I ran into Vikram Chandra about seven years ago in the Port Authority bus terminal in the city. He was unpretentious and exceedingly nice - shook my hand, practically hugged me - and I got all sorts of props from my then girlfriend for recognizing "random writers" in bus terminals.

Also, I find the review encouraging for Indian writing in English. It tells me Chandra is setting his own course, and not writing for the 'establishment' or the western public inclined to read literary fiction - glossary notwithstanding.

I was reading Love and Longing last week.. Pretty good read. highly recommended.

"Picasso kahan hai maderchod"

"Picasso kahan hai maderchod"

Exactly! That whole scene is one of the most hilarious passages I've ever read!

O Siddhartha, how can you expect a fair review of a book like this from a gora?

What, no immigrants trying to assimilate into 'phoren' cultures? No nostalgic memories of colonial periods?
And...no possibility of a booker or a pulitzer? A book set in India by an Indian uses Indian slang? How outrageous!!!!

"Picasso kahan hai maderchod"

Exactly! That whole scene is one of the most hilarious passages I've ever read!

I know! I found that very amusing. In that story, there is a part where Chandra describes the house and family of Rajesh (the guy who goes missing.. i think it is Rajesh), and he describes how his mom slept in the corridor, and how that his brother and his wife had the bedroom since they were now married. I felt a sense of great sadness when I read that passage..

I have not read the review as yet. But I think it is important the VC stuck to his language guns. After, if America can learn to admire to Trainspotting dialog and D.B.C. Pierre writing, why not Mumbiaya jive? Oh, yes, there is always the Dave Eggers who will jump the gun to write THE book about Africa.

I know! I found that very amusing. In that story, there is a part where Chandra describes the house and family of Rajesh (the guy who goes missing.. i think it is Rajesh), and he describes how his mom slept in the corridor, and how that his brother and his wife had the bedroom since they were now married. I felt a sense of great sadness when I read that passage..

And what about the book's final two paragraphs? Chills up my spine just remembering...

I am always happy to see unadulterated Taporese making it's way in books. Totally agree w/ Neale re: Trainspotting.
Marathi writers like Namdeo Dhasal and Bhau Padhye have been working this beat for years. Unfortunately translations are not available.

Oh, I don't know boss. Gray's book review was actually pretty fair-minded. Of the hundreds of words I've consumed willingly or otherwise over the past few months on the subject of "Sacred Games," this is the one review that's made me say: damn, I have to read this book.

It sounds, frankly, amazing. It sounds like the book equivalent of the cool uncle with side-burns and leather jackets when you were ten-years old who would let you have a puff of his cigarettes when your parents weren't around...er....never mind.

Where was I? Oh yes. The book. You can tell Gray's awed by it. James Joyce meets Ian Fleming? Come on now. I'm ordering my copy.

I also think it's going to do some very healthy business in the shops. Just wait and see.

Surely the review could have taken a more productive approach than to lead with this literalist harping?

There is a clueless arrogance at work in American and British literary circles, which is probably a reflection of the respective societies, an arrogance of assumption of centrality, a boorishness of assumption of relevance. It is much less marked in the UK. Sixty years of former colonial immigrant irrigation and perspective have provided British readers with an intimacy for India, Carribean and African literature in tune with the 'White Teeth' society that Britain has become. But America is still masturbating and in love with herself, still masturbating in front of 'The Great Gatsby' and acting perplexed when any literture comes along that references and breathes outside the confines of New England, New York, or post-modern Pynchon monomaniacal narcissism (the ultimate literary symbol of a nation and super-power with its head so far up its own backside it cannot even register the rest of the world)

You Know Me

You down with OPP?

But America is still masturbating and in love with herself, still masturbating in front of 'The Great Gatsby' and acting perplexed when any literture comes along that references and breathes outside the confines of New England, New York, or post-modern Pynchon monomaniacal narcissism (the ultimate literary symbol of a nation and super-power with its head so far up its own backside it cannot even register the rest of the world)

I'm not sure I agree with this--the literary culture here is actually quite sophisticated--but I have to say, I was strangely turned on by this paragraph.

Come again?

(And folks, don't take Siddhartha's word for it. Read Gray's review for yourself. It really really isn't that bad.)

Wow, that's four posts in a row. Siddhartha really is on speed.
Btw Siddhartha, how much Hindi do you speak? This post and the last one (video and all) suggest you can at least understand quite a bit.

but I have to say, I was strangely turned on by this paragraph.

Do you want to meet up?

