Paris isn’t dead yet by Cole Stangler – Book Review

 

Publisher’s write-up:

‘The Paris of popular imagination is lined with cobblestone streets and stylish cafés, a beacon for fashionistas and well-heeled tourists. But French American journalist Cole Stangler, celebrated for his reporting on Paris and French politics, argues that the beating heart of the City of Light lies elsewhere – in the striving, working-class districts, where residents are now being priced out.

Paris Isn't Dead Yet explores the past, present and future of the city through the lens of class conflict, highlighting the outsized role of immigrants in shaping the city's progressive, cosmopolitan and open-minded character – at a time when politics nationwide can feel like they're shifting in the opposite direction. This is the Paris many tourists too often miss: immigrant-heavy districts such as the 18th arrondissement, where crowded street markets still define everyday life. Stangler brings this view of the city to life, combining gripping, street-level reportage, stories of today's working-class Parisians, recent history and a sweeping analysis of the larger forces shaping the city.’

Paris is often romanticised in the media as this beautiful city, with the picturesque cafés on its streets, the monuments, the museums, ad a city with a rich history of supporting writers and artists from all over the world, be it Picasso or Hemingway. However, the author of this book – Paris isn’t Dead Yet, the journalist Cole Stangler – talks about the rapid gentrification of the city, while there were always elitist arrondissements of Paris like the 16^th, the city is slowly losing its working-class population and is being increasingly dominated by white-collared elites all across.

The author starts with the present day, explaining the most diverse Parisian arrondissement – the 18^th which has Montmartre, atop which you have the iconic Basilica Sacré Coeur, along with some of the cafés most frequented by the tourists; but at the same time, a ten minute walk down the hill to Boulevard Ornano completely changes this picture – taking us towards Goutte d’Or in the 18^th, a neighbourhood predominantly inhabited by working class consisting mostly of immigrants from West African nations in the Sahel. However, the author goes on to describe the changing situation here, wherein, they are being outpriced by the significant increases of rent in Paris, and also other costs, being pushed to suburban towns like Saint-Denis and Aubervilliers. A phrase that is often thrown around casually, is that ‘this neighbourhood is not like in the past, it is good now’, by which, what is often meant is that it has been gentrified – something often said about places like Belleville in Paris.

The author also talks about the history of the city, wherein, it was not uncommon for the rich and the working-class to share the same building, just that the size of their houses would be significantly different within the same building but that is hardly the case anymore. The author also explains how this is making the city lose its essential character of being a melting pot attracting people from all walks of life, and especially how freelance and independent artists can no longer afford the city unlike the era Picasso, James Joyce or Hemingway.

There are also detailed interviews with individuals whom the author has interviewed, people who had been living in a neighbourhood for decades eventually being priced out, and social housing being unavailable: The author also has conducted interviews with politicians within the city administration, and I found his conversations with the city councillor for Communist Party of France (PCF) – Ian Brossat, to be very interesting and insightful, especially on social housing.

That said, I enjoyed the level of detail in this book. But it needs to be highlighted I enjoyed it, and I could relate to it since I have been living in Paris for long enough, and fully understand what he is talking about – including specific street names that he brought up in the 18^th. To be very precise, I myself am one of the people who are causes of this gentrification, given I live in the 18^th arrondissement, the typical ‘white collar elite’ who is outpricing the original residents of the neighbourhood. However, what I am unsure is to what extent would people who are not familiar with the city would relate to it, given many of the places the author talks about are ones that would never be visited by tourists, be it Aubervilliers or Goutte d’Or.

If it is to highlight the situation in Paris and saving it from hypergentrification, I am not sure who the target audience of this book is, given that this is a book in English (I am not sure if a French translation is being planned), and for any work of non-fiction, it is reasonable to ask who is the target audience and I was unclear on that with this book.

On the whole, I had a great reading experience reading this book, sometimes was interesting to see references to cafés I have visited myself being referenced in the book. This was also insightful for me given I am living here and would like to have a say on making sure that the city is still accessible to people from all walks of life. On that note, I award the book a rating of seven on ten.

Rating – 7/10

Have a nice day,
Andy

On Photography by Susan Sontag – Book Review

 

Publisher’s write-up:

‘Susan Sontag's groundbreaking critique of photography asks forceful questions about the moral and aesthetic issues surrounding this art form. Photographs are everywhere, and the 'insatiability of the photographing eye' has profoundly altered our relationship with the world. Photographs have the power to shock, idealize or seduce, they create a sense of nostalgia and act as a memorial, and they can be used as evidence against us or to identify us. In these six incisive essays, Sontag examines the ways in which we use these omnipresent images to manufacture a sense of reality and authority in our lives.’

On Photography is a collection of essays by Susan Sontag. Most of these essays were published in the New York Times between 1973 and 1977 – back when photography was still a specialised field and not like in the 21^st century, where everyone virtually has a camera on their smartphone.

The author discussed the evolution of photography over the years in detail, and discussed works of famous photographers such as Brassaï, Diane Arbus, etc. But the issue I felt that was in these essays was the author’s assumption that the reader is fully aware of the works of these photographers, which the average reader is not. I know of these photographers mainly because I live in Paris, and those who have worked on taking photos of Paris, such as Brassaï or Diane Arbus, I could relate to their works and understand what the author was discussing. But others, I was completely in the dark, and the publisher of the book could have added the photos for us to relate to, than letting things to our imagination.

Moreover, the author idealised photography as a unique art form where it is the only form of art where anything done ‘today’ would be considered as ‘art’ in the future but this is not exclusive to photography, but most forms of art – those which were considered ordinary or the norm, becoming antiques and a form of art in the future. In fact, several artists, such as Van Gogh, did not have the recognition when they were alive.

To conclude on these essays, I did not enjoy this, as an average reader, and if I had been an enthusiast on photography, and its history and I knew about the works of all the famous photographers that she talked about, I might have had a different opinion. Add to that, a lot of what she discussed in this book is outdated, given photos could be taken by anyone almost instantly. On that note, I award this book a rating of four on ten.

