adventure

Luka and the Fire of Life

mandy — Sat, 05 Feb 2011 16:00:00 +0000

The world according to Salman Rushdie post-fatwa is a very bad place. If his books from this era are anything to go by, most people are judgmental, small-minded, and intolerant. In this book, and its prequel Haroun and the Sea of Stories, Rushdie is passing that same worldview on to his sons. Buried under verbal twists and turns and puns and slapstick, Luka and the Fire of Life is about a boy undertaking a quest through a mythical world (created, it seems, by his father’s stories) to save his father’s life. He braves great challenges and finds courage he did not know he had. Ostensibly, Luka is on a quest to find his own voice, but the voice he actually finds his father’s.

While I was reading the book, I kept trying to imagine a twelve-year-old boy reading it, but I couldn’t. The references to video games are a bit sad—like a sixty-year-old father trying to appear cool by getting into what his pre-teen son likes—and wouldn’t fool any kid. The adventures were too wordy and too weighty to really pull me along, let alone a mile-a-minute boy. Luka and the Fire of Life left me with an overwhelming sense of a man desperate to prove his own relevance—to everyone, but maybe mostly to his son.

And where is Luka’s mother in all this? Soraya is a flat character, given to pronouncements about how hilarious the men in her family are, more often tut-tutting than actually speaking. She sits uselessly by Rashid’s bedside while her son goes out to save the world. I wondered what kind of quest Rushdie would think of for her if he could. She does appear in an alternate form in the fantasy world, helping Luka on his way, but she does not present any counterweight to his father or his father’s image of the world.

Rushdie was at his peak with The Satanic Verses, a book I believe was as close to genius as anything written in this generation, when Rushdie was forced into hiding. It is impossible to imagine the impact a worldwide death sentence would have on a creative mind, but if Rushdie’s books of this era are any indication, then the fatwa killed the spark built in Rushdie’s early work.

I remember the hate and the close-mindedness of the fatwa; for many in the West, it may have been one the first glimpses of the power and reach of extremist Islam. But I also remember the courage of the many who stood with Rushdie and protected him in those years. I remember rallies at University and writers and others risking their lives to stand up for Rushdie. Where is that alternate worldview in his books? Tragically for his readers, Rushdie seems yet to see this side of this momentous event.

It seems like today—when religious extremisms and hate seem to be winning the war of words, when secularism and so-called blasphemy can get even the Governor of Punjab killed—Rushdie could help us see the other realities. He could show the world beyond it and behind it, not just point us through it, as if it were the only truth and, like it or not, we have to navigate it, with just a dancing bear and a singing dog and a few words of advice from an aging storyteller. I want the Rushdie of The Satanic Verses back; he really knew how to cut the legs out from under the small-minded power of intolerance.

Written by: Khadijah Fancy, February 5th 2011

Literary Readings: Salman Rushdie (11/22/2010)

mandy — Sat, 05 Feb 2011 14:00:00 +0000

92nd Street Y

New York, New York

Everywhere you go in India, you see bootlegged copies of Salman Rushdie's groundbreaking Midnight's Children being sold by hawkers along the footpaths to tourists who've come to see if the romanticized country is as mythical a place as the then-copywriter delightfully described in his make-me-or-break-me novel. The fantastical worlds created in Rushdie's mind closely resemble our reality, but their magical element—at times more prevalent than others—has the ability to transport the uninitiated from a place of sensory overload to one of simple beauty. And it was with great pleasure that I attended the literary reading with Rushdie, and subsequent jocular verbal sparring with fellow Mumbaite, and Maximum City author, Suketu Mehta at the 92nd Street Y.

After Mehta's endearing introduction of Rushdie, in which he comically described being rebuffed at the authors' first encounter, the senior writer took the stage to read excerpts from his recently published young adult adventure novel, Luka and the Fire of Life. I had read the book a few days prior to the event while stuck on the 2 train from Prospect Heights to West Harlem. Crushed on all sides in the crowded train, Luka's quest allowed me some reprieve from claustrophobia during the snail's pace journey. And I much preferred experiencing Rushdie's linguistic acrobatics and smarty pants humor in the comfortable seats at the Y.

The audience seemed pleasantly amused at the children's story, crafted at the request of Rushdie's own adolescent son. They tittered at all appropriate parts and chuckled at Rushdie's added commentary between excerpts. Luka and the Fire of Life is clearly a rumination on mortality and fatherhood, a point Rushdie freely admitted. As an aging father of a teenage son, the desire to leave a personal legacy influenced the timing of this book, which Rushdie said was vetted by his son before he turned it over to the publisher.

After the reading, Mehta returned to the stage to facilitate a conversation that ran the gamut of nonlinear literature, so-called cultureless Americans, the inevitability of the novel's survival, and Rushdie's addiction to Angry Birds. Rushdie's natural charisma outshone his interviewer, but he was gracious enough to dim the light from time to time. The evening came to a close with a more serious consideration of present day tyrannical regimes and Rushdie's having the "misfortune of acquiring an interesting life."

He told Mehta, "[Writers] look aghast at the world as it is...When times are bad, it's great for writers [because] the worse it is, the better it is [for us]." To which Mehta fondly responded, in an effort at comical flattery, "Then let's hope it gets worse."