I'm not sure I agree with this--the literary culture here is actually quite sophisticated--

Yeah --- forty years now of Vietnam and My Lai and Halabja, and you would think at least one or two writers might have emerged to try and explain the dissonance between America and the rest of the world. What do we get though? Updike fingering and describing in microscopic details middle American New England clitoris's and cocks, and Jonathan Franzen writing satires of Philadelphian nouvelle cuisine and restaurants and why his Kansas mummy and daddy were really square and embarassed him when he was in his twenties. For fucks sake.

Btw Siddhartha, how much Hindi do you speak? This post and the last one (video and all) suggest you can at least understand quite a bit.

Virtually none, my friend. I can recognize key phrases and utter a few too, but that's about it. I would love to hunker down and learn properly sometime. I need to learn to properly speak Bangla too.

You Know Me, intent on proving you wrong, especially your assertion about the alleged "New York/New England" masturbatory obsession of American writing, intent of flinging, as they say, the FACTS into your face, I went and pulled up the list of the last ten winners of the Pulitzer Prize for fiction. The point was to see what they dealt with, where they were based. Here it is, with my off the cuff notes:

2006: March by Geraldine Brooks--New England
2005: Gilead by Marilynne Robinson --Midwest
2004: The Known World by Edward P. Jones --African American- Washington, DC
2003: Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides-- Androgyny, Detroit, Greece
2002: Empire Falls by Richard Russo --Upstate New York (?)
2001: The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon --New York City
2000: Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri ---New England, Bengal
1999: The Hours by Michael Cunningham --New York City, England
1998: American Pastoral by Philip Roth --New Jersey
1997: Martin Dressler: The Tale of an American Dreamer by Steven Millhauser --New York City
1996: Independence Day by Richard Ford --New Jersey

DAMN! You were right.

Ok, I checked. Empire Falls was set in Maine.

That still gives us eight of the last ten Pulitzer Fiction winners being set in NY/New England/DC. Sad. I wonder what the National Book Critics Circle looks like, and the National Book Awards. Better, I'd bet, since they're not awarded by the Columbia/Pulitzer mafia.

Kobayishi. Can you name one great American writer of the last one hundred years? Maybe Saul Bellow for equalising Jewish Europe with the new world. Nabokov was an implant. Hemingway was a macho prick and apart from The Old Man and the Sea and the Mount Kilimanjaro story was indifferent. Even Britain at the height of its Empire had Forster and Conrad to interrogate what was going on, and had Joyce to kick against it. Bloated and obese -- American literature sucks.

Toni Morrison.

Can you name one great American writer of the last one hundred years?

What Siddhartha said.

And Philip Roth. And David Mamet. And John Updike. And Elizabeth Bishop. And Auden/Eliot (take your pick, you can't disqualify both). And, goddammit, Nabokov: he considered himself American, and I consider him one too.

Those, and a dozen others.

I fear Toni Morrison is just America (and the Nobel commitees) guilty conscience. But I am glad she exists. Every time some Manhattan Ivy Leaguer writes a novel about their angst and the pills they can take to relieve it (Benjamin Kunkel and assorted nothings), I groan so much you could hear me on Mars.

Also: Eudora Welty, Harper Lee, Flannery O'Connor, Richard Wright, Ralph Ellison, Joan Didion... shit, You Know Me, if you focus on women writers, African-American writers, Southern writers, and so on, there's endless great stuff to read.

And James Baldwin, and Arthur Miller, and Faulkner.

Interrogators to the core, all. Your anger is understandable, You Know Me, but quite a ways off base.

And Philip Roth. And David Mamet. And John Updike. And Elizabeth Bishop. And Auden/Eliot (take your pick, you can't disqualify both). And, goddammit, Nabokov: he considered himself American, and I consider him one too.

Auden was English, born in Yorkshire. Eliot was as English as Nabokov was American. Updike -- blegh. As a recorder of how Americans in the mid-west screwed whilst they dropped napalm on children in Vietnam, yeah I suppose so. Philip Roth? OK maybe. But only maybe.

Every time some Manhattan Ivy Leaguer writes a novel about their angst and the pills they can take to relieve it (Benjamin Kunkel and assorted nothings), I groan so much you could hear me on Mars.

And consider what we get from the UK? Nick Hornby and an endless flow of Fionas and Jemmas with their seventh-rate Bridget Jones knock-offs. Come on, there's plenty of self-regarding shit everywhere. It's what the industry likes, and publishes, and exports. From us to you, and from you to us.

Ralph Ellison, Don Delilo, Phiilip Roth, Faulkner, TS Elliot, Wallace Stevens.

Auden was English, born in Yorkshire. Eliot was as English as Nabokov was American.

