Customer Reviews

Red Earth and Pouring Rain

5 star:		(27)
4 star:		(6)
3 star:		(7)
2 star:		(4)
1 star:		(3)

 

 

You won't read a bad review of this book anywhere. Many will claim it is a work of greatness, other will use the word 'genius'. Most will tell you that the charm of the book comes from the characterisation, the vivid images of India (and Indian culture) and the warmth of the narrative.

All true.

I have only one gripe: I'm not the fastest reader in the world, and as such I tended to read this book in small chunks, day to day. The trouble is that this book is composed of un uncountable number of seemingly unconnected stories, sometimes nested one inside another. No sooner have you met one character and situation than the author introduces another. And another. And another.
By half way through the book I was persistently looking back through the pages to remember who characters were and their significance to the story. Some characters also seemed to change names part-way through the book, which didn't help.

Another upshot of this writing style is that by half way through the book the reader (ie. me) hasn't yet come to grips with the overall plot, or direction, that the novel is taking. Any other book you read, you get yourself immersed in the story and by halfway you're starting to guess how things might work out. With this book you spend the first 300 pages digesting dozens and dozens of seemingly unconnected episodes involving disparite characters, and you never really get into the 'flow', making it difficult to care about what's going to happen next. I had to really force myself to carry on at one point.

By the time you've reached the last third of the book these 'episodes' are beginning to merge into a single narrative, which helps enormously.

Overall impression then? Oddly disjointed, sometimes frustratingly episodic (in the first half), but in the end a rich and satisying read.

I am your basic omnivorous reader. I delight in stories of almost any kind (certain genres excluded) that are well-told. I make my living in the creative arts and so honor imagination wherever I find it.

Two weeks ago, while at the library, I searched the fiction shelves looking for treasure. As usual, I started at the top of the alphabetical arrangement of authors methodically pulling out titles and reading flyleaves. (I hope this technique will afford me a chance to read all of the great works of fiction. So far I haven't managed to get past the "C's" and I've been doing this for over 15 years.)

Chandra's book seemed to leap into my hands. I felt as if I should hug it or cradle it or in some other way protect it lest some other reader's psychic need draw it from my grasp into theirs. Without even reading the flyleaf I was certain I had found a book of serious magic.

As I will, I found two other books as safeguards against the possibility that I wouldn't enjoy Red Earth and Pouring Rain. I could have saved the effort.

For two weeks now I have devoured the book. I read excerpts to everyone I can tie down. I laugh out load if not at some humorous segment then simply in outright delight. I cry as I identify with the sorrows Chandra so perfectly portrays.

This is a steller work. Vikram Chandra has here worked a piece of art in mixed media. It is both realism and abstraction. It is infinitesimally jewel-like and thunderously monumental.

I am a 62 year old male. I have been feeling my age of late. September 11th sorrowed me for my country and my feelings for all humanity. Two things have restored my hope: the 2002 Winter Olympics and Vikram Chandra's wonderful gift.

What's not to like? An historical warrior romance and a road trip with reincarnation and a sentient beastie holding the great god death at bay!! A big windswept novel to curl up in with lots of little paths and byways to meander into. I liked the slipping between "cultures" and historic times. I found a strength there not present in straight forward narratives. Maybe it's generational thing, the channel surfers versus those who watch TV programs from start to end, but to my mind this novel had more "reality" in it due to the switching from one voice to a different one. I found the sense of tropics was as strong and alive and present as the slightly dislocated U.S. highway. Hey, the jet is a time machine and modern life happens in lots of realities simultaneously.

Being a non-Indian American who has always taken particular interest in Indian culture, theology and history, I purchased this novel with a fair amount of anticipation. After reading the first chapter alone, I was most pleased to have realized that not only had I discovered a book that would add much to my understanding of India, but, more importantly, I knew that I had chanced upon an eminently talented, creative and gifted author. After reading the entire novel, I realized two important things: 1) Not only does the novel enhance one's comprehension of India, but, there is much to learn about America and the western hemisphere as well -- the universal applicability of the book can not be missed; and, 2) I would need to quickly re-arrange my personal top-ten book list! "Red Earth & Pouring Rain" is a novel worth much more than its cover price -- its stories resonate far beyond their pages. The book is therefore one that any serious lover of literature should read. Chandra gives us: characters to love -- we simply can not forget them; prose that is at once entirely accessible and powerfully compelling; symbol, irony, profundity, and all the rest. With surprising grace, skill and rhythm, the author transports readers across multiple centuries and continents through a series of perfectly interwoven stories -- never forgetting to bring us back home again. What results is a whole, cohesive narrative of love and lives, war and wonders -- one which prompts readers to consider important questions -- questions political, spiritual, philosophical, cultural, familial... and natural, such as his ending to Chapter 1, spoken by our primary protagonist, the primate we simply must love, Sanjay: "...surely this must be enough, to feel these things and to know that all this exists together, the earth and its seas, the sky and its suns." Don't read another book before reading this one.

