Book review: Englishhh by Altaf Tyrewala/ Passion Flower: Seven Stories of Derangement by Cyrus Mistry

Read a brace of short stories by a couple of acclaimed authors virtually back- to- back, and emerged shaking my head ruefully.

Engglishhh by Altaf Tyrewala , published by Fourth Estate.

I can’t even say that I was taken in by the hype because I have read both authors before; I quite liked `Mumbai Noir,` the crime fiction Tyrewala edited and I quite liked the slow unfolding tale in Mistry’s `Chronicle of a Corpse Bearer;` also, I defy anyone to ignore a book bearing the title `Seven stories of derangement.`

Tyrewala offers up 15 tales. Most of them are concise pods that hold the story neatly; the language is impeccable, there are the occasional passages which soar; the characters who people these stories run the gamut, with a couple falling clear outside the gamut, too, notably the Indian porn auteur and Arnold MmYum, the resident clown mascot at a fast food chain.

In `About Your Cell Phone,` the narrator chases his own nemesis, and the reader knows just how it will all end but the atmosphere created is simply terrific.

My personal favourite was `One-hit-wonder Literature Festival: Welcome Kit,` that last moment in the sun for those who `once showed buckets of promise` to remind fans that they are still around.

There is a faint vein of world-weariness that creeps through, as also huge dollops of irony. Talking of this Age of Content, the author says: Did people always have so much to say? Maybe they did, and maybe they just didn’t have a way to get their point across. Now of course, it’s a free-for-all.

Passion Flower: Seven Stories of Derangement by Cyrus Mistry, published by Aleph Books.

Irony is an equally significant leitmotif in Mistry’s seven stories, too. These are gentle stories gently told, even the happy and sorrowful moments unspool gently.

Sometimes, the sheer atmosphere threatens to overwhelm the story. Sample this passage: This became his joyous pastime – to listen to the music and dance. When he danced, magnificent in his father’s suits, Percy did not dance in the brief circumference of open space bounded by the beds, the sofa and front door. He danced in a vast, resplendent ballroom on tiles of marble, and moved with the grace and lilt of romance. In his arms, he held his wife, his first love, a fair and elegant beauty with a small nose and a dimpled chin.

Elsewhere, as in `Two Angry Men,` the reader gets the sense of something else in the story being told, some indefinable thing lurking just below its skin, not fully transcribed; more a sin of omission than commission. There are delightful phrases like …`pulled off the sheet which covered her; as she had unsheeted him at daybreak…` The word autorikshaa appears plain and unvarnished; and in one bit, the prose turns positively lyrical in the most unlikely of circumstances. `Very gradually, in the distance, a range of hills appeared: so faint and far away, he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t imagining them; from what he could make out, they were exquisite.

Bit by bit, acquiring presence, filling up with details of light and shade, shape and texture…brushstroke upon brushstroke, it seemed to him they were being moulded anew…` This, in case you were wondering, is what flits through a severely injured man`s mind as he lies shivering with cold and wracked with pain, after an accident!

I just felt that Mistry’s meandering style suits a full-length novel better than a short story. Long before the denouement, the reader sort of loses interest in the character.

So, they were both nice reads. Just that and nothing more. However, both had striking jackets.

Right. So why exactly am I reviewing these books, given that I only write about books I liked on this blog?

Well, because a) I won’t write Tyrewala off on the strength of these shorts and b) I will definitely pick up Mistry’s next (hopefully full-length) fiction.