Rating – 4/10

Have a nice day,
Andy

You Don’t Belong Here by Elizabeth Becker – Book Review

 

Publisher’s write-up:

‘The long-buried story of three extraordinary female journalists who permanently shattered the barriers to women covering war.   Kate Webb, an Australian iconoclast, Catherine Leroy, a French daredevil photographer, and Frances FitzGerald, a blue-blood American intellectual, arrived in Vietnam with starkly different life experiences but one shared purpose: to report on the most consequential story of the decade. At a time when women were considered unfit to be foreign reporters, Frankie, Catherine, and Kate challenged the rules imposed on them by the military, ignored the belittlement of their male peers, and ultimately altered the craft of war reportage for generations.

In You Don’t Belong Here, Elizabeth Becker uses these women’s work and lives to illuminate the Vietnam War from the 1965 American buildup, the expansion into Cambodia, and the American defeat and its aftermath. Arriving herself in the last years of the war, Becker writes as a historian and a witness of the times.

What emerges is an unforgettable story of three journalists forging their place in a land of men, often at great personal sacrifice. Deeply reported and filled with personal letters, interviews, and profound insight, You Don’t Belong Here fills a void in the history of women and of war.’

You Don’t Belong Here is a book written recalling the stories of three women – who were photo journalists during the Vietnam war – the first to break the glass ceiling of women being involved in wartime photography. The book is written by a woman war photographer herself, Elizabeth Becker.

It starts with the story of Catherine Leroy, a young woman from France who is not happy with her circumstances in a Parisian suburb and is looking to move abroad – to London, but later takes a one way ticket to Saigon (present day Ho Chi Minh city), to be a wartime photographer and goes through her experiences – when it comes to how she was seen as a woman and the constraints she had (such as, the fact that male journalists having Vietnamese partners were not seen as an issue but the other way round was). The next is on Frances Fitzgerald, daughter of US ambassador to Laos and is from the elite circles of US political sphere – whose trip to Laos decided to make her take this career. The last is on the Australian woman, Kate Webb, who also comes to Vietnam as a photographer and ends up in captivity of the Viet Cong.

This book details the story very well and we learn a lot – on the background of these women, their motivations and also the political situation around the Vietnam war. The author takes a lot of effort to inform the reader about the war, and the situation that was surrounding it, including touching upon less known aspects such as the bombardment of Cambodia and its impact. The struggles of Catherine was also well documented – but at the same time, the author also pointed out the few allies they had in this journey who helped them face these odds. Equally interesting was Kate Webb recalling her experiences, where there was a point where she was declared ‘dead’ by the Australian media and we are unaware to what extent hers was a case of Stockholm syndrome or a case of gaining understanding the other perspective that changed her views.

It was also interesting to know the steps that these women had to take to break these adverse circumstances – such as Catherine had to show herself as pro-war, pro-military action, more so than the average American conservative to be accepted in the area.

Having said that, much as I would not want to comment on the life choices of individuals and indeed, took a great step in opening up career avenues for women in the west, I also could not help but see how here were western women, who were bored of lives in their own countries and decided to make a career out of the misery and suffering of people far away from where they were. I might have viewed it differently had they been well informed of Vietnam, its politics, and its history and hence were passionate about it; which made them make this journey, but instead – they learnt all on the go.

Moreover, I understand that the book is about ‘women not belonging’ in photo journalism during a war and these women defying the odds; however, the author went a lot deeper than that, in explaining the war and the politics surrounding it (very well, if I may say so). In that case, to negate the earlier criticism, I would have like it if there was also the story of a Vietnamese or a Cambodian journalist who was trying to bring to light images from this war.

The last, I understood during the epilogue that the author herself is a famous photo journalist and if one of the few to have interviewed Pol Pot in Cambodia, post which she witnessed a traumatic incident which resulted in the murder of one of her colleagues in her hotel in Cambodia. So, adding her own story in addition to these three women could have also been an interesting choice.

On the whole, I would say that this was a very interesting book, and there was a lot for me to learn – about these women and their struggles in this field, the situation in Vietnam and its surroundings and the experience of someone in captivity with the Viet Cong. On that note, I had a good reading experience and I would award the book a rating of seven on ten.

Rating – 7/10

Have a nice day,
Andy

Home Coming by John Bradshaw – Book Review

 

Publisher’s write-up:

‘Are you outwardly successful but inwardly do you feel like a big kid? Do you aspire to be a loving parent but all too often “lose it” in hurtful ways? Do you crave intimacy but sometimes wonder if it’s worth the struggle? Or are you plagued by constant vague feelings of anxiety or depression?

If any of this sounds familiar, you may be experiencing the hidden but damaging effects of a painful childhood—carrying within you a “wounded inner child” that is crying out for attention and healing.

In this powerful book, John Bradshaw shows how we can learn to nurture that inner child, in essence offering ourselves the good parenting we needed and longed for. Through a step-by-step process of exploring the unfinished business of each developmental stage, we can break away from destructive family rules and roles and free ourselves to live responsibly in the present. Then, says Bradshaw, the healed inner child becomes a source of vitality, enabling us to find new joy and energy in living.’

Home Coming is a book on psychology by motivational speaker John Bradshaw – known for his famous 12 step programme, used by Alcoholics Anonymous. The book presents an interesting idea, that how, to get through any process of healing, we need to heal our inner child and the book talks about reclaiming this child at various stages, the ‘infant-self’, the ‘the toddler-self', etc. The author shares personal anecdotes from a lot of people whom he knows, to present the problems they were facing and how they could reclaim this ‘inner child’ in them.

I tried to read this with a very open mind – given that in the first few pages, I realised that should this author and I have a hypothetical conversation, we were going to disagree on most things. To start with, I did not like his writing style – which was non inclusive and even went on to say that when he writes ‘he’, he refers to everyone regardless of how they identify themselves; even for brevity, there are perfectly reasonable gender-neutral alternatives in English which the author did not consider.

But that was the point less contentious. I do not personally mind reading books from religious people or even books on religion – so long as I feel that there could be some takeaways for me even though I would disagree with a lot of their statements. The book invoked god a lot, and full disclosure here – I am an atheist and hence, reading with that open mind was important. Having said that, the author made a lot of sweeping conclusions – such as children being natural believers and religious. In his attempted inclusiveness, he wrote on several occasions (it was not one isolated citation from the book, if that had been the case, it would have been easy for me to overlook) - that regardless of the reader’s current relationship with ‘god’, their inner child is a natural believer.

