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FUSS OVER FICTION
Books banned |
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TOUCHSTONE On the record
PROFILE
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FUSS OVER FICTION Lisa
Zunshine, a Professor of English at the University of Kentucky is part of a team that is seeking an answer to several questions.
‘Why do we read fiction? Why do we care so passionately about non-existent characters?’ She and a team of experts are going to research the subject through brain mapping. “We begin by assuming that there is a difference between the kind of reading that people do when they read Marcel Proust or Henry James and when they read a newspaper; that there is a value added cognitively when we read complex, literary texts,” says Michael Holquist, Professor Emeritus of Comparative Literature at Yale, who is heading the research project. When we read a story, clearly we do not just read the beginning, a middle and the end of someone’s life. What engages us to this fictional world is the ability to watch the lives and conflicts of others, a kind of an oversight, that engages us to look afresh into our own narratives, but with a fresh perspective. A story or a novel then becomes a discovery from the vast canvas of time, places, people and culture. The success of the Jaipur Literature Festival is not accidental, some would argue. We have had a long tradition of story-telling, questioning, of being argumentative about our values, traditions, ethos and even about our gods. Long before the written word, long before the structure of a novel was imported, people were still recording their personal, as well as social conflicts in our oral traditions. A 13th century poet Janabai wrote, “ God! My beloved! Please kill my mother-in-law…” she goes on to make the same appeal to her beloved god and prod him to kill her sister- in- law, brother- in- law and so on. After about nine hundred years, Janabai still remains a popular Bhakti poet in Maharashtra. Her popularity rests on echoing common sentiments that remain unaltered over centuries, and for that unbridled expression of the unspeakable, of what others dare not utter. In that sense literature offers voice to millions, who fail to articulate their own self. Meerabai did the same, two centuries later, challenging the social order of her times, “… though my mother-in-law fights, my sister-in-law teases, the Rana is angry, a guard is stationed on a stool outside, and a lock is mounted on the door—but how can I abandon the love I have loved, in life after life?” she sings. Kabir, Namdev, Tukaram and others challenged traditions and triggered the rebel in the society, who observed objectively, argued, questioned, and sought answers. The writer and the poet documented what was missing from the recordings of the kings and court historians.
Indian sapper Michael Ondaatje, the Booker Award winner author of ‘The English Patient’ offered what writers of 200 years of political history of Europe - of the World War II failed to do. He offered multiple perspectives on the narrative of the war, by introducing for the first time an Indian, a sapper named Kip, who was fighting for the British army in Italy. The fictional account of the desert expedition during the war by the English ‘patient’, as the protagonist is known, unfolds in several echoes of time, rather than in a linear chronological documentation. The ‘patient’ makes the nurse read from a book salvaged from fire, each page opening a new time frame. “I do a lot of research into my subject, but when I can’t find out the facts, it allows me much more freedom,” says Ondaatje. He adds, unlike an architect, he does not begin with a structure; it is the story which finds its form. Agrees another Booker Award winning writer, Ben Okri. “When I began writing the novel, I thought, how to look at life in a new way. And then I said, how about looking at life from the point of view of death. So, this child, who is supposed to be dead but refuses to die, his view of life is that of a spirit child- from the vantage point of — in between life and death. I use different styles to narrate a story, and I believe the indirect is much more fascinating than the direct. The imperfect world of human beings is more magical than the perfect world of precision, that’s why novels and stories pull us. As a writer it is our responsibility to re-dream the world.” And people read these tales, because they want to grow and evolve by living several lives unfolding on the pages, going through the conflicts, resolves, failings and dreams recorded by the characters.
Recording history The ever-narrowing global village has blurred the boundaries of language, liberating literature from the constraints of geography, history and culture. This also offers an opportunity to the writers, who hail from oppressive regimes to present their point of view on the histories of their land. “What touches people’s heart is creative writing; you cannot get the same effect or response by reading Human Rights documents and legal reports. The issues come alive in people’s memories through narratives” says Raja Shehadeh, a Palestinian writer, who has recorded the constantly unfolding history of Palestinian people through his writing. Fatima Bhutto of Pakistan and Thant Myint U of Burma also popularised contemporary history of their land through fiction. “It’s only through creative writing that diplomacy and resistance can work in tandem,” says the Burmese historian and author.
