Book Review: The Wednesday Soul by Sorabh Pant

The Wednesday Soul by Sorabh Pant is a bit better than most of the "mass-market" publishing that is  so much in vogue currently in India. The book ostensibly is a funny and sarcastic look at life after death or as the tag line puts it "the afterlife, with sunglasses."

The Wednesday Soul tells us about the afterlife of Nyra Dubey. Nyra Dubey is an urban vigilante who roams around Delhi in the night avenging any crimes against women. Nyra is overweight, has a slight chip on her shoulder about it but is spunky enough to not really care a damn. She meets the love of her life, Chitr Gupta, who is apparently invulnerable to any physical harm. Just when she is fantasizing about life with Chitr Gupta, Nyra is bumped off by Kutsa, the villain of the story. Nyra is not amused to be separated from Chitr and wishes to be with him. So soon Chitr and Kutsa clash and end up in afterlife. And from here on the story moves largely in two parallel lanes - the afterlife and the mortal "real" world - with the events in one impacting the other.

It is also from this point that the book loses its plot. Sorabh Pant is a stand-up comic of some reputation. The book is written and "delivered" in a similar style. There are a few parts of the book that, when take alone, are really funny. There are elements that have been weaved in purely for their potential for humor and which do not have any bearing on the story. So you have a Lenin who spews Russian Comedy to people standing in the afterlife's many queues, there's Agatha Christie who functions as a sort of a psychic detective and some extremely bad puns. There is also a half-hearted attempt to "play" with mythology and mythological characters. And there is an attempt to mix this all with current lifestyles and concepts. So Nyra is a "Wednesday Soul" -- the mid day of the work week that is so frustrating that it makes people suicidal. Wednesday Souls are thus people whose subconscious drives them to harm themselves by either putting themselves in the path of danger (like Nyra) or by something like binge eating or overworking - malaises of the current urban lifestyles. Sundays are sacred for such folks. Chitr is a Sunday Soul.

The book thus tries to mix in anything and everything in an attempt to elicit a joke or a laugh out of it. While that may be a good strategy for a stand-up comedy act, this free-wheeling does no wonders to a novel's story line. The Wednesday Soul's story, plot and narration are largely incoherent. The story is also full of inconsistencies (For example, Agatha Christie first communicates with Harithi in English and later only in Sanskrit) including some really crucial ones like the “Thinkers” viewing and knowing what is happening in the world, but being unable to locate the Third missing Sunday Soul. Such inconsistencies amplify the holes and shortcomings in the story's "plot" and  narration. The book is halos littered with significant editing and publishing errors. The book rarely engages the reader as it tries to entertain. The result is a book like an average comedy act. The audience will laugh and applaud once in a while, but the act as a whole falls flat and has got nothing that is memorable.

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Book Review: Tritcheon Hash by Sue Lange

About a millennium into the future, the universe is a lot different. Many generations ago from 3011, the year in which Sue Lange's Tritcheon Hash opens, women decide they have had enough of the testosterone fueled violence and messiness of males. They pack up and over the next decade or so, leave the men behind on the polluted and resource-depleted Earth and board starships to Coney Island. Coney Island is named after the amusement park-turned woman's penal colony-turned back to amusement park on Earth. Coney Island, light years away, is the all-human female planet, a refuge from and in many ways a complete opposite of, the now completely-male Earth. Here on Coney Island, women indulge in vegetarianism, aromatherapy, and a whole lot of peaceful and "womanly" activities that are the antithesis of the aggressive male-dominated culture they left behind. The women prosper and over the generations evolve a culture and society that epitomizes everything that is the opposite of war-mongering, unhygienic, and "un-cultured" males. In fact, ever since the absolute separation of the sexes, Coney Island has over the centuries even developed technology that surpasses that of the men back on earth.

The women in Tritcheon Hash have adapted and learned to live in a world devoid of the male species. The human females on Coney Island are highly paranoid and wary of Earth. Contact with Earth is extremely limited — confined to once a year when they swap male babies for enough frozen sperm to last their planet for another year. Men, since the separation, have mucked up Earth even more — a perpetual belt of garbage now encircles the planet. This sea of crud blots out the sun, making the human males fight their petty, and numerous, wars in artificial daylight. Plant life is thus highly limited on Earth, and circumscribed to a few areas which have been painstaking reclaimed from radiation fallout.

Tritcheon Hash or Tritch is the eponymous protagonist of Sue Lange's novel. She is brash, fearless, tough, and smart . . . a woman in love with speed. She is a test pilot who loves spaceships that are fast. Her job is to test the newly developed faster-than-light spaceships. She is married to the lovely Drannie Cove and has two daughters. Tritch, on the surface, appears to have everything a woman would want from her life. But within her, there's a knot of dissatisfaction that threatens to come undone and unravel her life. Her marriage to Drannie Cove has dwindled into an unsatisfying and unhappy relationship. Drannie has been acting distant and apathetic, devoting her full attention to their two daughters. Tritch's been spending more time sitting on her butt waiting for the ships she tests to actually fly than she's been enjoying the thrill of space flight. She's also increasingly haunted by an experiment that she was a part of when she was training at Coney Island's military academy — a group of women cadets and a visiting male students are tossed together to see what would happen. The experiment is a spectacular failure, thanks to the aggressive and uncouth behavior of Slab Ricknoy and his dust-up with Tritch during an exercise in which they were to partner each other. Tritch could do with a break.

