Captain Corelli's Mandolin. By Louis de Bernieres

Captain Corelli's Mandolin

Louis de Bernieres

Vintage Classics. First published 1994.

A marvelous book by an author I have never heard of before - apparently it wasn't even shortlisted for the Booker - I wonder why. It's written in English and the author lives in England, though his name suggests French origins. The book has won other prizes, as have his other novels, which I plan to obtain soon. I picked this just by browsing at Odyssey (appropriately enough, since there's a fair bit about Homer's Odyssey in the book!) in Express Avenue, and I am proud of my 'discovery', like I was about 'discovering' Charles Frazier at the Chennai Book fair some years ago. 

The story is set on the Greek island of Cephallonia during (and just after) World War II. Italy under Mussolini invades Greece and occupies the island. This episode is presented as a betrayal of the Greeks whose government which was initially friendly with Italy, and supportive of the fascists. A lot of murky politics involving also Britain and Germany and their intrigues is described as finally leading to an occupation disastrous for the ordinary people of Greece. A group of Italian soldiers are sent to Cephallonia as the occupying force and some of them are billeted on the inhabitants of the island. Captain Corelli, a gentle easygoing musician soldier, who does not really consider anybody his enemy, starts to live in the house of Dr. Iannis and his daughter Pelagia. The captain and the girl fall in love, but the fortunes of war does not allow them to consummate their love. When the war is lost by the Axis forces, the Greeks are massacred elsewhere, but on the island, it is the Italians who are killed wholesale by their erstwhile allies the Germans. The captain escapes, presumably to mainland Italy. The British and the Americans have a passive role in the tragedy - the allied forces invade   Europe through Sicily, rather than Greece, and, according to the author, their cold-blooded but strategically understandable neglect seals the doom of the Greek population. After the surrender of first the Italians, and then the Germans on mainland Europe, Greece comes under the rule of the fragmented groups of resistance fighters, some of whom, the communists, are so indoctrinated that they turn out to be as bad as the Germans. A few years of these terrible events, and in 1953 a great earthquake destroys whatever was left on the island. The last portion of the book is about how the Greeks rebuild, and in particular about how Pelagia finds a family and some meaning and happiness in her old age, though she loses her lover, the captain, to the war, her erstwhile fiance, the Greek resistance fighter, to the postwar events, and her beloved father to the earthquake. 

Even as I read the book, the Greek economy is going through a bad time, with the Greeks being told to dance to the fiscal tunes of the Germans (Angela Merkel!). Of course the current events are not really as terrible as those described in the book, at least not yet.

The language of the book is superb, with lyrical descriptions of semi-rural Greek life, and sometimes coldly matter-of-fact descriptions of violence. There are several lovingly humourous passages, and all the characters are sensitively and humanely described, even some of the Germans. The really evil people are off-stage, and are represented, nominally, by Hitler and Mussolini. Stalin and Lenin, though not named, also come in for some opprobrium. The British and the Americans are the least tarnished, and in fact shown to be somehow incapable of the kind of inhuman violence perpetrated by the Germans, some of the Italians and some of the Greeks. This was the major false note the book struck, with a minor one being a sarcastic and shallow condemnation of communism. Despite this, the book is a lovely read.

Mrs McGinty's Dead. By Agatha Christie

Mrs McGinty's Dead

Agatha Christie

Harper Collins. First Published 1952.

A Hercule Poirot mystery.  A nice read, though I could guess the solution reasonably ahead. Maybe I have read this book before, but I could not recollect anything as I read the book now. So it's OK. The title is again a nursery rhyme, a favourite ploy of Christie. And again she uses the rhyme to approximately structure the book. On a scale of 1 (the Tommy and Tuppence books) to 10 (Murder on the Orient Express) this book would rate 7.0.

