Customer Reviews

Abandon: A Romance

5 star:		(2)
4 star:		(4)
3 star:		(2)
2 star:		(4)
1 star:		(6)

 

 

Abandon is a novel that explores the results of mixing ancient mysticism with the rootless, multicultural modern world. This topic is also the subject of much of Pico Iyer's nonfiction, such as Video Night in Kathmandu and The Global Soul (I have read and highly recommend the latter). Iyer chooses Sufism, and the poet Rumi in particular to represent tradition in this somewhat dialectical novel. The opposing force, which consists of perpetual newness and impermanence is represented mainly by California, which Iyer sees almost mythically (as do many who arrive there from far away places). Abandon, of course, is (according to the cover) a romance, not a sociological treatise. However, in many respects, the romance takes a back seat to the more abstract questions which the book pursues. The rather star-crossed lovers of the novel are John Macmillan, an English graduate student living in California to study Sufism and Camilla, an enigmatic young woman who appears and disappears from John's life. Iyer makes a good choice in making Rumi John's specialty. For this Persian mystical poet is, according to the book, currently America's best selling poet; this is not hard to believe if you visit any large bookstore, not to mention any metaphysical or new age bookstore. This juxtapositioning of a mystical tradition that is steeped in introspection and mystery with modern mass culture is intrinsically bizarre, and Iyer takes this as his starting point for a rather bizarre love story. Camilla appears in John's life apparently at random, drawing him in with her contradictory need for and fear of intimacy. I have to confess that at times I found this part of the story annoying. John and Camilla repeat virtually the same scenes over and over many times; they become close then they part; they come together again and then quarrel for no good reason. Then they make up until Camilla becomes frightened again and leaves...Of course, many unhealthy relationships follow this kind of pattern. John and Camilla's interactions, however, are supposed to convey something much deeper than a mere dysfunctional relationship; I assume that John's ambivalent pursuit of Camilla is meant to mirror the Sufi's longing for God. Towards the end, this is actually illustrated quite nicely. The presentation of Sufism, the mystical sect of Islam, is also quite informative and interesting. There are numerous examples of Sufi poetry.There is also much international travel to places as diverse as Damascus, India, Paris and, finally to the heart of Sufism, Iran. John is lured to these places in search of ancient Sufi manuscripts which may or may not actually exist. All of this is fascinating, as are Iyer's ruminations on California as a place where people without roots seek new beginnings. What I most admired about this novel is what I perceived as a synthesis between the opposing forces of tradition and modernism (or postmodernism). At first, it seems that true Sufism is completely incompatible with modern life, and California in particular. John's adviser, for example, is a severe Iranian named Sefadhi who seems to embody the conservatism of ancient traditions like Islam. Yet John discovers something Sefadhi had written in his youth which reveals another side to the man. John similarly learns more about Camilla that makes her more understandable. The novel may be suggesting that the true spirit of Sufism (which can also be considered the search for God or wholeness, however you may define it) can be found anywhere and perhaps especially in those places where it is least expected.

"The very nature of the investigation ... compels us to travel over a wide field of thought criss-cross in every direction. Thus this book is really only an album." - Ludwig Wittgenstein

Iyer's new novel is a meditative work that challenges the reader to discover for him/herself the pattern that connects it all together. Form follows function. "The most interesting part of a story is the part we don't see at first, where all the clues are hidden."

Yes, Camilla is annoying, but she is supposed to be! More than that, Iyer has lured his audience ("the blondes in the back row") with Sufism, when his real subject lies elsewhere. If you open yourself to Iyer's unique vision, you might be surprised where it leads.

Iyer is a true "global soul" who projects the undercurrents of our times. Highly recommended to all poets and seekers.

Caveat: the dialogue between the lovers is too uneven to give this book 5 stars.

John Macmillan is a scholar, writing his thesis on Sufi poetry, in particular the Islamic mystic Rumi, at UC Santa Barbara. The thesis must be completed before his return to England, but the work is proceeding well for this dedicated scholar, who travels at the behest of his thesis advisor.

