James Downie: I am working on a novel.
Me: Fiction? First-person?
James: Yes and yes.
Me: About?
James: About 42.
Me: Ah, the Answer to the Ultimate Question?
James: No, I am 42 now.
Anita: “Is all good writing personal?”
James Downie: “You’ve read a fair-share yourself. What do you think?”
Anita: “There is this intimacy to personal writing that no amount of third-person description can achieve”
James Downie: “That’s one reason—not, of course, the only one—why cinemas and plays are more popular than books. Okay, in a play, all conversations are manifestations of a single mind, right?
Anita: “The playwright’s?”
James Downie: “Yeah, the play—“
A: “That’s being simplistic”
J: “Maybe, but it doesn’t harm what I am saying. Okay, so where was I?”
A: “The playwright”
J: “Yeah, the playwright. But, when you watch a play, one tends to forget it. It is the characters who address each other, who address you”
Anita: “But I relate to characters in books just as strongly as I relate to actors in plays”
James Downie: “That’s not what I am driving at—there is this immediacy to a character in a play that no amount of words can achieve. Of course, an imaginative mind can overcome these hurdles … But—“
[Pause]
James Downie: “But there’s something unexplainable. And it draws from the same idea of immediacy that makes a first-person account more effective … Okay, let me put it this way: a book is more about the writer than a movie is about the director. A movie or a play has multiple voices—all speaking the same mind’s words, but adding their own highly distinctive styles. That is, in some ways, a more realistic depiction of … reality. On the other hand, the language, the style of a book is the sole prerogative of a writer. All background events are described in the same way—the words slot behind one another in a particular manner. The element of chaos—even the staged chaos of a play or a movie—that is so characteristic of reality doesn’t always come through”
“And a first person account captures reality more honestly?”
“Honesty! That’s an interesting choice of word, but that’s precisely why first-person accounts work sometimes. A first person account might be monochromatic in its style, but the character speaks to you directly through the pages; a good writer makes you forget him and remember only the character”
“And you are a good writer?”
“I’m a smart writer: I know what sells”
*****
Me: Back then, was James a good opener?
Pankaj Kishore: James had great skill and Zen-like patience. In those days, that’s what was prized above all else. He had a range of strokes for anything on the stumps—he was wristy, he would drive down the ground with aplomb, he would loft splendidly.”
[Pause]
Pankaj Kishore: But, he was a curious batsman: outside the off-stump, he would rarely touch anything.
*****
Text Message from James Downie: *Hey, What’s up?* [Sep 20th]
Text Message from James Downie: *Up?* [Sep 22nd]
Text Message from James Downie: *Pizza?* [Sep 27th]
Text Message from James Downie: *Are you in Park Lane?* [Sep 30th]
Text Message from James Downie: *What’s up?* [Oct 1st]
Text Message from James Downie: *Taleb’s coming on TV—BBC Entertainment* [Oct 2nd]
Text Message from James Downie: *Message if in town* [Oct 3rd]
*****
Me: She called back?
James Downie: No
Me: Did you try tracking her down?
James Downie: I had her address—Pankaj whispered it to me over the phone that very night. But, I never went down to see her. I messaged a couple of times, tried calling more.
Me: Why didn’t you go over?
James Downie: I don’t know.
*****
Pankaj Kishore: I remember a three-day match we played, once. There was this bowler from Hindu who was serving up these innocuous, juicy half-volleys, a foot outside off-stump. Bish, James’ opening partner, was having a fine time cover-driving, picking up boundaries at will. Our man would see the ball up until the last moment, and simply let it go, with a great, grand flourish. Sometimes he would prod at those balls tentatively and get a single.
Me: That’s how most people played then, right?
Pankaj Kishore: No, no one let go off rank half-volleys even then. I was the guy who carrying the drinks—I carried a message from the captain asking him to be more aggressive. He simply pointed to the men in the slips and continued batting in his own manner. It nearly cost him his place in the side.
*****
James Downie: It was amongst the most inexplicable things ever. She simply stopped talking to me.
Me: Did you ever see her after that?
[Silence]
James Downie: You know, in Sputnik Sweetheart, the central character, this feisty, supremely intelligent woman, simply vanishes. She goes over to the other side, Murakami explains. I spent days mulling over that phrase: what could it mean? It had to be a metaphor for something. I also considered how it could purely be a means to take the story forward. The book is about loneliness—alienation— and addresses the theme in a fairly direct manner, as opposed to say, Ruskin Bond’s Scenes from a Writer’s Life. For a book to be lonely, you need characters to disappear—what better way to do so than to make them inexplicably vanish?
[Pause]
James Downie: Have you read Bond’s book?
Me: No, but I’ve heard of it.
James Downie: It’s a classic: an autobiography, the book chronicles the loneliness of a troubled childhood. But, not once does Bond state it explicitly. It has the most cheery, most compelling, most honest and the most beautiful prose I have come across.
[Pause]
James Downie: The beauty of sadness—and gloomy prose—is unparalleled.
[Longish Silence]
James Downie: Of course, I never felt miserable, or lonely. I think, after so many years of living comfortably alone, it’s hard to feel either. But, it rankled. Nostalgia was never the sweet poison that it was for her, but it would gently tug at the sleeves of my mind, like a beggar-child on a street, and things would be a little melancholy for a bit.
[Pause]
Me: Why didn’t you go after her?
James Downie: She’d made her choices clear, I figured. And what if I slipped?
*****
Me: You’d have to find a new table-tennis partner for the next month or so, I’m afraid.
James Downie: Why? Are you going somewhere?
Me: I’m getting married.
James Downie: That’s wonderful news! Where’s my invitation?
Me: Right here. My wife-to-be, Anita, specifically asked me to invite you over. It’s been a long time, she says.
[The End]
1 comment:
Sigh.
:)
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