Doubt. By Jennifer Michael Hecht

Doubt: a history

Jennifer Micheal Hecht

Published in 2003 by Harper Collins

'Doubt' in this book is defined as doubt about the existence of God, for the most part focusing on ideas (and people) through the ages that doubted the existence of an anthropomorphic christian/jewish/islamic 'One' God. True to its subtitle, the book describes the subject chronologically, starting from ancient times, and ending up post September 11, 2001. It doesn't include Richard Dawkins  and his band of brothers, though. It's an interesting book, with tons of new information, but no overall message, except maybe the following: 'Doubt is good, and plenty of really great people have expressed it (including Jesus Christ! - 'O my God, why have you forsaken me?'). But even if we do not go to such extremes (i.e. including JC) to define doubt, there were several important and, to me, unlikely, people who were atheists - Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson and Thomas Paine being among the most relevant in the background of contemporary American politics.

Many of the ancient Greek philosophers doubted the physical existence of a God or gods, and came up with several important theories to explain the Universe, such as Democritus and his atomism. Other philosophers like Socrates and Plato developed their own distinct and startling ideas about existence of the Universe, and about the human condition in particular, without finding the need to postulate an anthropomorphic God. There were the Cynics, the Skeptics, the Stoics, and the Epicureans, all largely atheists, but with different takes on how to live in a godless world. As Hecht says, the basic idea,whether among the Greeks, or with the rest of humanity, has always been to reconcile an obviously unjust world with the very human ideas of justice and fairness. 

After describing the Greeks, Hecht describes atheism among the ancient Jews, Indians and Chinese. Many of the prophets in the Old Testament were doubters, and frequently held personal conversations with God, where they doubted He actually existed - in the manner of several latter-day Indian 'bhaktas'. But while it may be a stretch to call this atheism, it is true that when Indian philosophy and religion talk about 'One God', it is done in strictly non-anthropomorphic terms using terms such as 'Brahman' or 'Parmatma', and not describing this as an entity that interests itself with the doings, good or bad, of you and me. There is then extensive description of the philosophy of the Buddha, who was, of course, the compleat atheist. The Carvaka philosophy of uncompromising and extreme empiricism is also described, as is Jainism, another atheist philosophy.

I use this opportunity to digress a bit and opine the following about Hinduism. One of the commonly quoted 'facts' about Hinduism is that it has 33 crore Gods - giving an impression of rampant and unmanageable polytheism. Actually, I think Hinduism, even without dwelling on Buddha, or even Sankara, is largely atheist. The Hindu world-view has several different classes of 'living' entities in the Universe - gods, humans, asuras, gandharavas, and so on. The population of each class is finite, and that of gods is estimated as 33 crore. There may have been similar estimates of the population of the other classes, I don't know. These gods are, of course, superior beings as compared to humans, and have supernatural powers. But men and women, and even asuras or individuals of the other classes, could obtain some of these supernatural powers by penance or some other heroic deed, usually as a gift from one of the powerful gods. These individuals would then be occasionally more powerful than most gods, and certainly more powerful than ordinary humans. Sometimes these powerful humans would themselves attain god-hood - or, if the promotion was too embarrassing, reveal their hitherto hidden God-hood. Really, the only Hindu God who would fit Hecht's description of the atheist's 'other' would be Brahman, but even here, there is no anthropomorphism. In fact the closest I can see of something similar in other religions is Allah. End of digression.

Hecht then deals with doubt in the first centuries of the Christian era, trying (but in my opinion failing) to establish Jesus as a doubter, and dissecting many later saints and prophets to show that they often expressed doubt about the nature and even existence of God. Doubt during medieval times, and later during the renaissance is next described, including  extensive condemnation of the Catholic church and its inquisition - Giordano Bruno is one of her heroes. The list of doubters then extends into the twenty-first century, all the way to 2001, and includes European philosophers, American politicians, Arab, Chinese, Japanese and Indian scholars and religious leaders, and of course a long series of scientists.

The book is very informative, and easy to read, but more like an encyclopedia (or a list) of doubters, than a treatise on doubt. Considered even as described by the subtitle ('a history') it is not a history in the sense of giving a fresh view of happenings (like, say Toynbee or even Thapar), but more of a list. But it is excellently researched, and very well written.