The opportunity comes in the form of a request for reunification from the males. There are enough people on both sides wondering if that may be a good idea. But paranoia of the males has become the second nature for the inhabitants of Coney Island and while there are sufficient people interested in the reunification idea they want to exercise all possible caution. A decision is made to scout the enemy. So, because of her prior dust-up with Slab Ricknoy, her excellent credentials as a pilot, and her "military" training, Tritch is recruited for a clandestine mission to journey alone to earth, make her way through the layer of garbage permanently obscuring and orbiting the old home planet, and to see if men have managed to evolve out of their wicked, meat-eating, leather-wallet-carrying, war-mongering and aggressive ways. Tritch is excited about her mission. Not just because the idea of espionage and flying the fastest spaceship around — equipped with the "Lighterator" sounds thrilling, but also due to the possible chance that she might somehow may manage to again meet the intriguing Bangut Walht — the "forbidden" and "taboo" man — she met during the experimental exercise back in military school.

Tritch's exceptional skills as a pilot see her through the layer of garbage but she damages the ship during the tricky maneuver and crash lands on Earth. The crash-landing leaves her unconscious long enough to be captured by the one man she really hopes not to see — Slab Ricknoy who is now an aggressive and bellicose military leader in charge of one of the many wars on Earth. Somehow, Bangut Walht also finds himself thrown in the mix of circumstances. Ricknoy's aggressive stance against Tritch and her and Bangut's reaction to it threatens to trigger an intergalactic incident.

Will Tritch escape the clutches of Ricknoy? Will she and Bangut "get-together"? Will she be able to escape Earth, now that her spaceship is damaged and in Ricknoy's custody? What about Drannie and the kids? And if she does manage to escape and return to Coney Island, will Tritch recommend reunification or are the sexes destined to stay apart? The answers to these questions occupy the rest of the story of Tritcheon Hash.

Though it is presented as science-fiction, Tritcheon Hash is primarily a satire. The "science-fiction" is merely a wrapper that provides a world, a reason, in which the story can be played out and explored. Sue Lange uses satire in Tritcheon Hash to poke fun of various gender stereotypes prevalent in the current times. Satire, at most times, is tough to pull off. An author can err on the side of the serious, emphasizing the "message" and alienate the audience who would find the heavy-handed treatment boring. An author can also err on the other extreme — trying to explore every incident and opportunity to poke fun, elicit laughs, and come across as silly and frivolous. Sue Lange, for most of Tritcheon Hash, manages to strike a balance between the two. The science fiction wrapper for the story allows Lange to exaggerate stereotypes and then satirize them in interesting ways by making them sound perfectly logical and sound in the fictitious world. The satire and humor is born out of the play between the exaggerated notions of the characters in the fictitious world and similar notions in the real world. For example, everything on Earth is made of meat products. Males on Earth grow plants just to feed animals and then make everything out of meat and leather. Sample Tritch's reaction on entering Bangut's living quarters for the first time:

The place was orderly—surprisingly so, in fact. No socks draped on heat disseminators, no dirty underwear hung on the back of a chair. Last week’s beer-bash flotsam was not floating about in knee-deep water. The room appeared not only neat, but also tastefully decorated: curtains matched throw pillows, furniture covers had been chosen in stylish auxiliary colors, and a big rug tied everything together. No animal heads were mounted anywhere.

Lange also uses language effectively to emphasize the separation between the sexes and further reinforce the satirical intent of the story. Anything to do with male-female relationships and procreation is described in highly technical terms (a penis is always referred to by Tritch and others on Coney Island as the "Penile Apparatus"). Tritch and the females of Coney Island over the long years of separation have created a slang and manner of speaking that is unique to the planet and that produces some very funny misunderstandings when Tritch talks to the men in the book.

While the satire and humor is definitely a strong point of Sue Lange's story, she does lose her way towards the end. For most of the length of the novel, the story is extremely fast-paced. But towards the end Lange seems to lose her grip on the plot — it almost feels like the author knew how to develop the situation and take it to its climax but hadn't given a thought to how she would handle the resolution of the story. Like Tritch, the plot of the book too drifts at the end.

The characterization in this novel is tricky. One would normally consider sketching in finer details make for a better character. Lange paints Tritch and especially her male characters with a very broad brush. The characters largely are representative of various stereotypes. General Anschoss takes on every generic characteristic of any "General" in any book ever written. Slab Ricknoy, is the archetypical swaggering, aggressive man. Bangut is the stereotypical "sensitive" male. But when you understand that the author's purpose is to make fun of various gender stereotypes, you realize that painting the characters in broad brush strokes was the right (it may have been unintentional) decision. These conventional characters make it easy for Sue Lange to satirize male-female gender perceptions about each other.

