Gregory David Roberts I am waiting for you next book. How about sending an autographed copy to me!

C'mon now step in through the arches, from Causeway

Watch the turbulent waves, as you sit on the sixty minute chairs

Inspect and suspect the images in the mirrors, they say

Elite residents and their paid girlfriends going up the stairs.

See the gorgeous abundant display of fruits, and the colourful tiles

But don't be mistaken by the lovely people, and their styles.

The cool breeze of the ocean might reduce you to temptation

Agree at the table but strictly step outside to exchange the goods

Making two ends meet will positively earn you a fraction

But beware to always understand yours and their moods.

Taxi drivers and cops tilt the mirror for a small doh

In the interest of the order, if not of the law.

The small Afghan, he ran the underground market in books

The market ain't seen enough blood, so there will be more

The small Afghan, he shut all the chandu smoking nooks

'Cuz the garad, it was fetching him a greater score.

It's the business of big politics and the politics of big business

Noone can escape the slaughterhouse of big business.

Some men will settle on power, while others will say its sex-on-the-go

Practicality will say its money, innocent hearts will choose love

For the man on the run, the best thing in the world is the freedom to say NO

Slowly fading to black, the existence of the white dove.

She says its her favourite place on earth, to be treated like rubbish

The place they call Leopold's, is for some an inevitable fetish.

-dex

I couldn't help writing this poem after the lovely description by Lin of the same subject. I've even been to Leopold's Cafe to see if it still matches up with what's been said about it in the book. Totally phenomenal.  For all Shantaram fans.

you are not a man until u give your love, truly and freeely, to a child. and you are not a good man until you earn the love, truly and freely, of a child in return.

I will never be able to thank Adwait enough for encouraging me to read this one. By far the best book I have read yet. It does take a lot of patience to finish it, but once you start reading you know you will have to finish it.

This book is about a lot of things. Essentially it is about an escaped prisoner from Australia who seeks refuge in a recently Independent India. He spends most of his time in India in Mumbai... Then called Bombay... and falls in love with the city and it's original flavour (known only to others who have lived in that city). From living in the zhopadpatti (slums) to being incorporated in the mafia, and traveling to Afghanistan to fight against the Russians ; to acting in Bollywood movies, this is a book about a mans journey through life and India, and the lessons it teaches him.

What makes this book even more special is the thoughts that have been put across so well at every step; on every page, and how much sense they make to me as an individual striving trough the usual ups and downs of life.

The book is full of beautiful thought provoking quotes. Here are the ones that most liked.

"The past reflects eternally between two mirrors -the bright mirror of words and deeds, and the dark one, full of things we didn't do or say"

"The simple and astonishing truth about India and Indian people is that when you go there, and deal with them, your heart always guides you more wisely than your head. There's nowhere else in the world where that's quite so true. I didn't know that then, as I closed my eyes in the dark and breathing silence on that first night in Bombay. I was running on instinct, and pushing my luck. I didn't know that I'd already given my heart to the woman, and the city. And knowing none of it, I fell, before the smile faded from my lips, into a dreamless, gentle sleep."

"Sometimes we love with nothing more than hope. Sometimes we cry with everything except tears"

It's forgiveness that makes us what we are. Without forgiveness, our species would've annihilated itself in endless retributions. Without forgiveness, there would be no history. Without that hope, there would be no art, for every work of art is in some way an act of forgiveness. Without that dream, there would be no love, for every act of love is in some way a promise to forgive. We live on because we can love, and we love because we can forgive.

Nothing in any life, no matter how well or poorly lived, is wiser than failure or clearer than sorrow. And in the tiny precious wisdom they give to us, even those dreaded and hated enemies, suffering and failure, have their reason and their right to be.

Luck is what happens to you when fate gets tired of waiting.

Men reveal what they think when they look away, and what they feel when they hesitate. With women, it’s the other way around.

At first, when we truly love someone, our greatest fear is that the loved one will stop loving us. What we should fear and dread instead is that we won’t stop loving them, even after they are dead and gone.

I reached the end and I thought, "hhmmm. neh." I didn't really care for it, it didn't leave me with anything which I guess is kind of sad because I was so into it at one point. It was like a relationship that I thought was going to go somewhere yet once it ended I couldn't remember what it was that I fell in love with in the first place- where had I placed all that hope and dreaming? It was so sad in fact that I didn't even care about that love, it was as if it had never happened in the first place but what, oh what happened to those first 600 pages? Anyway- enough analogy. I hope my review below is more literary- I really try to review a book based on it's craft and tools versus my emotional opinion. I want to explore that emotional opinion- why? Why did my love die- you know stuff like that-I'm think it only helps to improve my own writing if I can break down a book in that manner but also it gives justice to the writer and other readers when I can say "I didn't like this and this is why" I'm not always successful at this form because-well it's work. And I'm lazy. Hopefully I'll get pass this lazy reviewer syndrome and improve on my reviews but no promises.

Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts

My review

rating: 3 of 5 stars
I've read some comments on this book and one or two reactions have been that they thought it was pretentious and I guess I can see where they would get that perception. I'm not going to argue right or wrong on that topic but instead focus my review on the actual writing. There were moments through out the book where I really liked it, I liked the philosophy of the narrator and I would get caught up in the action but after I read the final pages I was left feeling a little...well, empty. Even the proposed thought that this book is based on true life events in the end couldn't keep my heart connected to the story. The worst thing happened- I didn't care. Even though the author spent obviously blood sweat and tears creating this book for me the character's fell flat- I did not bond to any of them- things happened to them, there was history and very, very vivid descriptions but they did not become real for me. I was never moved by any of the characters. Lin (the narrator) told his story from a distance and described in golden details the look and smells of Bombay but he never connected to the people he met. He said he did, he said he loved them but, I don't believe him. I don't believe that the character really had any true feelings for the others. (This is not a comment on the author-but the narrator I believe that once the book is written the two are never one.)

Another thing that resulted in my not loving the book was the over descriptions-this is a reader's preference I think- but if I was editing it I would probably cut out a third of the descriptions, for me it was too much. It was like an overpowering amount of perfume so much that it destroys the actual scent. I'm a keep it simple type of reader- I'm not intimidated by the size but if it's going to be that long I want crisp clear images not things like this:" our lips met like that crest and merge the whirl or storming seas. I felt that I was falling: free and falling at last from the love that had opened, lotus-layered, with in me. And together we did fall the length of her black hair to the still-warm sand in the hollow of the sunken boat."

What? lotus-layered, fell the length of her hair? It is over saturated with these images of sea and dark hair and on and on till I felt ill. For me it's a preference- I love imagery I love metaphor but when it's subtle, when it hit's me hard and I didn't see it coming not when it's thrown in my face like I've been slimed-"LOOK this is BEAUTIFUL!"

My last criticism is that there were character's introduced in the last 100 pages and after reading 833 pages I don't want to meet any new people.

There it is in more than a nutshell.- I did like it but not love it and I'm not certain if I can recommend it but why not, you might like it.

the chapter where he goes to stay in the slum and serves as a doctor to the victims injured in the fire ,,

he quotes the words his girlfriend karla had said him,,

"if fate doesnt make you laugh, then you jus dont get the joke"

when u jus think bout it,,,sometimes isnt it very true,,,, we being at some situation is more than an accident or coincidence.....

i am jus loving this book,,,,

What perplexes the reader is the juggling between genre-caliber action sequences (think Clive Cussler) and passage after passage of existential exposition. The mix would so easily seem incongruous, yet is delivered naturally by Roberts’s hand. I think this is why so many prior reviewers have simply said this book is about “everything.” The conceit is the author’s struggle for redemption. Roberts wrote the novel based on his Indian experiences in prison after being recaptured. The redemptive quality, bordering on heavy-handed, rewards the reader with a fuller, deeper understanding and far more insight into what might otherwise be a very foreign read.

This literary tour of India, for the book is about Bombay as much as everything else, is worth the read alone. It will be exciting to see how accurate Johnny Depp’s silver screen adaptation will be. Particularly how well the movie can adapt the content of what otherwise may be six movies crammed into one.

Ultimately, I recommend Shantaram for its insight alone. No other book has ever gone where Shantaram goes, nor goes and achieves such a complicated understanding. It is perplexing to think that one person could live through so many experiences but encouraging to think that one person could have the courage to do so.--Christopher Patrick Steffen

A real page turner without it actually devolving into super piss-poor bestseller prose. It's not the literary book of the year or anything, but it was a damn good read. (Don't get offended if you like the book -- the author writes well enough, but he's not up there with Chabon, Atwood, nor McCarthy).

The book is by Gregory David Roberts. He is an Australian writer who now permanently resides in Mumbai, India. Shantaram is semi-autobiographical -- although it is a work of fiction.

Gregory Roberts (like his fictional protagonist, Lin), was incarcerated in Australia. He escaped from prison. He fled to India to start a new life (like his fictional protagonist). And you should just read the book . . .

It's going to be made into a movie. Apparently Johnny Depp loved it like I did and convinced a few of his friends to back it. I am not as influential as Johnny.

However, I wanted to talk about the book before the movie came out and of course, inevitably, the movie inspired cover that I will be embarassed to be seen with (a vestige of my English major snob ways -- what are you gonna do?).

Any book that convinces you to travel to another country is something. Mumbai here I come . . .

The comment that sticks with me from Wheatley is "we choose what disturbs us". In a world of causes and crisis, only we can choose what we will let disturb us. For what we allow to disturb us, determines where we will turn our attention, where we will place our energies, and possibly where we will hear our call to "Come Forth" from Jesus. I have chosen to be disturbed by the crisis in Congo, I don't have the capacity to be personally disturbed by everything in this world, but this crisis has caught my attention and this is where I am called to place my energies and passions. I don't assume this is the same call others' will receive, but I ask you that if you share this passion, this disturbance, please don't assume other's will answer the call. Those of us who are called, who are disturbed...must bind together in a united force to bring peace into this chaos. "Come Forth!" and answer the call. How are you responding? I'd love to hear from you.

