Book of the month : Franny and Zooey

           When I was racking my head to come up with ideas for this blog, I thought of writing about my favourite books/authors every month, mainly because : a) They are amazing and should be read by everyone and b) I just can't stop raving about them either verbally or in  print.

           I wasn't really a big fan of J D Salinger's widely-acclaimed 'Catcher in the Rye' when I first read it a year ago. Probably I wasn't mature enough to appreciate it, but Holden Caulfield's pessimism put me off, and his tale was so alien to what I was used to it seemed more strange than wonderful. Maybe I should reread it now, after 'Franny and Zooey' and the amazing-in-parts-weird-in-others 'For Esme, With Love and Squalor' reversed my earlier unfavourable opinion of his books.

            Salinger's books would make excellent plays : there is absolutely nothing of the 'he thought, she thought' business in his writing. The only hint to a character's thoughts is through action and dialogue. 'Franny and Zooey' is written in typical Salinger style with a lot of seemingly pointless description. For Salinger descriptions aren't just that, they comment something about the personality of a character, and help you view the entire scene in your mind - just as if you were watching it for yourself.

            The characters are one of the best parts of the book. The most interesting are Seymour and Buddy Glass, the latter supposedly based on Salinger himself. These, the eldest siblings of the Glass family, never directly appear in it but are integral to the book. I do not think it possible for anyone to read this book (provided they like Salinger's writings, of course) and not fall in love with Seymour. Buddy, the reclusive writer, is great, but he appears to follow where Seymour leads, and Seymour is superb. I won't say any more, read the book for yourself (and 'For Esme' and 'Raise High the Roof Beam' if you liked it) and draw your own conclusions.

           Of all characters I empathised most with Franny, the 'baby' of the family. Zooey was a perfect foil to Franny, but it was her feelings, her thoughts that I felt most akin to, all her spiritual confusion,  her naive perception of the world and her sensitivity to criticism. This brings me to the next, most important element of the novel - the content. It is an exploration of a spiritual crisis and what it means to live happily and honourably and truly selflessly in this world. That is a very rough idea of what it is about, but it's what I got out of it.

          Perhaps I liked the book so much because it was obvious that Salinger was deeply influenced by the Bhagavad Gita and various Indian philosophies. However, he mixed these with his own philosophies and questions and his inimitable way of looking at things that everything seemed new, and every concept made me think, think and think some more. If you're looking for the meaning of life, this book will add a new dimension to that search, if only because Salinger pondered over the issue so much himself, and proceeded to give his unique ideology to the world.

        Conclusion : Do give this book a try, and don't get scared by the subtle 'literary' air hanging around it. Drop all your expectations and you might even find it an interesting read.

        Tell me what you thought about it. Is Salinger a genius? Is he overrated? Do you find him a bit ambiguous and confusing (I do a lot, especially in 'For Esme'). Do you love him anyway?

Away from home, finally

Going to college is a lot like rappelling. When I rappelled for the first time, down a thirty-foot rock in Bangalore with my cousin, I went from excitement to doubt to terror before landing on relief when it was finally over. 


I had to climb a rock as big as me to get to the top, and I was sure I couldn't do it. For two pins I would have given up and returned had not the humiliation of failing and the encouragement of the other rappellers kept me going. Even then I came down very rockily, losing my balance, bumping my arm against the cliff and finally nearly collapsing on the ground. Now that the experience is long over, I can say it was a lot of fun and I would love to do it again. I really do mean it - for now.


I am in my terrified stage with regard to hostel. I have wanted to go to hostel ever since my cousin told me about night-shows, midnight feasts - a dream ever since I read Enid Blyton - and most of all, being independent. Now that I am actually in, however, and I have to go tomorrow to buy buckets and things for my room, I find myself dwelling more and more on the potentially scary people I'll have to stay with for five years.


Will they drink, smoke, do drugs, rag juniors, make me sing onstage, make me speak onstage, speak to me, not speak to me, expect me to talk more or completely ignore me?


Will I be able to make friends, earn the approbation of teachers, talk to seniors, wake up at 7:00 a.m. everyday, decide what I really want to do in my life, balance study and fun, participate in extra-curriculars, stomach the mess food and put up with the (probably) lousy rooms?


Now that I have written that out, I realise that I will have to do all the above, of necessity, because I am going there. So instead of focusing on the bad things that could happen, I should focus on the potential good ones. Maybe I'll have a great room-mate and good friends; hopefully I'll enjoy what I study and I'll have enough time to do extra activities on the side; perhaps once I'm actually on campus I'll discover a lot of exciting, inspiring, amazing stuff about it I never even dreamed of. 