Where the novel fails to impress is in its "science" part. For a novel that positions itself as science fiction, there is very little science in the story. Most of it is cosmetic and purely used to create atmosphere. In a science fiction story, at least to me, the science (whatever rules it obeys in that world) should be the reason of the story and should be the primary means of taking the story to its climax and resolution. The only science fiction in the novel is the faster-than-light ships powered by the lighterator and a few other similar token nods to science (plants that soak up radiation, gigantic sails that filter and "mine" the air for metals). The notion of the separation of sexes which is the basic premise for the story, could be easily setup without requiring the science fiction part of the story. Tritcheon Hash is a character-driven story in which the science-fiction is merely cosmetic and incidental. To me a book that is classified into the genre and then turning out to be not hard core science fiction is a big disappointment.

Tritcheon Hash is a book with undeniable energy. It is often funny, and but for the end, never dull. The characterization fits the book's purpose perfectly. If only Sue Lange had also paid attention to the science in her book, Tritcheon Hash would have been a unique coming together of satirical intent and science fiction.

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Tweet Trove 5 (13-20 December, 2009)

Arts, Culture, Literature

OPEN Magazine | Silent Bestsellers (Indian Writings in English) : http://www.openthemagazine.com/article/books/silent-bestsellers

Fantasy & Sci-Fi Magazine Art: http://www.life.com/image/first/in-gallery/36092/fantasy--sci-fi-magazine-art

Travel - 25 Authentic Asian Experiences: http://www.time.com/time/specials/packages/completelist/0,29569,1934455,00.html

10 worst phrases to use at office: http://www.cnn.com/2009/LIVING/worklife/12/16/cb.worst.phrases.work/index.html?eref=rss_latest

Education, e-Learning

@thoughts: My Learning 2009: http://simply-speaking.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-learning-2009.html

What Matters Now: http://sethgodin.typepad.com/seths_blog/2009/12/what-matters-now-get-the-free-ebook.html. Free e-book of ideas from 70 thinkers.

Humor

Google confirms the loneliest number: http://thenextweb.com/shareables/2009/12/17/google-confirm-1-loneliest-number/

The most frequently asked question in webinars and workshops: http://brandon-hall.com/janetclarey/?p=1623

Internet, Science and Technology

Top 10 Astronomy Pictures of 2009: http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/badastronomy/2009/12/15/top-ten-astronomy-pictures-of-2009/

The many uses of Twitter (+ The Six Twitter Types): http://www.ngonlinenews.com/news/many-users-of-twitter/

The idiot's guide to Google Wave: http://www.techradar.com/news/internet/the-idiot-s-guide-to-google-wave-655127

Five Technologies That Will Keep Shaping the Web in 2010: http://sixrevisions.com/web-development/five-technologies-that-will-keep-shaping-the-web-in-2010/

100 Incredible Lectures from the World’s Top Scientists: http://www.bestcollegesonline.com/blog/2009/06/18/100-incredible-lectures-from-the-worlds-top-scientists/

Tweet Trove 4 (6-12 December, 2009)

Apologies for the delay in posting this one - No connectivity for most of yesterday and when finally I could access the Internet, data seemed to be percolating through thick molasses.

Arts, Culture, Literature

Classic Twitterature - University of Chicago students reinterpret great works of literature into Twitter-speak: http://www.nbcchicago.com/news/local-beat/Classic-Twitterature-78848847.html

When bad covers happen to good books: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/06/books/review/Queenan-t.html?_r=4&ref=books

Are Writers Using TMA (Too Many Acronyms)? : http://www.poynter.org/column.asp?id=78&aid=173933

Business and Economics

The wonderful world of Walt Disney (infographic) : http://www.busmanagement.com/news/walt-disney-productions/

Education, e-Learning

How iPhone Could Reboot Education - Abilene Christian University has a go: http://www.wired.com/gadgetlab/2009/12/iphone-university-abilene/

Top 125 Workplace eLearning Posts of 2009: http://www.elearninglearning.com/wpblog/top-elearning-posts-2009/

Humor

Parenthood be not proud: http://www.salon.com/mwt/feature/2009/12/04/traister_parenting_makes_me_dumb/index.html

Facebook suggestions (ahem) : http://xkcd.com/672/

Internet, Science and Technology

In the Brain, Seven Is A Magic Number: http://www.physorg.com/news178220995.html#top

Gallery: The Year's Most Amazing Scientific Images | Popular Science: http://www.popsci.com/science/gallery/2009-12/gallery-years-most-amazing-scientific-images

BusinessWeek -Beware Social Media Snake Oil: http://www.businessweek.com/magazine/content/09_50/b4159048693735.htm?chan=magazine+channel_top+stories

11 Google Chrome Extensions, For Starters: http://www.techcrunch.com/2009/12/05/11-chrome-extensions-for-starters/?utm_source=feedburner