April 20 - May 20 Taurus
Famed Taurean William Shakespeare once wrote: Summer’s lease hath all too short a date. To paraphrase: it’s August, bitches! Get your stubborn Taurus behind out there into the world and take in some fresh air, even if it is heavy with humidity. You’ll wish you had done so come wintertime when the air is freezing cold and hurts when you breathe. Move it and shake it, yo ~ before the ice age moves in on us and takes permanent residence like on that scary episode of the Twilight Zone.

May 21 - June 20 Gemini
Your dual nature will no doubt thrill to the news that David Byrne and Brian Eno have collaborated again for the first time in 30 years - and that's gotta be cool. Everything That Happens Will Happen Today is released August 18th but you can download a free copy of one of the songs, Strange Overtones, here. A tour will commence on September 16th in Bethlehem, Pa.

June 21 - July 22 Cancer
One of my favorite crab people is Artie Wayne, who is and has been a songwriter, singer, producer, concert promoter, publisher, restaurant host and more during his storied career. He’s also a refreshing stop in the increasingly crowded blogosphere where he shares way cool finds like Simon and Garfunkel performing Sounds of Silence acoustically live on television; The Mighty Quinn by the awesomely underrated Manfred Mann; Society’s Child by shy, sixteen year old Janis Ian; and John, You’ve Gone Too Far This Time by Rainbo (AKA Sissy Spacek prior to her acting career!). AW is apparently working on a book about the music business – sign me up for that one, Amazon!

July 23 - August 22 Leo
Happy Birthday Leo guys and dolls! Yes, Teri, that means YOU! A great way to celebrate your birthday weekend is to crank up the dials to WFMU FM which is celebrating 50 years on the air today through Sunday. And don’t think you can’t listen because you don’t live in the area. Au contraire ma cherie ~ WFMU streams live on the web 24/7! Legendary DJ’s from years past will be dropping in all weekend to help celebrate – including Wildgirl, Vin Scelsa, and Danny Fields! Even the Hound will be back, Saturday August 9 between 3 and 6pm.

August 23 - September 22 Virgo
I know you Virgos are very concerned with not acting old – as are we all. Please to rejoice in HowNotToActOld.com which has loads of tips on how to not give away your age, assuming you’re older than Paris Hilton (who still qualifies as young). Writer Pamela Redmond Satran has written 14 books including 5 novels, and 8 bestselling baby-naming books coauthored with Linda Rosenkrantz. Besides her blog, she also writes for the Huffington Post and has a new book out called 1000 Ways To Be A Slightly Better Woman.

September 23 - October 22 Libra
Librans can satisfy their insatiable need for great documentary films this summer with HBO’s terrific weekly series which started in June with Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired. Even though it has appeared that Showtime has kicked HBO’s ass this year on drama series, I’m here to tell you that these documentaries make for great television. Last week, Baghdad High showed us what it’s like to be a teenager in Iraq where a daily commute to school is fraught with roadside bombings. Quel teenage wasteland! Every Monday night at 9pm through August 25th a new film is shown. Pop some corn and settle down to leave your world for the duration.

October 23 - November 21 Scorpio
It’s about time, Scorpio cats n kittens – your basest selves will thrill to the newly opened Erotic Heritage Museum in (where else?) Las Vegas, Nevada. Over 24,000 square feet of permanent and featured exhibits pay tribute to the world of erotica. The Museum opened its legs, I mean, doors to the world on August 3rd and seeks to bridge the gap between that which is commercial and often misidentified as pornographic. No doubt Jesse Helms will be turning in his grave.

November 22 - December 21 Sagittarius
Sagittarians know from crazy crazy love. Therefore this week’s download is targeted to our self-indulgent, sociable, flirtatious centaur friends. The song is Bernadette by the Four Tops and is a testament to complete and utter jealousy and obsession. This 1967 Motown hit was produced by Holland-Dozier-Holland and recorded at Hitsville USA. The stellar lead vocal is of course by the unbelievable Levi Stubbs. Listen to the raw urgency in his voice as he cries, Bernadette! They want you because of the pride that it gives; But Bernadette, I want you because I need you to live.

December 22 - January 19 Capricorn
In honor of a Capricorn born on January 8, 1935 in Tupelo, Mississippi, I’m speaking of course of Elvis Aaron Presley here, I urge you to visit the 24 Hour Church of Elvis. Here in this pocket of madness on the internets you can purchase refrigerator magnets, stickers, pins, t-shirts, calendars, etc. etc. etc. Proprietor Stephanie G. Pierce has run this establishment since 1985 in Portland, Oregon. There used to be a physical store where weddings were performed, but that’s closed for the moment. In the meantime, flat top cats and dungaree dolls can celebrate The King with a refrigerator magnet.