This book hardly had any citations or references and most of his conclusions were based on anecdotes he shared. So, I would also share my personal anecdote that I was never religious despite growing up in a religiously conservative household – and was never convinced with the idea as early as I was five. While I went along with the religious rituals as a child – that was more because of my unconditional trust on my parents (as most children would, on their parents or caregivers), than an inclination towards belief and by the time I was eight, I said to myself that I could no longer do this and openly started identifying myself as an atheist. And I am no exception here – many irreligious people I know have had similar experiences as a child, and people whom I know who have grown up in households where their parents / caregivers were irreligious, this was never a question that crossed their mind.

So, to go ahead with what the author was suggesting, for me personally was not possible because of the author’s inherent assumption of the reader’s child self being religious. There were several other sweeping assumptions that the author made – such as the author assuming their reader to be in their mid 30s or early 40s, married at around 25, and with children.

I personally do not mind any assumptions that a writer makes – so long as the target audience is clearly specified, but here the author tries to sell it as a universal book which does not work. Moreover, the author makes some dangerous statements in this book – and if someone is trying to heal themselves from certain trauma – these are certainly not the best of words to read:

‘God does not die on the day we cease to believe in a personal deity, but we die on the day when our lives cease to be illuminated by the steady radiance, renewed daily, of a wonder, the source of which is beyond all reason.’

Perhaps the author is oblivious to the fact that there are people, several of whom are neither religious nor spiritual and telling them that they are effectively ‘dead’ is not the best of things to say. He is not the only person in this profession who has made such statements though, I have had therapists who have made similar statements.

To conclude, I did not enjoy this book and I felt the author was imposing his views on the reader than open up a discussion. This maybe suited to people who have an upbringing in his specific faith and continue to hold those beliefs, but for everyone else, it is not an ideal book. I award this book a rating of three on ten.

Rating – 3/10

Have a nice day,
Andy

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong – Book Review

 

Publisher’s-write-up:

‘On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous is a letter from a son to a mother who cannot read. Written when the speaker, Little Dog, is in his late twenties, the letter unearths a family's history that began before he was born — a history whose epicenter is rooted in Vietnam — and serves as a doorway into parts of his life his mother has never known, all of it leading to an unforgettable revelation. At once a witness to the fraught yet undeniable love between a single mother and her son, it is also a brutally honest exploration of race, class, and masculinity. Asking questions central to our American moment, immersed as we are in addiction, violence, and trauma, but undergirded by compassion and tenderness, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous is as much about the power of telling one's own story as it is about the obliterating silence of not being heard.’

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous is an attempted novel from Ocean Vuong. The lead character is Little Dog, who is writing a letter to his illiterate mother – about his troubles growing up with his mother and grandmother, the abusive experiences he has had, both in the family and in the society at large, being a second generation immigrant of Vietnamese origins and yes, the lack of acceptance of his queer identity by his family.

The premise is interesting which was the reason why I wanted to like this book and I tried hard to do so. The book I understand is also autobiographical or what is increasingly happening – a type of autofiction, fictionalising one’s own story. The writer certainly had a style – and had a poetic writing style. I appreciate poetry, but I prefer to appreciate it while reading a poem, not read a prose that has forcibly inserted aspects of poetry.

What I find increasingly with many authors is that, they are trying to tick off a few boxes – given this character has issues with his mother, there is the angle of racism, struggles of someone with an immigrant background, struggles with his understanding of masculinity, the fact that he is gay in a family that does not accept it, etc. and he tried to insert all of this into his book. While I am someone who is sympathetic to all of these causes – and was precisely the reason why I tried to like this book, the narration fell flat.

If I had read the acknowledgements section a little earlier, maybe I would have avoided this altogether, given that the person whom he thanked in particular was Ben Lerner – the author of 10:04; a book that I read last year which I did not enjoy, at all – which was another case of a vague attempt at autofiction. If that was the target audience, it would have been evident to me from the very beginning that I was not the person for this book.

To conclude, I found nothing in this book, I read this book for my local book club discussion and like in many of these kinds of books, the discussion was more interesting than the book itself. Definitely the worst book that I read in 2023. On that note, I would award this book a rating of two on ten.

Rating – 2/10

Have a nice day,
Andy

Papillon by Henri Charrière – Book Review

 

Publisher’s write-up:

‘An immediate sensation upon its publication in 1969, Papillon is a vivid memoir of brutal penal colonies, daring prison breaks and heroic adventure on shark-infested seas.Condemned for a murder he did not commit, Henri Charriere, nicknamed Papillon, was sent to the penal colony of French Guiana. Forty-two days after his arrival he made his first break for freedom, travelling a thousand gruelling miles in an open boat. He was recaptured and put into solitary confinement but his spirit remained untamed: over thirteen years he made nine incredible escapes, including from the notorious penal colony on Devil’s Island.’

Note: I read this book in French

Afin de lire mon avis en français, cliquez ici

Papillon is an autobiographical book from Henri Charrière, who was accused of a murder and was eventually sent to French Guiana, which was then a penal colony. This book recounts his incredible story, where he took up the name ‘Papillon’ (Butterfly in French) and tried to escape the colony, several times and how he reconstructed his life.

The story starts with his conviction in France during the inter-war period. He was first sent to the prison in Caen, Normandy, before being sent to French Guiana. He recounts the tough conditions under which he lived, the friendships that he had made in the prison during these times, and the steps he took to get reprieve from the miscarriage of justice. During this story, he did succeed initially to escape the colony, set up a new life with the indigenous people in an island in the Caribbean before deciding to go back to French Guiana to get his justice.

This was an incredible story that almost felt like reading a thriller novel. I am using the word ‘novel’ deliberately over here as I am not sure if the retelling by the author is entirely honest; which included me not being sure on where he was exaggerating or simply making things up. However, it was still interesting to know what was going on in French Guiana during this time and how it was used as a prison which had harsh living conditions. The political aspect was also interesting, given the French Guyanese administration backed the Vichy regime and the impact that had on his potential acquittal was interesting. The most interesting character in this whole book is for sure, that of Papillon, maybe a tad too glorified, as someone who had solutions at any given situation. The conversations he had with the priests at the church was very something I enjoyed, given that Papillon was an atheist.