There are a lot of trees on the IIT Madras campus - that's the best part about it. There are always a lot of activities like marathons or lectures by eminent personalities. There's sure to be a library, and the campus is so huge it will take me a good five years to explore every nook and cranny of it thoroughly. If the course is rigorous and the load huge, well, I was always a workaholic and a nerd and I'll be able to manage. 


I hope I'll improve the things I like about myself and change the things I don't. I hope I meet all my goals for myself. I hope I''ll find one thing I love so much I'll want to do it for the rest of my life. I hope I'll have loads and loads and loads of fun! 


How was your college experience? Or if you're joining this year, how do you feel?

Subtitles

They are everywhere. No English, Tamil or any language film is without lines of text running below the screen, in a variety of options such as Russian, Spanish, Chinese and Polish apart from the usual English. Earlier subtitles were used to translate obscure foreign films to a more universal language, no doubt to increase the market for those films. Now every single movie, TV serial or reality show has them, but that doesn't mean these ubiquitous subtitles are the same everywhere. No, there are some subtypes which I, a fairly frequent watcher of VCD movies, have decided to list.

Remember that I am not including the perfect English script which characterises subs in movie theatres. Those are tame and boring. The ones below are unique, to say the least.

1) The-subs-of-people-who-stab-at-a-dictionary-at-random:
When you get a pirated version of an English movie that surprisingly has subtitles, you know this is the variety to expect. The words are written at random and only vaguely sound like the actual conversation, because the subtitler obviously can't understand what the talking heads are saying, but charitably intends that that need not hold him back from attempting to help (or hinder) other equally ignorant watchers.

My copy of Twilight, for instance, was burned from my friend's, who got it from her friend, and so on. Now Twilight is a movie that needs subtitles because the characters keep mumbling to themselves throughout the movie, and I was pleased to find it had them. I revised this opinion when Bella started talking about her decision to go to Forks.

"My erotic mom was about to get married..." read the subs, as I gaped. I recall Bella meant 'erratic'.

The whole movie was like that, and after a while I stopped focusing on the action and gazed at the bottom of the screen instead. It was far more entertaining.

2) The-subs-of-regional-movies-which-translate-everything-literally:
Regional movies have English subs nowadays, which I find an extremely good thing since I can't understand all that is spoken, especially in Hindi films. The translation is more or less accurate, which is a good thing for the prosy dialogues. It is a different matter when it comes to the songs.

My copy of DDLJ (Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge) has awesome translations, perhaps because the lyrics themselves are so good.

'As soon as I saw you my darling,
I knew what madness love is'

Well that's exactly what 'Tujhe Dekha' says in Hindi, so the English sub sounds wonderful and sweet. And all the songs in that movie are sheer poetry, so that saves us. But what happens when the lyrics are not poetry? Well, we don't notice them in the song, but translated into English that is an entirely different matter.

These are some of the gems from Tamil:
"I will stick to you like fevicol."
"You are like a bowl of fruit." (This is a compliment apparently. Both are from Ghajini.)
 "Who is going to shake? You, you." (From Vasool Raja MBBS.)

And of course that famous literal English translation of Rajnikanth's autokaaran song that was the subject of a popular email a few years ago:

"I am auto-fellow, auto-fellow,
For all poor people family fellow,
Mother-loving something fellow...
Ajak means Ajak only,
Ghumak means Ghumak only."

It's not a proper translation except for the Ajak and Ghumak part. Check out the whole online by googling 'autofellow english translation'. There's even a youtube video on it!

3) The-subs-which-do-not-exist:
My friend told me about this type, I haven't come across it yet myself. It is very simple, used by people who know they can't understand anything happening on the screen, and yet do not resort to cunning guessing-games - they simply leave the screen blank.

And not just blank either, the place where the subs are supposed to be contains a question mark instead. So I imagine there would be a series of question marks which makes it look like the actors are themselves puzzled. Nice help, guys.

4) The-subs-which-are-so-awesome-they-are-better-than-the-movie-itself:
I have watched only one movie where the subtitles come under this category. It is not just that the English used was perfect, without any grammatical errors whatsoever. It is not even that the vocabulary was of a high order, and made sense.These are good in themselves, but there was more.

The lyrics rhymed.

That line needed that dramatic effect. It was simply awesome, I considered, for subtitles of a Tamil movie song to rhyme. This is a translation of two lines (The movie is 'Nanban'):

"Who is there like my friend? (En friend-a pola yaaru machan?)
He changed every fad and trend." (Avan trend-a ellam maathi vechan.)