The Leopard. By Jo Nesbo

The Leopard

Jo Nesbo

Translated from the Norwegian by Don Barlett

Vintage Books. First published 2009.

This is one of those Scandinavian crime novels. It's gruesome, long-winded, full of references to current events and popular European culture, but overall not very satisfying. Inevitable comparisons with Steig Larsson end up rating the later higher - I would buy another Larsson (except, of course - he's dead), but I would not, probably buy another Nesbo. The hero is Harry Hole, a kind of Philip Marlowe wannabe - a hard drinking, constantly smoking ex-cop, pulled back by the Oslo Police force to solve a series of murders and to do it before the newly set-up national criminal investigation agency can crack the case. Again like Marlowe, Hole gets often beaten up. But where Chandler was sentimental but reasonably realistic, Nesbo does not appear to know quite how to characterize Hole. In spite of his boozing and smoking and smoking opium and not eating well, he remains very healthy. One scene describes him almost passing out, and then with enormous effort digging out through an avalanche (of snow), and a few hours later, without much rest, setting off on a snowmobile with a colleague through the dark, wintry, trackless, mountainous landscape to hunt for the killer. Predictably, he gets into trouble again and is again put to a great deal of physical hardship, but Harry keeps going - like Tarzan. In the end the killer kills almost all the people he has planned to kill, before Hole gets him - hardly worth the effort, one would have thought. Some of the killings are unnecessarily sadistic - there is no motivation for the sadism, and indeed very little even for the killings. Nesbo appears to just want to show off what he knows about gruesome instruments of death. And also about the places he has probably visited (as a backpacker?) So, for no real reason that moves the plot forward, the story goes from Hong Kong to Rwanda to Oslo to the mountains north of Oslo and back to Rwanda. There is a mention of the mining of coltan in the Congo and the ruinous effect this has on the people of that country, but no feeling - unlike John Le Carre in 'The Mission Song'. The title 'The Leopard' is not explained... etc. etc. But why write so much about a bad book? Well it's not completely bad - the writing is quite suspenseful, especially towards the end, and the language is good. And I suppose if one did not know Marlowe, Hole would be quite an interesting character. Maybe it's just that since this is apparently the sixth book in the series, the writing has deteriorated along with the characterization. Maybe the first one - apparently 'The Redbreast' - would be worth reading. Maybe.      

The Honourable Company. By John Keay

The Honourable Company

A History Of The English East India Company

John Keay

Harper Collins. First Published 1991.

This is a history that lies between a popular account and a serious scholarly tome, like both the previous histories (of India and China, respectively) by Keay that I have read. I rather suspect Keay has gone through a huge amount of secondary literature to produce this engaging, ancedotal tale of how a small band of adventurers and unscrupulous fortune-seekers came to rule a large part of the world and maybe about a quarter of the world's population over a period of about two centuries. 