January 20 - February 18 Aquarius
Our Aquarian of the Week is – yes – Paris Hilton. Girlfriend fired back a hysterical response to John McCain’s Britney/Paris/Obama TV ad from last week. Paris lounges in a leopard bikini as she explains her own energy policy to us (surprise, it’s pretty frickin’ awesome). Quoth Ms. Hilton: “That wrinkly white-haired guy used me in his campaign ad, which I guess means I’m running for President. So thanks for the endorsement, white-haired dude. . . I want America to know that I’m like, totally ready to lead.” Even her parents, who contributed $Hilton$ money to McCain, were horrified by his tasteless ad which compares Obama’s celebrity to that of their daughter and Britney Spears.

February 19 - March 20 Pisces
Fish People, here’s a novel you can curl up in for the entire month of August and read your brains out. Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts is the largely autobiographical tale of Roberts, who escapes after two years in an Australian prison where he had been jailed for a series of armed robberies performed when he was a heroin addict. He arrives in Bombay with an assumed name and forged papers and luckily meets a street guide who becomes his bridge to an entirely new world. That’s only the beginning; I’m still reading it. The book is so large and heavy it could conceivably be used as a weapon. Fall into this fascinating world like it was a gorgeous colorful silken pillow.

Recently I finished one of the best books I've read in a long time, Shantaram, by Gregory David Roberts.  While long, at nearly 1000 pages, it is truly a worth it.

The book is based on Roberts life following his escape from a maximum security prison in Australia, where he was serving a 19 year sentence.  He soon found himself in Bombay where he lived in a slum, established a free health clinic, joined the Mumbai mafia, worked as a money launderer, forger and street solider.  He also found time to learn Hindi and Marathi, fall in love, act in Bollywood, be imprisoned once again in an Indian jail before going to fight with the Mujahedeen in Afghanistan.  As you can see 1000 pages is barley enough to cover this fictionalized account of his life.

What I liked most about this book was the way he brought Mumbai alive. He really managed to capture the complexity of the City and a nuanced and compassionate look at life in the slums. He shows how a community of 25,000 people in an area the size of a couple of city blocks finds ways to polices itself and survive, how they prepare for the yearly monsoons, fight fires.  I look forward to a screen adaptation as well.  Shantaram is in production and  Johnny Depp will be playing Gregory David Roberts.

For just a small feel of his writing and how he brings Mumbai alive I'll leave you with  this quotation and a video of Roberts describing his first day in Bombay Slum.

The first thing I noticed about Bombay, on that first day, was the smell of the different air. I could smell it before I saw or heard anything of India, even as I walked along the umbilical corridor that connected the plane to the airport. I was excited and delighted by it, in that first Bombay minute, escaped from prison and new to the wide world, but I didn't and couldn't recognize it. I know now that it's the sweet, sweating smell of hope, which is the opposite of hate; and it's the sour, stifled smell of greed, which is the opposite of love. It's the smell of gods, demons, empires, and civilizations in resurrection and decay. It's the blue skin-smell of the sea, no matter where you are in the Island City, and the blood-metal smell of machines. It smells of the stir and sleep and waste of sixty million animals, more than half of them humans and rats. It smells of heartbreak, and the struggle to live, and of the crucial failures and loves that produce our courage. It smells of ten thousand restaurants, five thousand temples, shrines, churches, and mosques, and of a hundred bazaars devoted exclusively to perfumes, spices, incense and freshly cut flowers. Karla once called it the worst good smell in the world, and she was right, of course, in that way she had of being right about things. But whenever I return to Bombay, now it's my first sense of the city - that smell, above all things - that welcomes me and tells me I've come home....

I hope you pick up the book.  It was truly a great read.

When a revised lifetime of six months grows twelve-fold into six years, it's tempting to declare a miracle of modern medicine. However, I think it's more illustrative of some failures of our society. I don't want to be overtly political, but let me run some numbers by you. On September 11, 2001 nearly 3,000 people were killed in the terrorist attacks on the United States. As result of those attacks, our government chose to go to war with Iraq (to be clear, the two events were connected only by fetid Federal fear mongering and not by fact). That war has cost us approximately $500 billion or $2 billion per week.

Meanwhile, cancer kills over 1,370 Americans every day, 500,000 every year, or 3,500,000 Americans since September 11, 2001. This doesn't include the countless other cancer victims bravely suffering through their treatment. And so, what is our government's reaction to nature's attack on Americans? A paltry (and shrinking) $4.7 billion annual budget for the National Cancer Institute. WTF? Every three weeks, our government spends more treasure fighting in Iraq, than it spends in 52 weeks of fighting cancer. Predictably Irrational, one might say. Looking at these numbers it's easy to imagine a world where, if our choices were different, a "six months to live" diagnosis could instead mean "cure." We can do better.

No death occurs without shades of existentialism. And if we can do better, we should start by doing so in our daily lives. Remembering to wholly love those who are close to us and to tell them so. Exulting in both the joy and challenges of our lives. Being thankful for every day. Six months or six years is too short to live. A single day is too long to live with regret.

