Narayoni rated English, August: 4 stars
English, August by Upamanyu Chatterjee (New York Review Books classics)
Agastya Sen, the hero of English, August, is a child of the Indian elite. His father is the governor of …
I love reading books belonging to multiple genres: fantasy, scify, historical fiction, detective fiction, books from the Victorian era, etc.
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Agastya Sen, the hero of English, August, is a child of the Indian elite. His father is the governor of …
"‘This is a very ambitious one. I wanted to suggest an Indian writer writing about India, after having spent many years abroad, or living there. There are hundreds of them — well, if not hundreds, at least twenty-five. I find these people absurd, full with one mixed-up culture and writing about another, what kind of audience are they aiming at. That's why their India is just not real, a place of fantasy, or of confused metaphysics, a sub-continent of goons. All their Indians are caricatures. Why is that. Because there really are no universal stories, because each language is an entire culture.’"
"A buffalo passed by, and with a casual whisk of its tail, deposited some dung on his forearm. Oh, you bastard, said Agastya. He scraped the dung off on a tree and smelt his arm. The stench remained. He began to laugh, oh how insane his existence was, it even included getting shit off his arms. "
Villette is an 1853 novel written by English author Charlotte Brontë. After an unspecified family disaster, the protagonist Lucy Snowe …
Rob does. He keeps a list, in fact. But Laura isn't on it - even though she's just become his …
"Not that true contentment dignified this infatuated resignation: my work had neither charm for my taste, nor hold on my interest; but it seemed to me a great thing to be without heavy anxiety, and relieved from intimate trial; the negation of severe suffering was the nearest approach to happiness I expected to know."
"Much I marvelled at the sagacity evinced by waiters and chambermaids in proportioning the accommodation to the guest. How could inn-servants and ship-stewardesses everywhere tell at a glance that I, for instance, was an individual of no social significance and little burdened by cash? They did know it, evidently: I saw quite well that they all, in a moment’s calculation, estimated me at about the same fractional value. The fact seemed to me curious and pregnant: I would not disguise from myself what it indicated, yet managed to keep up my spirits pretty well under its pressure."
Definition of a sluggard: "And thus, as alone as could be in the whole world, this young man of thirty-three spent his time, sitting around in a dressing gown without a tie. He did not feel like strolling, like walking, did not even want to go upstairs and have a look at the distances and views, did not even want to open the windows and let some fresh air into his room, and the beautiful view of the countryside, which no visitor could admire with indifference, was as if it did not exist for the owner himself. From this journal the reader can see that Andrei Ivanovich Tentetnikov belonged to that race of people, so numerous in Russia, who are known as sluggards, lie-abeds, sloths, and the like."
This made me laugh so much 🤣 "“Eh, what a restless demon’s got into him!” Chichikov thought to himself, and resolved to be rid at whatever cost of every sort of britzka, barrel organ, and all possible dogs, despite any inconceivable-to-the-mind barrel shape of ribs or ball-likeness of paws."
Mort is a funny, heartwarming introduction to Death, one of the major Discworld characters. It starts off with Death deciding to take on an apprentice, Mort. Turns out, Death loves curry, has an adopted daughter, Ysabell, and gets REALLY UPSET and VERY ANGRY indeed when people harm or kill cats and kittens. And he rides a horse who is most adorably named Binky.
After starting on his new job and getting acquainted with Death’s household consisting of Ysabell and his servant Albert, Mort starts to realise that one of the reasons for Death taking on an apprentice was so that Ysabell would have a companion to talk with. After showing him the ropes so to speak, Death starts to send Mort on solo missions. One of the souls he has to usher into the beyond is that of young Princess Keli who is about to be assassinated by an assassin …
Mort is a funny, heartwarming introduction to Death, one of the major Discworld characters. It starts off with Death deciding to take on an apprentice, Mort. Turns out, Death loves curry, has an adopted daughter, Ysabell, and gets REALLY UPSET and VERY ANGRY indeed when people harm or kill cats and kittens. And he rides a horse who is most adorably named Binky.
After starting on his new job and getting acquainted with Death’s household consisting of Ysabell and his servant Albert, Mort starts to realise that one of the reasons for Death taking on an apprentice was so that Ysabell would have a companion to talk with. After showing him the ropes so to speak, Death starts to send Mort on solo missions. One of the souls he has to usher into the beyond is that of young Princess Keli who is about to be assassinated by an assassin sent by her uncle. Unfortunately, Mort falls for the princess and in order to save her kills the assassin instead, thus interfering with fate, precisely something he had been told not to do. Mort is too scared to confess to Death about what he has done, so he just stays silent. Unluckily for him, reality of the history that was to be starts to resist the reality of what Mort has done, leading to the possibility that Princess Keli, whom Mort had saved, might end up dying. So now Mort tries his best to somehow save the princess’ life.
