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remembering Of fundamental
principles
Zia Mohyeddin column "The mind is its own place and in itself Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven." -- Milton
remembering Nobel Laureate, Harold
Pinter died of cancer of the oesophagus on December 24th 2008. Pinter But Pinter was a pioneer of a different kind of theatre, which was both radical and ingenuous. It was radical in the sense that it had the rudimentary ingredients of dramatic sensibility and it was refreshingly innovative because it presented the sordid and unpleasant side of life. Indebted much to the avant-garde European art movements, Pinter boldly experimented with the dramatic forms and made his characters speak a language which was hitherto unfamiliar to the theatre-goers. The Birthday Party (1957) gave way to a series of plays in which he dismantled the clichés about life, culture and theatre. He introduced a string of characters who are either loners or losers, living in shabby enclosures, psychologically inadequate and handicapped in language. Pinter was preoccupied with the absence of language on the theatre: if it was not total absence it was the minimal and a thrifty use of the language that his characters struggle to maintain. It is in the use of an either precise or over-precise language that Pinter sees the likelihood of presentation and the distortion of reality. He was not interested in nice situations and nice language as it was a tool of the bourgeois mentality around him. Pinter's characters are unhappy people who tend to indulge in mangled and meandering talk but also manage to rely heavily upon the pauses and silences. Pinter's plays introduced situations which were not traditional moralistic entanglements, the humour was sparse and cynical, and the endings were deliberately truncated. Indeed it was an entirely new drama asking for a poignant appraisal, instead of customary criticism. The Birthday Party (1957) was Pinter's first play which was received with great hostility but it eliminated the logic of adherence to complacent traditions and introduced a genre called comedy of menace. These plays celebrated the human condition as something close to absurd. What Pinter wanted to present was not only the philosophical side of human absurdity but also the absurd standards of human morality controlled by a handful of vigilantes and politicians. For Pinter, the urgeoisie were the most cunning threat to the world. Pinter had to restructure his dramatic form to present the smug British middle class and the politician's silence where he is supposed to yell and cry. The Birthday Party brought Pinter in direct dialogue with the audience as the play was a strident commentary on the contemporary society fed upon platitudes and moral polemics. The Birthday Party revolves around Stanley Webber, an ex-piano player in his 30's, lives in a derelict sea side boarding house, run by Meg and Petey Bowels. The situation, décor, spectacle and a few characters in awkward pairings is the recurrent 'Pinteresque' world. Two unexpected visitors arrive at the party and turn the party into a nightmare. The play tells that how people waste their time in piling up rhetoric and how often the language is but a dress rehearsal of trite repetitions and this repetition is the escape for the one, may it be a politician or a moralist, from the responsibility. Pinter conveys that life for an innocuous individual becomes a nightmare when language seething with anger and cynicism contributes to confusion rather than clarity. Often, anger is Pinter's favourite gesture but it is felt rather than expressed because silence and pause erect a sudden barrier. Pinter was convinced about the inadequacy of language and an inevitable break down of human communication and this seems to be an exact response to the political and moral conflicts of the twentieth century because the cold war between USSR and USA turned out to be a phase in which communication and human language was failed or made to fail. Whereas The Birthday party received disastrous response, it also induced Pinter to deviate more from the established standards of theatre in Britain. He wrote plays to cultivate realism both shocking and appetising. He rejected the elaborate Edwardian and Victorian sittings and was contented with a bare and austere spectacle on the stage. A single visual image, frequently a 'single room' became Pinter's recurrent dramatic space. The single room is the site of all tensions in Pinter's plays, it is a threatened space but the agents of threat are invisible. Seeing from a more realistic perspective the room image in Pinter represents an enclosure in which individual is suffocated and the release from this state is almost impossible. Pinter was aware that politicians and morality-holders use language in an impressionistic way and give false hopes of redemption. This attitude is also typical of bourgeois. Albeit, Pinter does not disapprove hope for the modern individual but identifies the need of checking the spread of bourgeoisie elitism. Therefore, Pinter's characters strive for survival and in the process use and abuse language. 