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review Kindle
the passion Zia
Mohyeddin column
review Shahre
Lazawwal Abad Wiraney By
Bano Qudsia Publisher:
Sang e Meel, 2011 Pages:
576 Price:
Rs 1200 The true literary strength
of Bano Qudsia is her characterisation. She has the ability to pick these
characters from the broad spectrum of our society and then infuse life into
them. The gallery of her characters is quite vast, and it would not be wrong
to say or an exaggeration to posit that it represents a cross section of the
population, though it may be said that her characters that come from the
middle class are the most truly depicted. The characters are also round. They
develop as they go along with the action of the novel, drama or the short
story but the most keen observation that one sees in the characterisation of
the people coming from the middle class with aspirations to grow out of their
classes and join another section of society, especially the one above them. Among the gallery of
characters are businessmen, traders, members of the middle ranking civil and
military bureaucracy, intellectuals who do not tire of preaching the values
of selfless intellectual pursuits and politicians who shamelessly mouth their
ordinary work as being for the common good of the people. These characters are not
portraits of evil or the wilfully devious, but are laid out with a
truthfulness that can be read either way— as sympathetic or having a strain
of truthfulness so as to say this is what the society has come to what you
may, or with a stick beating them for their alleged hypocrisy. Perhaps these
characters do not see their acts and words as living this divide otherwise
considered as hypocrisy. Similarly the sexual
awakening in characters, the subjective flowering as it collides with the
oppressive objective environment is also an area where she truly excels. And
it is not only in this novel but in most of Qudsia’s writings that the age
group encounters the explosion of its biological and sexual change through
the new found awareness of its overwhelming appeal. The centrepiece of her
writing, the way it appears and then expresses itself in women —young
women— is truly great writing, at par with the very best in world
literature. In Shahre Lazawwal Abad
Wiraney, the tones are much more repressed in strange insinuations and
unheard melodies as they weave their fatal charm, yet do not find an
objective correlative. This has been treated with great sensitivity by her
especially in the part where the children living in Gurdaspur/ Dehra Dun grow
up from childhood to puberty. The choicest part of the narrative is the first
signs of sexual awareness, the fatal pull of attraction, the “natural
drive” powerful enough to bulldoze the walls of societal divisions are so
beautifully depicted by Qudsia so as to became the main theme of the novel.
All other realities are outweighed by the irrepressible energy of the
characters in this phase of life. It seems that the main
event or the incident that offers a focal point to the narrative is the
partition of the subcontinent. This partition has been the subject of so much
of our literature— short stories, poetry and novels. The impact, both human
in terms of loss of life and cultural in terms of uprooting of a community,
has been far reaching and seems to crop up again and again in the writings of
those who think deeper than the mere mouthing of homilies. Here too the main thrust of
the novel is the period that leads up to partition. All these three
generations of various religious denominations are caught in the intellectual
and historical dilemma of how to configure the inevitability of partition. Where the novel trips and
stumbles is in its structural construction. The plot is strangely incohesive
—the design of the novel is broken up into various eheds, and they do not
tally up to anything. Either the structure is very far-fetched where the only
way to comprehend it is through some flight of imagination that rallies round
the concept of magic realism or that it fails to add up to a unit that it is
supposed to do. Shahre Lazawwal Abad
Wiraney would have been a better novel if the main thrust, the phase that
leads up to the partition of the subcontinent, had been followed by the
subsequent lives of the same characters under changed conditions. The
condition of an independent country with its historical baggage and the
desire for a better future should have been contrasted with the dreams and
the aspirations of the people before partition. The two contrasts would have
been a longer follow-up to the impact of partition which one finds in the
short stories and even in the longer writings such as Aag Ka Darya and Udass
Naslain, two other landmark works that grapple with the same issue. There is though one ehed
which depicts characters who have lived and prospered after partition.
Qudsia’s depiction of these characters, though rolling in luxury and
opulence unlike the characters that live frugal lives before partition, is
not in glowing terms. If anything it smacks of an opportunity that has gone
waste or the potential that fails to realise itself. Independence has had a
mixed impact on the characters and they seem to have failed in living their
cultural potential fully. The lack of unity in the
formal structure mars the otherwise very fine pieces of writings, especially
in the characterisation of the people representing a broader section of the
population. Had the two come together, it would have been one of the better
novels of Bano Qudsia who has in the past few years become very prolific. It
could be that she is putting finishing touches to the various writings that
she had been stacking up during the course of her creative life.
Kindle
the passion Kindle as a technology has
certain drawbacks but is totally worth it. It’s thinner than your wallet,
perhaps lighter than your grandfather’s ink pen but smart enough to carry
your entire library in it — and more. This New Year, I acquired the most
well-known of all the e-book readers in the market. I got myself the Kindle.