And so on, all through the song. And it was not just this song, every one rhymed the same way. Except for 'Aska Laska', the lyrics of which mostly just mention 'love' in many languages, including Arabic and Russian.  Yup, the English subs mentioned every language used in the song.

So I have preserved that CD. The movie was not bad (an unimaginative copy of the Hindi original though), but the actors, director, scriptwriter etc. are nothing to the subtitlers. I don't know if they were paid for their work, but it was so cute of whoever they were to think of rhyming the lyrics. Hats off to you guys (or gals).

So these are the four main categories I could think of. Do you know any more? Mention them in the comments!







   

On Ommwriter and other things

If you're an old reader of this blog, you would have noticed the change in background. This is part of my effort to write more and write better. I even made after-exam resolutions to write at least five posts a month, but I'm already half-way into April and this is my first post. I find that blogger's stupid bug-filled settings really annoy me and that's probably one of the many reasons for this. I am planning to shift to wordpress soon, which apparently is better.


I feel inspired to write on the Word page and on Ommwriter, which is a great writing app I've downloaded. For those who don't know about it, it simplifies the hundreds of useless Word options into just four fonts. Ommwriter is inspired by the Zen way of things. There are various backgrounds you can choose from, and it plays some soothing music in the background to inspire you to write. It can be downloaded for free from ommwriter.com. It's pretty awesome, and it really works for me - I do write more on it than on Word, or on blogger's screen for instance.


Now that Blogger has changed its settings though I want to give it a try. And I have some pretty awesome post ideas too. Please comment my dear readers, 'coz feedback is manna to writers, as I well know. Even if I suck tell me so. I'd like the journey of a hundred books to begin with these humble posts.

World Poetry Day

Yes, it's World Poetry Day on March 21. It's amazing how they seem to have a day for every conceivable thing, including teddy bears (it's on 9th September). I missed celebrating the first Pi day last week on March 14 (how do you celebrate Pi day, you ask? Well, it is a universally established fact that you do it by eating pies!) but another one turns up on 22nd July, so I can relax. Good old mathematicians - with admirable foresight they have provided two days in a year dedicated to one thing - a modest, unassuming constant that providentially sounds like a yummy dessert dish.

But back to poetry - Charlotte Bronte says that there is nothing beautiful in this world which is not poetry. This assertion wouldn't have made any sense to me a few years ago, when poems were no more than a boring section in my English textbook which I never could connect to, and no teacher could ever make me understand how blank or free verse could be considered poetry at all.

Then I read a few poems of Wordsworth - The Solitary Reaper (CBSE students would remember it), the Daffodil and Tintern Abbey (ISC students would remember this). I simply fell in love with them. They are such deceptively simple poems, talking of an emotion deeply felt, soul-stirring, which could never be put in plain prose half so well. If you've ever felt lonely, or that all "the weary weight of this unintelligible world" is dragging you down, his poems offer solace and comfort, a simple feeling of kinship and of hoping for higher things and better times.

I think poems are very similar to angsty songs by any rock/soft rock/pop band you care to name. In fact, they are songs without the music, or songs are poetry with music, whichever you prefer. After all the numbers by Linkin Park or Dead by April also talk about suffering and pain and a wish to overcome them. I think that no one can become a really good poet or rockstar without being compulsive loners or extremely sad for some reason. 

All the good poets I've read about were slight misanthropes and they all reached their peak before they became famous, and either died or never wrote again, or wrote awfully once they were made Poet Laureate and began enjoying popularity. I don't know why - but fame seems to kill creativity. Maybe that's why so many bands break up after a while too - because they simply can't make the same kind of songs anymore.

Poetry is the intimate expression of someone deeply stirred by feelings not easily put in words. I have never written poetry in my life, except once - my verse is usually of the 'I have a canary, His name is Billy,' variety. Therefore I have all the more respect for people who actually can write good poetry - which I've finally understood as not something that has to rhyme or be so long but be something that flows from the heart, something that must flow from the heart or choke the person if left unexpressed. The best poetry is that which is simple and unvarnished - from the poet's heart and soul to the reader's.

Therefore I make this tribute to all my favourite poets, and authors - Wordsworth, Vikram Seth, who writes the funniest poems and first made me like poetry, Charlotte Bronte, and L.M. Montgomery who wrote prose but was a hardcore poet at heart and first taught me the distinction between a good poem and a bad one - Thank you for your gift of words for generations to come!

"So you're humanities are you? But why?"