This weekend, I began reading George David Roberts beautiful book, Shantaram. Today, its opening paragraph has found special residence in my heart. Shantaram begins:

It took me a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to me in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured. I realised, somehow, through the screaming in my mind, that even in that shackled, bloody helplessness, I was still free: free to hate the men who were torturing me, or to forgive them. It doesn't sound like much, I know. But in the bite of the chain, when it's all you've got, that freedom is a universe of possibility. And the choice you make, between hating and forgiving, can become the story of your life.

Best learned with a full lifetime ahead.

You can donate to the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society here.

"God damn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need" - Fight Club

"Happiness is a myth. It was invented to make us buy things" - Shantaram

There is always so much stuff in my closet that I can get away with. Squandering, to me, has become habitual. Yet, the power of advertisements and the idea of living an extravagant life gets the better of me. Inflation or no inflation, I spend! Bad market?  It did not make a difference to my spending habits.  You see, that is the power of advertisements and the likes. Spending habits are ruled by these ads. They teach you everything. A lifetime seems to go down in attaining these elated heights by means of shopping.

The "cool" factor! Boy oh boy, this rules us. What makes us cooler? Labels? Gadgets? Takes us right back to shopping. A less than a minute gig makes us spend all that we earn. All I know is earn and spend. So when I think about why I work, it brings me back an answer amounting to "How else will I buy all that I need(read all that is advertised and makes me cooler)?"

Are we missing something? Quite a bit. A part of us that wants to experience the world in its innocence and unpretentious colors is totally lost. Advertisements, labels, spending habits rule us all and leave behind indelible impressions and paint them in colors of pretence. We are slaves to the consumer markets that popularise and sell us things we can do without!

When will I get this point?!

To take it further, names have literal meanings as well, and many a times they are the names of Gods and Goddesses. I am sure that you must be aware that there are 6,400,000 Goddesses and Gods in Indian Mythology so, the options are vast. Whether the child is living up to his name or not, is the matter of least concern. ‘Sagar’ is one of the very common names among Indian boys. Sagar means sea or ocean. I have no idea what depth or sea or ocean people see in their one feet long boy that they name him Sagar. Or has it something to do with the colour Blue? Talking of Blue colour, we have name for that as well ‘Neel’, it means blue. You are free to draw your own conclusions.

In the book Shantaram, the guide adorns Gregory David Roberts(GDR) with a name Lin Baba. Lin literally means penis and baba is used as a token of respect against someone’s name. So when GDR introduces himself to someone saying ‘Hi! I am Lin Baba’, he literally is saying ‘Hi! I am Mr. Penis’. But it is actually a name of one of the Indian Gods, Lord Shiva.

One of the most brutally painful names from either South Indians or East Indians. South Indians take the longest names from the Gods and Goddesses and then complain endlessly that no one remembers their names. They follow a format – ‘Family name- Given name-Caste'. For example Kannoth Karunakaran Maarar, interpreted as Karunakaran of the Maarar caste from the Kannoth family or Monkombu Sambasivan Swaminathan. Swaminathan is the name of the person, Sambasivan is the name of the father and Monkombu is name of the village from where they have originated. You are left with no option other than either listening to their high pitched complains about pronouncing their names wrong or if you are polite enough you can address them with their initials.

This funny nomenclature is not confined only to India, it has strong association with celebrities as well. An article here states that a New Zealand judge ruled that a girl named “Talula Does the Hula From Hawaii” by her parents will be renamed, declaring that the bizarre name would “[Make] a fool of the child and [set] her up with a social disability and handicap, unnecessarily." Then how about Sylvester Stallone keeping his son’s name as Sage Moonblood or Arthur naming his daughter Camera? For Celebrities and Indians, all bets are off.

Last night I received a mail from a friend with words ‘The story of 20 Toes Told in 20 Minutes’ in a subject. But there's a lot in a name.

I'm looking for a word to capture the writing style. Shantaram may be a memoir. It may be fiction. It may be a fictionalized, sensationalized memoir. The author is perfectly candid about a few facts that his biography seems to bear out. He escaped an Australian prison, and fled to Bombay. He was later captured, and sentenced to serve the remainder of his jail time. While he was in jail the second time, he wrote this book. Who can really say, except the author, how much is memoir (which has its own departures from the objective truth) and how much is an imaginative construct.

Also, remembering my own studies of anthropology, particularly Reading National Geographic, I have to wonder if being a white man in the slums of Bombay creates its own fictional slants and roles to play. The reason I'm reaching out to others who have read this excellent book is tied up with that perception as well. I want to know if others find that some of Roberts' language drifts close to smirking and smug.  Many passages are beautiful.  (Some descriptions, verging on the poetic, get a little self conscious with glorious imagery.)   Ideally, I would love to dig around in the text with someone else who has studied anthropology, and see if I'm over-analyzing, or using rusty, faulty logic too much. I want a second opinion.

