OBOC - Lebanon

My pick for Lebanon was "The Rock of Tanios" by the award winning writer Amin Maalouf. Set in the late 1800s when you have a number of powers jostling for prime position in the Middle East - the Turks, Egyptians and the British and the French, the novel takes one historical event and spins a fascinating fictional story around it.

The story is told by a modern day narrator who grew up in the village of Kfaryabda, where he recalls not climbing one particular rock - the rock of Tanios. Legend has it that Tanios, the wise fool whose hair turned white when he was 15, was last seen sitting on that rock gazing at the sea. The narrator reconstructs the legend of Tanios with the help of the old man Gebrayel, a book called The Mountain Chronicle, the notes of Rev.Stolton who ran the Protestant school in Kfaryabda and the writings of the peddler Nadeer to whom Tanios first revealed his love for Asma.

Kfaryabda is a small insignificant village which finds itself an unexpected stage for major political action. The hero of the novel is the young teenager Tanios who although the illegitimate son of the Catholic Sheikh is sent to a school run by a Protestant preacher in the village along with the Sheikh's legitimate son, a simple act that has major political ramifications. Tanios who is outraged by his illegitimate status and the subservient ways of his "adoptive" father Gerios the right hand man of the Sheikh  views the Protestant school as his escape route from a life of servitude. When Tanios fails to win the hand of the girl he loves on account of his low status, Gerios in an effort to regain the respect of his son assassinates the local Patriarch who he holds responsible for Tanios' fate.

Gerios and Tanios escape to Cyrpus where Gerios is captured and later killed by the Emir's spies. Tanios finds himself recruited by English spies who use him as a diplomatic mediator with the Emir. Tanios displays leniency and diplomacy in the way he deals with the Emir in an attempt to break from the cycle of violence that has plagued the region. He returns to Kfaryabda as a triumphant local hero ready to take his rightful place as the Sheikh's successor, surprised to find that his heart was not set on it.

The book is a fantastic read, once you get a hang of the politics. It is lyrical, intriguing yet leisurely paced. Day to day petty quarrels, family discords are contrasted with big political machinations. Caught between two fathers, two women, two political powers, no wonder Tanios' hair turns white at 15! What does it mean to be forced to leave your country, how does it feel to be wronged for no fault of yours, how do you break the cycle of revenge, of servitude, what does it mean to be a man, a leader, and how do you evolve your unique identity in an era where conformism is the norm ? The book raises all these questions without weighing down the reader.

OBOC - Laos

I violated the OBOC rule once again, when I picked Colin Cotterill's "The Coroner's Lunch" for Laos. Colin is a British/Australian living in South Asia and is known for his two series - Dr.Siri Paiboun Series set in Laos and the Jimm Juree novels set in Thailand. Although not native to Laos, he has spent many years in the country and seems to have done an excellent job in capturing Laos - the people, the politics, the culture - all within a crime novel. As you can tell I enjoyed the book!

Set in 1976 when Laos had just turned  Communist, the story has Dr.Siri a 72 year old doctor now forced to take on the role of the coroner as it's unlikely hero. Dr.Siri is sharp, witty, and has adopted communism first for love in his youth and now for convenience. He is the only doctor left in Laos following the Communist take over and therefore chosen to be the state's coroner despite having no training in the field. He has for his assistants the very lovable Down's Syndrome affected Mr.Geung and the spinster Drui and the three of them have managed to establish a haven of trust, affection, good humor and camaraderie in the unlikely environment of a mortuary when the world outside seems to have completely lost all those qualities.

Without going into details of the crimes at the heart of the novel I can say that it was quite a page turner not from just a suspense point of view, but also because of the humor (yes, dark in some places), the character development and the almost absolute lack of condescending prose. Dr.Siri is forced to become an investigator of sorts with his team and along with his counterpart from Vietnam and some able assistance from his long time friend Civilai, and Inspector Phosy he unravels the murders one by one and in that process we the readers peel off layer by layer of Laos society and it's culture.

When you read the book, you cannot help compare it to Alexander McCall Smith's series set in Botswana which also features an unlikely investigator, but for some reason I liked the tone of the Dr.Siri mystery much more than the No.1 Detective agency. In a time when the Scandinavian crime novel heroes are so popular I thought Dr.Siri offers a different type of hero to the dark, gritty Wallander type heroes. The dignity, poise and wit of Dr.Siri brings humanity to gruesome situations. I think I've found my lazy afternoon or late night quick- mystery-fix  i.e if the other books are as good as the first one :) Now if only someone can make a TV show out of the Dr.Siri series I will be set!