The only problem I found with this book is the character of Papillon himself – even though he was unjustly condemned in France, the actions he took while in the colony were hardly honourable, which included betraying his peers, and even abandoning his wives from the indigenous islands after having impregnated them. Thus, it was difficult for me to believe that he was someone completely clean and was certainly capable of doing very bad things.

To conclude, whether we believe this book to be the whole truth or not, I still found it to be an interesting read which gave a good insight into the historic situation in French Guiana. On that note, I award the book a rating of seven on ten.

Rating – 7/10

Have a nice day,
Andy

Strangers to Ourselves by Rachel Aviv – Book Review

 

Publisher’s write-up:

‘Strangers to Ourselves is a compassionate, courageous and deeply researched look at the ways we talk about and understand ourselves in periods of crisis and distress. Drawing on conversations as well as unpublished journals and memoirs, it follows people who have found that psychiatric language has limitations when it comes to explaining who they are, or that a diagnosis, while giving their experience a name, creates a sense of a future life they wish to question or resist.

Rachel Aviv is known for her radical empathy: she excels at seeing the world through the eyes of her fellow human beings. Writing first about her own experience of being institutionalized at the age of six, she introduces, among others, a mother recovering from psychosis and rebuilding her relationship with her children; a woman who lives in healing temples in Kerala, where she is celebrated as a saint; and a young woman who, after a decade of defining herself through her diagnosis, decides to stop her medication because she doesn't know who she is without it.

Through startling connections, intimate testimonies and diverse cultural perspectives, Aviv opens up fresh ways of thinking about illness and the mind, in a book which is curious, transformative, and above all, profoundly human.’

Strangers to Ourselves is a book written by writer and author Rachel Aviv. The book comprises accounts of five individuals going through severe mental illnesses and there is also a personal touch from the author herself, given she herself was diagnosed with anorexia at a young age.

The book talks about the starts the book with her own story and her struggles over the years and then moves on to the story of Ray, a person who is unable to accept the failure of his business which leads him to an identity crisis and eventually, ends up suing his doctor and other mental health professionals. The next is the story of Bapu – a woman from an affluent family in India who frequently abandons her family to seek refuge in religious institutions, and has schizophrenic visions of interacting with god and the divine. The next is the story of Naomi – a woman of African descent in the US, and the impact the societal circumstances has on her, and the people around her (including the youngest of her family).

I appreciate the author trying to narrate these complex mental situations through stories of people in the real world than citing multiple research papers (I am not demeaning the latter, but it is difficult for someone to relate to them from outside the field). She also spoke of multiple approaches that were used in these situations, including taking into account cultural considerations when talking of treatment. However, there were also some very far-reaching claims, such as on the Zoroastrian community in India having ‘westernised’ too fast which led to impacts on their mental health.

On the whole, while the stories themselves were interesting, I was not sure what was the point that the author was trying to drive home. If it was that there are different mental health diagnoses which could have dire impacts on people and also their entourage, we are already aware of that. I did like the approach of the author of discussing these people as individuals than ‘medical cases’, especially the detailed interviews with people around these patients, such as the children of Bapu, the ex-partner of Naomi, etc.

While I got to know some interesting case studies, I was unsure of the title or the purpose of this book and they often had very dire conclusions given their premise. On that note, I would aware this book a rating of four on ten.

Have a nice day,
Andy

The Dissident Club by Taha Siddiqui and Hubert Maury – Book Review

 

Publisher’s write-up (translated from French by me):

‘In 2018, Pakistani investigative journalist Taha Siddiqui is the victim of a kidnapping and an assassination attempt. He managed to flee and take the first flight to France… What happened? What could have driven the Pakistani government, if it is indeed the Pakistani government, to do this?

Accompanied by cartoonist and scriptwriter Hubert Maury, 2014 Albert-London Prize winner Taha Siddiqui looks back on his life, from his early childhood 35 years ago, which saw him evolve from Saudi Arabia to Pakistan in a culture where comics were forbidden, practicing fundamentalist Islam and raised by a radicalised father.

Taha dreams of studying art and journalism, of independence in the midst of a rigorist family and a society of prohibitions that young people do their best to circumvent. After the shock of the September 11, 2001 attacks, and his admission to university, between Quranic school and censorship, Taha sought to emancipate himself and, with courage and determination, became an investigative journalist. But being a journalist also makes him a target.

A chronicle of childhood and adolescence, Dissident Club traces, with liberating humor, the daily life of a young man grappling with the most severe religious fundamentalisms. As uplifting as it is edifying, this book offers an indiscreet vision of Pakistan over the last thirty years, a reflection on the excesses of religious thought, and above all, one man's fight for freedom.’

Note: The English version of the book has not been released yet – to be available in 2024

Afin de lire mon avis en français,cliquez ici

The Dissident Club is an autobiographical graphic novel from the Pakistani journalist Taha Siddiqui, a winner of the Albert Londres prize for journalism in 2014 (a Francophone equivalent of the Pulitzer). The graphic novel has been designed by the cartoonist Hubert Maury and in this story, there are several places around the world to showcase, such as Saudi Arabia, Pakistan and France.

Taha Siddiqui lives in exile today in France, and this graphic novel starts with his kidnapping by the gangs allegedly engaged by the Pakistani Army. From here, it goes back in time starting with his childhood in Saudi Arabia, born to a family of Pakistani immigrants to the gulf kingdom. He describes he challenges growing up in a highly conservative society like that of Saudi Arabia and even his relationship family, where his father practiced a fundamentalist version of Islam – where for example, the children of the family were not even allowed to celebrate birthdays as it was against Islam according to him. It is a story Taha growing up and through his point of view, we also see the evolution of the situation in Pakistan, including the hanging of Prime Minister Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, the successful nuclear tests performed by the country in the 90s and eventual return to dictatorship after the coup by Pervez Musharaff.

To those who are not very familiar with the situation in South Asia, but are still interested to know about it, this book could be an ideal place start, as with the story of Taha, you also have a brief summary of Pakistani politics from 80s to present, its relations with its neighbours, etc. In the western world, we have a tendency to group countries such as Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, Bangladesh, etc. as ‘Muslim countries’ with a homogeneous identity even though the situation in those countries are totally different – like for example, how Taha felt a lot more independent in the book upon his move to Pakistan, given at the end of the day, Pakistani society is less conservative than that of Saudi Arabia.