Etcetera

"Can you break your culture of silence?" - Sunitha Krishnan's fight against sex slavery: http://on.ted.com/287S

If you can save some trees, why not save some lettuce? http://cafehayek.com/2009/12/save-the-spinach.html

Tweet Trove 3 (29 November-5 December, 2009)

Arts, Culture, Literature

Top Words of 2009: http://www.languagemonitor.com/news/top-words-of-2009

Business and Economics

Do prostitutes want prostitution to be legal? Is a pimp no different than a corporate manager? More Q&A: http://freakonomics.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/12/01/superfreakonomics-book-club-sudhir-venkatesh-answers-your-prostitution-questions/#more-22489

The dark side of Dubai: http://www.independent.co.uk/opinion/commentators/johann-hari/the-dark-side-of-dubai-1664368.html

Education, e-Learning

The Psychology of Achievement In Playing Games: http://www.pixelpoppers.com/2009/11/awesome-by-proxy-addicted-to-fake.html

e-book: Theory and Practice of Online Learning (caution: 484 pages; pdf): http://www.aupress.ca/books/120146/ebook/99Z_Anderson_2008-Theory_and_Practice_of_Online_Learning.pdf

Discursive Learning:Knowing "What is missing in educational curriculum is this sense of play, this sense of tinkering." http://discursive-learning.blogspot.com/2009/11/knowing.html

EnerCities - The First Serious Game On Facebook: http://seriousgamesmarket.blogspot.com/2009/12/enercities-first-serious-game-on.html

Humor

Elementary My Dear Watson: http://www.thedoghousediaries.com/?p=1096

Why Twitter? http://dilbert.com/strips/comic/2009-11-24/

If the Bible was magazines: http://www.collegehumor.com/article:1795235

Internet, Science and Technology

Is slavery the new green energy? http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/2009/dec/03/cycling-energy-slavery

How our brains build social worlds: http://www.newscientist.com/article/mg20427370.500-how-our-brains-build-social-worlds.html?full=true

TwHistory: http://www.twhistory.com/?page_id=2. Intriguing use of Twitter.

An alternate oral history of the last decade - If Al Gore had won: http://2010.newsweek.com/essay/if-gore-had-won.html

The journey of a tweet -- How 'tweets' become worldwide news within a matter of minutes? http://www.ngonlinenews.com/news/the-journey-of-a-tweet/

Periodic table - social media elements: http://www.flickr.com/photos/eyecube/3302969531/sizes/l/, Internet: http://www.flickr.com/photos/dullhunk/2053007240/sizes/l/, 28 more periodic tables: http://www.chicagonow.com/blogs/redeye/2009/12/not-your-grandmothers-periodic-tables-30-charts-that-have-nothing-to-do-with-chemicals.html

The Seattle Times is using Google Wave to catching a killer: http://www.techcrunch.com/2009/11/30/google-wave-manhunt/

Etcetera

The World's 18 Strangest Roads: http://www.popularmechanics.com/technology/transportation/4338387.html?page=1

What TED didn’t get about India: http://www.financialexpress.com/news/column-what-ted-didnt-get-about-india/539729/0

Rectangles Vs. Triangles: The Great Sandwich Debate : http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=120914097

Top 100 global thinkers: http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2009/11/30/the_fp_top_100_global_thinkers?page=full

Pigeon: Impossible

Pigeon: Impossible is the tale of Walter, a rookie secret agent faced with a problem seldom covered in basic training: what to do when a curious pigeon gets trapped inside your multi-million dollar, government-issued nuclear briefcase.

A hilarious 6-minute romp through the streets of Washington D.C. as a rookie secret agent fights to save himself, and the world from the chaos reigned down by a hungry pigeon.

London's Big Ben Loves Bengalis?

(click the picture for a larger image)

Does the Big Ben find the Bong of its dreams? Follow the Big Ben on Twitter to find out.

Nonsense Sharpens the Intellect

No, really. It does.

And that e-learning maven, Simply Speaking, tells us how this new research can help us design and develop better e-learning (or even traditional learning) programs.

But honestly, we should be ambitious in learning through nonsense. Getting a 1000 monkeys to bang away on a 1000 typewriters is what I would say is a good start.

WTF! Experiences on my Road Trip

My road trip through Uttarakhand, Jim Corbett National Park, Agra, and Delhi was remarkable for the sheer number of beautiful landscapes, colorful birds, and remarkable animals that we came across. The trip was also enlivened by some notable experiences. While there were quite a few of these experiences, for your edification, I am describing two of them here.

Music for the Drive

We had hired a car for the duration of the trip. After all a road trip isn’t a road trip unless you explore a region by driving through it, slowly. The car came with a driver (chauffeurs are for really posh people). And the car came with a media player. And the driver brought his own collection of music to entertain himself and us on our long drives.