I hear so many people saying how much they hated social science when they were in school. I really don't understand it. Hate history and economics? But why? Maybe according to you there was a lot to mug up and it was just a bunch of irrelevant facts. Maybe it wasn't taught properly: I was lucky to have some pretty good teachers. But I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that science is pushed by most Indian parents as the only thing worth doing and that the other subjects are somehow inferior, and this attitude obviously gets passed on to the children. As for me, I genuinely liked science but I had horrible science teachers and frankly, the people in my class who had been attending IIT coaching classes since God-knows-when scared me. They all discussed twelfth standard science in class and did extra papers while I was struggling with the concept of electromagnetism and floundering hopelessly.

I knew when I took Humanities that it was the stream for me. Of course now I'd happily chuck all my notes and text books into the fire and jump on the ashes with glee - because the board exams are pains, every one of them - but the subjects still retain vestiges of interest. I'm defensive however whenever people ask me what stream I've taken. When I said it one lady commented, "Well, children do whatever they want nowadays," and someone else spoke about how easy it is to get marks in it. Granted that chemistry and physics are tough subjects, but it is theoretically possible to get hundreds in them both. Do you know the possibility of getting the same in psychology or sociology? Zero. And do you know how much we need to get into a 'good' college? 96% minimum in all subjects, when the very maximum for these subjects, once you've worked like hell, is 96. So don't tell me any stream is easier or tougher than the other. If you're interested in the subject it automatically becomes easy, and if you aren't, well, tough.

However, I'd love to have done some more science too if the opportunity had been offered to take up the social sciences along with it. Come on, India! It's time to stop forcing children to choose between the arts, commerce and the sciences at fifteen. You can't demarcate them any more - every one needs each of these subjects to truly become well-rounded. Don't you think that the engineer and the accountant need the beauty of literature, the vast world of philosophy and the study of humanity around them as much as knowledge of computer programs or accounting standards? And also that the student of the arts might also be interested in the hard sciences and desire to know how gadgets work and what that highly mysterious and yet attractive-sounding thing called vector is (I might be wrong and they might actually be completely boring, but vectors do sound so cool).

So, dear government, please stop dividing the streams in school. Let children choose the set of subjects they want to study each term, like they do in America. You keep ranting about immoral Western influences - let's have some really good ones at least. And hopefully you will one day put as much energy into creating a world-class liberal arts college as you did in creating the IITs and the IIMs in the 1950s. Of course, this means a complete overhaul of our education system, which will probably be the best thing that ever happened to our country. We have tremendously smart and talented people here, who can really transform this country positively, who are all going abroad to study where their skills are valued and who feel no connection to our country at all. This isn't their fault, it's the entire system's. And I pray that before the brain drain occurs with even greater intensity a change occurs. Don't you?

The travails of a sensitive plant

I wrote this over two years ago - I found it just recently.

Life is not easy for a shy person. Granted, it isn’t easy even for the most confident and most brazen of people, but the shrinking introvert on the whole has a worse time. At least the brazen person doesn’t shudder when asked to attend a party or a social function; however, any function which involves plenty of strangers is anathema to the sensitive plant.

I’m a sensitive plant myself. I like nothing better to do on a Saturday or Sunday evening than curl up with a nice book or watch an old movie on the TV. Anything by way of parties or social-dos I avoid as much as possible and it’s only the most rigorous pleading that can get me to attend them.

However, that doesn’t mean I like being an introvert. Being thoughtful and loving to read is all fine, but sometimes I wish I’m able to put all that information into practical use, like chatting blithely when I am forced to attend some event or another. On such occasions, when I’m standing uncomfortably in a corner, nervously adjusting my dress or my hair, I wish I had that gift of sparkling and scintillating conversation all heroines seem to have in books. You can’t read the amazingly brilliant dialogues that take place between the hero and heroine without wishing that you too had at least partly such an ability.

At least being shy at a party full of strangers is better than being in a company of friends. With strangers I can shrink into a corner and get sucked into my own daydream, without a fear of being accosted by an acquaintance and asked to come and dance, or take part in some equally soul-searing experience.

But with pals it’s different. This isn’t close friends I’m talking about. With close friends even the most horrid of such outings become partly bearable. I’m talking about those people whom I know with just the right degree of intimacy for them to be called chums, but we have nothing in common to supply conversation for more than a desultory chat.

With such people, attending functions can be a downright nightmare. Most often than not, I’m wedged in the middle of an uncomfortable group, or even worse, hanging on the edge unnoticed and unattended to, not having a single comment worth making and feeling absolutely wretched, while all around me are laughing and chatting gaily and apparently having the time of their lives. In such cases the sum total of my conversation comes to many liberal ‘what did she say’s sprinkled about and an occasional inspired ‘this dish is good, don’t you think?’ thrown in for good measure.