With that said, I enjoyed it further since I grew in a neighbouring country and also someone, who has been interested in politics since I was young. To start with, to understand the personal situation of the author, one needs to understand that the Pakistani military establishment is very powerful, and for a journalist or any individual to question their actions is done at a great personal risk – like what was done by the author of the book. One more aspect, which I learnt and was rather shocked by, was the pervasive nature of radical terrorist organisation in the Pakistani society like the Lashkar-e-Taiba (recognised as a terrorist organisation by the governments of Pakistan, India, EU, US, etc.) even in privileged families like that of the author.

Even though these different names like that of Pakistani politicians and organisations are evident for someone like me given I am from that region, I am not in a position to judge how easy it is to grasp all of these for a reader who is not familiar with this region (if you have read it, please leave your comment explaining how it was for you).

I also liked the part where the relationship of the author with his family was explored – particularly his father and also his two brothers and mother. In fact, I could not help but compare the similarities with another famous French graphic novel – L’Arabe du futur by Riad Sattouf, who also grew up in Arab countries with his two brothers and a radical extremist father – where in Sattouf’s book, his father liked dictators such as Saddam Hussein and here, the authors father admired dictators of Pakistan like General Zia Ul-Haq).

The penultimate part of my review would focus on the artwork of Hubert Maury. I liked the different colours he had used to distinguish the different countries where the story was taking place – for Saudi Arabia, Pakistan and France. I also found the drawings of Karachi and Islamabad very realistic and relatable. The only factor that bothered me a little was that drawings of the younger women around Taha – there were at least three important people and they looked quite similar that at times, I had to struggle to distinguish between them.

To conclude, I would strongly recommend the graphic novel when it is released, which gives us an interesting autobiographical account and at the same time, we could skim through the politics of South Asia (Pakistan in particular). I award the graphic novel a rating of eight on ten.

Rating – 8/10

Have a nice day,
Andy

The Pyre by Perumal Murugan – Book Review

 

Publisher’s write-up:

‘Saroja and Kumaresan are in love. After a hasty wedding, they arrive in Kumaresan's village, harboring a dangerous secret: their marriage is an inter-caste one, likely to upset the village elders should they get to know of it. Kumaresan is naively confident that all will be well. But nothing is further from the truth. Despite the strident denials of the young couple, the villagers strongly suspect that Saroja must belong to a different caste. It is only a matter of time before their suspicions harden into certainty and, outraged, they set about exacting their revenge.’

Note : I read the novel in Tamil and its French translation

The Pyre is a novel of Perumal Murugan, known for is plots that are set in rural Tamil Nadu, in India. He often talks about the difference between the lifestyle in the cities as against the countryside, the social problems, particularly ones related to caste discrimination.

In The Pyre, we have a young couple, Kumaresan and Saroja. Kumaresan is from a village, working in a soda bottling factory in the city, and while delivering these sodas, he saw Saroja and immediately falls in love with her. After a few months, they elope and marry in a temple en route to Kumaresan’s village. Ever since they settled down at the house of Kumaresan’s mother, they face problems, the first being that Saroja being from a city, is not accustomed to a village life but the latter and more important problem is that the two are not from the same caste. Thus, nobody in Kumaresan’s family or the extended family in the village accept Saroja as their daughter-in-law. That is the principal theme of the novel – would Saroja get used to her new circumstances and be accepted by Kumaresan’s family?

There are elements of the Tamil countryside which was used well by the author. For those who have been in the countryside in South Asia, it is easy to visualize the descriptions given by the author. The conflicts between Saroja and Kumaresan’s family was described in detail, including the friendship and love between Kumaresan and Saroja, given that Kumaresan was the only source of support for Saroja in the whole village. Even though the author never specified when the story ws taking place, based n certain cultural references, it was evident that it was in one of the last decades of the 20^th century.

However, that was what was missing for those who would read the translation without being familiar with Tamil culture or customs, given that the translator gave very minimal footnotes, for instance, a word like ‘thali’, it is evident for someone like me from the Tamil culture that it is a wedding jewellery, but for anyone else, it would be difficult. The author also introduced several aspects to the story, such as the relationship  between Saroja and her brother, which the character describes in detail, but this was never relevant to the plot and I did not understand why the author chose to introduce it in the first place.

It also needs to be said that those who do not like the background melancholy and the excessive suffering that the main characters – Saroja and Kumaresan go through, it would be difficult to read the book.

To conclude, it is a well written novel where I felt very much immersed in a Tamil village while reading the book. I award the book a rating of eight on ten.

Rating – 8/10

Have a nice day,
Andy

King Kong Theory by Virginie Despentes – Book Review

 

Publisher’s write-up:

‘Powerful, provocative and personal, King Kong Theory is a candid account of how the author of Baise-moi came to be Virginie Despentes. Drawing from personal experience, Despentes shatters received ideas about rape and prostitution, and explodes common attitudes towards sex and gender. King Kong Theory is a manifesto for a new punk feminism, reissued here in a brilliant new translation by Frank Wynne.’

Note: I read the original of the book, in French. Translations are widely available.

King Kong theory is a collection of essays written by the writer, film director and feminist activist, Virginie Despentes. In this essay, she talks of her personal experiences, when she suffered a rape aged 17, and also the understanding of the current society on various issues of women, like rape, the position of women in the household, the workplace, and how the current system helps this patriarchy, which is detrimental to women and even several average men.

She presented her arguments very well in an easy to read format. The examples that she provided were very relatable, regardless of the gender identity of the reader. I liked her essays ‘Sleep with the enemy’ and ‘Witch pornography’, where in the first, she narrates her own experiences working as a sex worker in Paris and Lyon, and how she discovered that so long as the transaction was consensual, it was both empowering and liberating, and here it was the woman taking charge and gaining independence, owing to which the society does not like this aspect.

The essays are mostly the author’s personal opinions surrounding the rights of women. Thus, it is not an academic work nor a traditional non-fiction, as there are not several citations that could support the affirmations that she had made. Maybe, if she had added those, that would have rendered these essays a lot more powerful.

Based on my experience, I strongly recommend this book and I award it a rating of eight on ten.