Losing myself in Genoa

San Lorenzo

Although not a big fan of Columbus the "discoverer" of America, I got some amazing insight about the man on my recent visit to Genoa. I find it ridiculous on many levels that Columbus gets so much credit for just managing to lose his way especially because he is a Genoese and getting lost must've been second nature to him! Before you accuse me of dissing Genoa and the Genoese, let me clarify I have nothing but respect for the Genoese people. In fact I found them to be very friendly, very eager to help, and they do know their pesto.

But the city is amazingly well suited for getting lost. I learned that since the Medieval times the city tried to shore up its defenses with well laid out forts and palaces. Why bother! Which enemy in their right mind is going to navigate the carrugi and get to the heart of the city to storm the seat of power?

The first day in Genoa I had a seemingly simple task of locating a ATM machine to get some Euros. Like most Americans i had just assumed everyone around the world, would gladly take the Dollar, but NO! One would think I was trying to pull a fast one trying to trade with them in Bitcoin. I won't name the hotel that I had the misfortune of staying, but after a 6 hour plane delay, a day of near starvation, and a room which felt like a boiler, was it too much to expect a hotel to have a concierge who could've pointed me to an ATM? Bates Motel would have got one star more from me on tripadvisor when compared to this one.

Atop one of the museums in Via Garibaldi

I felt like Jack Lemmon in the out of towners and would've boarded the next flight to America, that is if I could a) get the Lufthansa website to load on the phenomenally snail speed Wi-Fi at Bates Motel b) ignore my professional duty c) accept defeat and say I am too old to deal with such (mis)adventures in a foreign land. But I couldn't bring myself to do any of the above 3 so I stayed on and like all species that have survived, I learned to adapt.

After a night of good sleep with the balcony door open (I did a well thought out risk analysis which took all of 5 minutes and decided that getting robbed in sleep was better than getting fried trying to sleep ) everything seemed better. Armed with an umbrella (now that, the hotel had) which I thought could come handy as a mugger-deterrent i stepped out to explore. I am glad to report that I didn't have to use the umbrella even once.

Dog outside San Lorenzo

After navigating the countless street vendors (amazingly all of them from some part of Africa/India, who equally amazingly spoke to me in Espanol) who wanted to sell me trinkets and magnets, and some who just wanted to celebrate their African nation's day of freedom by "giving" me a gift of friendship, I managed to end up at the Palazzo Tursi eager to see Paganini's violin. As I navigated the museum i was struck not just by the art, but by the fact that there was one volunteer in each room of the palace who walked with you to the next room to hand you off, so you won't get lost within the 5 or 6 rooms! Hey, where are these volunteers on the streets, where I really need them?

By the time I reached San Lorenzo cathedral and touched the "lucky dog" outside, it certainly looked like my luck had turned for the good. I met this amazingly funny tour guide who was not just a wealth of knowledge but also a keeper of secrets and she let me in on a little but crucial secret on how to survive in Genoa. If ever you get lost in the carrugi, she said, just look for a road sloping downhill as all downward slopes can only lead to the sea, and you will find your way to Roman Polanski's pirate ship. Elementary! So with gravity as my friend I happily lost myself in Genoa, just wandering through the Carrugi getting lost on purpose to see if I could get back to the port, and here I am living to tell the tale.

Polanski's Pirate Ship

No offense to my family or friends (and you know how much I love you all), but that Saturday when I spent dawn to dusk walking alone amidst a sea of people was one of the best times in recent memory.  I completely lost myself in the sights and sounds of Genoa and as I was winding down (no pun intended), I heard a familiar refrain "I think we are lost....again, Mom"! I turned to see a young American family. A little Columbus in the making I thought, but given how much I dislike Columbus, wasn't sure I would wish it on the little boy, so I said "I learned a small trick to navigate the Carrugi"....

OBOC - Kyrgyzstan & Kazakhstan

It is with trepidation that I picked up “The Day Lasts More than a Hundred Years” by Chingiz Aitmatov the most celebrated writer from Kyrgyzstan. The novel itself is set in Kazakhstan; hence this OBOC project is for both the countries. I had almost decided to skip Kazakhstan, but felt it would be great injustice if the only thing I could associate with the country is Borat. The Hundred Years in the title reminded me of Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s 100 Years of Solitude and that was quite a difficult read. But I am glad I forced myself to pick up this book, because once I did there was not much coercion needed to make me finish it.

