The Invention of Morel by Adolfo Bioy Casares
My Rating: 4 of 5 Stars
Insane. Insane. Again. Insane.
“Then I resumed my efforts, moving to other parts of the wall. Chips fell, and, when large pieces of the wall began to come down, I kept on pounding, bleary-eyed, with an urgency that was far greater than the size of the iron bar, until the resistance of the wall (which seemed unaffected by the force of my repeated pounding) pushed me to the floor, frantic and exhausted. First I saw, then I touched, the pieces of masonry— they were smooth on one side, harsh, earthy on the other: then, in a vision so lucid it seemed ephemeral and supernatural, my eyes saw the blue continuity of the tile, the undamaged and whole wall, the closed room.”
‘Reasoned Imagination’ – That is how Borges describes this mind-boggling attempt of Adolfo Bioy Casares, in what, that my humble mind can ascertain, is a superlative member of post-modernist, abstract fiction canon. Continue reading
It is not always that I turn my vacation into literary ones; for one, my companions aren’t always as enthusiastic about books and their allied magic as I am and for two, I don’t undertake solo trips.
But whenever I travel with my mamma, I know I can deviate from the customary and venture into the less-traversed. She understands my loves and my passions, my keenness to sample something that I might or might not comprehend in full. She nods amiably her head at my outings, hopping on trains and stomping on concrete walkways, getting herself tired but almost saying, “I knew you would do this.”.
So, when I happened to visit Paris recently with her, I visited two places I had marked already. Here, I am talking about the first one. Continue reading
This House of Clay and Water by Faiqa Mansab
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Forbidden Love – A diktat in itself, unleashed on unsuspecting hearts like an ouroboros where forbidden swallows love and yet appears whole, showing no signs of damage. No one knows the pain except the latter that is now usurped by the former. But it is when the opposite happens, that the tale transcends its meagre form and turns one for the generations.
Nida comes from a sophisticated family of high-ranking politicians and is married too, to one from this fraternity, but none of that sophistication and power has healed her wounds inflicted by her little daughter’s death.
Life is exacting and cruel. Death is calm oblivion. Life betrays everyone while death, without fail, always finds us.
In Other Words by Jhumpa Lahiri
My Rating: 4 of 5 Stars
A few months back, I began planning for a vacation to a foreign country, tentatively scheduled for March/ April. This time suited me professionally as my work commitments were a tad less tight. My brother, who generally makes it to these family vacations, was not to make it this time due to his other engagements. The trip was planned and I was all ready to take off. Just a week before I was scheduled to fly, my brother called up and with reference to the trip, asked simply this one question, “Would you be able to manage the language there?” I was about to fly to a country where English was hardly spoken in day-to-day life.
Words. Language encircling Words. Dialects categorizing Words. Usage validating Words. There is something about Words. No. Everything is about Words. Continue reading