I also need to remember that, by positioning the narrative voice between philosopher and criminal, the prose is  going to be more than a little bit slick at times. And that, for all its odd whiffs of colonialism or counter-colonialism, is what makes a 900 page novel about Bombay's black market, such a fast-paced read.  It reminds me of "Catch Me If You Can," by Frank Abagnale- later a Matt Damon movie of the same name.  Very slick prose, in Abagnale's tale of getting away with all kinds of scams.  Slick, smug prose belonged there.  I think the reason I"m pulled up short, at times by Shantaram is because it's more than just a slick crime and caper fugitive novel/memoir.  Elements of culture and class come into play in his observations, and the characters who surround him.  The way he can move between the slum and the  million-dollar black market mafia crime world, unquestioned, and unquestioning, has made me pause a few times as I read.  His facility with language is lovely though- particularly the descriptions of Bombay and its people.  This is an engrossing escape novel, for author, characters, and  reader.

Some people have the most incredible lives and I don't mean that it is a wonderful ride. After reading certain parts of this book it's a wonder that one, this man is still alive, two that he has ended up where he now and three, that he doesn't hate human beings. Through his horrendous and I mean horrendous tortures in prisons I can't imagine that he found any love inside himself. I'll save my rant on prisons and humanity for my post on the completion of this book.

One thing I've been picking up as I go through the pages is inspiration- you can be anything, anything you want. Nothing in this world is permanent and my pessimistic side often relates that to when things are good but this applies to when things are bad and I mean really bad. Honestly, I feel like life has been rough but so far my choices have placed me in some lucky positions and I have never felt the type of pain or terror that others have had to endure.

Just a quick synopsis of the book- 

Shantaram was written by Gregory David Roberts. He is an Australian man born in Melbourne. Due to certain choices in his life that were driven by drugs he found himself sentenced to 19 years in prison. He escaped over the front wall and eventually made his way to Bombay where he lived in hiding for ten years. Shantaram begins with his arrival in India.

That's all I write on it at this point but after getting 479 pages into it, so far I recommend it.

Coen Brothers will try to tickle the funny bones with their black comedy-thriller burn after reading featuring Brad Pitt, Geore Clooney and Francis Mc Dormand can it get anymore exciting?

Also Christopher Nolan's Batman, with the ever dependable Michael cain, Christian bale and the deceased Heath Ledger, it is said that the preparation, acting, mental state of joker's role that ledger involved himself in took its toll, sadly his death, from the trailers it looks like he put his every iota of soul brains and heart into it...lets see.

Talking of Christopher Nolan, who made Memento (our own repellent ghajini) I am reminded of a wonderful magical master piece called The Prestige, If you never watched it, take my word you have to.

Thats all for now....wait a minute am not done yet...later next year....Di caprio, Kate winslet and Sam Mendes of American Beauty team up for Revolutionary Road...David Fincher will bring us Rendezvous with Rama (great Arthur C clarke's sci-fi Novel) super talent Bryan Singer does a movie on one of the major, almost successful plot to kill scumbag hitler, Valkyrie and then Johnny Depp's Shantaram.

I Love Hollywood!!

and now I stop.

Röde Orm av Frans G Bengtsson

En av mina absoluta favvoböcker. Har säkert läst den åtminstone vartannant år sedan jag var tolv. Någon har sagt att den säger mer om hur det var att ligga i Lund under mellankrigstiden än om hur det var att vara viking på Harald Blåtands tid. Men jag tröttnar aldrig på Orm, Toke och de andra. Det är som att träffa kompisar från förr.

Aldrig fucka upp av Jens Lapidus

Uppföljaren till Snabba cash. Underhållande hårdkokt thriller ("Stockholm Noir") som bärs upp av ett rappt språk och en trovärdig dialog. Storyn är sådär med en legoknekt som blir en feminismens Don Quixote som går till storms mot patriarkatets väderkvarnar. Frågan är om det är det eller det faktum att han läst Judith Butler och förstått något som är mest osannolikt? Sen finns det en halvbakad palmemordskonspiration också (är det en trend på uppgående?). Men som sagt klart läsvärd för den hårdkokta prosan.

Filosofiska söndagsklubben av Alexander McCall Smith

Jag är barnsligt förtjust i naiviteten och den konservativa utopismen i McCall Smiths romaner om Damernas detektivbyrå i Botswana. I sin andra romanserie försöker han göra om samma sak i sin egen hemstad Edinburgh. Och ska man vara helt ärlig funkar inte konceptet i en västvärld som läsaren kan identifiera sig med. Utopin behöver vara där borta. Konservatismen och elitismen blir obehaglig i vardagen. Jag föredrar nog att även i fortsättningen dricka mitt te med Mma Ramotswe. Rooibos, såklart.

Sen har jag hunnit börja på Gregory David Roberts Shantaram som handlar om en australiensare på rymmen som hamnar i Bombays slum. Verkar mustigt, mastigt och är tydligen sant. Jag har typ 850 sidor kvar på den så jag återkommer.

So hope you are checking out my new look everyday, coz now I'm not just restricted to Thursday Nights, but am almost available every night! It's like having your favorite artist perform for you night after night after night, with something new every single night! I know, I know, don't you love me for that ;) Love you too, my babies :D

Love can be for so many things, though the common and rather famous ones are the ones for the opposite sexes. Though nowadays, love for the same sexes is also heating up. But love can take various forms - for mother, for father, for friends, for siblings, for gadgets, for movies, for bikes, for cars, for cities...