Set in the remote Sary-ozek steppes of Kazakhstan in the early 50’s close to the end of Stalinism, one would think that besides the railways there was hardly any modernization. After all a Bactrian camel plays a colorful and significant role throughout the novel. But hidden among the barren landscapes are the spacecraft launch stations which are lighting up the night sky with rocket launches.

Yedegei Burranyi the hero of the novel is a railway worker at the Boranly-Burranyi Junction. When his friend and coworker Kazangap dies, Yedegei begins a long arduous journey through the Steppes to bury him at the Ana Beiit cemetery as per the dying man’s wish. The day long journey is carried out by Yedegei on his camel followed by the grave digger and his equipment, a tractor and the close male relatives and friends of the dead man. The novel is basically Yedegei reminiscing about his life, his friendships, notably his relationship with the family of Abutalip who is wronged by the Party, and life in Burranyi Junction, combined with myths and folktales from Kazakhstan. 

Running in parallel is a science fiction plot where 2 cosmonauts, 1 American and 1 Russian have made contact with an extra terrestrial civilization on the planet Lesnaya Grud which now wants to reach out to the humans on Earth. Both nations decide not to entertain any contact with the extra-terrestrial civilization and therefore choose to abandon the two cosmonauts who went over to Lesnaya Grud. The whole operation is kept secret from the Public and the two governments decide to launch missile-equipped satellites to defend the earth from any launches from Lesnaya Grud.  

Although there is some discussion about the “mankurt” (people alienated from their motherland, culture and overall society) and the story of Abutalip’s imprisonment and persecution can be viewed as containing dissident themes, I found “The day…” to be fairly ambiguous that it escaped the censor board in Russia. Yedegei is a practicing Muslim and in the death rituals we see that he hasn’t given up his way of life. At the same time “The Party” which is seeing winds (maybe I should say light breeze) of change following the death of Stalin re-opens the case of Abutalip and clears his name, and there is overall optimism.

The science fiction plot was loosely tied with Yedegei’s life, and if one wants to make any kind of analogies to the main plot, it is tenuous at best. I still enjoyed the book.  Wouldn’t call it a classic, but this is a perfect book for a project like OBOC. Learned about a new country, a new author and a different narrative style and it was mostly easy-reading!

OBOC - Korea

As I start to write the review for "Please look after mom" I have no clue how it is going to go as i am very ambivalent about the novel. Kyung-sook Shin's novel won the Man Asia literary prize which is how I had heard about the novel. It was a very easy read, moving in many parts and quite well done technically (a second person narrative that works!). The ambivalence comes from the portrayal of the mother as the ultimate martyr and hence the soapy feel to the novel

It is the story of a hard working, illiterate, almost infallible mom who goes missing in Seoul on a visit from her village to the capital to see her grown up sons and daughters. The whole family frantically searches for mom following up on every small lead they hear from strangers. Mom is more present when missing than she ever was and every child recounts how much their mom has done for them over the years and how much they needed her.

Mom gone missing is also a metaphor for traditional values slowly disappearing from Korean society as she writes about people holding ancestral rites in time-share vacation condos or hopping on planes going abroad. It juxtaposes a number of issues in today's recently modernized, traditional societies -parents Vs kids, arranged marriage Vs dating or choosing not to be married at all, traditional rituals Vs pressure on time etc

The novel is a guilt-trip as every child regrets for not taking good care of their martyr mom  (who at the very end of the book is compared to the ultimate martyr mom), and now full of penitence they all vow to be better persons.

As an Indian woman/mom I can very well relate to MMS or Martyr Mom Syndrome. My mom was one of the early generations of working moms in India who actually chose to work outside the home and juggle motherhood at the same time. The "juggling" of motherhood and career was achieved by 1) totally ignoring her health 2) not really having a career 3) making her kids the center of her life. But working outside the home gave her independence, a sense of self and a break from us that she didn't have to turn into a martyr, just an overworked, tired mom.


As a teenager I remember often mocking her and remarking that I would never be like her when it would be my turn. And now that it is my turn, I realize that although i am not guilty about having a career and having to juggle motherhood, it seems that some of her traits are hardwired into my DNA.  When I found myself making vegan pad thai (one of my daughter's favorite dishes) at 5:30AM on a weekday for our lunch boxes it dawned on me that I AM my mom, minus the guilt (or so I think).

Anyway, coming back to the novel....I liked it for the most part except for the soapy bits. As you can see the novel did make me think about motherhood, my own mom and even my grandmom. It would have been nicer if she had managed to do all that with a bit of editing and without dishing out the guilt.