I told you you couldn't disqualify both. You can't slice the world into only the sliced that please you. If Auden was English for being born in America, then people born in India can't be American either. Respect citizenship.

I fear Toni Morrison is just America (and the Nobel commitees) guilty conscience.

That just sounds like race-baiting bullshit to me. Do you have any substantive criticisms of those of her works that you've attended to? And whose guilty conscience was Kenzaburo Oe? Dario Fo? Elfride Jelinek? Gao Xingjian?

I hear you, You Know Me, really I do, about the pathetic state of a lot of what passes for literature today. I'm no fan of the "Jonathans" (as we like to call them).

But this kind of criticism is more powerful when it's a bit more measured. Saying there are no great recent American writers is like saying there are no great recent American movie directors. People will laugh at you.

Zora Neale Hurston. August Wilson. Langston Hughes. Ntozake Shange. John Steinbeck. Arthur Miller. Sinclair Lewis. Come on!!!!!

Faulkner! Now you're talking. Yes, he was good, for what he was. I confess his influence. But Faulkner to me has always seemed a third world writer, an accident of America. I also confess Britain produces shite by the bucket load. But my feeling is that American literature is bloated and self satisfied. In the last century the great writers came from the marginal literatures, Kafka, Joyce, Proust (alright Proust less so, but still....)

In the 21st Century America will be the fat, obese Disneyworld literature, admiring it's own big belly, how cool the internet is, how cool this is, how cool that is, against which literatures will flourish around the world, explaining the globalised comedy and tragedies, the writers from the margins which will take the novel, play and poem forward. And I reckon India will be at the forefront of that, strangely enough.

*cough*

Ntozake Shange and Sinclair Lewis are good writers. I don't know if they're great...

You know, great is great.

But Faulkner to me has always seemed a third world writer, an accident of America.

Faulkner = accident of America, Morrison = Nobel committee guilty conscience. You can't have an exception and loophole for everything. If Faulkner seems a third world writer, it's in part because America has a third world of its own. It's called the South, and the inner-cities nationwide. The South and the 'hood have produced immense amounts of fine writing. And if those writers weren't spending enough time to your liking criticising the Vietnam war, it's because they had other fights closer to them, often immediately threatening to their own livelihoods, sometimes lives. To refer to another great writer, America is large: it contains multitudes. When you come visit I'll show you.

the writers from the margins which will take the novel, play and poem forward. And I reckon India will be at the forefront of that, strangely enough.

The most we can say about where the next great writers will come from is that we don't know where the next great writers will come from. If I look around today, and ask the question of who's truly great (and still alive) in the world of literature, there's no rhyme of reason to where they are from: Colombia, Ireland, USA, Sweden, South Africa, England, Poland, St Lucia. There's no logic to it. Good writers emerge because of. Great writers emerge in spite of. They're such strikes of lightning. The next one could be a trust-fund East-Coast Jewish Ivy-Leaguer. Or the son of a shoe-shiner from a Rio de Janeiro favella. There's simply no telling.

Kobayishi, Auden was born in England and took American citizenship in 1946. Arthur Miller? Apart from the Crucible I don't rate him.

Looking through the literary pages recently, I noticed that 9/11 appears in another novel, this time by Clair Messud, who uses it as a backdrop against which she can tell a tale of spoilt sons and daughters of Manhattan millionaire parents and how it dreadfully inconvenienced them. Someone get writing and tell the tale of the Muslim shopkeeper or the Sikh doctor who had the shit kicked out of them in the aftermath of 9/11 and what that means for the American dream. The whole world is waiting for the literature that deals with what is going on in the world right now, the world in which America squats over continents and defecates. How many more self-aggrandising books about 'American innocence' apropos 'The Great Gatsby' can the world take?

======

Time Out: I know I am being provocative. But at least to start a debate. Forgive me.

Siddhartha

Yes I know, you win that one, I'm just being mischievous! Look, to be honest, I don't rate Morrison at all, not at all, but that's just me. Faulkner is something else altogether, he is a great writer.

Time Out: I know I am being provocative. But at least to start a debate. Forgive me.

OK, time out. The AMERICAN football playoff started a few minutes ago anyway. Gotta watch TV now.

But Faulkner to me has always seemed a third world writer, an accident of America.

This is actually interesting. Faulkner was a virtual God to Gabriel Garcia Marquez. When Gabo read him as a young failed lawyer in Baranquilla, his life was changed forever. He quite literally worshipped him, he saw that, yes, this is the way forward.

And, to bring the thing full-circle, I saw a TV interview with Toni Morrison (it was Charlie Rose) and the name Garcia-Marquez came up, and she was simply lost for words, stuttering, awed into gibbering.

