"Wolf Hall' by Hilary Mantel

It’s not a book I would have picked up on my own. It was a birthday gift and came much recommended and had the Booker prize tag and I’ve had good experiences with Booker prizes before. So why not? Sometimes it helps - the tags. It’s not like I run behind the New York Times Bestseller list but a Booker or a Nobel prize winner kind of guarantees you a certain standard - most of the time.

It’s a story we’ve known for a long time through history books, through movies. With ‘Wolf Hall’ Hilary Mantel attempts to bring alive the characters and details in the tumultuous life of Henry VIII through an unlikely protagonist - Thomas Cromwell. The story in brief - the deadly war between Henry VIII and the catholic church and the rise of a blacksmith’s son Thomas Cromwell in this context. Amidst all the historical references what makes the novel come alive is the depiction of Thomas Cromwell himself. Cromwell is a cruel lawyer, lawmaker and at the same time an understanding man, loving father and a fair master. I found myself supportive and at times even sympathetic of Cromwell in spite of his ensuing cruelties. It’s not uncommon to do that - considering Mantel’s depiction of Cromwell in the first place. While in actual history, Cromwell, in fact, meets the same end as the many others he subjected to - charged with treason and subsequent execution. Well, history also views Thomas Cromwell as the devil incarnate who fuelled the monstrous Henry VIII’s cruel and devastating regime.

What I like about Wolf Hall is not the history lesson it offers. In fact, just the opposite. Mantel chooses to look at the story from the perspective of the characters themselves - their emotions, a guesstimation of what prompted them to do whatever it is they did. She does not offer a lengthy debate on historical or spiritual consequences of the era. She distances herself from taking sides. If you are aware of the history of the period, it makes an interesting read. Especially as you know how it all culminates to the subsequent monarchs. But there are some obvious and as you will know if you look around a bit more, some oft repeated shortcomings to the book.

To start with, I suspect the whole context will be lost on you if you don’t understand medieval English history. That’s just to start with. I’ve long suspected that Booker prize winners are shortlisted based on their quaint sense of grammatical understanding and how complicated they make reading their books. Mantel fulfills the criteria hands down. The pronoun ‘he’ is used in plentiful throughout the book and often without reference to the subject itself. Most of the times it’s safe to assume that every ‘he’ refers to Cromwell, even if he’s not assumed to be in the context. But that takes some reorienting and at times rereading.

In summary, it was an enjoyable read but I’m tempted to ask Mantel to return my 4 weeks back - I could have read something more interesting.

"Ward No 6" by Anton Chekhov

Let me state this upfront - I'm not writing a review. How does one write a review of one of the greatest writers who ever walked on this earth? How does one review the master himself? Of all the great writers that Russia has periodically and flawlessly managed to produce - Anton Chekhov is a revolutionary in his own way. Still you will find comparisons between him and Tolstoy and Dostoevsky in abundance. But for a reader stretching to understand and make peace with the Russian masters, Chekhov will come as a much needed relief.

Chekhov does not moralize and philosophize at the drop of a hat and turn of a story like Tolstoy nor does he attempt to dig deeper and deeper into the soul till all that is left is the dark deep abyss like FD. Chekhov writes in an objective, simple and dispassionate fashion that one may have never heard of in Russian writing but yet displays the sensitivity and compassion required to draw the reader into the story.

Ward No 6 - Is less of a short story and more of a novella. Such is the way in which Chekhov writes - combining all elements that make a full blown book into a few pages of narration so rich and so full of experiences. It's story you should read in one sitting and right after that walk out into the open to let it sink in or as it did to me - let the pathos out. Ward No 6 is a heart rendering story of a psychiatric doctor (Andrey Ragin) who turns into a patient in his own asylum. Apart from the plot, it is Chekhov's classic rendering style that gets you hooked to the story.

When he talks about Andrey Ragin lying on the sofa, listening with his teeth clenched, disgust rising and mounting into his throat, you find it hard to swallow. When he wakes up, wipes his brow with his sleeve and felt that his whole face smelt of smoked fish, you get the smell too.

I'll leave you with one of Chekhov's quotes from 'The House of Mezzanine"
"My life is tedious, dull, monotonous, because I am a painter, a queer fish, and have been worried all my life with envy, discontent, disbelief in my work: I am always poor, I am a vagabond, but you are a wealthy, normal man, a landowner, a gentleman - why do you live so tamely and take so little from life?"

'Age of Kali' - William Dalrymple

The book begins with a description of the Hindu concept of Kali Yug - A time of disintegration and moral depravity. It is said that in this age evil influence will become dominant and will influence all spheres of human existence without hindrance. It is said to be an age where all humans will become Godless. The book resonates of this evil disintegration throughout. It is a description of that India that every Indian abhors and scoffs at. One that pictures all Indians as those who travel on the backs of elephants and domesticate snakes in their backyards.

Given the time he has spent in India, one would expect William Dalrymple to write more about the real India than about the India that is still stuck in 1930s. The book attempts at being a travelogue set in the 90s and is anything but that. India in the 90s was an astonishing story of a rising star, a country that had started to shed its inhibitions to showcase the grit and sheen that it is actually made up of. The book has none of those positive stories that would have made it a wholesome read.

Instead, Dalrymple manages to find himself at the wrong time and the wrong place and hence a volume of essays about an India that is struggling to shed its past. For a reader with even a scantiest familiarity about life in India - the book simply feels wrong. Stories about Lucknow and its erstwhile glory or Hyderabad and its chronicled excesses don't strike any chord other than as a rant of old men. A coverage of people and events that range from Baba Segal to Shobha De, Laloo Prasad Yadav and Gayatri Devi too does not do justice to the abundance that is India.

Overall, a disappointing read.

"Never Let Me Go" by Kazuo Ishiguro

orrowing books from a friend is exciting in an unexplainable way. Somehow borrowing forces you to read a book quicker than if it was your own… oh that’s only if you feel guilty about having a borrowed book collecting dust on your book shelf :) A rain washed cloudy day and what better to do than pull out something from your bookshelf (or a friend’s in my case), get set with a cup of tea and be drawn into the world of imagination and emotions that Ishiguro has created.

The best way to enjoy ‘Never Let Me Go’ is to not know anything about the book just like Ishiguro intended it. The context of the story unveils itself as the book moves forward. An expensive school, guardians who are looked up to, friends to die for, a curriculum in creativity – at first the setting seems perfect for a story of snobbish school students who later come back for a reunion to recount how their lives have changed. Remember ‘The Class’ by Erich Segal? Not that I didn’t enjoy it. But seriously, ‘Never Let Me Go’ is far from such trivialities.

Somewhere midway through the book, you begin to sniff that Ishiguro is up to something. The author seems to revel in providing just sufficient information that fires up your curiosity. Once or twice I found myself turning back the pages to see if I’ve missed something. He writes as if you’re expected to know his world – the world that has just been conjured up for you.

The only thing that disturbs me about the book is the lack of anger or passion in a certain way. It constantly eats me that Kathy does not pursue Tommy sufficiently enough though she is so smitten by him. It worries me even more that she is not angry enough at Ruth for ruining her love life. But then that was the whole idea, I guess. I’m not going to give away the plot or even a sense of it… but if you absolutely need to know – it is a brilliant book.