'Words' in Pinter give an uncertain guarantee of clarity but ironically there is no other way of communication but language. Pinter conscientiously writes a dialogue made of crispy words, nagging silences and nuanced pauses. Aston - You said you wanted me to get you up. Davies - What for? Aston - You said you were thinking of going to Sidcup. Davies - Ay, that'd be a good thing, if I got there. Aston - Doesn't look like much of a day. Davies - Ay, well, that's shot it, en't it? (The Caretaker) Pinter occupied an important place in the world for other reasons too. He was an actor, wrote screenplays and after 1973 became an avowed political activist and commentator. When the military dictator Augusto Pinochet overthrew the legitimate and democratic government of Allende, Pinter shed off the proverbial silence of his characters and began commenting on the human rights situations in the world. Contrary to the muted politics of silence in his plays he vociferously condemned the violations of human rights in the third-world countries and the neo-colonial designs of American expansionists. During the Kosovo crisis in 1999, Pinter condemned Nato's intervention, and said it will "only aggravate the misery and the horror and devastate the country." In his Nobel Prize speech, delivered on an armchair, Pinter rounded off the world's watch dogs USA and Britain. He growled at the American polices and the perpetrators of the policies, George Bush and Tony Blair. He said that "the invasion of Iraq was a bandit act, an act of blatant state terrorism, demonstrating absolute contempt for the concept of international law" and "both Bush and Blair place death well away on the back burner.'' This was the other side of Pinter, one who had the rare streak of moral and literary courage to take on the world's conscience. In February 2005 Pinter announced in an interview that he has decided to abandon his career as a playwright and invest all his energy into politics. This was a crucial decision because Pinter could not remain engaged any longer with the literary theatre and re-located himself in a theatre of politics, ravaged by the US invasion of Iraq and Afghanistan. Along Noman Chomsky and Edward Said, Harold Pinter also emerged as the most open critic of US policies on Palestine and Iraq. Pinter has survived great plays ranging from personal experiences of betrayal and alienation to a more acute presentation of politician's betrayal which had made the world a more vulnerable place. It was a world stalked by the greedy reformists and half-baked ideologues, switching form one form of imperialism to another. But Pinter's politics was the politics of fundamental humanity and his morality was pluralistic. 'Death' is an important poem of Pinter which he also quoted in the Noble Prize speech to question the self-styled political lords and moralists of the world: Where was the dead body found? Who found the dead body? Was the dead body dead when found? How was the dead body found? Last week, Pinter's death was also mourned with respect and pain. In the present world we do not have many voices that have the mettle to balance out art with politics and to separate the morality form propaganda. Of fundamental principles Challenging Mohsin Hamid's masterful control. The Reluctant Fundamentalist is a confusion of style and genre By Bilal Ibne Rasheed It seems to have become
rather customary not to mention the discrepancies in a literary work Pakistani English fiction is still in its infancy with only a few names – Mohsin Hamid, Bapsi Sidhwa, Muneeza Naqvi, Kamila Shamsie, Nadeem Aslam, Uzma Aslam Khan, Sara Suleri, and Mohammed Hanif who has recently joined the club with his debut novel A Case of Exploding Mangoes. Among the writers listed here, Mohsin Hamid has won considerable literary acclaim (he is a management consultant and not a full time writer) after winning literary awards as prestigious as Betty Trask Award; and getting nominated for PEN/Hemingway award and the Booker Prize. Some stylistic aspects of his writings, nonetheless, are debatable. To start with Hamid's latest work The Reluctant Fundamentalist, two aspects of this piece should bother a student of literary criticism – its genre and style. Can we call the book a novel since it is only over a hundred pages long? Or is it, as Hamid claims, a dramatic monologue? Before presenting any arguments against or in favour of Hamid's claim, we need to acquaint ourselves with definitions of some literary terms. Novel is a genre of fiction which is long enough to fill a complete book and covers more than one aspect of life. Short story on the other hand, as defined by Edgar Allan Poe, depicts just one slice of life and should be of such a length that one is able to read the whole story in one single sitting to achieve 'unity of effect.' Half way between these two extremes i.e. novel and short story there are a couple of other genres rarely employed because of their innate complexities and prerequisites. These are long short story and novella. Ernest Hemingway's famous The Old Man and the Sea is a quintessential example of a long short story. Novella is a short novel which retains all the characteristic attributes of novel with the exception of its length. Novella, we may conclude, covers more than one aspects of life but is too short to be called a novel. Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness is a perfect example of novella. The international edition of The Reluctant Fundamentalist, Hamid describes it as 'a novel.' Notwithstanding Hamid's claim, in the light of the definitions given above, we can see for ourselves as to which genre does The Reluctant Fundamentalist belong – a long short story. This argument can be substantiated on two grounds. First The Reluctant Fundamentalist is a story of a young man torn between two different cultures, two different mindsets and two different societies. This is the only aspect of life which the novel highlights. Apart from this vacillation between two identities, there is hardly any other aspect of human life depicted by the narrator. It may be claimed that there is a certain element of love and romance in the story, but we observe this element to be a subset of the main theme. Erica is an American girl and Changez a Pakistani boy. Here again we notice that the protagonist is torn between two different peoples with two distinct identities. Erica seems to be a subset of America and Underwood Samson the U.S. Therefore, it would be safe to assume that The Reluctant Fundamentalist does not fulfil this prerequisite of novel. Second hurdle is the book's length. It is approximately the length Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea is. In the contemporary literary practice, one hardly finds many books of this length being called novels. It was probably wise on the part of Oxford University Press Pakistan, not to put 'a novel' on the title of The Reluctant Fundamentalist and let the reader judge for himself. Next is Hamid's claim that his book is a dramatic monologue. There is no denying the fact that the stylistic technique adopted by Hamid in this narrative has a number of innate difficulties. The magnitude of complexities of this form of narration can be gauged by the fact that it took Hamid seven years and as many drafts to write one hundred odd pages of The Reluctant Fundamentalist. In modern literature there are but very few examples of literary works where writers have resorted to this technique of narration. One such rare example is Oriana Fallacci's Letter to a Child Never Born. In both these works, a first person narrator tells the story. The narration seems to be in a form of conversation but is not since the narrator is alone. According to Hamid, his protagonist is engaged in a monologue. Oxford Advanced Learner's Dictionary defines 'monologue' as "a long speech by one person during a conversation that stops other people from speaking or expressing an opinion; a long speech in a play, film/movie, etc. spoken by one actor, especially when alone; a dramatic story, especially in verse, told or performed by one person." As we know Changez is not engaged in a real conversation, thus, the first definition of 'monologue' no longer remains compatible. The possibility of the second definition is ruled out based on the understanding that Changez is not a character of a play or movie. The third interpretation seems to corroborate Hamid's claim but only superficially. The definition of 'monologue' requires physical articulation of thoughts and emotions using tongue. If it is a monologue, the character has to utter words and sentences. This, however, does not seem to be the case with Changez. I leave it to the judgment of readers whether or not the following sentence appears to be a naturally spoken: "Tell me, Sir, have you left behind a love – male or female, I do not presume to know your preference, although the intensity of your gaze suggests the latter – in your homeland." If it is not a monologue, then what is it? It is a continuous train of different thoughts which runs in the mind of an individual especially when under enormous stress. Changez keeps thinking as to what and how he would reply to the questions of the imaginary American, the questions which are also fabricated by him. The narrator just imagines and wishes to be asked particular questions. The whole story seems to be an unfulfilled desire to meet a typical American and acquaint him with the emotions of a 'reluctant fundamentalist.' The first sentence at the back cover of The Reluctant Fundamentalist's Pakistani edition should, therefore, be given a second thought. Having said that, I do not wish to appear parsimonious by not acknowledging Hamid's abilities and penmanship. As already highlighted, the technique employed by Hamid involves a number of stylistic intricacies but the way he has handled the subject and the narrative evidently manifests his craftsmanship. Small wonder, The Reluctant Fundamentalist was nominated for a number of literary awards including the Booker Prize. The story shows, in a very subtle manner, the inherent ambiguity and hypocrisy in the American foreign policy and that a considerable majority of Americans are not merit oriented. When under stress they take to letting down the foreigners on racial and religious grounds. Hamid's standards of richness and poverty are questionable. When Changez comes back home it is not the grandeur itself of his homeland which catches his eye, it is rather the anger and hatred for American-ness which makes him notice the glory of his homeland to bring back his sense of honour. Mohsin Hamid's unnecessarily lengthy sentences with hyphens are additional and, at times, autobiographical 'garnishing'. In terms of language and its usage, Mohsin Hamid seems to have changed. Unlike Moth Smoke, where he was forced to use colloquial and at times even slang expressions to give the dialogues an air of originality the language of this book is highly academic, pedantic and even erudite at times.