And, no doubt, Morrison herself similarly awes others.

Someone get writing and tell the tale of the Muslim shopkeeper or the Sikh doctor who had the shit kicked out of them...

You do it. Don't laugh. Literature takes, in equal measure, guts, obsessiveness, and literary skill. Even if you don't have the literary skill yet, start with the guts and obsessiveness. Get it going. Put it out there. Four pages this week, four pages next week, little by little the little beastie grows. What are you waiting for?

This is actually interesting. Faulkner was a virtual God to Gabriel Garcia Marquez. When Gabo read him as a young failed lawyer in Baranquilla, his life was changed forever. He quite literally worshipped him, he saw that, yes, this is the way forward.

Mario Vargas Llosa too. He seemed to have electrified a whole generation of Latin American writers. Llosa's 'The Feast of the Goat' is a fantastic novel by the way, I reccomend it highly.

You do it. Don't laugh. Literature takes, in equal measure, guts, obsessiveness, and literary skill. Even if you don't have the literary skill yet, start with the guts and obsessiveness. Get it going. Put it out there. Four pages this week, four pages next week, little by little the little beastie grows. What are you waiting for?

I am not American. You are. You do it. It needs to be done.

I am not American. You are. You do it. It needs to be done.

Oooh cop-out. Well, I bet there are ill stories where you are too. Don't make the mistake of thinking great literature is about "great subjects." Why don't you write a story about the mullah who runs the chippie down the road? And about how his life became hell afer 7/7? Or about how he became an informer? Or about how he lost his faith but didn't know how to tell his family? (well, don't do that last one, I think Hanif already had a go at it). My point is...

I don't think Faulkner made excuses. "I don't live in London, I don't live in Paris. No one cares about Mississippi." No. Hell no. What he said was, "Pass the damn whisky." And he drank till he passed out.

And when he woke up, he. Started. To. Type.

No excuses mate.

Oh, YKM, Arthur Miller is fantastic, as is John Steinbeck (already mentioned). Maybe I am naive, but I also love Alice Walker, Richard Wright, Ralph Ellison, Tennessee Williams, June Jordan, and Carson McCullers.

Aside from the sexualized literary descriptions, I think it's a bit arrogant to write off all American lit. Perhaps the focus on the canon makes it easier to exclude all the other writers that have been mentioned?

Kobayishi, I just don't have the knowledge of local conditions to write about America. It's not a cop-out, it's a statement of truth, everything would be coloured by an outsiders gaze, and whilst that may be valuable, or interesting, the truth and truest testament will only really come from the intimate insider.

Why don't you write a story about the mullah who runs the chippie down the road? And about how his life became hell afer 7/7? Or about how he became an informer?

I don't have the talent, or inclination, to be a writer. Too old, too jaded, too mortgaged to do that. I am a reader though, and just shooting the breeze, and I think any reader has the right to talk about literature, even if half of what he talks is bollocks, because at least the other half might have some sense in it.

Kobayishi, I just don't have the knowledge of local conditions to write about America.

Stop misspelling my name dammit. It ain't Kobayishi, it's Kobayashi.

And who asked you to write about America? You're presumably somewhere on planet earth. And wherever it is, it's hugely interesting. If it's happens not to be America, that's all for the good. Where are you, Madna?

Where are you, Madna?

From the place where they spell 'Kobayashi' Kobayishi

But seriously though, that's a nonsense reply. It asserts that in order to have an opinion on literature you have to be a writer or an aspiring writer yourself. Forget that, I feel free to talk about literature as I please as a member of the plebian crowd. If that's the criteria, who can enter the debate that is not a conspiring novelist? Help us from those schemes!

No Faulkner no Cambrian explosion in Latin American literature- Marquez, Vargas Llosa, Carpentier, etc.Marquez openly acknowledges his debt to Faulkner.

But seriously though, that's a nonsense reply. It asserts that in order to have an opinion on literature you have to be a writer or an aspiring writer yourself.

Oh, bless. Someone's just been visited by the cranky-fairy.

Look, as a first-class bullshitter myself (if I may be so vain), I'm all for literary repartee. But if you're going to talk smack about my kin Phil "West Orange in the House" Roth and Toni "Tony Tone" Morrison, you betta bring your skills, playa.

I don't have the talent, or inclination, to be a writer. Too old, too jaded, too mortgaged to do that.

Please don't be pathetic. You're scaring the children.

But if you're going to talk smack about my kin Phil "West Orange in the House" Roth and Toni "Tony Tone" Morrison, you betta bring your skills, playa.