I'm in love with this city - Bombay. If you ever are in Bombay, or come to Bombay, do yourself a favour. Go to South Bombay. Which comprises Colaba, Napaen Sea Road, Malabar Hill, Marine Drive, Fort, Chowpatty, Bhulabhai Desai Road, Grant Road, Muhammad Ali Road... There is a different world, and I mean world in the truest sense of the word, to see in every nook and corner of this small but magnificently vast city.

I know that most of you get to see the grime and dust of the suburbs, the pollution on the roads, the burgeoning crowd in the local trains, the open sewers, the bad infrastructure. I'll come to that. But I'm asking you to do yourself a favour, visit Bombay with absolutely no malice or preconceived notion in your minds and hearts. Take your girl to Colaba and let her shop to her delight. If you don't have a girl, go to Grant Road to see one of Asia's largest electronics and computers market, on the road. Or go to Muhammad Ali Road for steals in leather, glassware, ceramics, almost anything. Or just for the food. Take a bike, hire a car, go with your friends for a night-time drive in Colaba. Where you'll find female prostitutes posing as starlets, eunuchs posing as female prostitutes and male prostitutes posing as, well, male prostitutes. No matter how late you get, eat at Bade Miyaan's. Or search for an all-night Irani cafe that will serve you scrumptious Kheema Ghotala with fresh pav. In the night. This city truly never sleeps.

I had thought of writing this paean to my city long back. Then I thought I'll write it this Monday. But then I did something that perhaps will alter the way I think about this city. I picked up a book. Maximum City by Suketu Mehta. If you haven't read it, do yourself a favour again. Buy it. Borrow it. Steal it. Beg for it. But read it. That, and Shantaram, which I rate as one of the loveliest books I've read, because it comes out as an act of love. Shantaram is a lover's poem to this city, an autobiographical which turns into a biography of this city. Maximum City is billed a non-fiction, but it's harder, rougher, more raw than fiction, with smatterings of autobiographical musings and excerpts and interviews of real people. Read them both, and then tell me you hate Bombay. I'll call you heartless.

Yes, this city has innumerable, seemingly insurmountable woes. I won't defend it by giving the same old lines that people give - immigrant population explosion, less land, encroachment, corruption, worsening infrastructure. I'll give you hard statistics. Delhi has 1458 sq. km of land and has 1/5th of the rainfall Bombay has. Bombay is only 428 sq. km in area and has rainfall close to the dense green forests of Africa. In 1990, Bombay had a density of 15000 people per square kilometre. Some parts of central Bombay have a population density of one million people per square mile. This is the largest congregation of people at any given point, in any given part of the world. These are 1990 statistics. It's been 18 years since then, with an exponential growth in India's as well as Bombay's population. I won't tell you how huge the calculation is, what results to make out of it, etc. Go do it yourself and then come back to me.

Bombay to me, to you, to us, is like a lover, mind you not a wife, just a lover. A lover to whom we can come at anytime, who is ready for us anytime, ready to accommodate us, feed us, love us and yet, allow us to leave without making a fuss about it. A lover who doesn't mind if you are not true to her, who doesn't mind if you abuse her, leave her for someone else. It moves on, because there is someone else who needs her, who is wanting to make love to her. No other city in India, I don't know about the world, let's you be who you are. You go to the South, and you'll have to learn a South-Indian language or restrict yourself to English. Go to the North, and you'll restrict yourself to your house or wherever you stay. similar stories with the East and West. The cities accept you, their cultures don't. They are like high-bred women, who will accept you, but with conditions. Whom you will go back to because they are like wives. They may not adjust completely, but will keep you on the straight path. Bombay is a whore. It doesn't have a culture of its own. Its you who brings your culture to it. What you see in her is what you gave her. She mirrors you, yet so unobtrusively, that you fail to see your own reflection. It is you who make her feel complete. It lets you be yourself. And hence, you keep coming back to her. To assert your ego, your maleness, your dominance. She takes all you got, and gives all she has, without holding anything back.

In Bombay, you can be yourself. She lets you. She's like that smart lover who knows that though you may want to assert yourself and try to prove that you won't bend and be yourself, you still need care and love. And she won't stop you from being yourself. Rather she'll encourage it. And you, prompted by this love, will try to become more like her. More accommodating, more adjusting, more loving. Bambaiyya.

The problems of Bombay are not many immigrants, it is not corruption, it is not illiteracy. It is this treatment that Bombay gets, as a whore. You come here, fuck her to death, bleed her, and then with a light heart and lighter load in your testicles, you go back to your wives, to your home-towns, leaving a sad, old whore behind. But you will never, ever get her out of you. She'll be a part of you as long as you are alive, and maybe more after you are dead. Every morning Bombay wakes up like a newly-wed and every evening, it dazzles like a courtesan in all its brilliance. No other city can boast of being this rich, yet so poor.

