Reflections: Corelli's Mandolin

I have not watched the movie adaptation of this book, so I don’t have any reference points.

Stories of War that deal with both human suffering and enduring love strike that perfect formula to churn a human heart. Love and tragedy go so well together in stories.

This is the story surrounding the wars that erupted between Greece and Italy during the time of the second world war. This is the story of Pelagia, a Greek woman who lives through the many wars amidst love and loss. The harsh realities of war teach her to value the most essential elements of life and understand the meaning and depth of love. There are several interesting and strong characters in the book. Captain Corelli is one of them. The Italian Captain takes over Pelagia’s island, but has a rare mix of personality traits - kindness and compassion coupled with wit and bravery. He hates war, but is attached to his duty. So he does his best to minimize harm and create friendship and well-being between the Italians and Greek (at least those on the island). Pelagia and the Captain fall in love and patiently hope for the war to end while nurturing ideas of their future together. And then the Germans invade, and everything is washed away.

This is a simple story. But a powerful one. It’s mostly about the ravages of war, and the coming of age of an innocent and intelligent woman. Pelagia is molded and hardened by the horrors around her, and her immense strength provides a beacon of hope to the men in her life. During times of excruciating difficulties and atrocities, the human psyche changes in one of three ways - 1) it is deeply, irrevocably wounded and scarred, withdrawing into a reclusive shell, 2) it manages to rise to a positive place of strength, compassion, and constructive action despite the scars or 3) it sinks into an abyss of self-destructive cruelty and negativity due to the festering wounds. The author explores all of these changes in the human psyche through his extremely well developed characters. He fleshes them out as sympathetic characters, each driven to their ways due to the circumstances of war and survival.

In parallel to the above themes, the story explores the nature of different types of love: the one that is dominated by lust, the one that endures after the fire of lust has burned out, the one that is born from loyalty and admiration, the one that is shared between a parent and child, the one that slowly develops between wounded souls that heal each other, the one that is at the heart of friendships etc. At the end of all the destruction and tragedy, the one essential tonic that keeps us humans going is love. It sounds corny when I write it, but the book beautifully brings this out.

There is also a lot of history in this book. It is primarily a historical document. The characters are just used to color the history more vividly. So, the story moves slow. However, the excellent writing makes the reading experience worthwhile. Despite the heavy theme on war, I appreciated the intelligent humour and wit that laces through the story and the characters. I laughed out loud at scenes, smiled through many passages, and loved Pelagia’s dad and the Captain. In many ways, Pelagia’s dad reminded me of my own, and that made it all the more endearing. I was emotionally invested in the characters and lived through their terrors and hopes. I felt Pelagia’s pain and was moved to tears.

With such great things to gush, I did find one thing unsatisfactory - it was the way the story ended. The last hundred pages seemed rushed, and the ending was inconsistent with the raw realism of the rest of the story. With so much beauty and insight that accompanied the rest of the story, I don’t understand why the author ended the story in an over-the-top romantic manner and with the Captain behaving in the most infuriating manner possible. The ending felt flat and deflated. I guess I am too old for romance of this kind.

That aside, this is a book heavy with thoughtful and intelligent commentary on war, survival, and love. The writing reminded me of a serious version of Wodehouse, which has biased me, no doubt.

Reflections: Mockingjay

This is the final book in The Hunger Games trilogy. I really liked the final book. The first and second books were mostly suspenseful and disturbing, but the third one really delivered the characters and storyline. The rebellion is in full-swing. The rebels congregate and strengthen the unit in District 13 and are ready to overthrow the Capitol. Katniss represents the symbol of the rebellion - the Mockingjay. Katniss supports the rebellion in principle, but she can’t reconcile the death and ravage it is bringing about. Is it worth any cause to sacrifice the lives of the innocent? The question harangues her and consumes her, but she resolves to kill President Snow, if that’s the last thing she does. Can she save Peeta from the tortuous clutches of the Capitol? Can human-beings ever be able to sustain life after the horrific war? Can she ever lead a normal life after all this? These are the questions that plague the reader as much as Katniss as they race through the book.