The music was. . .well . . . um . . . interesting and eclectic. Our driver's favorite play list was on this CD called Harayanvi DJ Dhamaka. The CD combined (or attempted to) the best of a few genres — the lyrics of what sounded like Harayanvi folk songs were set to the tunes of popular Hindi songs. To pep up the tempo, some random Bhangra beats were added. And to introduce an element of modernity to the entire thing (and probably to make the music appealing to the younger generation of Harayanvi drivers who would like to dance to trance while still remaining rooted in their culture) the songs also had some DJ mixing some western music as a sort of a background. It was, as I said earlier, interesting.

One of the songs went something like this. Now I don't remember the exact words but I can do you a gist . . . give you the main idea of the whole thing. Basically it had this female who was singing praises of her sasural (in-laws' home) and she conveyed the greatness on her sasural by pointing out:

Of what worth is Mumbai?

Or for that matter, Kolkata?

Even Amerrrrica is nothing,

When compared to my Sasural,

London too pales into insignificance.

Variations of this stanza constituted the rest of the song. You have to admit, heard at 2:30 AM in the morning, when you are half-crazed with the lack of sleep; the song has a strong appeal.

Another remarkable song was also a part of this wonderful collection of music. Again, I can but do you a gist. Here it is a guy convincing a girl to come out (possibly for a coffee) with him. So he tells her:

Come, sit in my Bolero.

It is a new Bolero; I bought so that I can take you out.

I went through much effort to buy this Bolero for you,

I sold my brother's cycle,

My dad's tractor,

My mom's bangles,

My brother-in-law's underwear (it sounded something like that)

So please come and sit in my Bolero.

The song went on for ages in the same vein with the guy listing all the myriad things he filched and sold off to buy this Bolero so that he can take his ladylove out for a spin. Finally in the last few minutes of the song, the girl sings to convey that she is impressed that this guy filched and sold off all those things (she too sings through the list) to buy the Bolero so that he can take her out for a drive. And she agrees to sit in his Bolero. And, I assume, they lived happily ever after.

You have to admit, Shakespeare's sonnets to his Dark Mistress are no patch on this.

Security Risk at the Taj Mahal

It was at the Taj Mahal that I probably had my most WTF! experience of my road trip. You have to pass through a security check and a body frisk before being allowed to enter the Taj complex. We duly lined up. One of my friends passed through without any hiccups: camera — allowed, cell phone — no problems. He was informed that no camera batteries are allowed inside the complex, but the security guy couldn't find any in his bag. My friend had kept them in a separate compartment in his bag, along with the charger and the data transfer cable. So much for the security check. My other friend also was cleared — the security check didn't find the batteries in his bag either. But they did find his camera's data cable. Somehow the data cable was dangerous and he was asked to deposit it in a locker some distance away. Next up for the check was me and I was smirking at my friend's fate — He would have to walk about 200 meters to deposit the cable and then walk 200 meters back. And then go through the security check again.

I was frisked and cleared. Then the security guy opened my haversack and immediately shook his head.

"No! No! You can't take these inside."

I was surprised, apart from my cell phone I wasn't aware that I was carrying anything that might be construed a security risk, and I said so to the security. He pointed to the two books in my haversack.

"Not allowed."

"But they are books!"

"Not allowed."

"What is the security risk of 400 pages of printed matter?"

"Only guidebooks allowed. You will have to deposit these in a locker."

"What!"

He pulled the books out, thumbed through them, scrutinizing them for any hidden weapons, returned them to the bag, and shook his head dolefully.

"Not allowed."

"How are two story books a security risk and a guidebook isn't?"

"Not allowed."

Well, there was nothing else to do. So my friend and I walked 200 meters, deposited the cable and the books in a locker, and then walked the 200 meters back. We went through the security check all over again. The batteries in my friend's bag remained undetected.

The Pursuit of Unhappyness . . .

. . . can actually be fun. Geetha Krishnan shows how to attempt Twittering for Sadness (or tries to. He is having way too much fun to be sad).

Twitterhea

The unstoppable urge to tweet. 

Thankfully haven't been afflicted with it, yet (and currently don't feel I will ever be).

I do get bouts of the blogging equivalent. My office found me the cure — work :(

World War II — Simplified

and comic.

Do you Believe in God?

Well, someone's gotta be on the other end of the string.

Why do you get up in the Morning?

What is there other than this?

Favorite Techie Cartoons of 2008

Anybody out there who doubts technology and cartoon humor don't fit?

Book Review: The Flood: A Novel by David Maine

Many writers have taken a story from the Bible, layered it with their ideas and interpretations, developed the characters, and fleshed an entire novel from a few lines. Of these Biblical stories, the tale of Noah and the Flood, from Genesis, surely is one that has be told and retold many times before. Julian Barnes, for one, did a wonderfully irreverent account of the story through the eyes of a stowaway woodworm in A History of the World in 10 1/2 Chapters. 

David Maine, in his debut novel, The Flood: A Novel, too tries his hand at retelling the world's best-known disaster story. Unlike Barnes, Maine is not particularly sacrilegious or flippant. He does occasionally poke fun at the story and the characters but largely uses the tale to muse on the nature of faith and god, families, relationships and how people cope with a catastrophe created by a god intent on scrubbing the world clean.