Though Kindle’s latest version is Kindle Fire, I have an older model.
Kindle has arrived in my life, like Faiz puts it: “Jaise saihra mein holey
sey chaley bad-e-naseem” (As, slowly, in the desert, moves the breeze). Most people are not e-book
friendly and swear by the feel of a “real” book, the crispy touch of
yellowing paper, the rustic scent of a seasoned book. This resistance in
acceptance of e-books isn’t unique to the Kindle platform. People initially
resisted almost everything novel, from email to Gmail, Facebook to Twitter,
from smartphones to assorted electronic gadgets. Some of my professors were
committed enough to the postal service and shunned emails for years. But
today most have succumbed (or transcended) to the single-click world. Receiving
love letters in enclosed envelopes with vibrant stamps was romantic but most
of us have compromised and let our hearts skip a beat thanks to the virtual
inbox. It is about time we all accustomed ourselves to e-book reading because
it’s convenient, and hence inevitable. You save space, time and money.
Moreover, e-readers are only going to get better and cheaper. One big benefit of owning a
Kindle in some developing countries is that pirated e-books are commonly
available online and downloading them can be legally problematic in the
developed world. But in a country like Pakistan where most books are
imported, shamelessly expensive and not readily available, this is an added
attraction — depending on your moral cost-benefit calculus. Though most of
the books online are in PDF or MS Word format, they can be easily converted
to the MOBI format (used exclusively by Kindle) using the software called
Calibre. Sometimes the transition isn’t very readable but mostly it is. Another boon is that
websites like Gutenberg have huge collection of classic books with expired
copyrights. These are now legally in the public domain for free downloads.
For everyone waiting to catch up with hefty classics like War and Peace and
Les Miserables, Kindle will make it easier with its adjustable font size and
the ink-reader that doesn’t strain the eyes. Yes, the technology does not
— contrary to popular perceptions — hurt your eyes. The Kindle Fire, which is
the latest model of Kindle, has several problems because it is attempting to
mimic Apple’s iPad, but not quite getting there. This has been almost fatal
because Kindle had gained its initial respect as an e-book reader and now it
is deviating from that. This is partially understandable, as the Fire is
priced much lower than the iPad. Moreover, one of the benefits of an e-book
reader was that it allowed staying clear of online distractions (Facebook,
Youtube) while the book was open. But the new features like touch screen
without a keypad lock, no privacy options, slower service due to WiFi, and no
ink-reader (the Fire has an LCD display) have perhaps hurt the new Kindle’s
appeal. However, Kindle’s
software has been updated and many hardware features have been enhanced.
Buying a Kindle can be difficult because one needs a credit card to shop at
Amazon and there could be additional tariffs and unexpected delays. Amazon,
of course, is the company, which owns Kindle and holds the largest Kindle
book collection. Maybe I am biased, but the
ambience of the older Kindle is fairly romantic, with its black and white
screen and cover pictures that change every time you turn it off. It is a
queer sight, seeing all those books from Austen to Virginia Wolf and Jean
Rhys, all together, like siblings stacked on a shelf. In the first few days,
I started several books together, but life since has normalised. Since it is
a gadget, one can’t take it to the pool or the washroom, but you don’t
ditch your wife just because she didn’t accompany you on a football match.
All those literature greats and me cuddle together under the blanket, blazing
through Brother’s Karamazov together.
Zia
Mohyeddin column I read in an article
written about me recently that I knew my Shakespeare and my Dickens like the
back of my hand. I winced. Dear oh dear! Do I know my Shakespeare like the
back of my hand? I would blush before I answer that. I probably have a fair
understanding of some of the Bard’s plays but I would need to live three
more lives before I can make such a claim. And I cannot say with hand on my
heart that I am thoroughly knowledgeable about Dickens. Like most lovers of
literature I am one of his passionate admirers. My first encounter with
Dickens was when my father suggested that I read ‘David Copperfield’. I
was seventeen at the time. The book, he told me, was the story of Dickens’
life. (The initials of David Copperfield DC were the initials of Charles
Dickens CD transposed). David like Charles goes to work in a boot polish
factory at the age of 12. He lodges with Mr and Mrs Micawber and their brood
of little children. The Micawber lodging-house is in reality the home of the
Dickens family. Mr Micawber is Charles Dickens’ father, an adorable,
boisterous believer in the goodness of Providence, who spends every penny
before he has earned it. Pressed by his creditors Mr Micawber is thrown into
a debtor’s prison exactly like John Dickens, Charles’ own father. I liked the novel
especially Mr. Micawber, and I should have read his other novels but I
didn’t because I came under the influence of the Coffee House intellectuals
of Lahore who regarded 19th century literature to be pedantic and passé. So
I delved into Thomas Mann and Sartre and Aldous Huxley but, not possessing
the intellectual tools to absorb their wit or wisdom, I did not derive much
pleasure from any of these worthies. It was only during my early
days in England in1953 that I chanced upon Dickens again in a little shop in
Shortlands that sold toys and children’s wear. It was called ‘The Old
Curiosity Shop’. In the shop window was a caricatured portrait of Dickens
acting as the MC at a children’s party. Next to the portrait were a few
copies of ‘The Old Curiosity Shop’ being offered at six pence each. I
picked one up and thus began my life-long companionship with Dickens. ‘The Old Curiosity
Shop’ is a sad little romantic tale of the orphan Nell who is hounded by
fate in the form of a wicked deformed dwarf. I read it in conjunction with
The Pickwick Papers lent to me by my landlord.