The big canvas The voices are many, each with a unique perspective on the complex world we inhabit; If Lionel Shriver engages us with ‘We need to Talk about Kevin’ in her stunning account by a mother of a son, who is a mass killer, Hanan-al- Shaykh, a Labanese author in ‘The Story of Zehra’, based on the life of her mother, opens the oppressed world of women for the reader, so far inaccessible and banned in the Arab world. These writers create a kaleidoscope of magical realism, that is as exciting and engaging as life itself.
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Several
works of fiction, which were once considered dangerous to society at some point and in some cultures, have become acceptable with the passage of time. Some of the better known works of fiction banned at one time or the other : Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland was banned in China in 1931 because a General feared that the book would teach children to regard human beings and animals on the same level, which would undoubtedly be “disastrous,” believed the critics. Lolita (1955), by Vladimir Nobokov was banned in France, where it was published first and in English, for being “obscene”. The book dealing with the sexual obsession of a middle-aged scholar with his 12-year old step-daughter , was banned by several countries. But today it is considered a classic and one of the most influential books written in the last century. Lady Chatterley’s Lover (1928) by D H Lawrence was also temporarily banned in the United States and the United Kingdom for violation of obscenity laws; both bans were lifted in 1959 and 1960, respectively. Even the ‘Canterbury Tales’ by Geoffrey Chaucer ( late 14th century), now taught in universities across the globe, was banned in the U.S. under the Federal Anti-Obscenity Act of 1873, which banned sending or receiving works containing “obscene,” “filthy,” or “inappropriate” material. The Satanic Verses (1988) by Salman Rushdie 1988 was banned in several countries for alleged blasphemy against Islam: Uncle Tom’s Cabin (1852), a classic by Harriet Beecher Stowe, was banned in the Southern United States during the Civil War due to its anti-slavery content. The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown ( 2003) was banned in Lebanon after Catholic leaders deemed it offensive to Christianity. India banned it even before anyone squeaked. Madame Bovary( 1856) By Gustave Flaubert, now deemed a classic, was also banned for “offences against public morals”. Flaubert went through a trial but was acquitted. Other banned classics include Brave New World by Aldous Huxley, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, Adventures
of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain, now taught to school children.
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TOUCHSTONE IRA PANDE
Although
crowded and noisy, Jaipur Literature Festival turned out to be a stimulating experience
In the space of a few years, the Jaipur Literary Festival has emerged as the largest festival of its kind anywhere in the world. In terms of the sheer volume of visitors and the range of topics, speakers and performances, it is quite unparalleled.
This year, all previous records were broken as even the sprawling and capacious Diggi Palace grounds were hardly able to contain a virtual tsunami of people that kept rolling in even as equal numbers stood in serpentine queues outside. One reason for this was, of course, the ‘will-he, won’t-he’ controversy surrounding Salman Rushdie’s participation. My heart thudded in unison with thousands of others because I was to moderate a panel discussion on the ‘Chutney-fication of English’, which had him listed as a participant. Even as it became clear that he would not be present on the first two days (my encounter was listed then), there was a fairly strong belief amongst us all that he would be coming later, after the brouhaha had died down and the weekend crowds had departed.