Maine's Noe (as Noah is called in this tale. Some research showed that Maine names his characters from the Douay-Rheims Bible which was translated in English from Latin) is a 600-year-old paterfamilias who is introduced to us while he is peeing. A cantankerous and churlish Yahweh talks to Noe whenever he needs to express displeasure with his creations. A few pages into the book, when Noe hears Yahweh outline his plans to cleanse the world — that humanity is to be destroyed in a flood, Noe pees himself. This, along with the blurbs, prime the reader to expect that the author is out to have some fun with his source material. That expectation is however soon belied. While Maine does occasionally have some fun with his story and his characters, we soon realize that he is not treading that path. Maine is rather looking to flesh this Biblical episode in a way that allows him to raise questions on the role of God and faith in human lives, the nature and stuff of relationships, and (often) the role of women in this story. He achieves this by rarely departing much from the original tale. Rather he explores the psychological detail that such a story offers.

When the Yahweh tells (orders) Noe to build the ark, he pisses himself, then weeps, and then calls his family together and orders them to start building. Noe may be 600 years old, but hurries with the project of building and readying the ark believing "great age was not an obstacle to great deeds." His family lets out a collective groan, privately think he's nuts — his wife remarks "So when Himself starts with the visions and the holy labors and the boat full of critters, what am I supposed to do? Talk Sense?" — but don't dare disobey him. Noe, anyways, can't tell them much, except that the boys have to build a colossal boat, and that the girls (the wives of his boys) have to travel to their respective homelands, gather, and bring back every species of animal they can find. 

So the sons start on the boat. Cham designs and oversees the building of the ark with Sem to assist him. Jahpeth goofs off. Sem's wife, Bera, travels south and finds a menagerie in her savage father's kingdom. Cham's wife, Ilya, goes to the north and returns with bears and wolves. Jahpeth's wife, Mirn, looks for insects and other critters under rocks and in the soil. People gather around to watch and to jeer – "It's not every day you see a ship growing in the desert." Some offer to buy room on the ark. Noe refuses, explaining that one can board the ark only "with a pure heart." As the clouds gather and build in the sky, Noe's family debates about how the animals ought to be packed in.

Eventually the rain starts and the waters rise and the world becomes a waterscape. Unlike the Bible, Maine does justice to the enormity of the catastrophe. In Genesis, the story of Noah's ark and the wiping away of all life save that is safe on the boat, is narrated, if I am right, in about 4-5 verses. Here we watch the community that had gathered around the Ark wash away. The world's population is swept away, and Noe rejoices: "They were unclean in the sight of the Lord. . . Old is this world, a thousand years or more. It had grown heavy with filth and weary with sin. Now it has been scrubbed clean."

 

Maine also beautifully conveys the humanity of it all — of the characters trying to get a perspective and understand such an event. Ilya reflects "A pang cuts me whenever I remember him, or the matriarchs, or my uncles. All gone now. But I can't give in to grief about them - if I start I'll never stop, there are just too many dead, whole peoples, whole civilizations. I hold their memory off, at arm's length, and concentrate instead on measuring rainfall and striving to understand what is happening. If such a thing can truly be comprehended."

Maine re-tells this catastrophe and the events before and after it, in eight voices — The Flood is divided into succinct chapters told from the perspective of the various characters. While Noe's wife, three sons, and three daughters-in-law  —  tell their own stories in their own voices, a narrator takes over the chapters devoted to Noe. It is an eminently readable and clever narrative allowing the reader for a 360-degree perspective on episode. 

It allows Maine to explore two fundamental ways (within the boundaries of the world depicted in the novel) of looking at the world. One view which believes that god reigns over everything (primarily held by the men in the novel). Another which believes that god rains over everything (primarily held by the women in the novel). And why these perspectives matter — for it is the viewpoint which decides how one tells and how one listens to a story. The book attempts to explore this by often having chapters with these juxtaposed viewpoints follow each other (It is subtle and not as explicit and blatant as I have made it out to be). 

Apart from earnest explorations into theology and faith, this narrative of eight voices comes together, naturally and strongly, to form a marvelous description of a family trying to cope with a crisis of worldwide proportions. Once confined to the boat, and with nowhere to go, they tire of each other, bicker, grow bored, complain about the sameness and the paucity of the food, the stink and try to cope with the irritation of having to put up with each other and the animals and the hopelessness of the situation. The sons have a crisis of faith — in themselves, in Noe, and in Yahweh. The women are altogether more practical and often provide witty and acerbic assessments of the situation and the other characters. It is the three daughters-in-law (who are not named in the Bible) that are the most fascinating characters in the book — practical, focused, clever, crafty and cunning, tough and more capable than any of the male characters. Bera, Ilya, and Mirn (and to an extent Noe's wife) are arguably Maine's most engaging characters and serve to bring in a feminist perspective to this Biblical tale. Their interactions with one another and the other characters in the novel give the book its primary strength — an examination of the dynamics in the interrelationships amongst the characters.

