Sunday, November 13, 2011

‘The Reluctant Fundamentalist’ – A Review


Why don’t you take my seat ma’am? You prefer to stand you say. I too prefer standing to sitting when on the Metro. I love the sense of motion, as this superbly modern train streaks through space; close to the surface of Delhi - at times just above it, at times just below. Ah, but as chance would have it, the gentleman next to me has vacated his seat. I believe this is his stop, Rajiv Chowk. Allow me to hold your shopping bags for you as you make yourself comfortable. There, that’s better. As I was saying, you find me seated instead because I am trying to finish this book I have. This is my second reading. I have to write a review on it. Which book you ask? It’s ‘The Reluctant Fundamentalist’ by Mohsin Hamid. Have you read it? No? It’s a good book; it takes a holistic approach towards (what Kiran Desai calls) ‘the most recent episode of distrust between East and West’: 9/11; and its aftermath – not on world politics, but on the individual.

Coincidentally, it was during another train journey that I first read this book. I was travelling back from Kottayam to New Delhi. I spent most of 2½ day journey on the upper birth, with this book. I had never heard of Mohsin Hamid before. I gathered, from a brief bio of the author, that he grew up in Lahore, Pakistan, and that he attended Princeton University and Harvard Law School. As I went through the first pages of the book, I was mildly surprised by the fact that the main protagonist (Changez) too was of Pakistani origin, and a graduate from Princeton. The novel opens at a café in Lahore where the protagonist meets an American, a complete stranger (apparently), and strikes up a conversation with him. We know very little about this American stranger. Changez’s astute observations tell us that he is a man who is physically of an imposing figure. He has short cropped hair (an ex-army man?). And he is wearing a suit. Sounds very much like a conventional novel, doesn’t it… where a new character’s appearance and physicality is described? But here I must tell you about one of the first traits of Modernism that this novel has. After turning through the 184 pages of the book, there is very little one can add to the above description of the American. The last page is turned, and we still don’t know why this person was sitting at that café table in Lahore. Or, more importantly, what the nature of his ‘business’ was, with the protagonist. The stranger remains a stranger (to us).

But we’re in the real world, so to speak, and there is no need for you to remain a stranger. You are an Anthropology student, you say. From JNU? We’re neighbours after all! But I sense a hint of impatience in your voice. Let’s move on with a brief outline of the plot.

Through most of the novel, the two characters sit at this café table, and the protagonist narrates the story of his life. He talks of his earlier life in America, and how he finally came about to be a college professor at a University in Lahore.

If you ever happen to browse through the 9/11 videos on Youtube, you will be moved by the number of ‘Oh my God!’s in those amateur videos of the twin tower attacks. The spontaneous exclamations of the people who were close to the towers are heart-rending. In the novel, the WTC attacks act as a turning point in the protagonist’s life. Although we are given hints, in the first part of the novel, to some of the doubts he already had concerning his identity in the world – 9/11 certainly acts as a catalyst and transforms those mere doubts into a significant internal conflict. But we’re never explicitly given a portrait of the protagonist as a hardened fundamentalist. He is a reluctant fundamentalist. The most direct and naked expression of the inner workings of his mind comes through, through the protagonist’s own response to videos of the 9/11 attacks being played out (live) on television: He smiles.

The self-defence is quick. The protagonist assures us that he is ‘not a sociopath.’ But the damage is done. And the narrative falls back into its ‘dual’ nature – which, incidentally, is what I most loved about this book. Your expression is quizzical. Let me explain.

Most aspects about this book – its form, its structure, its content – are moulded in such a way by the author, so as to try and explain the inner conflict in the protagonist. I mentioned the ‘dual’ nature. Kiran Desai’s comment (printed on the back cover of the book) can perhaps provide a clearer picture. In reference to the writing, she talks of a ‘spooky restraint.’ It is the significance of this restraint that my monologue is gestating towards. We see this restraint in the very content of the novel. So, if at one moment we are given the slightest of hints that the American stranger is carrying a gun underneath his jacket, the next moment the protagonist himself remarks that the ‘glint of metal’ was perhaps from a pen holder in the American’s pocket. You smile. We are never given definitive details in the novel, but the manner in which these snippets of information are presented to us, gives us a picture which might seem distorted at first, but later becomes clear. At face value, the facts presented in the novel may not seem to reveal much. I hope it doesn’t sound too arbitrary if I say that the ‘spooky restraint’ manages to reveal more than it hides. It helps paint a more complete picture of a reluctant fundamentalist.