But the cracks are showing. No amount of make-up can hide the fact that Bombay is losing its sheen. That other new girls, with newer, better assets, are emerging on the horizon. But Bombay smiles. Because she knows she has what no one else can claim or dream to have. Love. The other girls are in it for business. Trying to emulate Bombay's phenomenal success. Using their beauty and charm to seduce new lovers. But the old-timers will not be fooled. Bombay did it out of love. She's a whore not by profession, but by choice. Not for money, but for love.

Maybe what she needs is the support of her many lovers. But she's unfortunate there. It's many lovers shit where they make love to her. Even those who claim to be her dutiful husbands, the sons of the soil, rape her with impunity, smear blood across her face and parade her naked, showing the world a monstrous, ugly sight of terrorism, bigotry and intolerance, the very things she is against. She has been portrayed as being biased to her different lovers. That she belongs to only a section of them. The problems arise in Bombay when one section or one person tries to claim her for himself. Because she does not belong to one community or sect. She gives love to all, she expects love from all. But she can't help it. She got herself into this mess, when she opened her arms and legs for all and sundry.

But maybe all is not lost. I say this because it is only here that someone will pay for my rickshaw fare home, because I had no change. And leave me with the words, "You can pay me back or pay for someone else." A magnanimous heart. That's what Bombay makes you into.

I will not call her a whore. To do that will be to demean myself. She's my lover, perhaps the only true one. Maybe I'll go far someday, to different nations, different cities. But I'd like to be buried here. Amidst the sea and the mangroves. In the arms of my lover. You can go back to your wives. I, like the great poets, do not have anyone to go back to. I'll spend my days in the house of the courtesan, drinking her wine and taking in her sights. Because only she can give me unconditional, un-prejudiced love.

Save my Bombay. That's the least that you can do.

I am in no mood to 'review' it. Nor do I want to. The book speaks for itself.

It is funny, yet emotional, serious yet light-hearted , thrilling, has action and a lot of love in it. It was an amazing book to read. And it is about India. The heart of India. The love of India. The love for India.

Shantaram

Author: Gregory David Roberts

Googy Rating: 2.5 / 5

Gist:

A tattered soul imprisoned in Australia without any real reason escapes the years of imprisonment in the jail and wanders around the world as a wanted fugitive in search of peace, in search of freedom and finds that India is the birthplace of his longings. The author falls in love with the life in Bombay and a resident foreigner like him Karla.

He gets to know the day to day habits of the drug dealings and other black market business. He joins with Bombay don Abdul kader khan who treats him like his son. He understands many aspects of life under the guidance of the great don and becomes trained in many illegal activities. Then he goes along with his mentor to the war front in Afghanistan to know about the true incidents that made him what he is, a member of the greatest mafia gang in Bombay still the most wanted one in the world.

Review:

The book is full of philosophical thoughts which are really interesting but slows down the pace of the story to a great extent. The author’s description of Bombay as a place for any person who can do any kind of job is simply great. The characters are well dealt with. My favorite character in the novel is Prabakar, a great and loyal friend of the author who greets everyone with a big smile. The most impressive nature about Prabakar is that he is very loyal to everyone and makes everyone happy around him with his warm welcome and his love and affection. Author’s visit to Prabakar’s village is an enjoyable part. It’s really difficult for a foreigner to adapt to the customs of the village and live among the villagers for nearly 6 months. The slums in Bombay are well explained and the conditions of the people are expressed in an apt manner. Author learns to believe and care for people during his life in slum. The little medical centre done by the author is really touching. Quasim Ali, the leader of the slum though comes in the novel less has impressed me with the way he handles the things in the slum. The author has made great effort in explaining the procedures of black market trading in Bombay. The novel is very informative in many ways. The chats between kader khan and the author is more of philosophical thoughts where the author writes about the importance of freedom, the way of doing wrong things for right reasons and many more which are really good to read but some may feel it very boring. Karla is described as a very beautiful, brilliant and a very mysterious girl who has been regretting her child hood. But I don’t think her child hood is so bad. I did not like her character very much. According to me she has betrayed herself with the wrong and lame reasons. The author’s travel to Afghanistan during the war is really boring and very long. The author’s experience in the jail of Arthur Road is really hard to read with those tortures and beatings. The author dislikes the thought that he had lost his freedom again for unmentioned reasons and waits for his revenge. The concept of ‘sapna’ killings was really nice. It had good motive in the start which went out of control. The words of the author as such ‘” You can change your life completely with a single thought or single act of love”. I think these lines contains lot more meaning that it really specifies.

Bottom line: Just philosophical.

With love

Googy.

Winterdance: Gary Paulsen
Shadow of the Wind: Carlos Ruiz Zafon
Shantaram: Gregory David Roberts
Q & A: Vikus Swarup
The Book Thief: Markus Zusak
Prisoner of Birth: Jeffrey Archer
Hades: Russell Andrews
Under the Banner of Heaven: Jon Krakauer
The Stand: Stephen King

A great combination of old and new.

My “Books to Read” list has just been filled to overflowing.

*grin*