While The Flood questions and probes the tale from Genesis and contemplates and muses on life and relationships (the nature of love) and God and faith, Maine, every now and then (very rarely), seems to remember the immense ironic and comic potential of his source material and sprinkles a few funny episodes (Noe's vision of Yahweh as a testy ant) in the story. This however, to me, is where the book fails. It is as if Maine couldn't decide if his novel was to be a deeply serious affair — with solemn observations on faith, God, and insights into relationships or a totally postmodern, irreverent, and funny take on the flood. In trying to include bits of both he doesn't do enough justice to either.

There is, however, a lot to enjoy in this novel. It is energetic and fluent and easily read in a sitting or two. While it is serious in some parts and irreverent in others, and it may well be confused whether it wants to be more of one or the other, The Flood is never uninteresting and makes for an engrossing read.

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Nuggets from David Maine's The Flood: 

On the Nature of Love

How to Kill a God

Men are so Amusing

Is God in Everything?

How to Kill a God: Ink Scrawl Nugget 23

The Context:

Noe (as Noah - he of the biblical ark fame - is called in this book), has a direct line to god — which the god uses at regular intervals to outline his plans and how he expects Noe to execute them. This is one such interaction between Noe (who is a 'fundamentalist' in his faith in his god) and Yahweh, the god, who has been chracterized as in the Old Testament - megalomaniac, cranky, demanding, cantankerous, and a general pain in the you-know-what:

 —Behold, I am the Lord your God. You shall worship no usurper gods in My stead.

 [. . .]

               

Noe seeks the source of God's voice and sees, on the pathway before him, an ant: smaller than his thumbnail, shiny black, industrious in its jittery perambulations. Rearing back on four hind legs, the ant cleaves the air with tiny mandibles even as its voice fills Noe's head.

—My duty is to command. Whether you act as I instruct is a function of your own will.

               

Something isn't quite right about this scene, this God, but Noe finds himself unable to focus on exactly what. He hesitates.

—Do you doubt My power? Shrieks the ant.

—Of course not, Lord, Noe gasps.—I serve you always.

               

He falls to his knees. In so doing, he inadvertently crushes the Lord God Yahweh beneath his bony kneecap.

—Lord—?

The insect is a broken smear. Noe reflexively brushes the wet crust from his body, then arrests his hand. —God is dead! he wails. —And I have killed Him!

—From The Flood by David Maine

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Other nuggets from The Flood: 

Men are so Amusing

Is God in Everything?

Do I Have a Girlfriend?

Regular readers of this blog (if there are any in that category still left out there) will know that my commute to and from the office offers some of the weirdest experiences. I have had my share of some incredible “WTF?!” experiences earlier — you either overhear something that is totally ripe or you are an unwilling participant in one. For a very long time there was nothing of note (it could also be that since I wasn't blogging, I had stopped being on the lookout) before something happened a few days back that was right up there in the “WTFness?! quotient.”

I have outlined my regular morning train routine in an earlier post: I board the train, take my seat, nod to a few of the regular commuters, pull out a book from my bag, stow the bag on the overhead rack, open the book, and start reading. Some minutes of this and I am ready to snooze till it is time for me to make my preparations (grab my bag, stuff the book back into it, and then struggle through the crowd) and alight from the train. Conversation, as you must have noticed, doesn't figure in the routine. 

I am not a great one for conversation even normally. But early mornings I am at my surliest — preferring to be left alone with my book. I am not much in a mood to engage anybody in a conversation (even my family, usually my sis-in-law, just sees me out of the door (gladly) in the morning without uttering a word) till I have had a couple of cups of extra strong coffee in the office pantry. Some people have caught on to this — my sis-in-law for one, my office friends, and some of my fellow commuters — and let me be till I am ready to be counted amongst the living. Some unfortunately haven't. 

There is this guy who boards my morning train at one of the intermediate stations. Over the last some months he has become a regular. Unfortunately (for me) he is one of those cheery and hearty souls who shouts out his “Good mornings!” and wants to talk to everybody he knows even remotely. He is also a bit (now, how do I put it politely?), “simple” and doesn't always get a hint. We have a sort of a nodding acquaintance (he talks, if I am awake, I nod). He knows my name; I haven't bothered to find out his. For some reason, he has taken a liking to me and tries to engage me in a conversation whenever he can. After he boards the train, and he has said his hellos to the others, he shouts his hello for me through all that crowd. I vaguely register that in my drowsy state. And often hear fellow commuters, who know I keep late hours in my efforts to keep this nation shining, chiding him to shut up and let me snooze. He takes a little notice though and tries his best to strike a conversation. Such opportunities for him, in normal circumstances, are however limited. By the time he boards the train at his station, it is packed and the only time we encounter each other face to face is when I am on my way out. He then uses those few precious seconds to talk, tell me his entire life story, and that of his office and kids. He is also extremely nosy so questions like “How much do you earn?”, “What is your age?”, “Do you get paid overtime for the late hours?” are often asked. In response, I smile politely, nod or shake my head, pretend to have not heard him in the noise, (sometimes when I am at peace with the world and with myself, I venture a word or two) before making my escape out of the train.

