Multi-genre writers

One other trend in my reading these days is that I am reading books that (apparently) everyone in the literate world has read, but I have somehow managed to miss. First up in this set of books is Bill Bryson's 2003 instant classic A Short History of Nearly Everything which I started reading last week.

I am struck by how at-home Bryson sounds in the book. Popular science writing is not for everyone. You need to know enough of the science to really know what you are talking about. And then, you need to recognize what is central to the concept and what can be abstracted away. Finally, you need to be able to talk about it in a way that is interesting. Not easy skills, these. Which is why you don't hear the phrase 'part time science writer' very often.

Which gets me to the multiple talents of the good Mr. Bryson. And to my question for today - which authors have been able to write successful books across very different genres? Clearly, Bryson is close to the head of the list. He has written great travel books, memorable science books, great books on the English language (notably The mother tongue and how it got that way) and a noted biography of Shakespeare.

Roald Dahl is another great in this category, mixing his classic children's books (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Matilda ...) with his adult stories of the macabre (of which my favorites are Switch Bitch, Tales of the Unexpected, and Someone Like You). If this wasn't crazy enough for one author, he threw in a few curveballs - or googlies, for those inclined to cricket - with stuff like film scripts (Chitty Chitty Bang Bang), poetry and non-fiction.

Vikram Seth comes to mind, with his memorable poetry works (my favorite - Beastly Tales from Here and There) and sensitive prose fiction.

Margaet Atwood, best known for her fiction, including the Booker winning The Blind Assassin, and her collections of poetry, recently also released a book on economics and the current global crisis called Payback. Now that's a combination you don't often see!

Isaac Asimov - Best known for his Sci-Fi and popular science work, but who wrote on so many topics that Wikipedia informs me he published in 9 out of the 10 major subject categories in the Dewey Decimal System! (The one subject he missed - probably forgot - was philosophy and psychology).

That is a pretty impressive list. But really short. Am I missing someone obvious?

A Spot of Bother - Audio CDs

As I mentioned before, I haven't quite completed an audio book in a while. This week, after the closing credits on Mark Haddon's A Spot of Bother, I must admit I was surprised by how I felt. Sitting in the car the next day, as I started driving to work, it felt like somehow I was wasting my time. What am I doing listening to this stuff, wasting precious 'me' time, when I could be reading a book? Strange, this reading while driving thing. I am sure it is a phase, and it will pass. But for now, I am enjoying it.

So now, A Spot of Bother. It doesn't need repeating that Mark Haddon is a funny guy. He has that wry sort of humor that makes you chuckle and think at the same time. He continues to be in some sort of form here, though fair warning - do not expect another Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time.

A Spot of Bother is the story of four semi crazy members of a semi dysfunctional family. There is George, the taciturn father entering retirement ... and depression. There is the caring wife, and forbearing mother, who also happens to be carrying on steamily with an ex co-worker of the husband. There is the rebellious daughter who might be marrying someone just to spite her family. And the gay son trying to keep his distance from relatives, only to find that he is also distant from all relationships. Events are set in motion by a declaration of intent to wed ... and the four lives start unravelling.

Haddon is witty, though he makes sure that his characters aren't. That wouldn't quite do for this family. As events (and lives) unravel, and things start taking a turn for the decidedly bizarre, Haddon's humor keeps the book grounded, and keeps things from entering cuckoo land. This is enough to sustain an engaging listening experience. Not too heavy to tax my half-occupied driver's mind. Funny enough to keep time flying. There was one Ick moment when I had to get off the road to shudder ... but even that was fun in a way.

I am not certain I would have found the book itself half as amusing. The characters are too creatively crazy. The ending is too pat. It is all too much like ... like something that happens in novels.

The CDs though ... now that is another thing altogether.

Indelible ink

An interesting take on the Indian election on The Colbert Report.

What is the Brick and Rope connection? It has a Stephen Colbert endorsement of Shashi Tharoor, diplomat, book critic and author.

Tharoor has written prodigiously, and I have been a fan of a large part of his work. My favorites - some very inventive fiction in The Great Indian Novel; and some heart-felt non-fiction about India - in 'the Elephant, the Tiger and the Cellphone' and 'India - From Midnight to the Millenium and beyond'. If you are in the mood for some opinion laced Indian history, I would whole-heartedly recommend these. Tharoor is standing for election in his home state of Kerala.

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Indian Elections - Kanishk Tharoor
colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor NASA Name Contest

Sacred Games - By Vikram Chandra

Let me get the obvious out of the way first. Sacred Games is a long novel. At over 900 pages, it literally requires effort to pick the book up. But here is the good news - the book is as difficult to put down as it is to pick up.