Rating – 8/10

Have a nice day,
Andy

Me Grandad 'ad an Elephant by Vaikom Muhammad Basheer – Book Review

 

Publisher’s write-up:

‘ME GRANDAD 'AD AN ELEPHANT is the translation of Ntuppuppakko- ranendarnnu. The original Malayalam book made great impact in reading and has been translated into all major languages of India. In this book Basheer has drawn here and there for character on people he has known.’

Note: I read the French translation of the novel

Me Grandad 'ad an Elephant is one of the most well known novels of Vaikom Muhammad Basheer, one of the most important figures of Malayalam literature and was also a freedom fighter against British colonialism.

The plot takes place in a village in Kerala, around a young Muslim girl named Kounnioupattoumma. Even though her family is rich, her family are also very conservative and they are illiterate. Her mother is already worried that Kounnioupattoumma is notmarried yet and she is already in her twenties. She herself is in the dark, when it comes to either knowledge, nor when it comes to knowing people, even though she was a very curious woman and used the principles of Islam to show compassion towards animals, to the point of becoming vegetarian, much to the ire of her mother. Her love for animals started when the only piece of information she ever had, was the fact that her grandfather had an elephant, which was a great source of pride for her mother. Their lives were going to change given their legal problems, and also, when they had new neighbours, who were also Muslims but progressive and educated, a great contrast compared to that of Kounnioupattoumma’s family.

The development of the character of Kounnioupattoumma was done well, how little by little, she starts to defy her domineering mother. The landscape and scenery of Kerala was also well described, the name of the village or the district where they lived was never specified but it was evident from the description of the places, the names of characters, the staple food that they cooked and consumed that it was somewhere in Kerala. The author also evoked the feeling of false pride, which kept the family and even the society at large in ignorance. With the wealth of her family, Kounnioupattoumma could have surely had better opportunities that she did. The relationship between Aïcha and Kounnioupattoumma, the first friend whom she had ever made, was also described well.

I would have liked it though, if the author had written a little more on the legal dispute that had changed the destiny of the family of Kounnioupattoumma, and equally a little on the history of the family – we knew only as much as Kounnioupattoumma, that her grandfather had an elephant, but not why they became so conservative or the choice to not be literate. At times, I felt there were issues with the translation, as when Kounnioupattoumma starts to learn to read, she learns that the first letter of the alphabet is ‘ba’ like in Arabic, but considering she was learning Malayalam, it should have been ‘a’ for vowels or ‘ka’ for consonants, but certainly not ‘ba’.

To conclude, the is a well written novel and it would interest those who are interested in reading novels that take place in other parts of the world. I award the book a rating of seven on ten.

Rating – 7/10

Have a nice day,
Andy

The Red-Haired Woman by Orhan Pamuk – Book Review

 

Publisher’s write-up (from Goodreads):

‘On the outskirts of a town thirty miles from Istanbul, a master well-digger and his young apprentice are hired to find water on a barren plain. As they struggle in the summer heat, excavating without luck metre by metre, the two will develop a filial bond neither has known before--not the poor middle-aged bachelor nor the middle-class boy whose father disappeared after being arrested for politically subversive activities. The pair will come to depend on each other, and exchange stories reflecting disparate views of the world. But in the nearby town, where they buy provisions and take their evening break, the boy will find an irresistible diversion. The Red-Haired Woman, an alluring member of a travelling theatre company, catches his eye and seems as fascinated by him as he is by her. The young man's wildest dream will be realized, but, when in his distraction a horrible accident befalls the well-digger, the boy will flee, returning to Istanbul. Only years later will he discover whether he was in fact responsible for his master's death and who the red-headed enchantress was.’

Note: I read the French translation of this book

The Red-Haired woman is a novel of the Turkish author, the Nobel laureate, Orhan Pamuk. He is known for is literary works and plots that show the Turkish culture to the world. This is not like his typical novels, and has only 330 pages (in my pocket edition from Gallimard), and was also written in simple language and was thus easy to read.

The main character of the novel is Cem, a young boy in his teens from a suburb of Istanbul. His family depends on his income as his father died and he works as an apprentice to a well-digger – Mahmud, before his studies at the university. It is during this apprenticeship that he sees the red-haired woman, and he is immediately impressed by her and falls in love, despite the fact that she was as old his own mother. After several years, Cem is a very successful businessman in Istanbul in the present day, but his past was going to return to haunt him.

Orhan Pamuk used several allusions – and the two I enjoyed in particular were, one from Greek mythology, the story of Oedipus, who killed his father and the other, is from a Persian tale – the story of Rostam and Sohrab, here, a case where the father kills his son. The relationship between Cem and his master, Mahmud, was well described where even though Mahmud is very strict, he is also very caring towards Cem. As always, Pamuk described his country well, especially the poorer areas and suburbs. For a third of the novel, he kept the mystery around the red-haired woman, to the extent that as a reader, I was desperate to read her first dialogue. And it should also be noted that this was a novel easy to read and I read almost the whole novel during my journey from Paris to Brussels (which takes around 3 hours).

I did not have any major issues with the novel, maybe the narration of the final third was a bit like that of a film, and I felt that the tone was very different from the rest of the novel. Maybe, if he had written a longer novel as is usually the case Pamuk, we could have had a better written ending.

To conclude, it was a very interesting novel, one of the best that I have read this year. I read a lot of translated novels to understand other cultures and here, my favourite was the reference to the Persian tale of Rostam and Sohrab. On that note, I would award the novel a rating of eight on ten.

Rating – 8/10

Have a nice day,
Andy

Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom – Book Review

 

Publisher’s write-up:

‘Maybe it was a grandparent, a teacher or a colleague. Someone older, patient and wise, who understood you when you were young and impassioned, helped you to see the world as a more profound place and gave you sound advice to guide your way through it. For Mitch, it was Morrie Schwartz, the college professor who had taught him nearly twenty years before.

Perhaps, like Mitch, you lost track of this mentor as the years passed, the insights faded and the world seemed colder. Wouldn’t you like to see that person again, to ask the bigger questions that still haunt you and receive wisdom for your busy life in the way you once did when you were younger?’

Tuesdays with Morrie is a compilation of a series of exchanges between the author Mitch Albom and his terminally ill professor, Morrie Schwartz, who had been diagnosed with ALS. The author used to take Morrie’s classes when he was a student every Tuesday and they continued the same tradition, of meeting every Tuesday, and Mitch talking about various aspects of life, such as family, emotions, death, etc.

