Salman Rushdie

The Literary Saloon makes an interesting point about Salman Rushdie. After three unsuccessful novels in a row, perhaps he's done.

Far from a tragedy, we'd argue that Rushdie (and certainly his prospective readers) might be better off if he just forgot about this fiction-writing stuff and focussed on the public crusading. . . .

Lots of writers only have a single book in them, but feel that if they've been published or had success they must continue being "writers". They don't, and we'd all be better off if many didn't feel compelled to churn out more books. Rushdie has actually produced several books that should endure; there would be no shame in his hanging it up now and pursuing his other interests.

Sure, we're with Fraser: novelists should focus on their fiction . . . but most of the voluminous output pouring forth nowadays is just a waste of everybody's time.

We don't think Rushdie has lost faith, but rather that he recognises that he's no longer up to it -- that's a great first step. And so we look forward to reading more opinion pieces by him (and, possibly, less novels -- though if he feels inspired, what the hell, he should have another go at it).

Somewhere along the line, something strange happened in Rushdie's career. He was a reasonably successful novelist who had at least one masterpiece under his belt; then there was the fatwah (over a book that's far from his best) and he suddenly became an international literary celebrity.

Is it fair that this brought Rushdie unimagined levels of fame? Well, of course not. But, given the opportunity to break out of the pack via an international call for your murder, I wonder how many midlist authors would say yes. Rushdie, of course, didn't have a choice and so he's had to live with the consequences, both good and bad. I'd argue that for all the deserved recognition the fatwah has brought Rushdie the artist, it's more or less defined him into writing a certain kind of book, one that apparently isn't all that good. So, maybe, if he feels like he has to crusade nowadays, he should just stick to the non-fiction.

Comments

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Scott: I'm reading "Shalimar the Clown" right now. I should point out that this comes after being extremely jaded by Rushdie's post-"Moor's Last Sigh" work and criticizing Rushdie at several places on the public record as being repetitive and not really much fun at all -- all this, of course, being a grand shame. Because I still believe "Midnight's Children" to be one of the greatest novels of the past thirty years.

However, what I'm finding, much to my surprise, is that Rushdie the jokester is back to some degree, as is the Rushdie of the heavy-handed yet effective metaphors. It's not a perfect book by any means, but it's not a bad one. If I quibble over anything, it's Rushdie's ridiculous depiction of women in this. At several points so far, young and attractive women have improbably slept with older men without question -- perhaps because this was the recent life experience that Rushdie himself has had. They also serve as tedious muses and sources of inspiration (specifically, India and the actress character).

However, I see within the prose a determined effort on Rushdie's part to evolve beyond the "hey prestos" and the three-verb farragos. Sure, the plotting is, to put it kindly, a bit on the muddled side. The language is sparser. The book itself is shorter. But it appears that Rushdie has succeeded in scaling down his approach while having a bit of fun in the process.

In other words, while the book is so-so, it has, to a small extent, restored my faith in Rushdie again. I certainly don't think "Shalimar" belongs on the Booker longlist or shortlist. But hopefully this is a sign that the man's working towards a late career revival. Certainly we can only hope.

As for the fatwah, I don't think anyone can judge either way whether it's had a direct effect on his fiction. Certainly it's boosted his sales and reputation, but unless you can offer concrete proof that Rushdie's editors have shied away from giving him hard criticism post-"Satanic Verses," I think it might be best to judge Rushdie on the fiction itself.

[Lauren Baratz-Logsted]

I found this NY Metro article http://newyorkmetro.com/nymetro/arts/books/14277/ via www.beatrice.com and love it where, speaking of his critics etc, Rushdie says, “You know,” he concludes, “after a while you just say, ‘Look, I’m doing this thing. There are some people over there who seem to like it.’ ” I'm one of those people over there who likes what he does, not all of it, but enough. And I think that's one of the greatest author's mottos I've ever heard.

[Rodney Welch]

(Hey Lauren!)

The fatwa made me a Rushdie reader, although I haven't kept up. I read the books then available and rather liked them, but I also found him a hard read. I was too dumb for him, I think. Rushdie assumes in his readers a certain amount of knowledge of world affairs, and so the books required some outside work. It seemed at some level like India-only fiction; it was as if you had to be a native as intensely involved in the day-to-day political situation as he was to really get the books, to get their humor, their allusions. To read The Satanic Verses, you need to know something about Islam, and to read Midnight's Children you need to know about partition, and to read and enjoy Shame, it's worth knowing something about the history of Indira Ghandi and Benazir Bhutto, as I recall.

I don't recall Haroun and the Sea of Stories being very painful -- although I doubt many people born after 1980 would catch such strained pop allusions as Mott the Hoopoe.

Admittedly, this is true of a lot of international fiction, or fiction from the past. It's worth knowing about the world in which the book is set.

By contrast, however, look at a book like Rohinton Mistry's Family Matters -- you don't have to know one single solitary thing about Parsi life in Bombay to enjoy that terrific book, because Mistry first draws you in and then fills you in. In fact, you come away from it feeling as if you had lived in that world. Rushdie is more inaccessible, or at least he was, and I think that may be why he leaves behind a chalky aftertaste.

I liked the stories in East, West and I enjoy his essays, although I generally reject his beliefs, or non-beliefs.

[Lauren Baratz-Logsted]

(Hey, Rodney! I'm glad you reserve your carrots for me.)

[Pete]

Rodney, beautiful comment on Mistry. In fact, I'm clipping and pasting your quote onto my notebook as a reminder for my own fiction efforts.

[Robert Nagle]

Well known authors eventually become lightning rods for critics, and I've learned to generally ignore the critical pieces after a point and trust your best instincts.

Part of the problem with literary mediocrity is academic life, fame, & losing touch with readers who want you to do more than simply write your first bestseller over and over. Reminds me of the Oscar Wilde quote: people don't change; they just become more so.

It's not exactly the same, but I had a Kundera phase where I read and loved everything by the guy. The later novels have been mediocre (for pete's sake, avoid Slowness!), but still interesting to diehard fans like me.

It's always interesting to read a mediocre work by an author and write him/her off as a result. Then years later, you discover another work by the same writer that is just perfect in every way and realized how foolish you were to write them off. Here's what often happens: earlier better works go out of print more quickly, and later books, though not as acclaimed, will be published by bigger publishers (and with more copies). That means it will always be easier to find later mediocrities and harder to find earlier gems.

That said, writers develop a style over time, and later works often show more complexity and "depth" (whatever that is). Some writers succeed in their ambitions; others just end up making a mess (causing people to hold their simpler works in greater esteem).

Using the Kundera example again, The Joke was an earlier masterpiece, but Unbearable Lightness won him universal plaudits. Universal Lightness of Being was more elegant, more witty, more interesting (from a purely formal point of view), but the Joke was a better story (albeit more conventionally told)

Sidenote: A film version of the Joke was made in the 1960's, and is now available on DVD directed by Jaromil Jires (screenplay written by Kundera himself).

Finally, thanks for the plug for Mistry. I've been hearing so much about that author!