Sad Day for African Literature

Just learned this morning that Chinua Achebe the Father of modern African literature has passed away. I've read only two of his books, Arrow of God and Things Fall Apart but he is certainly one of my favorite writers! In fact I kicked off OBOC back in Nov 2009 with his novel Arrow of God which I just couldn't put down.

It is a shame that I hadn't heard about him earlier and it was by chance that I read his analysis of Conrad's Heart of Darkness which was so powerful that it made me want to read one of his books.  Literature from Africa has historically been the whiteman's forte and so all we got was the colonizer's point of view. By choosing to write in English Achebe managed to reach worldwide audiences and brought international stature to African literature. In the past African Music has always been the torchbearer for African Culture and its influences on world music are taken for granted. Chinua Achebe did for African literature what numerous musicians like his countryman Fela Kuti, or Malian Ali Toure did for African Music. No wonder he is such a towering figure of inspiration for the new breed of African writers.

I've heard many high schools in America have "Things Fall Apart" as required reading. I can't wait to have my daughter read it. I remember the feeling I had when I first read "To Kill a Mockingbird" as a 9th grader in India (It was required reading for me as determined by my dad) and the book still stays with me. "Things fall apart" is not very different, and I will mandate both these books as required reading for my daughter in a few more years.

He will be missed!

Backyard Bird Watching

We are by no means amateur Birders in our family and can profess to having little to no-skill in that area. I can't even localize human sound that usually begins with "mommy" in a small enclosed space, so forget about identifying bird sounds and tracking them in a nature hike. But what we lack in skill we make up with enthusiasm and an aspiration to be in harmony with nature.

As Gandhi (nope i am in no way comparing us with him, but bear with me as i might have a point) remarked in his "My experiments with truth" that his opinions might change later, and he was merely recording his experiments in the form of narratives, I too am simply recording some of my experiments in trying to live with nature which I might abandon (i mean the specific experiment, not the goal) anytime. So don't expect a Walden from me, just some random ramblings.

I spent about $30 and bought a bird feeder, a wren nest and some song bird seeds with the intent of attracting birds to our backyard. "What prompted this", you ask. Well we've always been early-morning hikers and despite myself not being endowed with good auditory equipment, the combination of my daughter's auditory and my visual equipment has led us to spot many birds on hikes. Also my 7 year old has been pestering me forever to have a house pet (for which i am not ready), and by some weird coincidence the only magazines I could find in my gym were from Audubon society or the gardening ones which seem to be persuading me to set up a bird haven in my backyard, and so here I am.

Thanks to my resident muscle man, I was able to set up the poles in the backyard, secure them to the trees and last week had everything ready for the birds. Now all we had to do was to wait and watch. What I didn't anticipate is the extreme-enthusiasm (i know, i should have, knowing that's the only kind of enthusiasm she has for these kinds of things) with which my daughter started observing the backyard, so much so she didn't have to be told to wear her glasses! She is desperate to have a wren's nest at our home and thinks she can do it by simply willing it.

At the end of day 1, she decided to get some extra help when she realized her will alone won't do it. So she turned to "praying to mother earth". She had purchased a book called Native American Book of Prayers when she visited Yellowstone last summer and had spent considerable time with it on the potty (not the holiest of places, but certainly a very meditative one for her), so anytime she needed a little help from nature she has been turning to that book and saying a few prayers from there!

I am now happy to report we now have frequent visitors in our backyard, a couple of them checked out the nest, but we are not in escrow yet, just open-house visitors. "It is so hard to tell girl sparrows from boy sparrows"  was her observation yesterday after she spent 10 minutes trying to egg one of the birds to find a mate - her way of setting them up by simply cheering from the background; when for "no apparent reason" they suddenly fought with each other ("They both had to be boys of course" was her conclusion). So yes, we are waiting and she hopes March will bring luck to the wren nest.

For now, we are happy to have "sparrows" and I call them that as I am currently clueless about the birds, some have a red breast, one was yellow, and there is constant chatter of birds throughout the day. Looks like I do need a North American Bird Book, and here is an app that I will gladly pay money for, but once again the resident computer vision expert reminds me object recognition is extremely hard.... ok, ok... so get cracking :)

Anyways, the raised bed is re-established, we've planted a few bulbs this time, the hummingbird feeder is back on, and the bird seed feeder is being used round the clock and the wren nest is waiting. So yes, we are ready for spring and after the cold spell this season I don't mind reciting a few prayers from the Native American Book myself so we can have a splendid spring and a nice summer!