The journey as such is wonderful to read, and the camaraderie between Morrie and Mitch was seen very well, wherein, both had something to give to each other. Mitch was inspired by the positivity that Morrie displayed, despite being diagnosed with a terrible illness and saw the positivity in each situation, including the places where Morrie started enjoying the dependencies he had to perform even the most basic activities.

The book was also very easy to read, which is similar to the experience I had with the other Mitch Albom book that I have read so far (The Five People you meet in Heaven). This follows the story of Mitch very well and how he is able find himself again, after all these discussions with Morrie.

While he was disappointed over being estranged from his brother who was in Spain, and how the author explains that Morrie replaced him – this aspect could have been explored more by the author. Added to that, I also felt that the conversations Morrie had with Ted Koppel (the broadcast journalist)could have been more chronological, wherein, the fact that they were disconnected and often inserted between the different Tuesdays that Mitch went to meet Morie, I often lost track of where the conversation was previously left off.

On that note, this is a good book, and an easy to read book, which helps you feel good and on that note, I award the book a rating of seven on ten.

Rating – 7/10

Have a nice day,
Andy

The Architect’s Apprentice by Elif Shafak – Book Review

 

Publisher’s write-up:

‘In her latest novel, Elif Shafak spins an epic tale spanning nearly a century in the life of the Ottoman Empire. In 1540, twelve-year-old Jahan arrives in Istanbul. As an animal tamer in the sultan’s menagerie, he looks after the exceptionally smart elephant Chota and befriends (and falls for) the sultan’s beautiful daughter, Princess Mihrimah. A palace education leads Jahan to Mimar Sinan, the empire’s chief architect, who takes Jahan under his wing as they construct (with Chota’s help) some of the most magnificent buildings in history. Yet even as they build Sinan’s triumphant masterpieces—the incredible Suleymaniye and Selimiye mosques—dangerous undercurrents begin to emerge, with jealousy erupting among Sinan’s four apprentices.’

Note: I read the French translation of the novel

This is a historical novel written by the Turkish writer Elif Shafak, and the story takes place in 16^th century Istanbul. The plot is centred around the character of Jahan, a 12-year-old boy who has come to Istanbul from afar with an elephant named ‘Chota’ to present to the Sultan. The other main characters of the book are real historical figures fictionalised by the author, such as Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent, his daughter Mihrimah, and the royal architect - Mimar Sinan.

The story takes us through the era of three different sultans, starting from Suleiman till the reign of his grandson Murad III. The author also touches upon the then Turkish society and the multicultural nature of it, where Istanbul was a melting pot comprising several ethnicities such as the Turks, Armenians, Serbians, Bosnians, Iranians, etc. Even the best friends of Jahan, in the novel, are of different ethnicities.

The plot followed the development of Jahan’s character well, who was at first a mahout and was well recognised by the Sultan for the performance of his elephant during the Balkan conquest of the Ottoman Empire. There was also a romantic sub-plot between the sultan’s daughter Mihrimah and Janhan, a forbidden love considering the different social classes that the two are from. Then, he becomes the apprentice of the royal architect Sinan, and the story then follows till Jahan’s old age.

I liked how she had used the different aspects of the historic Ottoman society. Those who are interested by historical fiction and the middle ages, would enjoy these descriptions. I also could visualize Istanbul of the 16^th century very well based on her description. The relation between Sinan and Jahan, and equally the secrets they had about their lives which was kept from us till the very end, was done well.

While I liked the historical aspect, and even learnt a lot on the Ottoman Empire, I also found that plot is perhaps not the author’s strong point. It is a very long novel without much of a movement even though there were three sultans. The love between Mihrimah and Jahan started well but it was evident to any reader since the beginning that this would not go very far.

To conclude, I would say that the novel was a tad too long but it was still interesting to read a story taking place in the 16^th century Ottoman empire. On that note, I award the book a rating of six on ten.

Rating – 6/10

Have a nice day,
Andy

Glyph by Percival Everett – Book Review

 

Publisher’s write-up:

‘Baby Ralph has ways to pass the time in his crib―but they don't include staring at a mobile. Aided by his mother, he reads voraciously: "All of Swift, all of Sterne, Invisible Man, Baldwin, Joyce, Balzac, Auden, Roethke," along with a generous helping of philosophy, semiotics, and trashy thrillers. He's also fond of writing poems and stories (in crayon). But Ralph has limits. He's mute by choice and can't drive, so in his own estimation he's not a genius. Unfortunately for him, everyone else disagrees. His psychiatrist kidnaps him for testing, and once his brilliance is quantified (IQ: 475), a Pentagon officer also abducts him. Diabolically funny and lacerating in its critique of poststructuralism, Glyph has the feverish plot of a thriller and the philosophical depth of a text by Roland Barthes. If anyone can map the wilds of literary theory, it's Ralph, one of Percival Everett's most enduring creations.’

Glyph is a novel written during the late 90s by the English professor, Percival Everett. The story features a baby named Ralph as the main character, who is a genius and reads books and writes poetry while on the crib. However, he does not utter a word and expresses himself only by writing. His mother is worried about him and takes him to a psychiatrist but when everyone starts taking note of Ralph’s abilities, which leads to his kidnapping.

For novels like this, the start has to be convincing, considering it is an absurd premise and the author had it written very well to draw the reader into this world of his. There were lots of humorous elements throughout the novel, starting from his antipathy towards his father, owing to his father’s own insecurities as a struggling writer, that he finds it difficult to accept that his baby is smarter than him. There were also several references, where Ralph discusses well known literature, from Balzac to Baldwin, and also various philosophers such as Nietzsche and Plato. I was not able to relate to all of the literary references but here was a case of the writer playing to his strength, of being an English professor.

While I enjoyed the premise and the humorous elements along the way, I felt the novel was a tad too long. One instance of kidnapping was fine, but a second kidnapping dragged the story too long. While I can buy into the world where there is an infant who is a prodigy, him being able to drive is testing the reader to the limits and that is where I felt the humour was getting lost.