Oh brother, put the fatwa on me! Don't take it personal ---> lesson one ---> NEVER take literary prejudice or joust-about personally. I don't rate Morrison, that's my opinion, and Roth is good, Operation Shylock is good, Sabbaths Theatre too.

Oh brother, put the fatwa on me! Don't take it personal ---> lesson one ---> NEVER take literary prejudice or joust-about personally.

Lesson number two: without passion, you're among the living as one already dead.

Nah, who am I kidding, you're right. Trust me, I lose no sleep whatsoever on your taste in literature which--one or two sweeping generalizations apart--seems alright.

Kobayashi, you're a dude, I know that and so does everyone else.

And if those writers weren't spending enough time to your liking criticising the Vietnam war, it's because they had other fights closer to them, often immediately threatening to their own livelihoods, sometimes lives. To refer to another great writer, America is large: it contains multitudes. When you come visit I'll show you.

I know, Faulkner, Ellison, Baldwin, even later Roth, are all examples of American writers answering back to the American mythos and the projected national narrative. As I said, I was being deliberately provocative and enjoying playing the pompous protestor. I just wish we could see more writers from that tradition emerge now.

Sacred Games is an amazing yarn, wah, this guy has an eye for detail! It's well worth the wait (I remember him reading the opening chapter at a party in 1998).

Vikram Chandra's website has a massive - and comprehensive - glossary from the book online.

If you find a word they missed, you send an email for them to add it.

One funny note: his entry in Wikipedia says "...is an emerging writer".

I already think he's fully emerged, and with Sacred Games, definitely.

Re: American Writers

Los Broz Hernandez, sez I.
I know funny papers fly below everyone's radar, but the brothers even ended up on Salon's 100 American Writers list. Not that I think much of that list, but some lit props are better than none.

Puedo agregar?...
Piri Thomas
Julia Alvarez
Octavio Paz
y Ana Castillo

I received an ARC of Sacred Games and decided to dive in. I am more than half way through and want to say -- the Times review (yes, including the first para) is dead on. And I thought the review was overall, quite positive. If you think this is bad, just pray Michiko Kakutani doesn't get her hands on the book!

You Know Me --

There are no great American writers? That's simply absurd. Baldwin, Roth, Melville, Shepard, Faulkner, Hemingway, Morrisson, Chomsky...

BTW, La Fiesta del Chivo (Feast of the Goat) wasn't very accurate -- as many Dominicans will tell you. Perhaps Dominicans should write their own history instead of Peruvians doing it for them. And it's better in Spanish than in translation.

Who are you criticizing when you speak about America? It would be help to know. Criticizing American foreign policy? Do the same for India then when you speak of Indian writers.

you would think at least one or two writers might have emerged to try and explain the dissonance between America and the rest of the world.

Paul Bowles

Where are you, Madna?

I wonder if anyone else will catch the reference? I wonder when the Enlgish, August movie will be released in the US

That girl Kiran Desai recently wrote a book which had some Amreeka in it.

BTW, La Fiesta del Chivo (Feast of the Goat) wasn't very accurate -- as many Dominicans will tell you. Perhaps Dominicans should write their own history instead of Peruvians doing it for them

Oh accuracy-schmacuracy, it's a novel not a work of non fiction

And it's better in Spanish than in translation

Most things are better in the original.

hey, this is really intriguing

If I look around today, and ask the question of who's truly great (and still alive) in the world of literature, there's no rhyme of reason to where they are from: Colombia, Ireland, USA, Sweden, South Africa, England, Poland, St Lucia.

who are these writers?

There's a glossary! Why is Gray complaining?

I do think, though, that to throw hindi words in willy nilly and provide no explanation whatsoever, might be a bit difficult to digest for gora audiences - and that's understandable! For example, I seem to recall that Meera Syal's "Life isn't all ha ha hee hee" had no italicization and no glossary, and I remember thinking that if I didn't know what 'buche' etc meant, this would be a very annoying book.

Re: the great american writer debate - if poets are being considered, Edna St Vincent Millay's work is just lovely.

John Cheever rocked.

Junto Diaz
Ha Jin
Li Yiyun

...American writers in some sense, no?

...Edwidge Danticat, Shermman Alexie....

And do the Gray Lady’s editors know they just printed the words sisterfucker and motherfucker?

Probably not and someone should write a letter to the editor letting them know :). Also, Publishers' Weekly also printed the same: "[Chandra] takes his chances creating atmosphere: the characters speak in the slang of the city ("You bhenchod sleepy son of maderchod Kumbhkaran," Gaitonde chastises). " [link].

I think the Times lets some swear words get by if they are quotes from valid/literary sources and especially if they are foreign words. I know I've seen the word merde printed before.