Due to all the introspection that the protagonist goes through, much of the heavier themes are suitably addressed in the final book. True, the themes have not been delved into their true, fathomless depths, but it’s a good exploration for a young-adults' book. The writing never came to the forefront of my reading experience until this book. The writing tackles the moral and ethical dilemmas of war, conflict, and revenge, in a manner that both teenagers and adults can feel the severity and weight of the issues. The climax is particularly well-written. Katniss’s growth is tragically and sensitively fleshed out, and real emotions of pain, despair, and agony scream across the pages. True, this book is also heartrendingly painful to read, but everything is conveyed much better than in its prequels. The brutality of the situations is tempered with a certain quality of philosophical irony, and balanced with a good measure of human goodness.

No doubt, this is yet another violent book. I went through similar nightmares as Katniss, just by reading the book. Katniss’s and Peeta’s psychological states were also realistically written.

The main thing the book misses on is the political shift (if any) that happens at the end. What happens to the political situation? What are the new credos? The political manifesto? Will there still be a Capitol and subordinate districts? How would they all operate? Etc.. It’s not clear if democracy is set. Not that it matters to Katniss at this juncture, but the book would have been more powerful if it had at least grazed these questions.

The book ends on the major note that it is important for people to always pay attention to the political scenarios and not remain selfishly complacent with their comfortable outward existence. Each of us plays a role in the political beliefs held by our community as a whole. It’s a nice message for teenagers to think beyond their bubble of entertainment and romance. Political responsibility is indeed important for all of us to cultivate, no matter our age or status.

I think the series works best as a whole, and not necessarily as individual books. Taken together, there is a surprising level of progress in writing, story-telling, and the characters with each book in the series. The entire series proved to be an interesting, if disturbing, read for me.

Reflections: The Splendor of Silence

With this book, I can now say I have read all books written by Indu Sundaresan thus far. With most of her books, excepting her short-story collection, I’ve experienced a love-hate relationship. Hate is probably a harsh word... let’s call it frustration. But because of my adoration for her writing, I keep going back, and continue to alternate between two states of mind (and heart) as I read her book.

The Splendor of Silence had an enticing premise for me. In the pre-Independence times of India, when the Nationalist movements were simmering and bubbling, an intriguing and dashing American with a whole lot of secrets in his bag, enters Rudrakot and sweeps the heart of a well-educated, refined Indian woman. As he sets fire to a series of irrevocable events, hearts get shattered, peace gets violated, but romance lives on. Sorry for the cheesy introduction, but that’s how the book comes across - a little cheesy, but surely entertaining! I am a sucker for such romances no doubt, but there was a part of me that scoffed at the story, as much as another part of me got attached to the idealistic images. If I had written a novel when I was younger (and a romance novel at that), I would have likely written (or conceived) something exactly like this story. It has all the elements that point to the dreamy, naive, idealistic me. In that regard, I feel a special kinship with Indu! She thinks very similar to me, sets the stage and characters in a fashion almost identical to my imagination.... of a younger me.

But a few things didn’t come together to make this a cohesively compulsive and impressive book. The book contains plenty of rich history surrounding India’s independence struggle, the class discriminations of the snobbish British Raj compounded with the Indian caste system, and the acute identity crisis suffered by both Indians and British alike. Although this book is hence showcased as a historical fiction, it is basically a romantic story that is couched in a historical context. The background is historical, and some characters symbolize the different kinds of attitudes and mind-sets worn by people of that time. These aspects surely portray the political, social, and culture climate of India accurately, but they don’t weave into the story well. There are paragraphs and pages of narration and explantions on the history and social commentary, and they stand alone from the story and some of the characters. There are many “asides”, digressions, and tangents that delve into facts and history, while the character would have uttered just a sentence. So, it sort of became a frustrating mix of fiction and non-fiction. If there is one scene, one dialogue, it is then accompanied with two whole pages of factual writing, explaining the caste system, the characters’ history, past etc. In essence, most of the book was a narration, a commentary, and it kept switching from one character’s point of view to the next, most of which didn’t fit in line with how the story was delivered - as a letter from a character. So, while the main story did not leap to life until the last 75 pages of the book, the remainder of the book involved a very slow process of setting the stage and providing all the history. I would have preferred if the characters (and the story) related and portrayed the history, rather than it being delivered through detailed, explicit narration, which defeats the value of fiction.