Just returning from India, John is caught in the web of intrigue surrounding Camilla Jensen, a young woman of contradictory traits, whom he meets when delivering a package to her. He is romantically involved with a woman in London, but chooses to ignore this reality as he spends more time with Camilla. The insipid Camilla is more the product of a male-dominated culture than the author's "New-Age" description indicates. Her behavior both attracts and repels Macmillan. Against his better judgment, he is drawn to Camilla's fragile unpredictability and the glimpses of passion she exhibits. In point of fact, she is dependent, childish and singularly unattractive. The romance is hopelessly pedestrian.

Iyer writes with confidence about foreign countries, Islam, Rumi and the shadowy Sufis as Macmillan does Professor Sefhadi's bidding; the professor is, after all, his mentor and necessary to the completion of the thesis. At the professor's request, Macmillan travels to India, Spain and Iran, where he has conversations about manuscripts that may or may not be in circulation. Yet everything in this book is vague, indirect; conversations are purposefully ambiguous, correspondence filled with inconsistencies, as though Macmillan thrives on misdirection. I find myself discomfited, as though I can't trust the author to be truthful. The relationship between Camilla and John may serve as a metaphor for Macmillan's search for the essence of Sufism, the letting go of self, "being" the experience. But it is unclear whether Macmillan is the professor's pawn, Camilla's fool or a man more comfortable with mystery than with answers.

Altough not as impressive as the ubiquitous Rumi, common usage would suggest that "water seeks its own level". Simple, perhaps, but in this case, appropriate. Sacrificing himself on the altar of dysfunction, Macmillan is not grasping Heaven with his new lover; rather he is dancing merrily along the precipice of Hell. Luan Gaines/2004.

Again, as stated in previous reviews, I am a fan of Pico Iyer's travelogues. He is a master of putting the reader in the mood of the place...one is transported to all the venues that the main character, John Macmillan, visited -and it is lovely. The rest of the book's premises were irritating and contrived. I finished (with great difficulty) and wondered, "what did I miss?". Having heard reviews on NPR, etc. -I felt like I wasn't understanding something -but then felt perhaps other reviewers were reviewing Pico Iyer's attempt of explaining Sufism to an unknowing public - and not the story within the novel. The love interest, Camilla, is hopeless -the romance is unexplainable-the quest for papers and all the travel ensuing is always pointless-supporting characters are most interesting but used only as props - I suggest a rewrite -trash the romance and get on with it. The "twist" at the end is no surprise, only to the main character -and that added to more dislike because of his naivete. John Macmillan doesn't deserve a whole novel because of that very obtuseness illustrated at the end. Who edited this book? As I said earlier-very irritating reading.

Great idea for a novel but it doesn't work. Not here, anyway. I like Iyer and wanted so hard to like this novel. Unfortunately, the characters are completely unsympathetic. Whatever it is that keeps bringing them together is never exerienced by the reader. Occasionally wants to be a mystery story--John gets home and finds out someone was on his computer earlier. Never worries about it again. Hmm. The various persons with manuscripts and what they may have known or not and how their narratives might have played out was the only thing that really captured my interest. But that would have been a different book. A more interesting one, I expect.

John MacMillan is an English graduate student in California, working on his thesis. He is studying Sufi poetry, with a special interest in the great Rumi. Camilla Jensen is his off-again, on-again girlfriend, a young lady with--shall we say--issues. Major issues.

John works sporadically on his thesis, runs off to Syria and Spain, looks for lost manuscripts, and accomplishes little or nothing, while ruminating about Sufi philosophy, and trying to make sense of his relationship with Camilla.

Author Pico Iyer is a gifted writer who appears to be intrigued with Sufism. One of the themes of this intriguing novel is the idea of emptiness, of giving up trying to understand. He writes in a rambling, ruminating style which seems to create that very effect. He gives us dialogue in which we are not clear who is speaking. Then he tells us what the characters were thinking. Then he analyzes what their thoughts and actions might mean. Then he takes us on long drives throught the countryside. Sometimes it is hard reading.

Is author Iyer giving us a Sufi teaching story? Or is this, in his own words, pointless mystification? Will John and Camilla ever work out their relationship? Will John ever finish his thesis? Well, you will have to read the book to find out. I found this book hard going and had to force myself to finish it. I'm glad I did, though. I recommend it, but it's not for everyone. Reviewed by Louis N. Gruber.