The book sounds really good. He's a huge talent. I read Red Earth and Pouring Rain recently, and was blown away by what he managed to pull off. At the same time, he seemed a little entranced by juggling the narrative threads and swtiching writing styles and framing the tales and whatnot and the whole thing was a little exhausting and pointless for the reader. Haven't read Love and Longing so maybe he's really learned to control what is, again, an undisputable talent.

you would think at least one or two writers might have emerged to try and explain the dissonance between America and the rest of the world.

Paul Gray walked into his editor's office.
"What's up?" he queried.
"Well your article lists some of the words from the book that aren't in English..." his editor rifled through the review "...ah, like bhenchod and maderchod."
"Sure."
"Do you know what they mean?"
"Psh. No. Does it matter?"
"Maybe we should find out before we print the article."
Paul exhaled and rubbed his forehead for a minute.
"How about we ask that kid who gets us coffee?"
"Who?"
"Mooookesh something? I don't know, the intern."
"He's not an intern! He's one of our staff writers for the Arts."
"Ohhhhhh. Uhm, we can ask him anyway."
"Yeah alright, let me call him in."
A few minutes later Mukesh walks in and sees his editor and Paul sitting there.
"Hey, uh, we have a question for you."
Mukesh looked back and forth. "What's up?"
Paul snickered "Yeah, do you know where bin Laden is?"
The editor and Paul burst out into peals of laughter echoing across the office. Mukesh stood there for a moment, unsure what to do? Maybe it really was time to start looking for a new job. He never really did like these guys anyway.
"No, seriously, we've got these couple of words from the new Vikram Chandra book and we were wondering if you could tell us if they're okay to print."
"Uhm, alright. What are they?"
"The first one is bhenchod. The other is maderchod."
It was Mukesh's turn to laugh, but he caught it just in time. "They basically both mean buddy, or pal, or good guy. For example, Paul, I think you're a real bhenchod. In fact, I think you're the biggest bhenchod I've ever known."
Paul clapped his hands together and stood up. "Awesome! Well there you have it."
The editor beamed. "Great, we'll run the article this week."
Mukesh looked at both of them. "Was that it?"
His editor looked up from the article with a hint of annoyance. "Oh yeah, you can go. Thanks for your help."
"No problem, boss. I mean...maderchod."
"Ha!" the editor laughed. "You're a good guy Mukesh. Even if you do know where bin Laden's hiding."
Mukesh turned and walked out. It was definitely time to find a new job.

Ah poets...

The strong African American poets Thylias Moss and Jay Wright (who is woefully unknown).

James Merril, Marianne Moore, HD and the imagists, Ezra Pound (declined in stature now, but as influential as Eliot), William Carlos Williams, John Ashberry of the Tennis Court Oath, Frank O'Hara, Kenneth Koch (The New York School of poetry - the literary answer to Abstract Expressionism); Theodore Roethke, James Wright, his son Franz Wright. Steven Mitchell's Rilke, Robert Fitgerald's Odyssey. etc. etc. etc. etc.

In comparison, Britain has produced few good poets since Auden...My favorite is the nonsense poet Stevie Smith; I find the relgious nostalgist Geoffrey Hill indecipherable and Phillip Larkin something of a joke. Heaney is Irish.

And there is no 20th century Anglo-American answer to Pablo Neruda. One would have to go back to Walt...

Maurice. you rock.

Maurice :D

Maurice just single-handedly proved You Know Me wrong.

Neale, great call on Danticat, Jin, and Alexie

I second the applause for Neale for bringing up Sherman Alexie.

I also nominate Dorothy Allison, under Great Southern Writers.

Do I believe the blasphemy I am hearing? A discussion of American Literature and no one mentions John Kennedy Toole and Ignacius, perhaps the best character to have come out of America.

ohhh..Maurice. Truth is stranger than fiction as they cliche.

Ntozake Shange

Only you Siddhartha, would add her next to John Steinbeck and just after Langston Hughes :) I love when coloured girls, even studying it for exams didn't kill it for me. Is it still being performed, does anyone know? Just been browsing through this as part of my late night procrastination and the angst against American literature by You Know Me is a bit sad.

Calling Hemingway an arrogant prick is SO 20th century, you sound like a first year English major about to strangle yourself crazy with your Chairman Mao satchel. Calm down...

I think some of the best American literature comes from the South, and from African American women's writing. Even nonfiction writers like bell hooks, who I used in a political theory exam, know how to make words dance.

What about Joyce Carol Oates, though? I've noticed that when everyone seems to start compiling their 'best of' lists, they always leave her out. I think she's (almost) America's Atwood.

