Monday, August 21, 2006
'Shantaram' by Gregory David Roberts: A flawed but magical masterpiece
With the paperback version amassing 936 pages, Shantaram immediately brings one word to mind: excess. In truth, Gregory David Roberts delivers a highly readable fugitive account of his life after prison. Arriving on his own in Mumbai following his escape in the early 80's, Roberts is a man who has left behind everything that’s dear to him. In the years that follow, he lives an experience that, much like his adopted city, is congested and crammed with incident and adventure. Whilst learning Hindi and Marathi, he (amongst other things) unintentionally becomes a slum doctor, finds himself inducted into the Indian underworld, returns to a tortuous existence in an Indian prison, acts in Bollywood, and engages in military battle in Afghanistan- suffice to say, no ordinary existence by anyone’s standards.
Such a vivid array of events provides rich material for Roberts to steer us through the novel, but it is the large and diverse pool of multi-ethnic figures in Mumbai that flesh out his character. The eclectic melange of these personalities and the depiction of the varying contributions they make to Lin’s emotional, physical and mental evolution are one of the most impressive aspects of the book. Whether it is the relaxed philosophical musings of homosexual Frenchman Didier, the cheerful confidence of Vikram Patel or the combative macho of Iranian hardman Abdullah Taheri, Roberts portrays each of the plethora of individualities with well-appreciated vivacity. It is clear that many of these characters are used as outlets to illustrate the writer’s personal reflections on the vagaries of life, which are for the most part hugely insightful and stimulating. Juxtaposed to the gradual development of characters is Lin’s blossoming love and endearment towards India, which grows by the day.
The friendships and relationships which Roberts builds helps him to quickly discover the rigours and wonders of Mumbai. The irritating yet loveable street guide Prabaker (who christens Roberts as ‘Lin,’ short for ‘Linbaba’) is the first major character introduced, and the source of many of the humorous moments in the novel. It is the identities of Karla and Khader, however, that most permit the reader to dissect and analyse Lin, the former performing the customary literary role of love obsession. Khaderbhai is the mafia leader who eventually integrates Lin within his underworld network of black market activities and develops into a father figure for the Australian. Both probably evoke the most intense extremity of emotions for the protagonist out of anyone or anything in the novel, with the lone exception being Lin’s passion for the sights, sounds, people and geography of Mumbai.
Part of the reason why the book is so extensive is quite simply because Lin’s encounters inspire him to contemplate almost every feature of life that is imbued in the human experience:- love, hate, suffering, contentment, despair, hope, bitterness, forgiveness, envy, friendship- indeed, this is one of the most appealing properties of Shantaram, as the book contains a point of relation for absolutely any reader, no matter how knowledgeable he/she may be in dealing with any of these inevitabilities of being. The comprehensiveness and intelligence with which such issues are tackled lend Shantaram an all-encompassing universality that is a hallmark of great literature.
Lin’s life seems to contain more intriguing episodes than several people combined are ever forced to confront. There is no doubt that throughout most of the 5 broad parts of the book, Shantaram is a wonderfully compelling read. It is not without its tepid passages, however; the wartime Mujahedeen account, coming three-quarters of the way through the book, is rather lengthy and repetitive. It is worth observing though that whilst not as attractive as other stages, this period does carry underestimated significance to the novel as Roberts uses it to tie together many of the its loose strands.
It is difficult to approach the criticism of Shantaram, as it occupies a fuzzy area in terms of what it attempts to accomplish. It is neither billed as a concrete memoir nor as an autobiography, but an ‘extraordinary true story.’ Having thoroughly enjoyed the novel and undertaken research as to Roberts’ present activities, I was disappointed and felt almost betrayed to discover that while the events dealt with in the novel are real, several of the characters with which the reader develops an affinity are in fact fictional. However, this is perhaps a tribute to the quality of Roberts’ writing in that he contrives to make such characters seem so indisputably authentic.