Written by: Mandy Van Deven, February 5th 2011

Juliet: A Novel

gwen — Thu, 28 Oct 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Anne Fortier

Ballantine Books

We all know Shakespeare's story of two star crossed lovers; it’s heartbreakingly romantic and tragic at the same time. It’s also a storyline that has lasted since its debut and has inspired many a story since.

One of these stories—Juliet—is the authorial debut of Anne Fortier.

We've all read, one way or another, some twist of the Bard’s original play. And if you’re a writer you may have written one yourself (I know I have). That’s not a crime—it’s a classic for a reason, after all. The real crime would be not doing the original piece justice—a crime Anne Fortier has not committed.

In Juliet, our author asks a question many historians have asked: “Were Romeo and Juliet real?” That question begins a magical adventure-filled ride through the beautiful Italian city of Siena.

Julie Jacobs is your average twenty-something year-old who doesn't know much about who she is; except for the fact that she's spent most of her life in the shadow of her flamboyant twin sister Janice. When their aunt Rose dies, Julie embarks on a treasure hunt that her mother, dead of twenty years, left to her.

As expected Julie's hunt is for gold and jewels, but the real mystery and treasure is buried in the histories of Siena and her family.

In Juliet, it turns out that Shakespeare didn't know how close to the truth he came when he wrote the words, “A plague on both your houses.” Julie crawls around in forgotten Siena tunnels, gets chased down cobblestone streets by some shrouded guy on a motorcycle, and unwittingly falls in love with both her destined enemy and her Romeo. Readers go on not one, but two, journeys as the novel flips seamlessly back and forth between Julie's story in the present and Romeo and Juliet's of 1340.

With too many plot twists to count, five centuries of family drama, and power struggles, Juliet can please any type of reader—whether you enjoy historical fiction, romance, adventure, or mysteries, Anne Fortier has managed to put it all in this very satisfying rewrite of a literary king.

It is a daring author who will take on Shakespeare with their first novel and a talented one who can do it so well. I wait with bated breath to see what comes next.

Written by: Nina Lopez-Ortiz, October 28th 2010

Female Nomad and Friends: Tales of Breaking Free and Breaking Bread Around the World

admin — Fri, 09 Jul 2010 08:01:00 +0000

By Rita Golden Gelman

Three Rivers Press

I love reading essay collections. For a voracious reader without much free time, the ability to pick up a book, read a few self-contained pages that pack a punch, and go on to the next task is so rewarding. And unlike reading blog posts, I don’t feel the need to comment or otherwise let the author know that I was there.

Female Nomad and Friends is an absolute treat for women who love to travel and connect with new people. Even for those who simply dream about it, but don’t have the means or the fearlessness to travel to exotic places, this book offers funny stories, unbelievable adventures, and... recipes.

Rita Golden Gelman received such tremendous feedback from her book of travel stories, Tales of a Female Nomad, that she decided to collect some of her favorite fan responses and publish them. Another friend suggested she add recipes and, voila, the book was born.

The essays are organized into different themes: Connecting, Language, Food, Passion, etc. and give the reader a colorful array of experiences that span the globe. The women who contributed stories to the book had predictably unpredictable mishaps, some titillating moments, a few frightening culinary experiences, and ultimately learned some universal truths about people and themselves along the way. In the past few decades, the world has gotten smaller and it is easy to take for granted how easily we can glean facts about life halfway across the world. Thanks to this book, we are reminded that there is just no substitute for face-to-face contact. Reading about personal interactions between people who don’t share languages or cultural norms but who nonetheless show kindness and respect for each other is both heartwarming and hilarious.

I must admit I’ve dog-eared a few recipes to go back and try once I get some free time in the kitchen. There is just something special about re-creating something you first experienced abroad, especially if it is a time honored tradition in someone else’s kitchen. Many of my favorite discussions have occurred in the kitchen, hanging out with a group of women, working away, everyone doing their part to create something magical and special for their families and friends. The travel stories and recipes go hand-in-hand as they create a wonderful tapestry of travel images for the reader.

Written by: Kari O’Driscoll, July 9th 2010

The White Mary

admin — Mon, 07 Dec 2009 17:01:00 +0000

By Kira Salak

Picador

Marika Vicera is a war reporter who has dedicated herself to telling the stories of oppressed peoples around the world. She is giving a talk at Boston University when she meets a psychology doctoral student named Sebastian Gilman. Seb, as he is known, is in awe of Marika's war reports, which have landed frequently on the covers of major newspapers. Although Marika doesn't think much of the practice of psychology, she is taken with Seb. Marika takes a break from her globe trotting to write a biography of famous journalist Robert Lewis, who recently committed suicide. At the same time, she begins dating Seb, and, eventually, she moves in with him.

Soon, the memories of her near death in the Congo begin to haunt her. She feels the easy life she has in Cambridge is meaningless, and she begins to push Seb away. She refuses to let Seb use any of his psychology skills to help her. When she learns that Robert Lewis may be alive in Papua New Guinea, she uses that as an excuse to run from Seb and the intimacy that is so uncomfortable to her.