Your puzzled expression remains. I guess that is what differentiates a good writer from the bad. He is able to convey in a few words, what I have not been able to convey in the last five minutes.

Although the protagonist does show signs of (negative) fundamentalism, we must try and understand why he is a reluctant fundamentalist. Changez tells us about how his company used to ask him and his colleagues to ‘focus on the fundamentals.’ We are shown the protagonist’s love for America and his admiration for the professionalism and efficiency of its people. Later in the novel, we see how this love slowly changes into something else; as he realizes that the country’s success comes at the cost of the misery of people in other parts of the world. He is a graduate from Princeton and was placed in a very good company. He perhaps feels guilty for not using his talents for his own country, Pakistan, which was in dire need of it. His confused sense of identity in the world makes this transformation a very painful one. The agony he goes through is evident in his lack of interest in his (well paying) job towards the end of the novel. The protagonist undergoes an internal conflict. Like Darth Vader, you ask? Yes… somewhat like him.

(In fact, the novel has a direct reference to the character of Anakin Skywalker, of Star Wars.)

Changez, who earlier took pride in the fact that he could blend in with the American society, despite being a Pakistani, decides to grow a beard - much to the discomfort of his American colleagues. Allow me to show you the cover page of this book - it's an interesting one; the interpretation is left to us, the readers.

We get a deeper understanding of this conflict through the character of Erica (the protagonist’s lover). She was in love with someone else for a long time, but that person died of cancer. In a strange way she is still in love with him, even after his death, but she also feels attracted towards the protagonist. Her conflict is of a slightly different nature, but she too is never able to come out of the confusion and agony of her inner tumult. In a sense, both these characters’ experiences together gives us a better understanding of what each individual character is going through. We are shown an Erica, who simultaneously enjoys the company of people while at the same time (perhaps unintentionally) remains a bit detached from them. Through these descriptions of Erica, we are better equipped to understand the main protagonist's own inner turmoil.

“The-next-station-is-Jor-Bagh. Agla-station-Jor-Bagh-hai.”

The book is written in the second person; but it is not of the usual kind. You are perhaps familiar with stories written in the second person … in ‘Goosebumps?’ No? Well, let’s just say that the style is different in this novel. The reader is addressed as ‘you’, and embodies a character of the novel (the American stranger). Changez and the American stranger are sitting at a coffee table during the entire length of the novel. Imagine a microphone kept at this table, and you are listening in. And for some reason you can hear only Changez’s voice. That’s what reading the novel feels like.

As is often the case with good literature, this style of writing is there not simply to ‘entertain’ but also to give the author an additional tool to voice certain opinions. There is an instance in the novel when Changez says (to the American, but also, indirectly, to the reader) – ‘allow me to direct your gaze [to those girls wearing jeans]’ – indirectly directing the reader’s gaze (or attention) to some detail. There are more instances in the novel, where Changez breaks away from his recounting to bring our attention to some detail of the surrounding (the mouth watering cuisine of the dhaba; the metamorphosis of the streets of Lahore at night time) or some aspect of Lahore society. The effect was somewhat similar to having a ‘Padma’ to distract the reader’s attention; revive his interest. In reference to the ‘girls wearing jeans,’ the effect was also to point out the slowly changing character of an (earlier) conservative society.

“The-next-station-is-Hauz-Khas. Agla-station-Hauz-Khas-hai.”

As we vacate our seats for these two gentlemen who have been waiting patiently for a chance to sit down, I must thank you for your patience. I plan to write the review in a certain way. I acknowledge that this ‘certain way’ is not original. I simply intend it to be a sort of tribute to the brilliant way in which the novel itself is written. I do realize, however, that my own version of it will be childish; immature. And what is that you say; good luck with my review? Why, thank you! I will certainly send you a copy once it’s finished. Why don't you give me your Email-ID.

No comments:

Post a Comment