It’s infinitely galling for an intelligent girl to find herself in such a position, yet all my efforts to change it come to naught. If I manage to actually contribute something worth listening to during a conversation, I’m usually so taken up by surprise that I lose track of all conversation after that. And then I’m back to square one.

At least if my friends, knowing my nature, leave me alone kindly, it wouldn’t be half as bad. But they ignore me for most of the time and then suddenly one of them realizes I’m part of their group. Immediately they all look pityingly at poor little me and talk very kindly, no doubt feeling very complacent all the time and mentally giving themselves a pat on their backs for noticing and condescending to speak to me. At such times, it’s hard not to feel annoyed, but then I remember they’re really well-meaning and I’ve brought it on myself anyway and I give a weak smile, no doubt adding to their self-satisfaction.

I also hate photographs. Even in a simple get-together my friends feel the need to bring all the expensive cameras (not counting the built-in ones in their cell phones) while I cower and hope no one will ask me to pose. The ‘say cheese!’ photos really make me shrivel up. There’s something about the lens of a camera that intimidates me. No wonder, since I see a gargoyle in spectacles every time I look at a picture of myself. Not something anyone would want to last for ages.

So it is pretty obvious that every time I’m invited on an outing with my ‘chums’ I’m in for a terrible time. There’s no silver lining during such events. The only time I get some respite is if someone even shyer than me turns me. That gives me some confidence. I feel sorry for her of course, but I’d rather it was her than me.

You might wonder why I even go out if it offers nothing but horrible feelings. I have no idea myself. The answer is partly I don’t know how to refuse gracefully yet convincingly. There is a limit to the excuses I can think up, and my friends are notoriously slow in taking up a hint. As far as I know, my presence at an event is of no joy either to myself or to any of the others, yet when I make some excuse for not coming they behave as though I’ve offered the greatest disappointment ever in their life.

The second reason is there is a kind of masochistic pleasure in going. I dress up, wear my make-up and set off quite jauntily for my evening of gloom. Sometimes, if I’m lucky, it’s even half-way bearable. I suppose if someone goes on the rack enough times, he might get used to it. It will be a pain, of course, and he can think of a thousand things he’d rather be doing, but he’d probably say the pain wasn’t so much as it was the first time. Well, I guess I’d say the same thing.

Let me just add in conclusion that if you’re one of those brazen ones I mentioned in the beginning, then you have all my respect (and fervent admiration) and if you’re in the same boat as me, well, all the best!

Sherlock Holmes

Isn't this picture so cute? Yes, that's Holmes on the left, Watson is the one with blond hair and a frown that means business, and that's his dog Gladstone at his feet. I watched Sherlock Holmes 2 and it's awesome! If you haven't watched it yet, do! Jude Law is hands-down the best Watson so far and even if you didn't like Sherlock Holmes in the books (which I totally understand - he was such an annoying, arrogant guy with a nasty drug habit), you just might fall for the movie.

Unless you hate Robert Downey Jr., in which case I have nothing to say. Moving on.

The line of other Hollywood releases this year I'm waiting for are all sequels - Ghost Rider 2 is out February and The Dark Knight Rises (whee! Can't wait. Dark Knight was one of the most mind-blowing movies I've seen) hopefully sometime later. Breaking Dawn part 2 is releasing as well. No, I don't really want to see it! I'm just sayin'.

The Great Gatsby, starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Carey Mulligan, is supposed to release in December. That's great, and I'm definitely watching it, but what the hell happened to BBC? They used to release awesome adaptations on TV of all these classic books which I so loved to watch - remember Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, Emma, Jane Eyre and even Nicholas Nickleby? My mother and I watched them avidly during my tenth standard study holidays (Thank God for those holidays :))

Now, however, I have been forced to download them all and my WiFi is so slow! And though I check BBC everyday in hopes of a new classic adaptation, I remain disappointed. It has gone the way of reality TV and boring shows. The closest I can find to a book adaptation is the new series Sherlock. It's ok, pretty interesting, but come on BBC! I would so much prefer to watch Jane Austen's classics on your screen than my computer's. It was so much fun watching my favourite books on screen and you always got the best actors to play all the amazing characters. You know movies are nothing to a TV series, of course.

BBC had better return to its former glory before my twelfth vacations begin, or I should get a faster broadband soon. And hopefully a more extensive DVD collection.