Marika has admired Lewis all of her life, and now she is driven to find out what really happened to him. She ends up alone in the “heat and humidity of New Guinea...covered in sweat, her clothes entirely soaked. She accidentally left the top of her tent unzipped, and engorged red mosquito bites cover her body like a series of reprimands: do not underestimate this world.”

There have been a couple of sightings of someone who resembles Lewis near Walwasi Mountain, a distant region. Marika hires a guide, who abandons her before they reach their destination. She recruits Tobo, a medicine man in the village where she is abandoned. He reluctantly agrees to take her, as he sees it as a spiritual obligation. The trip to Walwasi Mountain is harrowing: by the time they reach the village, Marika is near death. She is completely dependent on Tobo, who relies on magic and herbs to keep her alive.

Salak's descriptions of Papua New Guinea are vivid and brutal. The fact that Salak herself actually did walk across the country as a reporter lends credence to the world she creates on the page. Salak describes Krit, a village they pass on the way to Walwasi Mountain that seems to have been cursed, and unflinchingly: “Marika sees a little girl with a distended belly relieving herself under one of the huts. Flies buzz over piles of feces scattered about the village, and a fetid stench wafts to her on the breeze.”

The White Mary is indeed a page turner, though at times the back story about Seb and even Robert Lewis seems to interrupt the Papua New Guinea narrative. The connection between the Marika of Papua New Guinea and the Marika back in the States was tenuous and might have been more carefully interwoven. Salak's examination of Seb's insights into psychology in relation to Marika's own psychological makeup could be a bit less heavy handed as well.

But Marika's journey, in the end, goes beyond a search for Robert Lewis. It becomes a search for her own soul, and her own sense of what really matters in life. Ultimately, Salak has crafted a rousing and ultimately satisfying adventure.

Written by: Natasha Bauman, December 7th 2009

Awesome

admin — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 20:53:00 +0000

By Jack Pendarvis

MacAdam/Cage

“If the garbage man doesn’t come for a couple weeks, we all die of cholera.”

If you are unfamiliar with Jack Pendarvis, there is really nothing I can say that would adequately prepare you for a foray into his debut novel, Awesome, except perhaps that the “best” modern humor seems to come at you in throngs of grotesque hyperbole. From the concept of fueling a car with ejaculate (instead of oil or alcohol) to the detailed castration of that very member which produced the semen-fuel, Pendarvis sends you to a place where you realize consciously or not that blatant sexuality is no longer the exception, but the norm to which you become desensitized. By the time you find the narrator commanding his true love to masturbate atop a camel in front of friends and family on their wedding day, you don’t really blink an eye. This, incidentally, is the very male-female interaction that propels the plot of our absurdist tale.

Simply put, Awesome is a love story. Pendarvis’ protagonist, a pariah in the shape of a derby-wearing giant named Awesome, narrates his quixotic adventure across the United States to collect treasures in the hopes of wooing his true love, Glorious Jones, back after the aforementioned marital mishap. Awesome simultaneously epitomizes naiveté and genius. While reading, you can embrace your inner schadenfreude in watching him stumble through human social cues while also naturally being the most brilliant traversing the land - your typical MIT student (just ten times larger).

Every Quijote needs his Sancho, and in this case, the secondhand plot line is a result of Awesome’s forte in life: robot building. He single-handedly creates both his companion in his quest and his arch nemesis in one, Jimmy the robot. The story primarily focuses around this trio: Awesome, Glorious Jones, and Jimmy - with Jimmy as a mere “side kick” until ultimately, we find it to be Jimmy that thwarts Awesome’s efforts to efficiently win Glorious because he exceeds robot expectations and adopts human emotions (jealousy and loneliness). This is perhaps, in part, to say that we all serve as the creators of our own worst enemies, one of the many cliché messages ironically interspersed throughout this short novel.

Awesome isn’t a life changing read, but it takes the most typical story lines in literature and presents them with a twist for an intriguing social commentary. At first, I found this novel to be shockingly male-authored. I was quite turned off by the harsh depiction of sex in the male mind, despite how accurate it probably is (think: Heath Ledger’s experiment gone awry in I’m Not There challenging Charlotte Gainsbourg to write down on a napkin the nastiest thing she could think of and compare it to a male’s version). But this was necessary in order to show the contrast of a transformed Awesome post-castration, the point at which he discovers that sexual endeavors are a distraction in his attempt to complete his mission for Glorious. This very incident serves as a feminist overture.

This book is successful because, by the end, Pendarvis has made you joyfully accept that the human condition is an absolutely absurd and redundant one. The very trait that sets humans apart from all other animals, the capacity for rationale, is elucidated as wasteful and our fear of purposelessness is hilarious. And originality, that which humans ideally seek, only truly lies within the grasp of a robotic creation who suffers from the very same thing humans do: loneliness. It ends up being this very touch of humanness that drives his originality. In a whirlwind of circular logic we realize this, in itself, is highly not novel. Knowing the kind of comedian Pendarvis is, though, he probably just wrote his novel with one thing in mind: make it funny. And that, he did.

Written by: Alexandra Tverskaya, June 6th 2008