Secondly, the characters, excepting one, were flat. I don’t have the faces of the two main characters in my head. I couldn’t imagine them all through the story - they were caricatures in my head, and did not bloom into personalities with a face and voice that I will remember for a while. Indu Sundaresan writes such gorgeous prose, but she somehow misses out on what details to give shape to, to bring her characters to life. A whole page of beautiful descriptions of the characters’ attire, or the chair in which they are seated does not help define the character. It makes the environment alive and vibrant, but not the core of the characters. Further, it was incongruous to hear all the characters speak the same, impeccable style of English as that of the narrator. How can all characters speak alike? That too speak in such good English all the time? True, people spoke much better elite English in the 1940s, but still! And like me, brevity is not Indu’s forte :). There are so many words, so many pages, tiny text crammed into 400 sheets of paper, but the volume does not indicate depth, unfortunately.

Digested Thoughts: Still, I enjoyed reading the book. I love reading about strong and refined women of the early times, especially one so strong as to break barriers and fall in love with an American. Although the protagonists’ courage seemed a notch too unrealistically scandalous and fickle at times, and the romance seemed amateurish, I still liked reading the book. The prejudices, insecurities, and confusions of the British and the Indians come at you strong. We still face the colonial hangover of those heady times. Although it has its flaws, I have to concede that this is not an easy subject to write about - India's history,  past, society, and culture is far too complex anyway. But more than anything, I loved savoring Indu Sundaresan’s writing and for mainly that reason, I give the book a high rating.

 

Reflections: Ceremony

Tayo is a Native-American war veteran who stumbles into his present life after experiencing the horrors of war as a Japanese prisoner during World War II. The violence and morbidness of being in war has left him hanging on the edges of his sanity. His past haunts him relentlessly, and his bitterness grows towards the Army and the Americans who still racially segregate and exploit his people. His family in the Laguna Pueblo reservation try to help him get back on his life through a mystic medicine man. This is a grim narration of Tayo’s journey of healing as he resorts to age-old superstitious rituals and reconnects with himself by establishing his own ceremony to cure his weathered spirit.

The book started off powerfully, but the momentum faltered somewhere in the middle and didn’t pick up pace for me. The tone is morose, and adds to the weight of the subject. Although I was captivated by the writing at first, it became increasingly abstract and disconnected. Silko shifts rapidly between time periods, contexts and characters that half the time it seems like we are in one of Tayo’s disturbed dreams. Silko' s disconnected style of writing, in terms of flashes of memories and threads from the past, doesn’t work well all the time, especially when the narration shifts into the present. The rituals and myths also did not sink into me.... they were far too mystical, abstract and cryptic for me to see how they related to Tayo, or his heritage or healing. In the end, I feel like I haven’t grasped as much as what the author intended to convey, and that’s a disappointment.

I made sense out of Tayo’s main “ceremony” as his way of completing what he had left behind when he had joined the Army. A part of him seemed focused on assuaging his guilt as one way of making peace with his past and facing the present. Silko’s underlying thread throughout the story is the unfairness, hypocrisy and selfishness of the Army and the “white” people, who stoke internal conflicts and misery within isolated Native-American communities, using them when needed and ignoring them and not hesitating to trample on them to meet their ruthless ends.

It’s a powerful theme that could have been fleshed out better if the writing didn’t hover over fleeting boundaries of poetry, and enigmatic mysticism. But as I said, I have perhaps not been sharp enough to pick up on something significant.