On that particular, day however, the circumstances were different. By some unexplained quirk of fate, that day, the train was extremely empty. It also turned out to be a day when I had woken up (more than usually) grumpy, low, and in a real lousy moody. It could have been a result of some long nights at work and little sleep (less than four hours) on the preceding days. Anyways, this day, after I had read a couple of pages and realized that I would have to read them all over again to understand them, I put away the book and closed my eyes and dozed off promptly. As I mentioned earlier, the train was unusually empty that day and so this fellow as soon as he had boarded the train found himself standing next to where I was snoozing. And he grasped me by my shoulder and shook me awake.

Him: (all cheery, bright, and grinning) Do you have a girlfriend?

Me: Uh!!? (then decide to forget him and close my eyes again)

He however had decided that he wasn't letting go of this opportunity to know me better. 

Him: (grasping my shoulder, shaking me awake again): Arre tell! Do you have a girlfriend?

Me: (seriously pissed off — the kind where you can make out that I am seriously pissed off) Why do u want to know?

Him: No, no . . . sometimes you look like you have a girlfriend, sometimes you look like you don't have one . . .

Me: (WTF! I manage to get my temper in check) Oooooookaaay! (breath out slowly and I close my eyes again)

Him: (shakes me by the shoulder again and when I force my eyes open) So, do you have a girlfriend?

Me: (deciding the time to be polite is past) It is none of your business.

I could see his brain working that out. A few seconds later, he had a light bulb moment.

Him: (stares at me for a few more moments, then makes a decision) Are you angry?

I shrugged my shoulders (I thought eloquently), closed my eyes and tried to get back to sleep.

Him: (shakes me by the shoulder again) I only asked if you have a girlfriend.

Me: And I have already told you that it is none of your business.

Silence reigned for a few minutes. I took the opportunity to go back to sleep. Suddenly, when my temper is under control and I have dozed off, he wakes me up again.

Him: Why are u growing your beard?

Now let me clarify, I shave rarely — about once a week is the norm. When this happened, I hadn't shaved for a couple of weeks.

Me: (seriously) My boss is bearded (which is true). All of us think highly of him (which is also true) and have formed a fan club (which is not entirely untrue — I have heard reports of two chapters of the club in two cities in India). The male members of the fan club have decided to grow beards (which is entirely untrue).

He considered me gravely for some time. I could make the processes and sub-routines working their way slowly but surely, till finally —

Him: Are you pulling my leg?

Me: No, no. . . really our boss has a beard so we all are growing beards.

That shut him up for some time.

In a few minutes, I made my preparations and moved to get into a position to escape from the train. I noticed that he was still contemplating me gravely.

About five minutes from my station, everything clicked into place and he finally mustered all his thoughts and courage and shouted across —

Him: You were pulling my leg about the beard?

Me: Oh well, yeah. Actually, I am just trying to save shaving cream and water.

For some reason he found that reasonable and shut up. I then averted my eyes and concentrated on getting myself in a position that would ensure that I would alight without too much of a hassle.

The train then pulled into the station where I got off. As I started towards the door, I heard him call out—

Him: Hey! You haven't told me if you have a girlfriend!

I made my escape.

Since then I have run into him quite a few times and while inquires have been made again of my salary, my late working hours (even my weight), he hasn't brought up the topic of my girlfriend again. 

Sometimes I feel like bringing up the topic myself purely out of curiosity to understand the crieteria he uses to conclude on which days I look like I have a girlfriend, and why on others I look like I don't have one.

The risk of encouraging him, however, outweighs my thirst to further my knowledge. 

——————

Some earlier commuting experiences:

• How Can (Dare) a Libran Read?
  
• Overheard . . .
  
• On Friendship
  

Men are so Amusing: Ink Scrawl Nugget 21

Men are so amusing. Show them a pack of wolves, dominated by the males, and they will say, See? It is natural for men to rule.

Fine. But produce a beehive, controlled by the queen, with males used for menial labor, and they protest, Human beings are not insects.

Yes, well.

—From The Flood by David Maine

Wouldn't you agree?

I received The Flood by David Maine — a 'retelling' of the story of Noah (or Noe, as he is called in this book) and the ark — as a gift for my birthday this year. After which it joined my 'to-be-read' pile of books while I worked my way through some of the other books in the pile. I took it off my pile of unread books only recently and realized that I should have dipped into it much earlier. From what I have read, it ain't exactly earth-shattering or a 'great' but it is a delightful read nevertheless — always interesting and sometimes irreverent and interspersed with some deep observations on god, the nature of faith, and relationships.

More Ink Scrawl Nuggets and Aphorisms.

Do you Dress Like a Douchebag?

Click to view larger image.

Well, do you?