Zia Mohyeddin column "The mind is its own place and in itself Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven." -- Milton
One of the most exquisitely drawn cartoons (by Osbert Lancaster) I have ever seen was about a blue-blooded conservative, would-be Thatcherite lady telling a sari-clad, well-coiffured, politically conscious Indian lady, "Of course dear, one does realise that in view of the grave threat from Goa you naturally want to keep your hands on every bomb you've got." The cartoon appeared at a time when India exploded its nuclear bomb and defenders of India came out with all kinds of justifications including the 'grave danger from Goa.' The world did not make too much of a fuss about it. In the wake of India's explosions we informed the world that we, too, were an atomic power. Nobody had doubted that we had the bomb, but we could not resist showing it off. We were condemned for having what was termed as the 'Islamic bomb.' We were censured for being 'gung-ho'. Today, we confront a ghastly situation in which the use of nuclear weapons is not merely being contemplated, it is a real possibility. Yesterday I travelled from Lahore to Karachi on the national airline and I saw that the slogan flashing in front of me on the screen (which normally only shows the computerised landscape of the world) was "PAKISTAN – HEAVEN ON EARTH." It sent a shiver down my spine as I realised that the capacity men have of making a hell out of heaven has been recorded in history time and time again. ****** In a lecture I once attended, W.H. Auden, one of the pre-eminent poets of the twentieth century, said that we must not make the mistake of thinking that poetry is only to be found in the works of recognised poets. Poets, he thought, could be found everywhere where words are used creatively. "You can find it in a lot of advertising", he said. One of the most expressive lines he had ever come across was in an ad for a deodorant. The line was, "It's always August underneath your arms". When I mentioned this to the literary editor of a newspaper, he made a grimace and said that English poets never stopped looking for an excuse to write about the weather. As always, I writhed inwardly. ****** There have been times when I have felt on top form but failed to comprehend that reason. As a player of classical parts I have not experienced the feeling of inexplicable buoyancy too often. On the odd occasion that I sensed it, fleetingly, it defied analysis. It must have been the lunch I didn't eat. I tried missing lunch the next day and the performance was turgid. It was comforting to learn that in the middle of the run of Othello, the great Olivier gave a performance one night so dazzlingly brilliant that the entire cast applauded him during the curtain call – a very rare occurrence. Olivier went back to his dressing room in a towering rage. The leading players assembled outside his dressing room door. One of them knocked and said, "What's the matter Larry – don't you know you were fantastic tonight?" "I know," said Olivier in a voice of desperation, "Of course I know, but I don't know why." I used to pride myself on being a quick study. People in the profession envied me for my incredible capacity to memorise not just my own part but the entire play quickly. That, alas, is no longer the case. I can remember little of some of the plays and films that I took part in during the sixties, not simply because they were barely memorable, but because my memory is not nearly as sharp as it used to be. I wish it were only a diplomatic loss of memory so that I can obliterate all the unpleasantness of past life and cut out the real world at will. ****** People who write fiction or plays for television come to me for advice. One of them, who approached me, had written episodes for a series which, he informed me, had been rated very highly. "Don't you want to write for the theatre."? I asked. "Yes", he said without much conviction, but promised that he would. It would not surprise me in the least if he writes a successful play which is showered with praise, but does that mean that he has become a dramatist? Only he would know if he has any real talent, that that is not necessarily the case. It is up to him to choose whether to go on riding on the wave of his success and churn out endless television scripts for the rest of his life, or to pursue his vocation and write a play that probes the human condition. A play is a mirror or a reflection of life, an abstraction or a projection of how to live, think and feel. It reveals to us what people admire and treasure and what they fear most deeply. Our authors fight shy of writing for the stage because they do not wish to learn how to elucidate an argument beyond a few terse words that lead to a "close-up" bombarded with thundering music (borrowed from "Sound Effects" tapes) that leads to a "fade-out". ****** Of all the tendencies prevalent in our society, malice is perhaps the strongest. When a friend tells me that he saw, during a dinner last night, such and such a woman talking amiably to so and so, I have no hesitation in telling whoever is in my hearing the next morning that a friend of mine saw the said lady flirting, outrageously, with so and so. My listeners would then spread the word that the lady in question has been known to be a harlot for quite sometime. We like to think ill of people and are prepared to believe the worst on very little evidence. ****** Why do we not have sustained, ongoing creative activity? One reason is that our country which, though at times pretending to be a democracy, has always been an oligarchy. Conventional opinions rule our society; unconventional opinions rule our sitting rooms and we know only too well that it would be futile to air them. When we do, we put our necks on the blocks. So much of the process of living out a day is nothing but tedium. You cannot make your routine existence artistic but you can hum a violin concerto while chopping onions. Does that make your daily life better or superior? Not really. I go on scribbling in the hope that in Durrell's word "I learn to inhabit those deserted spaces which time misses." |
was in many ways an exceptional man: he was a playwright and a political
activist. Generally speaking, the post-war British drama alternatively
questioned and used the horrors of the war. Pinter initiated a useful shift
from complacency to a rude awakening and expressed his distrust with the
gnawing British bourgeois morality that had been accepted as a staple of the
post-war British culture. Pinter countered the prevailing mood of complacency
and stifling bourgeoisie values and wrote plays which jolted the smug British
audience of the 50s and 60s. He differed with his predecessors and
contemporary playwrights who used to present life and characters, living in
nice dwellings and nursed in a pretentiously acquired class leanings. Pinter
challenged and changed this trend and presented characters, shorn of
fastidious glamour and grammatical polished language. His was a world
stripped of imposed appendages of morality and a high-brow British culture.
Schooled in bourgeois morality, the audience was not prepared to accept the
onslaught of Pinteresque satire and humour. Consequently, Pinter's early
plays were rebuffed by the critics.
when reviewing or criticising contemporary writers. But a serious student of
literature cannot afford this luxury. Mathew Arnold, the great English critic
of the nineteenth century, writes in his famous essay 'The Function of
Criticism' that glory around a literary writer should not make us overlook
his shortcomings. Therefore, an attempt would be made here to unveil the
hitherto unexplored aspects of Mohsin Hamid's works.