Vikram Chandra has written two other books before this, both of which I have thoroughly enjoyed. If you aren't quite sure whether his writing would be to your taste, I would suggest not starting with Sacred Games. His second book Love and Longing in Bombay is a phenomenal little collection of short stories. That is where I would suggest you start. There you will find some of the pieces Chandra is best at - his intimate feel for the pulse of Bombay, his sympathy for characters not always lovable, his experiments with narrative technique. And it has the other plus of first introducing Sartaj Singh, the protagonist of Sacred Games. (Though it isn't by any means necessary to read L&L to appreciate Sacred Games).

Sartaj Singh: The only Sikh police inspector in Bombay. Tall and fiercely handsome in his time. Divorced. Soft, too soft. Not above getting his palms greased if the situation arises. Unambitious. Just wants to do his job.

Not quite the hero.

And that is what leads to the most endearing thing about Sacred Games - The unflinching, yet sympathetic portrayal of the bumbling, corrupt, underpaid, underarmed force that is the Indian police. It is all there, up close, warts and all. Sartaj Singh is no hero. And Chandra takes the reader along on a journey with with this non-hero. He tells tales of corruption that pervades every action, of fake raids on dance bars and secret Swiss bank accounts, of policemen turned blackmailers and pickpockets turned partners. And along this sordid journey, Chandra accomplishes something truly remarkable - he makes the reader see the policeman's side of the story.

Then there is Ganesh Gaitonde. The Hindu Don. Ruthless gangster. Serial womanizer. Fixer of elections. The king of Kailashpada.

A character that only Bombay could support. He is the voice of the most rousing passages in Sacred Games. He is the character that will live with me months after reading this book. When he is done ("Bas. Enough."), you will miss him.

Finally, there is Bombay. The real heroine of the book. Bombay is everywhere in Sacred Games. Reading the book is to travel through the lanes of Bombay. The crowded, filthy lanes, not the swank roads of Cuffe Parade and Kolaba.

Sacred Games is pitch perfect in terms of tone. Chandra's grasp on narrative technique is perfect.

One note of warning: The language in Sacred Games is extremely strong. If you flinch at the sound of a bhenchod or a chutiya, this book is not for you. Suffice to say that if you take the swearwords out, the book would probably be half in length. And a third in believability. And a fourth in its appeal.

Love Story: A re-run

Book-shelves are not medicine cabinets. When you visit someone, it is OK to peek at the contents of their book-shelves. Maybe even borrow some of the contents, for the period of your stay.

So there I was last week, trying to see whether any of the contents of my hosts' shelves looked interesting. Some I had read, and wasn't keen on re-reading. Some were just not my type. There was one though that felt (for a lazy day under the Texas sun), good enough for a rerun. It was Erich Segal's short 1970 bestseller Love Story. [Don't mock me yet]. I had read the book a few times in the early '90s. And each of the previous times, I cried like a baby at the end of the book. [OK, you can go ahead and mock me now]. Many years have passed since, and I thought, maybe I should see how I react to the book after all this time.

First, I was struck by something I had clean forgotten. The book has a great set of opening lines.

What can you say about a twenty-five year old girl who died? That she was beautiful. And brilliant. That she loved Mozart and Bach. And the Beatles. And me.

Simple, direct, short. One doesn't read novels like this any more - which is a pity, but not all bad.

The second, more disconcerting thing was that the character I found myself most empathetic to wasn't Jenny. Or Oliver. It was the dad guy. The super rich, somewhat stuck-up father unable to reach his son emotionally. That's the guy I liked. I didn't like it that I liked him. But I did. So kill me.

Segal was clearly in a zone when he was writing this book. Because even though I had read the book multiple times, even though the very first line in the book gives the ending away, I still found myself rooting for the couple throughout the book. Wishing that Jenny would make it. Which is kinda cool, or really forgetful.

The true cynicism test lay ahead. Was it going to be dry eyes or Niagara bawls? 'Shit happens' or 'Why?'.

Let me just say this. Minutes after finishing the book, I was on Yahoo finance to see what the market did.

Save me somebody, I am dead inside.

An introduction to Bollywood

An American friend asked me the other day to recommend "some good Bollywood movies", and I must admit, I was stumped. How does one choose just a few films from a film industry that churns out 300 films a year? (And that is just in Hindi)

On vacation in Texas last week, I was reading Vikram Chandra's Sacred Games. More on the book itself in another post. In the 'Extras' section of the book, there was an author Q&A with that same conversation again. The interviewer (presumably an American) is talking to Chandra about the copious Bollywood references in his book. To someone who doesn't quite get all the allusions, the interviewer says, what movies would you recommend to get a feel for Bollywood over the years.

Now remember, Sacred Games is a gangster book. So there is a distinct gangster bias to the list Chandra comes up with. Still, I found the list extremely interesting.

