Year in Books: 2023

Publishing of Jack Kerouac’s “On the Road” is a pivotal moment in the recognition and propagation of the so-called American Beat generation of 1940s. The Beats are difficult to define but loosely refer to the bad body of hobos, bums, and con men who were a product of the Depression of the 30s. Young, promising, and full of dreams but without a penny in pocket. As Jack so eloquently puts it, “All he needed was one wheel on his hand and four wheels on the road”. And that is a lovely definition of what this book is all about. It is rich and rich with experiences and stories that will never make a conversation go boring at dinner time and so full of sadness and melancholy at the same time. Told from the perspective of Jack’s alter ego, Sal Paradise, a wannabe writer from New York who befriends a rapturous Beat of the generation, Dean Moriarty, modelled after his friend, Neal Cassidy, the book is a wild account of what it means to be Beat and lost and still somehow find a way. They escape on daring adventures and hitchhike around the American wilderness from coast to coast, meeting old friends, making new ones, conning people, and making sure to make the most of their limited lives that are going by. Kerouac holds back nothing and there’s everything from whores and sex to drugs, and parties, and arrests and the law and brilliant descriptions of America that would make any lacklustre soul quiver with curiosity.

On a personal note, I accompanied the book with a map of the US and found myself staring at it and wondering about all those little nameless towns that were not marked on it and the little stories people would tell there and the adventures people would have on the road. As Sal said, the “road is life” and as Dean proclaimed, “we must make time”!

PS: I wonder if there is an Indian equivalent for the same but I highly doubt it and perhaps, there is a need for one and perhaps, it is time for the Indian youth to wake up to that inner call of the wilderness after all.

“The Kite Runner” is Khaled Hosseini’s debut novel which deals with the plights and concerns of Afghanistan. Hosseini, himself taken citizenship in the US and working as a doctor, may perhaps have been the first to draw the international attention of nation states to the condition, massacre, and oppression in Afghanistan via his riveting and heart-wrenching fictions that, undoubtedly, draw from real as well as personal experiences.

To read “The Kite Runner” after “A Thousand Splendid Suns” felt like flipping the pages of a diary backwards. When one starts writing, they are less nuanced and more reckless. In ATSS, Hosseini presents an extremely layered story with vivid details. I felt that layered nuance lacking in TKR which is forgivable given it is his debut and I read them in the wrong order.

But do not be misled into assuming that the book doesn’t pack a punch. Hosseini may have been frivolous with language and structure at places but occassionally, just occassionally, he would write a sentence that would suck the life out of me, make me close the book, take a deep forceful breath to rebalance myself, and ponder. He doesn’t fail to jerk tear off of you merely by his command of word and his gift as an exceptional storyteller.

It sure took me a while to read TKR. The last of his book remains to be read.

Hmmm meh. Personally, I am more of a realist and Murakami’s writing about fantasy and supernormal phenomena simply didn’t make the cut. I felt like puking to be honest (and no offense to the person). I liked Kerouac’s OTR much more simply because of its raw realism.

Okay, rant over. SS is a fantastical love triangle essentially. Without a resolution, it tells us the beginning and the middle of how two love stories came into being and never really took off. I think the lack of an ending like one of those Romantic novels is perhaps the only bit of realism that I could relate too. Also, to give credit when it’s due, I liked his monologue ramblings especially those by the first person narrator. He asks some good questions there. A mediocre read overall. Perhaps, Norwegian Woods have been better. I don’t know.

This is supposed to be Noam Chobsky’s interviews and excerpts edited together in a thematic fashion but the format somehow didn’t resonate with me :/

A real eye opener and a valuable book with a strong anti-capitalist flavour. But interesting doesn’t endorse or propose any alternative political system/ideology. I guess any piece of text suffers from the bias of the author and the subject matter itself, as in it is impossible to write anything without a bias so I get it.

I really liked that it correlated political development with real life historic events and doesn’t shy from reporting atrocities, torture, and state terrors (sometimes vividly so). I wanted to read something like this so yeah. I wonder if there is a complementary text for Indian political and economic development.

“Mother died today. Or, maybe, yesterday; I can’t be sure.”

These are the opening lines of the Nobel Laureate Albert Camus’ short story The Stranger, a beautifully crafted exploration of morality and social behaviour.

We follow the protagonist, a nihilist, non-conformist who doesn’t seem to take interest in anything, one with a volatile demeanour and his blossoming romance with his girlfriend. Things take a wrong turn after he commits a murder in a moment of passion and is consequently tried in a court and ultimately sentenced to death.

TS doesn’t pull any punches and lands perfectly, each word serves its purpose lending a grim picture, taking us on a ride, and expressing fearlessly what Camus wanted to say. I absolutely enjoyed reading this. Can reread.

Samuel Beckett’s Absurdist tour de force, “Waiting for Godot” opens with the recurrent idea “Nothing to be done.” - an idea that forms one of the major themes of the play which touches upon other things like mortality, purpose of life, spirituality, and human companionship.

Personally, I felt that the magic of Godot lies in its ability to make us realise so much by telling us so little. In its grosteque setting, there’s two people, Vladimir and Estragon who are waiting for a person named Godot and contemplating life and everything else. There’s absurdity, there’s deadpan dialogues, there’s humour even. Reading Godot is unlike other contemporary plays because one has to pause and really think about what was just said and it sends people into long-drawn thought-escapades.

Godot is a reflection of the realist human society, where there are no serendipity, no accidents, only a monotonous life that is akin to a prison. That’s how Estragon must have felt when he said,

“Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it’s awful.”

Or, his whimsical request to which I’m pretty sure we all can resonate at some level,

“Don’t touch me! Don’t question me! Don’t speak to me! Stay with me!”

And this cheeky dialogue towards which I am personally biased a bit,

VLADIMIR: It’s the start that’s difficult.
ESTRAGON: You can start from anything.
VLADIMIR: Yes, but you have to decide.

The Martian is essentially a survival manual for the scenario when I get stranded on Mars. I absolutely loved the level of detail and scientific accuracy in the book. That really added on to keeping me engaged and wanting to know what happened next. Weir didn’t make it easy though, you actually had to think what would happen given the parameters he just described and it was fun to imagine a survival trip on the planel of the God of War. Under the tantalising chain of events though, Weir also weaves a thrilling story of the triumph of human spirit and of an indomitable spirit. Oh, also humour definitely helps.

I watched the movie a really long time ago but even then I can recall how deep an impression it made on me. I had to kill time over an exceptionally boring weekend and found this book in one of my friend’s stack. Oh well, relived those memories.