It's a truism to say that the seeker must abandon his ego and identity, that he must become in essence "No One", before the door at which he knocks will swing open. But what awaits him behind the door? Is the seeker's path the road to Nowhere? Although ABANDON is essentially a novelization of this very question, Pico Iyer is too astute to venture a firm reply. "Poems are what we make of them," concludes the protagonist John Macmillan, a student of the mystical Sufi poet Jalaluddin Rumi. This convenient little formula sums up both everything and nothing, leaving the mystery intact. The question for Iyer's readers, therefore, is whether ABANDON has enough mystery in it to withstand the application of this same formula.

The novel opens with an enigmatic meeting in Damascus between Macmillan and a tightlipped Sufi insider named Khalil. Macmillan seeks out this professor for his insights into the poems and for clues about the location of secret manuscripts. Khalil ostensibly tells him nothing, at least not about what he thinks he's looking for. Instead, Khalil asks him to deliver a gift to a "friend" in California. As one would expect, this apparently tangential mission ends up leading Macmillan to the very heart of his quest. "Sometimes you are inside a circle when you think you're outside it," a stranger informs him.

In his travels (Damascus, London, California, Spain, Delhi, New Mexico, Iran), Macmillan winds his way through a maze that leads from Khalil's unlikely friend, Kristina Jensen, to an even greater mystery. It is not Kristina, but her sister, Camilla, who becomes the key to unlocking the relationship between Macmillan's academic obsession and his spiritual destiny. Camilla is the prototypical woman who fears abandonment and who does everything in her power to turn that fear into a self-fulfilling prophecy. She becomes an increasingly repellent character as the book progresses and it's never quite clear, on the surface of things, why Macmillan falls for her. On another level, however, Camilla represents his "shadow self" (her name, for example, is an anagram encoded Sufi-style in Macmillan's own). As such, she reveals the potential for the vulgarization of Sufi poetry read outside its proper religious context.

After returning to California from Damascus, Macmillan finds himself drawn into the world of underground manuscripts protected by L.A.'s Iranian exile community. It's no accident that the novel is set in large part in California. Iyer spends much time ruminating over the differences between the New World and the Old -- and how the Old is born again in the New. California is like an "ancient version of Spain, done up again, brand-new", a place where "Moorish spirits hid out behind the muscle cars". "Much of the world, if looked at with certain eyes," he writes, "resembled a carpet with Islamic threads in every corner." Indeed, from the Shia mosque in Damascus to the Alhambra palace in Granada, from the Taj Mahal to the Spanish-style architecture of California, Iyer uncovers the world "as a grid of shining correspondences".

Anyone with a mystical bent will uncover a treasure trove of unexpected poetic insights in this book. There's also much to attract those who are powerless to resist the whiff of conspiracy. (Iyer apparently thought it prudent to include a disclaimer to the effect that he's never so much as even met a Sufi!) Every reference in the novel appears ripe with significance and the reader is free to make as little or as much of it as he will. After reading ABANDON, you may find some method to the madness that sees books on Sufism scattered among the New Age and Eastern Religion shelves of your local bookstore, rather than side-by-side with the Qurans and sterner volumes of exoteric Islam. The image of a pre-Revolutionary Ayatollah Khomeini as a mystic poet, "a latter-day Hafiz", is jarring to say the least. As is the suggestion that the Revolution's repression of Iranian Sufis and their texts was a means of bringing the message of Islam to the West in "veiled" form. Sound farfetched? Perhaps, but readers of Idries Shah will already be familiar with the Sufi idea of the scattering of Islamic "seeds" throughout the West dating back to the days of Moorish Spain and the Crusades.