The story starts in about 1600 with the quest for spices. The English (the English East India Company) were not the first, with the Dutch and the Portugese there before them, but perhaps they were the most agressive, especially at sea. This enabled them to range the world and establish contacts and 'factories' (or warehouses), and acquire monopolistic trading rights from rulers, small and large, all over the Asia. The company also persuaded (and bribed or otherwise forced) a succession of Kings of England to grant them monopoly to trade with the East. What initially started as a trade of money or goods from England for goods (spices, cotton) from the East, developed over a period of time into a monopoly of the trade within the Asian countries, i.e. buying at throw-away prices from the India and selling at (literally) exorbitant rates to China. The factories slowly expanded to land grants from local rulers, whose sucession to the 'thrones' the company often manipulated, obviously to its own benefit. Thus land revenue from the land grants started replacing trade profits as the company's chief source of income. From almost the beginning, negotiations were backed up by armies and the threat and conduct of war. Especially in India, the company took full advantage of the huge vertical and horizontal divisions in the society - numerous small kings acting without any strong central authority and always ready to make Machiavellian pacts with anyone who would offer short term benefits; governance that existed only to enrich the royal coffers; a feudal system to effect this transfer of wealth from the people upwards; and a populace that was largely immune to ideas of unity or appeals for support by one 'foreign' invader (their current ruler) against another (the Company). The 'dark ages' that followed the dissolution of the mighty Moghul empire (after the death of Aurangzeb) probably contributed a great deal to the Company becoming the ruler of large tracts of the vast sub-continent, almost without realizing it, and without apparently wishing for it, except occasionally by dreamers such as Clive. Much the same scenes were repeated across Asia, but in more limited ways in countries that had a strong central authority, like China or Japan. Eventually the King and Parliament of England decided to do for themselves what they had been doing for the company - sending armies and navies and administrators across the seas to rule alien peoples. (Actual armies were sent out only in the beginning. As the administration became more and more sophisticated, it became necessary only to ship out officers - the soldiers or sepoys could be recruited easily and cheaply from the local population.) And thus began the British Raj, which lasted another 150 years or so. Keay concludes his account in the early 1800s, when the East India Company has ceased to exist in all but name, and before the first War of Independence in 1857, after which Victoria became Empress of India. 

Keay's writing, as always, is smooth and easy to read, interspersed with frequent sardonic turns of phrase or ironic quotations from contemporary literature, letters and other documents. The pattern in his story telling is not apparent, and the book, as a long series of anecdotes, focuses on one adventurer after another, rather than on any overarching theme. Thus he conveys the impression that the entire history of the British overlordship over half the world is the consequence of a succession of accidents and coincidences. Victories in the encounters were often, however, made possible by technological superiority, especially at sea, and by more sophisticated battlefield strategies, not to say more focussed and single-minded administration of limited resources, and better negotiating skills. So let me enumerate what I learn from Keay's book as possible reasons why whatever happened (British Raj), happened: 

• The adventurous spirit of the Europeans
• Their superior sailing and navigational technology
• 'Dark ages' after the Moghul empire
• Vertical and horizontal divisions in Indian society
• The greater ruthlessness and single-mindedness of the Europeans, particularly the British
• Better battlefield technology and skills

I am not sure this is enough to explain the advent of colonial Indian history, and apparently neither does Keay. Actually he doesn't even try - he just sticks to telling the tale, or rather, the tales. While, on the whole the narrative is not tendentious, he does leave out details of many of the horrors perpetrated by the English - the opium wars in China and the various oppressions of farmers and artisans in India. But, to be fair to him, he also does not dwell at any length on the oppressions practised by the native rulers on their own populations.  

The Man Who Knew Infinity. By Robert Kanigel

The Man Who Knew Infinity

Robert Kanigel

Abacus, London. First Published 1991

This is a well written, highly readable, clear eyed and clear headed look at Ramanujan, his all-too-brief life and his immortal work. It also follows the life of Hardy a great deal. The picture of Ramanujan that it builds is not of an idiot savant or of a man who was bewildered by his own brilliance. Ramanujan knew clearly just how good he was and how important and original his mathematics was. He however had some personality quirks that made him shirk quite a lot of his academic duties – such as obtaining a BA degree and then maybe an MA, and then going to Cambridge – something that would have been quite possible for him. It was just the selfish desire to  work only at maths, and to neglect all other subjects, that consigned him to a poverty-striken early life, that probably lead to his later sickness and the consequent tragic cutting short of his life – at 32! There is a sort of invetibility about his whole life, given the initial assumption of genius, and all what-if guessing games lead to the following conclusion. We must accept Ramanujan for what he was, fully, without crticizing one aspect of it, while standing awe-striken at another.

