. In fact, he has a Kuala Lumpur Police Department [KLPD] moment, courtesy Animal's People, and ever since all sexual encounters conjure up images of his KLPD, thereby leading to a dissatisfaction. We, as readers, feel this too, which wells up an intended pathos, of sympathy, for HH. The first person narration makes it all the more effective.

If there is drama up to this point, there is some sort of comedy to follow. H.H. is a tenant to a widowed landlady, Ms. Haze, amd, more importantly, her nymphet daughter, Dolores, a.k.a. Lolita, with aliases aplenty. Characteristics attributed to Mrs. Haze, from miss to mrs. on account of her marriage to H.H., and her neighbours keep the comedic section of the book going. McFate, I love this euphemism, gives H.H. an opening, or is it an H.H. super-duper plan, to leave town with Lolita.

With the two genre changes, drama to comedy, the novel keeps going. There is a noirish build up to the (reverse) seduction in a dingy motel, following an equally suspenceful pick-up of Lolita from a summer camp. For the romantic, there is an artistic description of Lolita's tennis form, something only a lover of Lo, and tennis, can observe. Then there are all the road-trips these two take, reminding me of The Motorcycle Diaries, or even the yet to view Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara. Then there is the feel of James Hadley Chase novels where the miscreants are in possession of the only gun. There is the usual disdainful spite of adults towards youth pop culture with H.H.'s contempt of Lolita's reading and listening habits. There is also a point, I too noticed this soon after coming to the US, Nabokov makes of scenery in the US as visually arresting but harmful to humans from close quarters.

The first person narrative put me in the mind of the wrong-doer. I realized that not every crime is committed in cold blood. Criminals could be acting from involuntary compulsions, which, I don't say, excuse them from committed crimes. Perhaps I should read more novels written in first person.

The deft changes in genre I loved. If I write fiction, I want to have this quality. This, I feel, can help me overcome some fallacies of fiction in the second and third acts. This is also one of the things people who haven't read the book may not know of. Over the years, it has been talked about as a very very bold, sexual book. Having read it, I can say it is so much more than pedophilic pornography.

Evoking a Rajeev Masand finish to a review: For surprising me, and overcoming vertigolike anticipation, I am going with five stars for Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita.

Rating: 5/5

A box of cakes

- "I ate a plate of rice."
- "I never eat the plate."

- "Shall I serve two spoons of curry?"
- "You can keep the spoons."

- "You guys would have finished the box of cakes by six!"

- "Not the box."

My wife has, over the last three years, repeatedly, been at the receiving end of such "witty repartees" from, two particular, gentlemen friends of mine. Yesterday, when I was at the receiving end, not for the first time, the monkey was on my back.

Firstly, the phrases, "plate of rice", etc., seem correct to me. I have the Third College Edition Webster's New World English Dictionary which says all these words, in addition to the obvious noun, mean 'the contents of ...... ', except for 'spoon' where 'spoonful' is the recommended usage. Even internet searches yield the same. Clearly, there doesn't seem to be any mistake.

Finally, the issue remains of such lines being passed off as humor. As a middle-school kid, being an English pundit, I'd correct Uncles' English. The laughter it would elicit from other Uncles egged me on till I reached PUC. What was cute three years before, was now crass. But it's not this that put me off. It's that,

1. After three years of falling back on highlighting linguistic lapses, which aren't even lapses, as presentation of humor the gentleman still continues to do so.
2. When I tell him the remark is trite, he says that even for this cliche I don't have a comeback. What should I tell him? "Dude, I ain't wrong, and, you ain't funny after three years."
   

Rajkamal naam mera, jo na bhool kare

In the days leading up to Appu Raja I watched two other favorites of mine from the 1990s, Andaz Apna Apna and Hum Hain Rahi Pyaar Ke. With the two films starring Amir Khan, I felt mortified with my taste in story-telling. I redeemed myself a little with Appu Raja.

Appu Raja is unquestionably a formula film. Honest cop is killed by gangsters, his wife gives birth to twins, twins are separated, crime must lead to punishment (at least in movies, with the exception of Farhan Akhtar's Don) implying revenge must be plotted. This is probably how Panju Arunachalam must have started writing ......... then he got smarter than a fifth grader. Kamal Haasan is credited with the screenplay, so he deserves plaudits as well. On a familiar skeleton is a film fleshed so full of marinated meat, mmmmm ......., that it's now cherished, despite its trite basic story.

The choice of a Kamal Haasan with stunted growth must have been fresh at the time. It took so much effort that a feat like this hasn't been repeated. The film tries to look into the feeling of being a dwarf. He can't get a girl because of his short stature, even his own mother feels so. Even Animal in Indra Sinha's Animal's People has similar problems. On hearing the story of his father's demise and and his mother being poisoned he sets on a killing spree. But the reason for revenge is just as much personal, for his stunted growth, unlike the usual revenge saga where the hero avenges a wife's murder or the slaughter of father he has never met, who later turn out alive.