In today's Rush & Molloy gossip column in the New York Daily News:

Did The New York Times know it published horrible obscenities - albeit in Hindi - in its book review Sunday? The great broadsheet, which earns respect from all when it does things like publish photographs of all the soldiers who've died in Iraq, nevertheless shocked Indian readers with a list of words in Paul Gray's review of "Sacred Games" by Vikram Chandra. Bloggers on Sepiamutiny.com commented, "Hee, hee, he said Bhen-" which means sister-er. Another word, meaning mother-, was there, as were bodily nether regions. Spokesfolks at The Times didn't comment by deadline.

nevertheless shocked Indian readers with a list of words in Paul Gray's review of "Sacred Games" by Vikram Chandra

I am not at all shocked. Why should I be?

That is how people speak in Indiyah (obviously not in British Council Library in Delhi).

Rush & Molloy need to attend a la-di-dah party in Mumbai, where MCs and BCs flow like champagne.

Rush & Molloy need to attend a la-di-dah party in Mumbai, where MCs and BCs flow like champagne.

Yeah...unfortunately that's about all the Hindi those particular Mumbai types admit to knowing (or in fact know).

Assume you saw this in the Times. Boy, these guys are really ramping up the juice on Sacred Games and Vikram Chandra.

Did you know Harper Collins has set aside $300,000 just for the marketing budget for this baby?

Vikram Chandra's "Sacred Games" combines the ambition of a 19th-century social novel with a cops-and-Bhais detective thriller.

Someone send a note to the New York Times and tell them they're trying way too hard. WTF cops-and-Bhais?
You get the feeling someone at the Times heard about Munna-Bhai and said, "Hey! Bhai must mean robber! This Mooner fella's got it in his name."

Ai, sala!

Someone send a note to the New York Times and tell them they're trying way too hard. WTF cops-and-Bhais?

Kobayashi, Bhai is a legit and very commonly used term for Mafia/ goons in Mumbai from ages. I think they are OK on this one.

Oh, but bhai does have the double (or primary) meaning of "brother," right? Aren't they better off with goonda?

(disclosure: my Hindi is only a shade better than Paul Gray's)

Oh, but bhai does have the double (or primary) meaning of "brother," right?

Sure, the primary meaning is brother. But I think Bhai is steps ahead of goonda in terms of legitimacy. Anyone can be a goonda, but a bhai has to have real/ perceived muscle, and give them grudingly some respect or fear.

Commonly,

bhai = goon of some repute
mamu (primary meaning is uncle, mother's brother) = cop

The other day, I was saw Omkara, set in UP, Bihar. All the goons addressed themselves, and others as bhais. Omkara's dialoges are as real as it gets.

The new NYT review (two reviews for one book?) is MUCH better, except for this line:

"Like spices in an Indian auntie’s grinder, the book mixes English with Hindi, Urdu, Marathi and mobster vernacular."

GROAN!

A gunda is your average street punk, usually a petty criminal who does the job by getting his own hands dirty. In jest, my grandfather calls my little cousins a bunch of gundas (they're between 2 and 11 years old). A bhai is a smarter, bigger-time criminal - a mobster - and probably has his own entourage of gundas who do most of the dirty work for him. In Omkara, Omi is a bhai, and he's got a bunch of lower level gundas working for him. At least, that's what I always thought... and I'm Bihari, so I should know, right? :P

"Like spices in an Indian auntie’s grinder, the book mixes English with Hindi, Urdu, Marathi and mobster vernacular."

Forget the spices reference, how are people supposed to know what an Indian auntie is? Maybe auntie isn't that bad because most cultures have the matronly aunt-figure, but how are people supposed to know what a bhai is? What's the point of using this kind of jargon to explain the book to a non-desi audience?

What's the point of using this kind of jargon to explain the book to a non-desi audience?

Shruti, you're a juggernaut of incisiveness. Woops.

Shruti,
I think the auntie reference is fine. Think Aunt Bee from 'Andy Griffith'. Now think of Aunt Bee in a sari making some lime pickles instead of her trademark 'kerosene cucumbers'.

See, it translates! ;)

"Like spices in an Indian auntie’s grinder, the book mixes English with Hindi, Urdu, Marathi and mobster vernacular."

I thought this was an improvement, actually. Usually the spices are just mixed, without any indication that there is a person doing the mixing. At least now there is agency. Though they could have said "South Asian auntie."

but how are people supposed to know what a bhai is? What's the point of using this kind of jargon to explain the book to a non-desi audience?

Shruti, They (NYT) doe explain "Bhai" within parenthesis. In some ways, Bhai = Godfather, you are using reverence term for a tough guy whom you seek protection from.