The other story in the book is that of Hardy. Though born of middle class (teacher) parents, Hardy soon acquired aristocratic manners, though his political and social views were of a decidedly left-liberal tinge – somewhat, I suppose, like J.D. Bernal, and maybe Dorthy Hodgkin. Kanigel does not say that it was this that made him more receptive to Ramanujan's letter than the others whom the latter first approached, but it is a possible interpretation of the events. Kanigel, however never loses sight of the fact that this is Ramanujan's story, and never gives Hardy more space than his apparent share of the encounter between the two. We come away with the idea that without Hardy, Ramanujan may have lived and died in near-obscurity, but certainly the greatness and importance of the maths he did would not have been affected. On the other hand, the best mathematics Hardy produced was only because of Ramanujan, in collaboration with the Indian, or following on his work or expanding it.

Kanigel has taken a great deal of effort to understand the social life of Madras and Tamilnadu of the time, but, of course, he writes about only those aspects that, to him, impinge directly on Ramanujan's life, or about which he has fairly strong evidence. It is a tribute to his writing skills that even with so little material, and having had, no doubt, to wade through a mass of eulogical and gushing accounts by Tambrahms on the greatest among them, he was able to write such a self-evidently unprejudiced account – Ramanujan is portrayed as an inexplicably and awesomely brilliant, but very human character.

Finally, I am gratified that the self-serving rantings of a certain Mylapore family, which used to be published regularly in The Hindu from about the 70s, and which claimed an almost clonal relationship with, and therefore ownership of Ramanujan, have been quietly ignored.

Tony and Susan. By Austin Wright

Tony and Susan

Austin Wright

Atlantic Books, London. First published 1993.

There are three levels in this book, like onion skins, one within another within another. The outermost level is the story that Wright is telling me, the reader. This experience includes the physical book, with its paper and cover, the circumstances under which I read it, and so on. This is the real level, one which occurs for every book, and one over which the author has no control. The second level in this book, enclosed by the first skin, is the story of Susan, her present husband Arnold, and her previous husband Edward, who is also the author of the story at the third and innermost level. Again within this second level, Edward, has only the smallest control over the circumstances under which his manuscript is read. However he does have more control over his reader, Susan, than Wright does over his reader, me. This is because Edward knows Susan, and knows her circumstances, and sends the typewritten manuscript to her to read – the book is not published as yet.  This manuscript tells the innermost story, the story of Tony Hastings, a Professor of Maths in Pennsylvania, who takes a road trip with his wife and teenage daughter. Driving at night he is forced off the road by three, apparently casual, crooks, who then kidnap his family and rape and kill them, while Tony himself is taken elsewhere and abandoned in the woods. The rest of this innermost story deals with the aftermath, its effect on Tony, and his police-mediated encounters with the crooks in the course of the next year.

The innermost story is the most gripping and interesting of the three. Tony is convincingly portrayed as very ordinary academic, suffering, for some time at least, massive pangs of guilt for being unable to stop those vile things happening to his family. But his guilt takes him nowhere, and even when faced with a chance to get back on the crooks, he refuses to act out of character and become a hero, except almost accidentally, and ultimately, unsatisfactorily. The middle story, that of Susan, her current husband Arnold and previous husband Edward, is not so interesting. It follows a fairly predictable course with Susan becoming disillusioned with Arnold, to whom she was initially attracted almost violently, he being more accomplished, more handsome, and, it is implied, a better lover than Edward. But the disillusionment does not make Edward anymore attractive again, and Susan ends up remaining vaguely disatisfied but all the same content with her lot, hinting of future tragedies.  The weakest part of the book is the interaction between these two stories. Thus it is never clear, even at the end, just how Tony impacts on Susan, or what Edward meant to do by writing the story and sending it to Susan.

The book is arranged so that it starts with Susan recieving the manuscript. Some portions of her story are told, and then it moves into Tony's story as she starts to read it. At every chapter break in Tony's story, it comes back to Susan, moves her story along a bit, mainly as reactions to Tony, though these are unconvincing. It is written well, and I skipped only some parts, those given to the suburban frustrations of Susan. The portions involving Tony are grippingly written, and evoke terror and pity, in a true Aristotlean fashion.

I bought this book cheap (Rs 200/-) at the Oxford book store discount sale, and certainly it is worth what I paid for it, perhaps its even worth the undiscounted price.