Sunday, May 11, 2003		Books

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Whose book is it, anyway?
Suresh Kohli

COME summer, and it will be a different scene. Book launches in Delhi at least are becoming dull, dreary, predictable and boring. The restless audience indulges in snide remarks while the introductory proceedings and the readings are somewhat stretched and often uninteresting. A collective sigh of relief can be heard as soon as the host announces cocktails. The thirsty men nearly trip over one another, and the over made-up women saunter towards the author, either for a keepsake picture or an autograph, depending on his or her status, though the number of the latter seldom establishes a smile on the deadpan face of the writer or his publisher. The Scotch is generally good, and the socialites a feast for the eyes of eager beholders. And one can see the same old pictures in the same repeated postures and combinations two days later on page three of the local dailies. It now hardly seems to matter to which day or book launch the accompanying report refers to. Only the author’s mug shot betrays the true story.

The faces or the pattern seldom change. What changes is the five-star venue and the cuisine they dish out. These invariably depend on the PR and networking of the publishing house because the hospitality is courtesy the hotel. The author or his status seldom matters, unless it is a Khushwant or a Shobhaa De in which respective case it is bound to be Le Meridien or Maurya Sheraton. Penguin India and Roli Books are the top-of-the-rank beneficiaries collecting the celebrities. They always succeed in converting the event into a memorable one for the author and his family. But the launch of Ardashir Vakil’s One Day at the unusual Park Hotel must count for the most seminal one of its kind. The book certainly sounds promising from the passages the handsome author read out in flawless English and an equally, if not more, flawlessly pleasing manner. But for a few dishonourable exceptions like the columnist, the event turned out to be celebration time for the capital’s Parsi Anjuman. Notable resident exceptions being friends like Soli Sobarjee, Keki Daruwalla.

A new feature of this book launch that might usher in a new ‘design era’ was glamour invading the world of intellect. Fashion designer Tarun Tahiliani did the honours. The reason, other than just friendship and sharing birth in the same city hospital some forty-odd years ago, was obviously the elevated social status of Tahiliani. Glamour and instant publicity have obviously taken over and other better-connected writers are bound to take a leaf out of the event. Having attended countless such events at home and abroad over the past three decades, and more, one feels sad at the trend. More so, having oneself been amongst those who introduced the practice in the country. It was a totally different story then. For one, there were fewer authors, and they could instantly establish a rapport with the readers. Rival publishers and contemporaries would grace the occasion without obligatory speeches and introductions.

One more Penguin launch followed suit. This time at the relatively newly opened night-haunt of the young, Steel at Ashok. The 28-year-old Abha Dawesar’s The Three of Us begins in a strip club, moves to a gay bar and then saunters along somewhat briskly in and out of Manhattan bed-and-board rooms, describing actions that can surely lure the reader.

Another star-studded such affair preceding these two lacklustre ones was that of the controversial, Father Dearest: The Life and Times of R K Dalmia by Nilima Dalmia Adhar, published under the Namita Gokhale Editions imprint, at Nikko Metropolitan. The book launch had, between the suave Jairam Ramesh and the embarrassingly in-demand Amar Singh, the august assemblage of book-lovers-and-haters club. The place was delightfully full of all the possible aphrodisiacal flavoured properties that an Indo-Japanese collaboration could serve.

But this is not all. Star-studded book launches have been galore with almost every hotel of consequence, throwing in enviable hospitality. The lesser ones at the mercy of mainly the miserly, and least enterprising Indian publishers do occasionally manage a colourless do, at the harassed author’s cost, at the less glamorous but busier venues like the India International Centre, the India Habitat Centre, and the newly buzzing Chinmaya Mission complex situated virtually in the middle of the other two more frequented ones.

Now all that’s fine, important and even desirable for the benefit of promoting books and reading habits. But are these occasions really serving that purpose? I am afraid not. Regardless of the numbers who frequent these dos with uncanny regularity, the number of copies sold at the premises, and at the bookstores (unless it gets a sensational press, apart from the page three coverage) is embarrassingly pathetic. I recall the launch of Khushwant’s autobiography a couple of years ago which saw the palatial Le Meridien hotel hall (the author is also a director) going crazy with the presence of the rich and the mighty, the sweating and the perfumed variety, with premium liquor and choicest delicacies flowing recklessly. One noticed co-publisher, son-in-law Ravi Dayal standing behind the book counter, disappointment visible on his face, bitterly complaining to the columnist (who had to shell out cash on the spot to add to a semblance of decent sale figures for the day, and who was otherwise used to being pampered with complimentary copies) about the dismal sales.

The point one has been wanting to make is, are these launches and expensive get-togethers, deprived as they are of the sobriety, solemnity and sanctity traditionally associated with such occasions, serving any purpose beyond pampering the writer-of-the-day’s ego, providing publicity for the hosts, and ensuring page three pictures of the guests, which exposes in the process (there are times even the authors and the less glamourous but bigger celebrity guests are not even mentioned) the ignorance of the reporting print and television media? The black-and-white answer for such colourful events is a big ‘no’.