 
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Digested thoughts: I am starting this new addition to save readers from the misery of parsing through my review-like-non-review, and wonder what the bottom line is and if it’s worth their time to read this book. So.... I would give this book the following smiley/rating (an elaborated rating scheme is on the side-bar):

 This book did not leave a strong enough impression on me - neither positive nor negative. I liked it for its powerful themes, but the writing, the ancient rituals and allusions to witch-craft were too abstract to hold me down and let me savor the story.

Reflections: The Palace of Illusions

Each of our realities lies tacit and veiled within our perceptions. Truth and the objectiveness of reality will continue to be an elusive subject of much discussion for philosophers. Almost all of us continue to go through experiences in life wherein each involved member of the experience holds onto their version of reality - that which is bound to be qualitatively different in subtle ways from the others' perceptions. Someone always has their point of view, which try as they might, cannot be translated to others, leaving each person to go through their own emotions and interpretations of the experience. I often wish that I video-tape most of my interactions with people, just so I could go back to the scene and watch it as it transpired so that everyone involved will have a better sense of reality than our imagined versions. Even so, the lenses through which we view such a video will be tainted with our perceptions, our expectations and insecurities. The mind is apt to play such tricks... completing sentences that were never uttered, giving life to insecure emotions, reading between the lines and ending up with a convoluted mess of misinterpretations which we will steadfastly cling onto as being the actuality of the episode. Such differences in thinking and perception are mostly attributed to gender differences. Much has been written and researched about how men and women are differently wired. It's a fact that a man and a woman who witness the very same scene will notice things differently, perceive different kinds of aspects, thus affecting the overall interpretation. If that's the case with mundane events in life, how interesting would it be to read a woman's perspective on a historic epic?

Several authors and poets have delved into the nuances of Mahabharata - concentrating on its myriad stories, the discussion of Dharma, the beauty of the literature, and in-depth character analysis. But it takes the epic to another level when we witness the events through the eyes of a woman - and not just any woman, but one of the stars of the epic - Draupadi herself. Divakaruni demonstrates a lot of creativity by identifying with the true spirit of a woman as strong and resilient as Draupadi. She narrates the epic tale taking the voice of Draupadi, bringing to light aspects of the tale that have never been considered before - a woman's emotions, the dynamics of her various relationships and the roles she plays in realizing the inevitable fate of thousands of people.

I was a little apprehensive and skeptical about this book, for it's easy to get carried away and sensationalize the story, and perhaps even introduce irksome controversies in the name of wielding one's creative license. But the most commendable aspect is that the author does a wonderful job of drawing her creative interpretations within the line of the actual tale. Her research and facts are sound and her take on Draupadi's thoughts and emotions resonate well with us. Draupadi is crafted as a strong-willed rebel, a feminist of her era and an intelligent woman weighed down by her rage and vengeance. The reader sees her grow and evolve, both through her thoughts and actions, that she gets transformed into a realistic character.

Divakaruni also focuses on the ravages of the war. Instead of glorifying the war or the victory of the Pandavas, through Draupadi, she brings out the horrendous aftermath of war, teasing the discussion of who really won, and what the true meaning of victory is. She shows Draupadi's pain and regret, her disappointment at how everybody was fueled by their fire of revenge, intensified by their ego, and blinded by their anger and desire. The manner in which Dharma became a loose term, only to be manipulated and rationalized by both teams towards their gains, is stressed and highlighted, despite it not being discussed in depth. It was heartening that Divakaruni chose to dwell on such aspects of the war, making the reader introspect on how such a war could have possibly been evaded and how each character was caught in his/her own web of revenge and ego. It's an irony that such a great battle to uphold Dharma reduces to mindless revenge and ego.

The one surprising thread in the book is Divakaruni's conception of a strong attraction between Draupadi and Karna. I have heard of Karna's possible attraction to Draupadi, but never before have I come across Draupadi's undying fascination with Karna, tinged with regret and wistful imagination of how her life would have been had she married him. I can see how this interpretation is sure to ruffle a few feathers, for Draupadi is worshiped as a Pativrita. But for me it added an interesting dimension to the tale.