Secondly, it shows us a circus. This is one reason why I read novels and watch movies, I want to know how it feels to be in a new place and this film at least has a go at it. Appu is given friends unlike heros in other films, Suraj the parrot, Jimmy the tiger, Arjun and Saraswati the pomerians, who later help plot his revenge. After all, why risk other humans when animals are not culpable by law. Every murder by Appu involves resources and trickery from a circus. Isn't this better than going on a bullet-spraying rampage?

I already said this is a formula film. Since the story has already been told before, to see what's new in such films we must look for stories it chooses not to tell. Let's see:

1. In the version I watched, believe it's the full version of 150 minutes, there is no scene of Appu being briefed by his mother on a possibly twin.
   
2. There is no scene of tearful union of Appu and Raja or one of tearful union of Raja and his biological mother.
3. There is no confrontational scene between Gowthami and her evil father. Even Sidharth finds it necessary to confront his father, Anumpan Kher, in Rang De Basanti.
   
4. Another scene is when the circus master is being convinced by a mob to adopt a Christian son-in-law; this is always the in-focus story in a movie. Here, it is Appu's regret of being short statured that plays out in front of the frame while the issue of inter-religious marriage is easily solved in the background.

I am not even going to discuss the ingenious ways Appu uses to get at the wrongdoers. In the spirit of the film, it is a story I choose not to tell.

RATING: 5/5

PS: The film opens with the gory killing of inspector Raghupati. Reminded me of the climax of Scorsese's Taxi Driver.

PPS: If you think you are having fun watching Amar vs. Prem in Andaz Apna Apna, then please check other works of Singeetham Srinivas Rao and Kamal Haasan: Michael Madhana Kamarajan, Pushpak, Maglir Mattum, even his recent Mumbai Express is zanier.

Indra Sinha, Animal's People

This was my first novel in about three months, didn't blog about the last few, so, I wanted to read something I'd love. Something that would make me rush through my next novel. Rush through its pages so hurriedly that the friction between fiction and my vision would, literally, sear the book's pages. Animal's People was no such book for me.

In the last few years of my reading, I have enjoyed certain aspects of fiction: description of locales, characterization, the story, to name a few. For example, The Inheritance of Loss, despite its familiar storyline, put me in Kalimpong; The White Tiger made me a driver driven to murder; The Satanic Verses had the convoluted yet enjoyable storyline. Of course, there are always Tom McCarthy and David Mitchell who try to push the limitations of fictional writing and I have liked their books too. Indra Sinha's Animal's People, shortlisted for the 2007 Booker Prize, fails in creating Khaufpur and builds trite characters to tell a hackneyed story without employing any noticeable new techniques of writing fiction. Having finished the book I can't navigate Khaufpur in my head; apart from Animal I don't feel anything for the characters; the story I have almost forgotten. Most books in my blog, even ones that I haven't discussed here, are from Booker Prize lists and this is my least favorite of all such books.

The first forty or so pages I was impressed, Kakadu shorts, Zafar, Nisha, Pandit Somraj, "Namispond! Jamispond!", Elli ......... it was the introduction of Elli where the book started sliding downhill. The set-up of the novel promised plenty, but neither does it do anything magical to conclude nor does it root itself to simplicity to deliver a convincing end. Salman Rushdie goes berserk to conclude Midnight's Children, remember Salim Sinai being used as a dog on all fours for his super sense of smell (feeling much like Animal here), and Aravind Adiga takes The White Tiger to its logical conclusion: subversion to servitude by murder and thieving. Indra Sinha doesn't do either. Me, I was only interested as long as Animal was talking about his XXXL-sized lund and other such primal instincts. I enjoyed all the swearing and cursing; there is a brave, am yet to read a book that does this, description of the female genitalia, so ..... what can I say except ...... flowery. In some way I sympathized with Animal's casual philosophy towards Zafar, Nisha and Somraj's activism. The conclusion to the novel says, I believe, that the author feels the same way. Perhaps Animal is not inspired from Sunny, as the author claims, but Sinha's own feelings towards the situation.

Indians writing in Inglis, I love to read them. Perhaps it's because I am not in India now. Perhaps its also because I can't read any regional Indian language. I have read R.K. Narayan, Salman Rushdie, Jhumpa Lahiri, Kiran Desai, Amitav Ghosh, Aravind Adiga; I liked them. I know there's Mulk Raj Anand (incidentally a friend of Indra Sinha), Arundhati Roy, Anita Desai, Raja Rao, Suketu Mehta, Vikram Seth and other writers to read. Yet I hunted for this book, looking through the Booker Prize shortlists. I didn't just come across it randomly. So, I was looking forward to this book. I didn't like it despite wanting to.

The novel, close to its finish, says something like, "in the end, humor alone can take us through tragedy." Alas, the humor failed collectively, quantitatively and qualitatively, to save the tragedy called Animal's People.

RATING: 3/5