In a world where nothing is what it seems, the conscious refusal to see the true nature of a thing is like a veil between the knower and the known. Does Iyer believe there is anything behind the veil? Or is his position that of Eco in FOUCAULT'S PENDULUM? Is that even the right question? Is it not, rather, a question of whether he succeeds in capturing the Sufi mystique only to fall prey to its vulgarization? Or, does it depend entirely on the reader, as the formula above suggests? The meaning of the poems, Iyer writes, "will fade from view only if those who have eyes to see them fade. If they get translated into languages that have no word for 'fire' of the Sufi kind". In a culture of perpetual adolescence ("California had never learned what to do with limit, and yet without limit there was no faith"), where the only kind of "love" recognized is the romantic kind, a culture in which Rumi has become a greeting card guru, this seems at least possible: "The Sufis never dealt with someone from a culture that hasn't had a chance to grow up or lay down roots."

Despite some awkward literary moments in the encounters between Macmillan and Camilla, Iyer has written a novel of great beauty. He sends the reader away having abandoned certain preconceptions and asking other, new questions. That, surely, is the point.

ABANDON is a book difficult to classify. It is nearly a textbook about Rumi poetry and Sufism - one of the myriad Eastern forms of 'religion' to which we have little access. On the level of introducing a scholarly treatise about Islam, Muslims, and the selflessness of those religions as compared to the Western point of reference of the monotheistic, 'God as the Ruler of Creation' Christian religion author Pico Iyer succeeds valiantly. His writing is effervescent, wholly with the incensed atmosphere of the beauty of the Eastern religious mind. His knowledge of Rumi poetry is obviously rich and he shares that knowledge that makes this book an invaluable guide to understanding the differences that maintain a wall against understanding between the Middle Eastern countries and the United States - and as such the book could not be more timely!

Where this reader finds problems is the attempt to create a Romance novel that illustrates the mysticism of Sufism. Iyer writes very well, but his creation of Camilla Jensen, the love interest of the narrator John McMillan as he writes his dissertation on Rumi, is hardly successful. The character is a whining, dissociative, frightened creature who rarely assumes a countenance that would be able to attract ANYONE - inside or outside the novel. She is a selfconscious, chronically late, afraid little bore. Iyer paints some lovely encounters that have all the atmostphere to accompany a love song, but it is difficult to understand why he becomes so obsessed with her.

But despite the shortcomings as a romance novel, ABANDON is a book that deserves a wide audience for its introduction to Eastern religion in a format accessible to the American audience. And that is far more important than yet another mindless love story.........

I have read this author's writing since his first collection of essays, and before that unknowingly when he was a staff writer for Time. In the intervening years his life has become more interesting, and his writing has gotten worse. His strength as an essayist was a wide ranging voracious view of the world, and the occasional a-ha inspiring insight; then his beat became travel writing and patented "Iyeronies", the juxtapositions of the new "Global Village" with remote traditional societies, and kind people in terrible circumstances. During that phase he went almost everywhere on the planet. Now he has decided to put his talent to use as a novelist. Unfortunately he has an unfelicitous ear for dialogue, is not an acute observer of his surroundings, makes generally boring similes, composes dull poetry, the supposed mystery doesn't hold any interest, and his representation of scholars are charicatures in a setting that doesn't warrent that disregard, but the worst thing about this book is its two dimensional representation of the disasterous love interest Camilla. She is unbelievable, and irritating beyond enduring. The narrator is irritating too, doesn't tell us enough about his motivations for things, interprets everything with suspicion and in the unkindest light... As written this romance would never have happened. Make him more engaged and feeling, make her older and idiosynchratic instead of impossible, and you could have a sort of Harold and Maude set against international travel. No beginning writer should attempt to depict someone they no longer love in a romance. What's left are descriptions of travel to places which the disclaimer says he didn't go, and a lot of moaning about how moving Rumi's poetry is, and lectures on what you should know about Sufism. Enjoy Iyer's essays, read Rumi if that's your thing, but if you want to read a good book, look elsewhere.

I heard the review on NPR and bought the book on the strength of it. I was predisposed to like this book but didn't. I share the views of the other reviewers that Camilla and McMillan have no grit as characters. As a reader, I couldn't care less what happens to her and never want to encounter her again. I kept thinking that if she weren't such a beauty, would our hero McMillan bother with such an irritatingly pathetic child. I don't know this writer's other work, but after reading this book, I feel he may have spent a little too long in California drinking weak herbal tea.