Pox on us was secretly disappointed that I would miss our date because, having heard him earlier, I looked forward to engaging with him on the new Esperanto (Hinglish) being forged in India. I will not go into a tedious repetition of who said what and read from where (enough has been written on that to fuel another Lit-Fest), but yes, it saddens me deeply that as a nation, we seem incapable of taking a principled, courageous stand at every level. This applies equally to our vote-hungry politicians, our cowardly fraternity of thinkers and writers who can only hold candle-light marches as a protest, our irresponsible and mischievous press that feeds on titillation and will air the views of every nutcase who issues a fatwa, without ever building up a positive constituency of liberal citizens. A pox on all of us! Let us now move on to a brief account of the next great mega-event there: Oprah Winfrey in conversation with Barkha Dutt. This was really the literary equivalent of a rock show, judging from the rapturous applause that greeted Oprah’s every answer. Oprah’s clothes, her frothy Americanisms and her confident handling of public attention were quite an education. Vying for attention in another part of the Fest were Fatima Bhutto and acclaimed Pakistani sociologist Ayesha Jalal in conversation with Karan Thapar.
Dialogues
But away from the high-octane rock shows that these became, was a sober dialogue called ‘The Question of Jerusalem’ between Simon Sebag Montefiore and Sari Nussbeibeh moderated by Jonathan Shatinin. Sadly, I was able to catch just the tail-end of the session but its intelligent discourse was so soothing to one’s ears that I wished the speakers would just go on. This is precisely the problem with Jaipur today. There is such a disparate range of events, often set within clashing time frames, that even when one has heard what one wanted to, one comes away wondering whether something else would have been a better option. However, there were some great compensations, such as listening to authors Ben Okri, Michael Ondaatje, Amy Chua (Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother), Mohammad Hanif (The Case of Exploding Mangoes and Our Lady of Alice Bhatti) and British playwright Tom Stoppard in conversation with Neelam Mansingh of Chandigarh.
Cricket as metaphor
For me personally, the event was also memorable for the announcement of the 2012 DSC Prize for South Asian Literature. The winner of this year’s prize, which comes with a handsome $50,000 cheque, was a young Sri Lankan writer Shehan Karunatilake. Chinaman, his first novel, was the unanimous choice of the jury, which I had chaired over the last six months. By far the best bit of writing I have encountered for a long time, Karunatilake uses cricket as his central metaphor to bring out all that is great and sad about the South Asian region. Playing hide-and-seek with the island’s history, the novel is about a dying alcoholic sports journalist in search of the most brilliant Sri Lankan bowler ever to have lived. The epic sweep of the book, its lively pace and whacky narrative (with illustrations by the author’s talented wife) just took my breath away. Do read it: I am convinced that this young writer who has hit a sixer with his first book is destined to go really far. A final word on the parties hosted every evening by the big publishing houses. Awash with expensive liquor and great food, these became the rendezvous for all kinds of networking and encounters between writers, agents and publishers. From Shobha De (however she may spell her name now) to Sudhir Kakar and from arm candy beauties to grey-haired aunties (me?), they were all there, meeting and exchanging ideas and gossip. So the next time my publisher offers me a puny advance citing tight budgets, I will confront him with the bill of his Jaipur afters’ party.
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On the record by
Much of his early fiction explores the political violence that he witnessed at first hand during the civil war in Nigeria. He left the country when a grant from the Nigerian government enabled him to read Comparative Literature at Essex University in England. He could never complete his degree course due to financial constraints. In 1991 Okri was awarded the Booker Prize for Fiction for his novel The Famished Road (1991). In his latest book, Tales of Freedom (2009), Okri brings together poetry and story. He lives in London. India and Africa, both appear to be losing out on literature in local languages. ow do you see the growth of English literature in this context in both continents? It is tragic that local language literatures are getting marginalised. Languages are the filters of world's consciousness, they have taken long to evolve. Loss of a language is loss of a culture, philosophy, a world's view. With disappearance of a language, a portion of the earth disappears. In India and Africa, preservation of existing languages is very crucial. Thousands of languages, which had taken a long time to evolve, are already lost. Nothing will be more tragic to live in a world, where everyone thinks the same thoughts, and expresses them in the same way. You write in English, but do you read literature in your native language? I was not fortunate enough to learn either my mother's or father's language; the language I