Here then is Vikram Chandra's list of notable Bollywood films over the years:

1. Pyaasa (1957)
2. Kaagaz ke phool (1959)
3. Mughal-e-Azam (1960)
4. Sholay (1975)
5. Parinda (1989)
6. Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge (1995)
7. Satya (1998)
8. Lagaan (2001)
9. Lage Raho Munnabhai (2006)
10. Rang de Basanti (2006)

He has persuasive reasons for why each film makes it on this list, but I will let the list stand on its own. For my American readers - you could do much worse than this list if you are looking for an introduction to Bollywood. For my Indian readers - What do you think? How different would your personal top 10 look ?

American imagination? It's Indian writing calling.

On my way to Texas on a week-long vacation. Browsing at the small airport bookstore in Baltimore, MD. Hey, isn't it Nandan Nilekani on that book cover? And is that Lord Shiva on that other cover? Come to think of it, there is a lot of writing by Indians and Indian Americans in this small store. I can see Imagining India, Nandan's first book. The Age of Shiva, Manil Suri's second. Gang Leader for a Day, Sudhir Venkatesh's scary little non-fiction. The Enchantress of Florence. And of course the obligatory copies of Slumdog Millionnaire. Isn't that interesting.

Walking the aisles of Barnes and Noble in Houston, TX. Hey! Is that really ...


There they all are - Salman Rushdie, Rohinton Mistry, Vikas Swarup, Aravind Adiga, Vikram Seth, Anita Desai, David Davidar, Jhumpa Lahiri, Suketu Mehta, Manil Suri, Vikram Chandra. And many others. Holding the Indian flag aloft, writing in the queen's language. As Salman Rushdie pointed out - memorably, and controversially - "the ironic proposition that India's best writing since independence may have been done in the language of the departed imperialists ...".

Many years back, in what seems like a different age, I once took a course in college called 'Indian Writing in English'. As coursework, we read authors like Raja Rao, Mulk Raj Anand, Ruth Prawer Jhabwala, R.K. Narayan ... great writers all, but hardly people your average American reader would recognize, let alone appreciate.

And now? Is that curry I smell?

'Better': More than merely good

Every year, two million Americans acquire an infection while they are in a hospital. Of these, ninety thousand die of that infection. Yes, you read that right. Ninety thousand. About twice as many as die in motor accidents. About 3% of all deaths in a year. Caused by infections you catch after you get into the hospital. What can doctors do to reduce this silent epidemic? Wash their hands. No fancy technology, no multi-million dollar pieces of equipment, no research break-throughs. Just wash their hands more thoroughly, more often. A simple but effective way for doctors to get better at their core responsibility - keeping patients alive.

Better is a book about improving performance. On surface, it is about how a surgeon can improve his performance in medicine. In his first book, Complications, Atul Gawande explored the imperfectness of the science of medicine. Here, he talks about what one can do to be a better surgeon. And the themes are practical, almost prosaic ('wash your hands'), and truly universal.

I had recently been reading Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers. The question there was - what makes someone exceptionally good at something, an Outlier. Better, in comparison, looks (in large part) at the more modest proposition of how to make each of us just a little bit better at what we do. And as it turns out, doing just a little bit better as a surgeon saves a lot of lives. Gawande sees three broad chracters of a better professional - diligence, moral clarity, and ingenuity. To make each point, he unearths the most intriguing cases from his broad and extensive experience.

The thing that strikes you most when reading Better is Gawande's ability to not flinch. He casts his light on some of the toughest questions in the medical world, and in the process, creates some memorable writing. I found his discussion on medical malpractice lawsuits one of the most sensitive and balanced discussions on the topic that I have come across. No simplistic sound-bites, no name-calling, no painting in black and white.

The other remarkable thing is Gawande's choice to write about the small things one could do, rather than the big flashy stuff. "We always hope for the easy fix" he says, "the one simple change that would erase a problem in a flash. But few things in life work this way. Instead, success requires that many a hundred small steps go right - no slipups, no goofs, everyone pitching in." He could as well be talking about writing a great book.

In the end, Better is about doing the small things right. About making the right moral choices. About practical, no nonsense creativity. There is genuine warmth in Gawande's tone, hope in his voice, grit in his stories. This is a book I found on the Medicine shelf of Barnes and Noble. But it could just as easily have been on the self-help shelf. Or the philosophy shelf. Or the management shelf.

"Someone's got to be average", says Gawande. "If the bell curve is a fact, then so is the reality that most doctors are going to be average. There is no shame in being one of them, right? Except, of course, there is. What is troubling is not just being average, but settling for it. Everyone knows that averageness is, for most of us, our fate. And in certain matters - looks, money, tennis - we would do well to accept this. But in your surgeon, your child's pediatrician, your police deparrtment, your local high school? When the stakes are our lives and the lives of our children, we want no one to settle for average."

Better doesn't. Not even close.