The reason you (or most of us) know French/ Italian/ Spanish terms because they get used again and again. How do we use Mafia/ Cosa Nostra/ Omerta (Code of Silence) without even thinking twice.

Maybe, 10 years from now. Bhai will be like Guru or Pundit, words commonly used in English

Someone should come up with a Big L style 'ebonics' version of this glossary :)

..'I talk with slang and Ima neva stop speakin it!'

(two reviews for one book?)

The Sunday and the Daily, pretty common for "big" books.

What's the point of using this kind of jargon to explain the book to a non-desi audience?

Shruti, you're a juggernaut of incisiveness.

Oh come now, you know what I meant :)

At 900 pages, is this the end of free shipping form the likes of Amazon?

Vikram Chandra (hee hee, they said Shandra) was on NPR this morn. I think I am going to like Sacred Games even more than Maximum City.

From the interview:
"There's an energy about the place that is unmistakable and very, very seductive," Chandra says. "The citizens of Bombay love to complain about the city endlessly, but [they] also will defend it fearlessly against outsiders making the same complaints. As Sartaj puts it at the very end of the book, 'When you're away from it, you can miss it, physically you can ache for it — even for the stink of it.'"

In case anyone is interested, Vikram Chandra is speaking at the Asia Society on Tuesday.
Here are the details:

Meet the Author: Vikram Chandra - Sacred Games
Tue 01/16/07 6:30PM
Asia Society and Museum 725 Park Avenue at 70th Street
$10 Members; $12 Adults; $7 Students with ID
Tickets are available by calling 212 517-ASIA or visiting tickets.asiasociety.org

Cosponsored by the South Asian Journalists Association (SAJA).

I agree with you, it is the same for us in the UK. We want to write the same kind of things everyone else is. In fact I have turned it on its head by convincing a British Publisher to produce the world's first Punjabi langugae novel, written by a Briton for Britons.

See link
http://diggorypress.com/product_info.php?products_id=823&osCsid=4f73537575e23411c54b70fa24375eab

BTW, if anyone is still reading this thread, what exactly is a "lodu"? I'm reading the Indian version of the book (no glossary), and there's actually some Bombaiya words I don't know...

what exactly is a "lodu"?

means stupid, as well as a dick. just good for nothing, dense guy.

Amardeep, technically "loda" means dick, and so lodu.

However, most of the time a lodu is also a dense guy.

Thanks, Kush. My wife actually grew up in Bombay, but she doesn't know all these galis.

I'm kind of curious to see the glossary in the American edition. It will be basically every bad word ever heard of -- the language in Chandra's book is something else!

Amardeep,
Somewhere up, there's a link to glossary. If you don't feel like going through all the comments, here's that link again.

My wife actually grew up in Bombay, but she doesn't know all these galis.

For anyone still interested in this topic, Shreeharsh points out in the comments on Amardeep's post on Vikram Chandra (at Amardeep's blog, not here) that at some point the offending words including bhenchod and maderchod were quietly expurgated from the New York Times website... without any editorial acknowledgment.

I don't know if you've noticed, Amardeep, but the gaalis in the NYT review (which were mentioned in siddhartha's sepia mutiny post) have now gone! Looks like someone finally told the New York Times what they printed! Hee hee. Or maybe Paul Gray just looked at the glossary. (Are the offending words in the glossary?)

Original line (from the post):

So it goes here. Those who plunge into the novel soon find themselves thrashing in a sea of words (“nullah,” “ganwars,” “bigha,” “lodu,” “bhenchod,” “tapori,” “maderchod”) and sentences (“On Maganchand Road the thela-wallahs already had their fruit piled high, and the fishsellers were laying out bangda and bombil and paaplet on their slabs”) unencumbered by italics or explication.

Now:

So it goes here. Those who plunge into the novel soon find themselves thrashing in a sea of words and sentences (“On Maganchand Road the thela-wallahs already had their fruit piled high, and the fishsellers were laying out bangda and bombil and paaplet on their slabs”) unencumbered by italics or explication.

Nice catch Shreeharsh!

Well, they've come now, cap in hand, to seek forgiveness. From today's Times, a priggish editors' note:

If readers of the Book Review have been considering picking up a little conversational Hindi, they would probably do well not to begin with the sample list of words in the Jan. 7 review of “Sacred Games,” a novel by Vikram Chandra that sprinkles untranslated Hindi throughout its English text. Indian readers pointed out that while most of the Hindi terms in the review were innocuous, several were in fact obscene — suitable for Chandra’s tough-guy characters, no doubt, but not for the Book Review, where editors failed to check the meaning of the words in the novel’s glossary. link