came to express myself in was English. I try to compensate that loss by expressing a unique reality, I have to bend the language to express this unique mood. Why does literature based on wars and conflict zones get more popular, compared to literature produced in peace time and in peace zones ? Literature of conflict zones, of troubled times - I would say, is not literature. I would say these are books which do catch the attention of publishers and critics; but it reflects a kind of mental laziness. Literature should be about truth; the universal truth about violence and conflict. We seem to have become obsessed with the subject though. This obsession has turned literature of this genre much more mechanical. Why is African literature shadowed by overwhelming sadness ? When people find themselves at the receiving end of injustice, their first task is to deal with injustice, then, go for other reasons to write about. When your arm is pierced with an arrow, you surely can't write poetry. But, we shouldn't generalise; it's also about aspirations, dreams, there are always individuals who transcend them all. How do you react to the labelling of literature as African, South Asian and so on ? Diversity is changing the unitary idea of African literature. Many Africans don't like to be called African, they don't like this label. Like in South Africa, the politics of identity- of both blacks and whites -is going through a critical period. Inter-racial marriages have created a new reality. Many Africans are writing in French, in German, and so, what would you call this literature, European or African? How important is reading ? Reading is not an innocent act. It involves critical movement of our mind. If the art of reading were enriched, we would read more intelligently. It's so easy to misread, because when you are reading, your consciousness and what's there on a page needs mediation, a profound co- relation.Reading is a layered experience, it is like living a life with all its complexities. Books transform your consciousness, sometimes they transform the consciousness of a nation. You also said, "It takes a work of art to see a work of art"? All of us have eyes but how difficult it is to see, particularly, things that are very close to us. Reality resists the gaze. To see something, one must be oneself. If you haven't become one with yourself, you cannot see.
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PROFILE Born in a small trader’s family, running a 10X10 feet grocer shop, from a tender age Sancheti had to eke out a living to enable him to pay his tuition fee, both at school and in college. In spite of hardships, he was a brilliant student and did exceedingly well in medical college and subsequent career in research. He is a man of many firsts. He was Pune’s first orthopaedic doctor, the inventor of India’s first indigenous knee implant—the Indus knee— and founder of Maharashtra’s first orthopaedic dedicated specialty. The Sancheti Institute has now received a patent for their indigenous knee, known as Indus Knee, designed by Dr. Sancheti. The knee has so far helped 1,000 patients who underwent knee replacement surgery for arthritis. Dr Sancheti’s Indus knee is available at one-third the cost an imported knee and costs around Rs. 32,000 to Rs.35,000. An imported knee costs nothing less than Rs. 80,000 to Rs. 90,000. Dr Sancheti has also developed an in-house full-equipped workshop to design other joints like the hip, shoulder and elbow. Eighty per cent of the population, suffering from a severe form of arthritis, were unable to afford the high cost of imported knee and could not go for a knee replacement surgery. Sancheti’s design is suited for the Indian population. Apart from being cost effective, it allows more than 130-135 degrees of bending. Crippled by arthritis, patients who could not stand or sit for a long time, can now sit cross legged on the floor. Dr. Sancheti conducted extensive research before he designed the artificial knee-joint that is implanted in the body during surgery. While 900 patients have benefitted at the Sancheti Institute, 100 more were assisted at clinics and hospitals in Madras, Indore and Hyderabad. Now, the Institute plans to market the product. His book—Scripting Destiny— is not an autobiography, says Dr. Sancheti. The story is the story of a simple man’s success and the success of his enterprise. It talks of a person, whose life and circumstances only bolstered him to reach out and achieve success. What emerged was a key lesson of Dr. Sancheti’s life—that it is not only through academics but also untiring hard work, determination and honesty, that one can script one’s own destiny . This is a book that does not prescribe nor is it moralistic but it inspires and builds confidence in every reader cutting across age-groups. Generations unborn will think of Dr. Sancheti as an orthopedic surgeon who worked in the presence of God. |
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Animal Farm (1945), the satire by George Orwell, was banned by Allied forces, who found the book to be critical of the USSR, and too controversial to print during wartime. It was banned in the schools of the United Arab Emirates, because the character of a talking pig allegedly went against Islamic values. 
Poet
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