‘Pickwick’, a
magnificent sequence of loosely-related adventures, was a feast. I have
turned to this book on quite a few occasions and have always found it to be
delightfully comical. Dickens wrote the novel (or rather the serial for that
is what it is) under the pseudonym of Boz. Mr. Pickwick, the founder
and perpetual President of the Pickwick Club is a kindly gentleman who in
order to extend his researches into the quaint and curious phenomena of life
makes journeys to remote parts of English Countryside. The novel’s main
appeal lies in its memorable characters: the comic cockney, Sam Weller who is
taken on by Mr. Pickwick as his personal servant and companion, Mrs Bardell
who (through an apartment misunderstanding on her part) sues Mr. Pickwick for
the breach of promise to marry her and other Pickwikians: Winkle Snodgrass
and Tupman. Boz’ ‘The Posthamous
Papers of the Pickwick Club’ (or The Pickwick Papers) was the first
publishing phenomenon of the 19th century. Dickens became the toast of
London. It may come as a surprise to my readers that a hot-selling author in
the 19th century spawned an industry as well. Just as today we have Harry
Potter caps and Harry Potter tooth-brush stands, the publication of Pickwick
coincided with theatrical performances, Sam Weller jokes and other
merchandise. London blossomed with Boz cabs, Pickwick ties and Sam Weller
corduroys. Doctors took the book to read between patient and patient and
judges studied Pickwick on the bench while the jury was debating. Henry
Thomas, a biographer of Dickens, tells us that “…. A man on the point of
death said to his priest, ‘Thank God I can now die in peace. I have just
read the last number of Pickwick.’ ” As a result of the
popularity of ‘The Pickwick Papers’ publishers pestered Dickens with
commission of articles, stories and novels — and he accepted them all
almost killing himself with overwork. “Life is so short” he wrote “and
my fancy is so full of characters that beg to be brought to life”. He was
twenty four at the time. Dickens is not just a
master of irony; he is an irrepressible satirist as well. In every novel he
introduced characters who are wicked, comically wicked, foolish, blundering
boisterous mischievous and loveable. His comic masterpiece, “Martin
Chuzzlewit’ is one of the most glorious gems of English literature.
The book is full of characters like Seth Pecksniff who ‘never loses
an opportunity of making a few moral crackers to be left off as occasion
served.’ Dickens enacted his stories
on stage with consummate mastery. When he appeared on stage in America he
undertook a series of public readings from his own novels. He was overwhelmed
with applause and dollars. They dubbed him as a ‘veritable magician’. The
critics observed that he seemed to be physically transformed as he passed
from one character to the other. “He has as many distinct voices as his
books have characters”. There were times when the entire audience would be
carried away on a stream of hysterical adulation. A year or so before his
death, he undertook a five month’s tour of America and returned to England
with a hundred thousand dollars in his purse. Only statisticians could tell
you how many millions that means in today’s terms. Shakespeare
and Dickens have a lot of things in common. Both came from humble but
respectable beginnings and both had limited educations. (In the case of
Shakespeare it has provoked speculation that he could not possibly have
written his plays because he lacked a university education). Both men made
slight detours in their chosen professions. Shakespeare was an actor who
became a playwright; Dickens was a journalist who became a novelist.
Shakespeare continued to be an actor and Dickens continued reportage for all
of his life, though in his last few years he turned into an actor as well. Both men enjoyed great
popularity during their lifetimes. Shakespeare was Elizabethan London’s
most popular playwright. Dickens was — and remains — probably the most
popular novelist who ever lived. And to complete the comparison both men died
in their 50’s having created an immense body of work that still stuns the
world.
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