More importantly, the most problematic area of the novel with regards to character seems to be with Lin himself. Shantaram (meaning ‘man of peace’) is the name given to him when he lives in Prabaker’s village, yet it is noticeable that despite it being the name of the book, he is scarcely referred as Shantaram throughout the story. When bestowed the name, Lin waxes lyrical about how it is the mark of a new beginning, which sets the tone for a tale of redemption. Many of the monologues described earlier are defined by the review of Lin’s struggle to develop his ‘good’ self in order to eradicate his ‘evil’ past. However, he proceeds to one point slip into a habit of heroin addiction, and his attempted justifications for his illegal dealings increase throughout the novel in line with his accumulating integration into Khader’s mafia network. By the end, Lin still maintains his black market connections and perseveres with underworld activities. One struggles to see why the book is called Shantaram when the proposed transformation of Gregory David Roberts to Lin to Shantaram does not appear to fully transpire. While it may be viewed as a pedantic and unimportant point, it is troublesome when one assesses the indeterminate message Roberts is trying to transmit- is it acceptable to routinely engage in violence and morally inept operations if one is conscious of the fact that he is doing so and that it isn’t right? Is it acceptable if you used to be even more of a criminal disposition, but have improved as a person since? Is it acceptable under any circumstances? On the one hand, one can forgive Roberts for being ambiguous because after all, he's only relaying his life story. On the other hand, given that there is a fictional element to the novel, it demands a more searching type of analysis. So then how fictitious is Shantaram? Therein lies the difficulty of critiquing the book.
The excess previously referred to embodies the gift and curse of Shantaram. The deftness and wealth of detail with which Roberts unveils his emotions- and with which personalities and appearances are scrutinized- leaves the reader no option but to be hauled into involvement with his world, and makes his dramatic, exotic and frequently brutal experiences seem extraordinarily immediate and real. The literary profusion that generates these effects is geared by his florid and extravagant prose, which is colourfully expressive, but often borders on the ridiculous- the most notable instances being the sex scenes. It is hard to go through one chapter without the text seeping into soul-searching monologues, many of them infused with gut-wrenching despair, exile being the predominant theme of the book. One also can’t help but feel that certain events are sensationalised, and unnecessarily embellished by the linguistic tendencies of the author. Every time Roberts gets himself into a physical altercation, he emerges victorious, on a few occasions without surrendering so much as a modicum of control.
Despite these observations, Shantaram is an enlightening and truly exhilarating novel. Roberts manages to lure the reader into his adventure extremely early, and very rarely throughout the course of the whole piece does his storytelling disappoint. The undeniable thrill, pace and allure of his tale overshadows some of the criticism that his writing might suffer from. Aside from this, there is the quite fascinating perspective and comment on India that proves stingingly accurate and wholly incisive for both those who are respectively familiar and uninformed about the country. The writer’s philosophical perceptions ensure that it is hard for anyone not to extract something supremely meaningful from this book. Aided by the lucidity and animated vigour of his expression, Roberts has written a thought-provoking and exceptionally enjoyable epic, and leaves his readers richer for the experience.
With the paperback version amassing 936 pages, Shantaram immediately brings one word to mind: excess. In truth, Gregory David Roberts delivers a highly readable fugitive account of his life after prison. Arriving on his own in Mumbai following his escape in the early 80's, Roberts is a man who has left behind everything that’s dear to him. In the years that follow, he lives an experience that, much like his adopted city, is congested and crammed with incident and adventure. Whilst learning Hindi and Marathi, he (amongst other things) unintentionally becomes a slum doctor, finds himself inducted into the Indian underworld, returns to a tortuous existence in an Indian prison, acts in Bollywood, and engages in military battle in Afghanistan- suffice to say, no ordinary existence by anyone’s standards.
Such a vivid array of events provides rich material for Roberts to steer us through the novel, but it is the large and diverse pool of multi-ethnic figures in Mumbai that flesh out his character. The eclectic melange of these personalities and the depiction of the varying contributions they make to Lin’s emotional, physical and mental evolution are one of the most impressive aspects of the book. Whether it is the relaxed philosophical musings of homosexual Frenchman Didier, the cheerful confidence of Vikram Patel or the combative macho of Iranian hardman Abdullah Taheri, Roberts portrays each of the plethora of individualities with well-appreciated vivacity. It is clear that many of these characters are used as outlets to illustrate the writer’s personal reflections on the vagaries of life, which are for the most part hugely insightful and stimulating. Juxtaposed to the gradual development of characters is Lin’s blossoming love and endearment towards India, which grows by the day.
The friendships and relationships which Roberts builds helps him to quickly discover the rigours and wonders of Mumbai. The irritating yet loveable street guide Prabaker (who christens Roberts as ‘Lin,’ short for ‘Linbaba’) is the first major character introduced, and the source of many of the humorous moments in the novel. It is the identities of Karla and Khader, however, that most permit the reader to dissect and analyse Lin, the former performing the customary literary role of love obsession. Khaderbhai is the mafia leader who eventually integrates Lin within his underworld network of black market activities and develops into a father figure for the Australian. Both probably evoke the most intense extremity of emotions for the protagonist out of anyone or anything in the novel, with the lone exception being Lin’s passion for the sights, sounds, people and geography of Mumbai.