Divakaruni's writing is lucid and beautiful. Some of her metaphors are not as put together as I would have wished, but in all, her writing flows well. The book attempts to recreate the "reality" of the Mahabharata as experienced by a woman, enhancing our comprehension of the epic by adding more shades to the already rich hues.

Dutiful Sacrifice

Private Kenny's family was engulfed in grief and pain on his recent demise. In a recent bomb attack, he had thrown himself to save his comrades by smothering a grenade. Private Kenny's family had no consolation but the pride they held on account of his heroism to have fearlessly sacrificed his life, quelled their grief. But just as his family tried to cope with his loss, their shred of honor and pride was snatched by the regiment, which refused to acknowledge Private Kenny's act through the prestigious award - The Victoria Cross for Bravery. Shocked, his family demanded an explanation. The regiment politely and apologetically stated, "It has been the practice in the past to reward such actions with the appropriate medal. However we have decided that it's a mistake to consider such acts as requiring an exceptional devotion to duty. All military personnel are required to act in the interests of the whole unit at all times. To suggest that Private Kenny's act was over and above the call of duty, therefore suggests that it might be acceptable sometimes not to act in the interests of the whole unit. This is clearly absurd. Therefore we no longer reward such acts with posthumous awards. Although we appreciate this is a painful time for the family, we should also point out that Private Kenny would have died in the blast anyway, so it's not even the case that he sacrificed his life for his colleagues." The cold letter added insult to injury. Is the regiment's take on this incident justified? (Source: The Pig That Wants to be Eaten, Julian Baggini)


It's quite possible that your initial reaction on reading the letter from the regiment was of anger or shock, or perhaps just intrigue. I was shocked and furious, although Kenny is but a fictional character and I've had no one in the army to even realize the true emotional implications. I was not necessarily shocked because of the regiment's cold-hearted logic in refusing an award, but because I equate the loss of a life in the name of war, as just a horrible exploitation of human beings. This is probably out of naivete, but I can never fathom why we humans need to still resort to physical duels to resolve issues. My God, we have been through millions of years of evolution, isn't it time that we stop acting so animalistic and territorial, literally butting heads, or clawing each other to let our "brawn" and physical might determine the "winner"? How ridiculous that we still can't use our developed brains and ability to reason as tools to come to a solution! It deeply saddens me when I hear of soldiers dying every single day trying to "fight" the "bad" guys. Sadly that's how the world is and we have not really civilized beyond knowing how to dress well and put on social charades.


I should probably stop attributing humans as being "special" just because we are at the highest level of the food chain, and we have a 6th sense to boast about. Survival is still our prime instinct. So anyway, having resigned to that, I must say that for someone to look beyond their personal interest and survival and to have sacrificed their life does merit a proper recognition. It does take immense courage. Doesn't matter if they merely executed their duty and moral code. A person who enters the army knowing fully well that he might lose his life as part of his duty, by itself deserves merit. The duty poses a threat to our very basic instinct of survival, and to act selflessly at that tragic second requires tremendous will to push aside the basic survival instinct. For a person to stare straight at death and still not have his thoughts and body reflexively protect him, is indeed a feat.


Besides, incentives, encouragement and motivation are necessary elements for effective performance. Yes, it's the duty of every student to excel in every class in school. Why then are their awards for top rank holders? It's the duty of parents to take care of their children. Why then should mothers and fathers be revered and appreciated? We keep imposing a lot of idealism, regardless of whether we are equipped to naturally be so accomplished. Incentives are those that drive us - for many, recognition is what fuels their motivation and brings meaning to their lives. Our scriptures preach that our motivation and sense of duty should be independent of the results/consequences/incentives. But that doesn't justify indifference to a duty well performed. Incentives need not be materialistic, a sense of respect and honor are higher awards.


An oft repeated pattern in all moral dilemmas is the delicate balance between doing "good" versus self-interest. For someone to take that extra leap to save a child from a frothing sea or a burning building, risking their own lives is surely extraordinary and heroic. Does that make the rest of us, who do value their life higher than others, moral failures? Or as I mentioned, are we just trying to impose idealism that is against the way nature made us?