Book Review: Salim Must Die

Been caught up with a lot of stuff on the studying front off late and so, blogging has taken a hit. It's become a lot more erratic than I thought it would and I'm trying my best to ensure the blog doesn't get neglected. So while there won't be blog-exclusive content for a few weeks, I'll be reproducing my book reviews. Here's a short review of Mukul Deva's Salim Must Die which appeared in this week's Businessworld magazine

The storyline of Mukul Deva’s Salim Must Die — sequel to the bestseller Lashkar — is strikingly similar to today’s geopolitical scenarios vis-à-vis terrorism. A beleaguered American president wanting to create a legacy, a Pakistani dictator trying to save his government and his life, and an ISI brigadier plotting against the kafir (non-believers) are the main protagonists of the book. Iraq and Afghanistan are burning, and a “clash of civilisations” is looming large. And caught in the eye of this impending storm is an Indian prime minister — already battling allegations of being “soft” on terrorism— who has to save his country from this storm.

Deva’s army days and the skills he learnt there are visible in the operation which sees the capture and subsequent death of a character loosely inspired by Osama bin Laden. Apart from its principal characters Col. Anbu and Brig. Salim Murad, the role of G.K. Rao — a portly, horn-rimmed intelligence expert — is bound to leave an impact on you with his sheer volume of information.

However, it is the planning, plotting and execution of operations that form the meat of the story. Deva gives an insight into the mind of a terrorist, and the deceptive mode of communication he uses. The creation of profiles on Shaadi.com and the near-anonymity of operational heads and subordinates is a brilliant example of this. Sadly, the pace and smart characters fail to hide its shortfalls; Rao drones on about his volume of information sitting at the National Intelligence Command, while Murad’s lecture on “targeting the minds of the kafir” fails to impress. The book simply makes you think about the dangerous world we live in.

Coming up in the next few weeks: Reviews of Meghnad Desai's Dead on Time, Tarquin Hall's Case of the Missing Servant and (time permitting) my thoughts on L K Advani's autobiography, My Country, My Life.

P.S. If and whenever I get Chandrahas Choudhary's debut novel, Arzee The Dwarf, I'll put that up here as well. For now, it's back to the world of studies.

Vanity Unfair

Coelho’s latest offering is set in Cannes – during the international film festival - and is the story of Igor Malev, who’s wife Ewa has deserted him for a rich Arab fashion designer, Hamid. An enraged Igor adopts a murderous streak – murdering innocent people within a 24 hour timeframe. The core aspect of this book is materialism and the ills that accompany it. Be it through characters or subtler elements like Javits’ Moet et Chandon champagne bottle, Coelho makes the objective of his book clear at the outset.

The initial pages are devoted to the wannabe models who try to catch the eye of a hot-shot Hollywood producer and the methods they employ – botox included - to look beautiful every single day. Javits – the pretentious, jet-setting Champagne drinker – also reads aloud a 46 point list about the attributes of a ‘normal’ person. It includes such bizarre points as “Wearing a scrap of coloured cloth around your neck, even though it serves no useful purpose, but which answers to the name of a ‘tie’”. Clearly Mr Coelho is very cynical about materialism.

However, as the story progresses, Coelho cuts down on the cynicism and the following pages make for an engaging read.

Igor continues with his cold murder spree - killing a street vendor using the ancient martial art of Sambo and bumps off a movie distributor using a needle at a crowded luncheon. All this, in the hope that Ewa will take notice and return to him. In between, he encounters a few people who move about Cannes’ morally corrupt beaches. There’s Cristina who chooses the “professional name” of ‘Jasmine Tiger’ in a bid to become a successful model. 25-year-old Gabriella, who - while “spreading the energy of love around me” – works an escort for superstar Hamid Hussein and gradually “learns to love him.”

Coelho is descriptive, imaginative and vivid in his writing but the basic flaw with The Winner Stands Alone is its theme of vanity. Of course, it’s an attribute that exists in every society but then so do many others. And it won’t be surprising if the number of un-vane people outnumber their vane counterparts. So is it really fair to prick on an attribute which is confined to a small section of society?

Moreover, in choosing the prestigious Cannes film festival as his backdrop, Coelho tries to emphasise rather unfairly that the only people who go there are glamour hungry and couldn’t really care about cinema. It’s as shallow as saying that people take to politics only to increase their TV appearances. I am not trying to defend the Cannes film festival but such generalisations nor am I trivialising Coelho’s book. But shouldn’t one be measured while generalising about a reputed film festival?

Overall, The Winner Stands Alone is a book that doesn’t merit a recommendation. After all, with a bizarre narrative tool like Igor’s purpose and attempts to highlight insignificant societal attributes, Coelho only harms his reputation as the writer of such bestselling books as The Alchemist and Eleven Minutes.

Read it only if you have nothing else to look forward to – or if you want a lesson or two about vanity.

(A version of this book review can be read here)