Humour is not usually a genre that I read and those that I have, I did not particularly enjoy. However, this book proved to be an exception and I found it thoroughly amusing. Even though it was not the easiest of reads, and could be appreciated better if we could understand all the literary and philosophical references, I would still say that this book would satisfy the average audience and on that note, I award the book a rating of six on ten.

Rating – 6/10

Have a nice day,
Andy

Monsters: A fan’s dilemma by Claire Dederer – Book Review

 Publisher’s write-up: 

‘What do we do with the art of monstrous men? Can we love the work of Roman Polanski and Michael Jackson, Hemingway and Picasso? Should we love it? Does genius deserve special dispensation? Is history an excuse? What makes women artists monstrous? And what should we do with beauty, and with our unruly feelings about it?

Claire Dederer explores these questions and our relationships with the artists whose behaviour disrupts our ability to apprehend the work on its own terms. She interrogates her own responses and her own behaviour, and she pushes the fan, and the reader, to do the same. Morally wise, deeply considered and sharply written, Monsters gets to the heart of one of our most pressing conversations.’

We have ongoing conversation about whether artists could be separated from their works and if not, should we feel guilty of enjoying artistic excellence from ‘Monsters’? This includes topics like whether we could enjoy the works of Polanski – who has fled the criminal justice system in the US for raping a minor; or could still take pleasure from reading the books of JK Rowling, who uses her large platform to spread vitriol against the transgender people, one of the most vulnerable groups throughout history. These are some of the questions that the writer Claire Dederer tries to answer in this book.

She takes up the case of several well-known personalities such as Woody Allen, Pablo Picasso, JK Rowling, Doris Lessing, Roman Polanski, etc. and discusses her own dilemma around enjoying some of their works. An idea she discussed was interesting, describing this as conflicting biographies, where in the internet age, we know the biographies of all the famous personalities whom we follow but at the same time, if this conflicts with our own biographies (the ethics and values that we hold), then we start to question ourselves.

This would fall under the category of a book that I wanted to like, considering this is an interesting and contemporary topic, given the nonsensical culture wars initiated by the right-wing ecosystem lately. However, this book lacked structure and often missed the point. She starts talking about Rowling and then digresses immediately somewhere else without having relevance to what was being discussed earlier.

I would raise something I felt personally here, she was saying how to classify a famous woman as a ‘monster’ had much lower standards, which usually involved abandoning their children for the sake of their career and she cited the example of Doris Lessing. I understand that this is a topic close to her, but personally I do not see Doris Lessing discussed as much as she claimed and indeed, a separation where she willingly left the children in the custody of her partner, there is nothing morally wrong in her actions.

I understand that she was giving her opinions – as is the purpose of this book but that is when I stopped understanding whether she was inviting a discussion into the subject or writing a diary on how she felt about these people during the various phases of her life. Considering this was like reading a diary, I hoped that she would eventually reveal how she personally chose to deal with the subject (while you or I may have our own views and approach) but she leaves that open ended as well.

On that note, I would conclude saying that this was a disappointing book given the high level of expectations that I had. I rate the book a three on ten.

Rating – 3/10

Have a nice day,
Andy

Secession and State Creation by James Ker-Lindsay and Mikulas Fabry

 

Publisher’s write-up:

Cliquez ici afin de lire en français

‘What makes a state? This question has attracted more and more attention in recent years with Catalan’s illegal vote for independence from Spain and Palestine’s ongoing search for international recognition. And while Scotland chose to remain with the United Kingdom, discussion of independence have only continued as the ramifications of the Brexit vote begin to set in. Kosovo, South Sudan, and the situation in Ukraine – each in its way reveals the perils of creating a nation separate from neighbours who have dominated it.

As James Ker-Lindsay and Mikulas Fabry show in this new addition to the What Everyone Needs to Know series, the road to statehood never did run smooth. Declaring independence is only the first step; gaining both local and global acceptance is necessary before a state can become truly independent, The prospect of losing territory is usually not welcomed by the parent state, and any such threat to an existing culture and its economy is often met with resistance – armed or otherwise. Beyond this immediate conflict, the international community often refuses to accept new states without proof of defined territory, a settled population, and effective government, which frequently translates to a democratic one with demonstrated respect for human rights. Covering the legal, political, and practical issues of secession and state creation, Ker-Lindsay and Fabry provide a sure-footed guide to a complex topic.’

What makes a state? This question is even more pertinent today considering we are facing the most tumultuous geopolitical situation in decades, with Russia’s unprovoked invasion of Ukraine, civil war in Sudan, regime change in Afghanistan, Myanmar, etc. As the author addressed early on in the book, some newly formed states like South Sudan have gained international recognition without much hassle whereas others such as Kosovo, notwithstanding their ability to operate as an independent state, including achieving recognition from major global powers, still is not recognised by over half the world and is not a UN member. These are the questions that this book answers, as to what creates a state and what are the valid causes for secession.

To start with, this book takes an academic perspective on the issue and is not a philosophical book on nationhood or sense of belonging. It addresses the widely recognised international conventions and also the UN charter and the various resolutions when it comes to statehood and ideas such as self-determination. Even the definitions of what constituted a state start from the late 18^th century (around the time of independence of the US) and does not explain how states were recognised in different regions in the past (for example, in Europe, the church for large parts of the Middle Ages).

It is presented in an easy-to-read manner – split into chapters and in a question-and-answer format. The book was published in 2023 and thus,  it is updated up until the unprovoked Russian invasion of Ukraine. For the uninitiated and at the same time interested in geopolitics and the various concepts of state recognition– this book provides an overview, explaining what constitutes a state, what have been the accepted methods used in resolving conflicts in the past, and also failed efforts and frozen conflicts. There were several interesting facts that were presented, especially the norms that we follow in the international community – which I have never thought of it that way, that the countries have agreed that one sovereign state would have one vote in the UNGA regardless of their size and population.

A disappointment that people could have is from incorrect expectations as I already stated, as the book is academic and often uses terms which are not in common parlance. However, to those who are even partially interested in the topic, might be familiar with a third of the book, and thus, could proceed with those sections fast (an example could be a detailed explanation of the Montevideo Convention on the criteria for recognising a state).

On the whole, I would say that the book was an excellent read, and is strongly recommended for those who are interested in geopolitics and how the international system operates. On that note, I award the book a rating of eight on ten.

Rating – 8/10

Have a nice day,
Andy