Part of the reason why the book is so extensive is quite simply because Lin’s encounters inspire him to contemplate almost every feature of life that is imbued in the human experience:- love, hate, suffering, contentment, despair, hope, bitterness, forgiveness, envy, friendship- indeed, this is one of the most appealing properties of Shantaram, as the book contains a point of relation for absolutely any reader, no matter how knowledgeable he/she may be in dealing with any of these inevitabilities of being. The comprehensiveness and intelligence with which such issues are tackled lend Shantaram an all-encompassing universality that is a hallmark of great literature.
Lin’s life seems to contain more intriguing episodes than several people combined are ever forced to confront. There is no doubt that throughout most of the 5 broad parts of the book, Shantaram is a wonderfully compelling read. It is not without its tepid passages, however; the wartime Mujahedeen account, coming three-quarters of the way through the book, is rather lengthy and repetitive. It is worth observing though that whilst not as attractive as other stages, this period does carry underestimated significance to the novel as Roberts uses it to tie together many of the its loose strands.
It is difficult to approach the criticism of Shantaram, as it occupies a fuzzy area in terms of what it attempts to accomplish. It is neither billed as a concrete memoir nor as an autobiography, but an ‘extraordinary true story.’ Having thoroughly enjoyed the novel and undertaken research as to Roberts’ present activities, I was disappointed and felt almost betrayed to discover that while the events dealt with in the novel are real, several of the characters with which the reader develops an affinity are in fact fictional. However, this is perhaps a tribute to the quality of Roberts’ writing in that he contrives to make such characters seem so indisputably authentic.
More importantly, the most problematic area of the novel with regards to character seems to be with Lin himself. Shantaram (meaning ‘man of peace’) is the name given to him when he lives in Prabaker’s village, yet it is noticeable that despite it being the name of the book, he is scarcely referred as Shantaram throughout the story. When bestowed the name, Lin waxes lyrical about how it is the mark of a new beginning, which sets the tone for a tale of redemption. Many of the monologues described earlier are defined by the review of Lin’s struggle to develop his ‘good’ self in order to eradicate his ‘evil’ past. However, he proceeds to one point slip into a habit of heroin addiction, and his attempted justifications for his illegal dealings increase throughout the novel in line with his accumulating integration into Khader’s mafia network. By the end, Lin still maintains his black market connections and perseveres with underworld activities. One struggles to see why the book is called Shantaram when the proposed transformation of Gregory David Roberts to Lin to Shantaram does not appear to fully transpire. While it may be viewed as a pedantic and unimportant point, it is troublesome when one assesses the indeterminate message Roberts is trying to transmit- is it acceptable to routinely engage in violence and morally inept operations if one is conscious of the fact that he is doing so and that it isn’t right? Is it acceptable if you used to be even more of a criminal disposition, but have improved as a person since? Is it acceptable under any circumstances? On the one hand, one can forgive Roberts for being ambiguous because after all, he's only relaying his life story. On the other hand, given that there is a fictional element to the novel, it demands a more searching type of analysis. So then how fictitious is Shantaram? Therein lies the difficulty of critiquing the book.
The excess previously referred to embodies the gift and curse of Shantaram. The deftness and wealth of detail with which Roberts unveils his emotions- and with which personalities and appearances are scrutinized- leaves the reader no option but to be hauled into involvement with his world, and makes his dramatic, exotic and frequently brutal experiences seem extraordinarily immediate and real. The literary profusion that generates these effects is geared by his florid and extravagant prose, which is colourfully expressive, but often borders on the ridiculous- the most notable instances being the sex scenes. It is hard to go through one chapter without the text seeping into soul-searching monologues, many of them infused with gut-wrenching despair, exile being the predominant theme of the book. One also can’t help but feel that certain events are sensationalised, and unnecessarily embellished by the linguistic tendencies of the author. Every time Roberts gets himself into a physical altercation, he emerges victorious, on a few occasions without surrendering so much as a modicum of control.
Despite these observations, Shantaram is an enlightening and truly exhilarating novel. Roberts manages to lure the reader into his adventure extremely early, and very rarely throughout the course of the whole piece does his storytelling disappoint. The undeniable thrill, pace and allure of his tale overshadows some of the criticism that his writing might suffer from. Aside from this, there is the quite fascinating perspective and comment on India that proves stingingly accurate and wholly incisive for both those who are respectively familiar and uninformed about the country. The writer’s philosophical perceptions ensure that it is hard for anyone not to extract something supremely meaningful from this book. Aided by the lucidity and animated vigour of his expression, Roberts has written a thought-provoking and exceptionally enjoyable epic, and leaves his readers richer for the experience.
