ypsi~dixit

I loved the moments when Vishnu cast his mind into the past, recollecting some sweet moment with Padmina or a scene from his childhood with his mother telling him a story about Jeev. These moments were laced with a bittersweet poignancy and nostalgia that I found quite moving.

I also loved the manner in which a straightforward novel about an old broken-down man sleeping on an apartment landing slowly broke open, getting wider and wider and more and more complex, as the metaphysical element came to the fore. The book kept getting bigger and bigger the longer I read it.

On a minor note, I also loved the TONS OF FOOD described in the book. This book made me rummage through my fridge no fewer than two separate times since the food descriptions (except perhaps the humorously dissolving samosas at the kitty party, early in the novel) are so sensual and mouth-watering.

I also really enjoyed the sensuality in all the descriptions of life in Bombay. In fact, life in the various apartments in Vishnu's house, if you can call a stairway landing his 'house', not only pluncked the reader down into a vastly strange culture compared to the way we live, he did it with so much humor and with such a matter of fact tone to the reality that, not only did everyone have to step over a dying man on the way in and out all day long, they didn't hesitate to express themselves loudly about how they felt about it. Lovingly as well as not so lovingly. The characterizations were wonderful, so very brightly painted. A fascinating book. From this point of view, life in Bombay seems incredibly varied, colorful, and exciting under conditions we might very well consider serious hardships. I certainly would.

That is very well, said, Addiann.

From this point of view, life in Bombay seems incredibly varied, colorful, and exciting under conditions we might very well consider serious hardships.

It certainly did. The book made me want to go and visit and see it--though, as far as seeing it, the book certainly offered a bright, colorful peek.

And....thank you, Laura! for these book discussions! It's so fun to blather on about a book as well as to hear what other people think about it.

You are most welcome but your perceptive comment above is not blather at all; at any rate, indeed it is fun to discuss books; I love hearing what others think.

I have to say that The Death of Vishnu was one of the best books I've read this year.

It was a very insightful and interesting view into a part of a culture that is at once vibrant and alive, but also plagued with the tragic systemic problems of utter and abject poverty, a rigidified class system, and potentially violent religious intolerance. I also liked the structure of the book, where the vignettes about the residents of the various apartments are tied together by, to a lesser degree, the characters' interaction and overlap, but primarily by the ever more fleeting consciousness and dreams of the dying man on the steps below.

The social structure presented in the book was also very interesting to me. The wallas who live outside of the flat block could have walked out of Free Market dream; they are all free agents, pursuing unrestricted capitalism by providing everything desired by the more upscale flat residents for a fee. Why should society feel an obligation for basic services, when the wallas of the street are surviving just fine, it seems? But, as we see in the conflict over the fate of Vishnu, things are not fine. This is a land where free social services don't exist for the average Joe, and someone must pay the ambulancewallas before they will take any action. Instead of responding the fact that a man is dying, they quibble about who will pay for the ambulance, and Vishnu's fate, we know, is sealed.

The attitude of the building residents harkens to lifestyle vision from a romantic past, in which they have a staff of servants to their bidding. They aspire to be the landed gentry of yore. Yet, they have no land, and their gentry status is really affectation. They feel some responsibility toward their "servants", but not enough, apparently, to set aside petty squabbles with the neighbors and act. Perhaps this is because the feeling of obligation is truncated precisely because they are not landed gentry, and the wallas are not actually a part of their "family," as they might have been on a vast estate. The residents are getting the best of both worlds; treating the wallas as servants where they wish, but dismissing any true human obligation because the wallas, when all is said an done, are opportunistic vendors in the eyes of the residents. In that way, this story is as much a statement about the illusory ambitions of the middle-class as it is about the transcendence of the dying Vishnu.

I really enjoyed the manner in which the novel contrasted the earthly plane struggles and gritty social ills with the dreaming fugue state of Vishnu. His life winding down, he drifts in and out of his past, painting for us a picture of an existence not without joy, but compromised by the realities of his condition. Certain events stand out; the father's drunken scarring of the young Vishnu, marking him for life, his failed attempts to cement something permanent with the elusive Padmini. These take on a Karmic aspect, as he drifts and converses with the Hindu deities, and views the failures of his life from an increasingly cosmic perspective. And then, facing his mortality, he steps further and further from the earthly plane, peeling back layers of existence, shedding the skins of this life, to face the deities, and his own death. The pastoral scene at the end, in which his meeting with the young Krishna gently reminds Vishnu of the temporary state of death, was also a nice touch. "Tomorrow, you go back."

I thought the story was well-told, weaving the problems of current Indian society with the ancient Hindu cosmology. It's an effective way of communicating the idea of not getting too wrapped up in the corporeal, as this state, and it's myriad problems, is only temporary. The glossary was also important, as it allowed us to be carried along by the wonderful cadence of the language without sacrificing the nuances of the culture and manners. And, as Laura said, the descriptions of the food had the effect of making me crave Indian food 24/7.

Even now, revisiting the book and writing about it, I realize just how much I truly enjoyed it.

There is so much to your articulate comment, Dan, that I'm going to reply in bits and pieces as I can snatch bits of time.

First of all, I was bowled over by "Tomorrow, you go back." After all that had occurred, this was, I thought, such an uplifting, heartening, gentle, quiet note on which to end and immediately extended the reach of the story into infinity, and contextualized this one grubby little apartment building in no less then the entire cosmos. It fairly took my breath away.

Sorry for the verbosity...

I really liked the last scene, too. It was such a deft way of saying, "In case you'd forgotten, everything is infinite..."

Yes. It was done with such graceful nonchalance. "By the way..."

I'm sorry that I missed reading/joining. things have been WILD and I've been out of town for the last week.

More chances are rolling around in the months to come that I hope you can join--but we need more titles. Might you have one in mind, Anna?

I stole this idea from someone elses' blog (gothamgal.blogs.com) -- she's in a book club. Her most recent one sounds fun -- _Little Children_ about 'suburban angst'. For a plot synopsis, see amazon.com...

Her book club has also read

"has also read"........what?

The suspense! :)

I almost bought "Little Children" on my last Borders treatfest. It is an acerbic look at the harried lives of suburbanites saddled with young children. This might be a good future title; thanks for the suggestion, Anna. Addiann also made a recent suggestion for future titles; both are on the list & will be included in a future seeking-titles post. Thanks for your idea.

Did someone already suggest Life of Pi, by Yann Martel? I've heard it's good...

Is that the guy with the tiger on the life raft?

Sorry, D.A.; to answer your question, no, but you just did so I'll add it to the queue.

Sorry, I was out...Yes, that is the image on the cover.

Oops... sorry to leave you all hanging! I went to try to figure it out, and I realized all she has is a list of books that *she* has read, not her book club... then I forgot I'd typed that bit....

Ah, OK. Thanks Anna.