Interpreter of Maladies

Kudos to Mr... Donno his name. But yes, he speaks English. He calls himself a 'Friend osf students' and sells books at Nehru Place, New Delhi at throwaway prices, literally. I got it at Rs 60/-. No, it was not original, but pirated version of the Pulitzer Prize winner book in 2000. Printed, I guess, somewhere in or around Delhi. Thats how I came across Interpreter of Maladies. A collection of short stories by Jhumpa Lahiri, her first one. Nine stories make up the 270 odd pages book, one of the finest collection of short stories I have come across.
The book is rightly sub-titled Stories of Bengal, Boston and Beyond. It captures in words, the feeling called Nostalgia in myriads of ways. How you long for your own country, your own people, your own culture while abroad. How you start comparing with your home everything starting from food, dresses, markets to the way people talk and behave in a party, or in bed. How you wish to go back to your roots. Not because the new place is not good or people are rude or you are fed up with the job. But because you miss the faces you were so used to, or you miss that special Adda with your friends, or you yearn for fresh fish and frown at the lack of variety.
I dont really know whether the author lived in Bengal. But the way little things are presented makes you feel right inside a typical Bengali kitchen, or in a Calcutta fish market, or in that 3-storied building at Dacca, or in that building where Boori Maa lived. Bengali sentiments attached with fish, sindoor and Calcutta are taken care of rather objectively. You feel as if you were not reading a book, but watching a movie.
The characters are real-life. You might have seen them while you were sipping a cup of coffee at the Coffee House, or while working out at the Gym, or in a Railway Station, or your next door neighbour, or your colleague. Or, in some case, it might be you. Like the estranged couple, or the Bangla Professor in US in times of domestic turmoil, or the infidel executive, or the lady who happily becomes a mistress and then, suddenly, relents having done so.
Some stories take a sudden turn, sometimes tragic, sometimes what you would just like it to turn into. Like the story of two married, yet estranged people over the death of their child. Like the story of an Interpreter(read the story to know what this word means, literally and metaphorically) and a tourist lady when the former interprets the malady of the lady. But unlike the story of Boori Maa.
The only worthless story is that of a couple who keep on finding several 'blessed' objects like statues of Jesus and Mary, or a tablecloth with Jesus and the like. I hate to see such a story in this, otherwise, excellent book. When a story ends, you crave for more. You think 'Why the story ends at all?'. You are not going to stop for anything less than a full length novel on each of the bunch of characters.
I guess, I better start with The Namesake now.

Me Me Me 

Eleven Minutes

Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist is one of the most effective yet simplistic books I have ever come across. Lets see whether he lives upto my expectations in his new novel.

No, no friend of mine suggested this book. Neither did I learn of it from the net or some review in some Newspaper or Magazine. Wandering in streets of Delhi in search of a novel (Well, the search was not really for a novel. It was for pineapple juice at Nehru Place) brought me to a hawker selling the book at a cool Rs 60/-. 'Saare Paulo Coelho 60 rupaye mein', he said. The impeccable price - author combo led me to buy it. And in two days , I was through with the novel.

The novel starts with 'Once upon a time there was a prostitute', which is out of ordinary for a story to start with. It is the story of an ordinary girl leading an ordinary life and having ordinary ambitions - finding her Prince Charming. The girl goes out of her shell in search of that illusive entity - call it money or call it fame or call it realisation of a long lived dream, and lands up in the murky waters of real life. The story traverses through her several love encounters, her conclusions from each of those affairs and her consequent actions.
The novel has its moments of glory. Coelho gets philosophical at times, churning out statements in the diary of the protagonist, Maria, which are worth being noted down in a diary of the reader, or even scribbling them on the hostel rooms. He talks of Original Sin, of omens (remember The Alchemist) and of course S E X, which is the central theme of the story. He calls it Sacred Sex.

There are quite a few intimate scenes, scenes of love between Maria and ... wait I will not reveal the plot. These scenes have variety of shades from sadism-masochism to sheer passion, from amateurish to strictly professional, from loosing virginity to regaining it (Wait. 'Regaining Viginity'. What the hell does that mean? Read it for yourself). The sex scenes are on the borderline of Erotica and Porn, each treatment being one or the other. Female Orgasm is dealt in detail and Coelho tries to dispel a few misconceptions related to it.

There is an overdose of Sex in the book, sometimes even the very scene, the very concept is repeated. Language is too simplistic, though I dont blame Coelho for this. The translator is responsible for the language, not Paulo Coelho.

But certain ideas are original. Like the phrase Sacred Sex, or the concept of regaining Virginity, or the alternative interpretation of the Original Sin or the detailed description of indecision. Apart from this, certain philosophical statements are really good.

All in all, An ordinary book with minimal freshness in ideas or events and one which is not expected after The Alchemist.