Some of my favourite things about this book are the style of humour and getting to know Death. Death is a cat loving anthropomorphic personification making sometimes refreshing, sometimes very insightful takes about mortals and existence in general:
"TAKE THESE THINGS, NOW, said Death, fingering a passing canapé. I MEAN, MUSHROOMS YES, CHICKEN YES, CREAM YES, I’VE NOTHING AGAINST ANY OF THEM, BUT WHY IN THE NAME OF SANITY MINCE THEM ALL UP AND PUT THEM IN LITTLE PASTRY CASES? ‘Pardon?’ said Mort. THAT’S MORTALS FOR YOU, Death continued. THEY’VE ONLY GOT A FEW YEARS IN THIS WORLD AND THEY SPEND THEM ALL IN MAKING THINGS COMPLICATED FOR THEMSELVES. FASCINATING. HAVE A GHERKIN.”
“He gave it an experimental shake. AND DUE TO LIVE ANOTHER THIRTY, THIRTY-FIVE YEARS, he said, with a sigh. ‘And he goes around killing people?’ said Mort. He shook his head. ‘There’s no justice.’ Death sighed. NO, he said, handing his drink to a page who was surprised to find he was suddenly holding an empty glass, THERE’S JUST ME.”
Death also happens to be very keen on trying to understand more about humans and various human activities, such as how people have fun. This leads to some unintentionally hilarious circumstances: “WHAT IS THIS FUN? ‘This is!’ TO KICK VIGOROUSLY IS FUN? ‘Well, part of the fun. Kick!’ TO HEAR LOUD MUSIC IN HOT ROOMS IS FUN? ‘Possibly.’ HOW IS THIS FUN MANIFEST? ‘Well, it – look, either you’re having fun or you’re not, you don’t have to ask me, you just know, all right? How did you get in here, anyway?’ he added. ‘Are you a friend of the Patrician?’ LET US SAY, HE PUTS BUSINESS MY WAY. I FELT I OUGHT TO LEARN SOMETHING OF HUMAN PLEASURES. ‘Sounds like you’ve got a long way to go.’ I KNOW. PLEASE EXCUSE MY LAMENTABLE IGNORANCE. I WISH ONLY TO LEARN. ALL THESE PEOPLE, PLEASE – THEY ARE HAVING FUN? ‘Yes!’ THEN THIS IS FUN. ‘I’m glad we got that sorted out. Mind the chair,’ snapped Lord Rodley, who was now feeling very unfunny and unpleasantly sober. A voice behind him said quietly: THIS IS FUN. TO DRINK EXCESSIVELY IS FUN. WE ARE HAVING FUN. HE IS HAVING FUN. THIS IS SOME FUN. WHAT FUN.” As the story progresses, it starts getting clearer that the loneliness of his job was getting to him, providing some clue to Death’s actual intentions for hiring Mort: "‘Drowning your sorrows, are you? I HAVE NO SORROWS. ‘No, of course not. Forget I mentioned it.’ He gave the glass a few more wipes. ‘Just thought it helps to have someone to talk to,’ he said. The stranger was silent for a moment, thinking. Then he said: YOU WANT TO TALK TO ME? ‘Yes. Sure. I’m a good listener.’ NO ONE EVER WANTED TO TALK TO ME BEFORE. ‘That’s a shame.’ THEY NEVER INVITE ME TO PARTIES, YOU KNOW. ‘Tch.’ THEY ALL HATE ME. EVERYONE HATES ME. I DON’T HAVE A SINGLE FRIEND.” After all, his job was such that “Death must be the loneliest creature in the universe. In the great party of Creation, he was always in the kitchen.”
This is followed by an interesting and humorous phase of Death actually trying to find an alternate job for himself. He ultimately ends up getting the job of a cook at "Harga’s House of Ribs down by the docks” where he thoroughly enjoyed himself as he “spun and whirled, chopping, slicing and frying. His skillet flashed through the fetid steam. He’d opened the door to the cold night air, and a dozen neighbourhood cats had strolled in, attracted by the bowls of milk and meat – some of Harga’s best, if he’d known – that had been strategically placed around the floor. Occasionally Death would pause in his work and scratch one of them behind the ears. ‘Happiness,’ he said, and puzzled at the sound of his own voice.” This leads to a truly hilarious scene when as a result of being summoned during the Rite of AshkEnte, Death appears “wearing an apron and holding a small kitten.”
Death’s efforts with trying to find work that he would actually enjoy doing and Mort’s princess problem inevitably collide leading to a satisfying conclusion. This is the second time I am reading this book and I think I enjoyed and loved it even more than I did the first time around. I would love to share some more jokes here, but then I would probably end up copy-pasting the whole book! This book definitely does the job of making me laugh and feeling a little better than usual.
"History unravels gently, like an old sweater. It has been patched and darned many times, reknitted to suit different people, shoved in a box under the sink of censorship to be cut up for the dusters of propaganda, yet it always – eventually – manages to spring back into its old familiar shape. History has a habit of changing the people who think they are changing it. History always has a few tricks up its frayed sleeve. It’s been around a long time."