It is quite unbelievable that this novel is the first novel published by Vikram Chandra and, furthermore, that this is a novel born of a writer with a birth date post 1960. Midnight's Children, Shame and Tharoor's Show Business are the only 'Indian' novels of such incredible scope which succeed in conveying such vision as that conveyed by Red Earth, Pouring Rain. Like the above mentioned novels, this novel has humour and lightness of touch and can be read on numerous levels. As Hanuman says, the greatest pleasure in life is a good story and Red Earth, Pouring Rain has many. Stories within stories...for this alone, a novel worthy of comparison to Potocki's Manuscript Found in Saragossa (and this, for those who have not read Potocki's novel, is high praise indeed). Nevertheless, in addition to the pure bliss of reading a wonderfully constructed series of tales, Red Earth, Pouring Rain has the advantage of juxtaposing contemporary 'myth' with ancient, has post-colonial commentary and has extensive historical content. An exceptional novel by all means - to read such a novel is a godsend...the sort of novel that one cannot wait to read further but one dreads finishing because then, the pleasure would end. Such a novel cannot be too long.

How do you bring the worldview of a hundred and fifty years ago into the grammar of a people caught in the cusp of modernity, and tell it through an adopted language? You make a monkey tell the story of a man, himself.

A monkey is shot by an irritated teenager back home in Delhi for a vacation from college in the US. The gods begin a tussle for the monkey's soul, and a wager is made: the monkey will live as long as he can tell a story. A typewriter is produced, and the neighbourhood assembles to hear the monkey recall his past life as a scholar-warrior-poet during and after the Great Mutiny of 1857. What follows is much more than a history lesson...

Red Earth and Pouring Rain is not a book with a point or purpose, or at least the kind of point and purpose you might expect from a book about stories and storytellers (the closest parallel I can think of is Umberto Eco's "Baudolino") - or maybe it is a book about life and all of its points and purposes. The canvas is vast, and takes time to paint, and Vikram Chandra does so with skill and fluidity - the words are English, but the language itself is utterly Indian. Westerners who think the English language and literary style still belong to the West will find this book hard to understand.

This is not a book about the English occupation of India, nor is it a fantasy about wilful gods. It is not a book for the impatient: stories take to womb within stories, and the utterly impossible mingles comfortably with the utterly mundane. It is not a book for the cultural voyeur, either - you will get no great insight into Indian "culture" by wading through this epic - the 'exotic' in this book is exotic for modern Indians as well.

What it is, however, is a story of a people divided between the eternal and the now, and their struggle to come to grips with themselves (reformists and optimists, take note). It is a story of rebirths and becomings, of contradictions and impossibilities, and unbearable cruelty and love. Behold, and be enchanted. Above all, surrender.

Vikram Chandra's tale of mythic India weaved in with modern times is a very imaginative, epic tale , but it turns out to be too long-winded, rambling at times and unresolved in my view. He switches back and forth from the past to the present rather well, although, at times, I thought that maybe if you separated the times, they, in themselves, would have been very good books. The story on the whole lacked cohesiveness. It seemed that Chandra kept writing more and more without staying focused on the story at hand. There was too much to digest which didn't leave too much thought to savor. What I really disliked, however, was the latter part of the book where it didn't make sense with the bloodthirsty doctor and the bomb. I felt very disappointed.

I love this book! It pulled me in and wouldn't let go.
The main narrative follows the story of three "brothers" in their journeys of life, where magical --and mythical-- influences abound. It begins in ancient India, and ends in modern times. The sub-story captures the malaise of a modern young adult who isn't sure where he fits in the world.

In the first reading, I got a little lost in the story within a story, within a story, within a story ....you get the idea. Stick with it -- it isn't critical to enjoyment that you keep it all straight.

Good book for those who like a little magic in their stories, who want insight into the Indian culture and perspectives, who like a rousing tale of love, longing, battles, sacrifices, and consequences of personal choices, and the possibility to do better the next time around.

I read, and then re-read this book. Enjoyed it even more the second time!

I love to read, and I read fast and copiously, but gave up on this book. It's confusing and beyond strange. I sometimes like Indian mysticism, and absolutely loved The Death of Vishnu by Manil Suri. So it isn't just the magic and mysticism in the book that bother me; it's some kind of mental quality which is reflected in the images and processes of the book, which I found off-putting and confusing.
For example, one character swallows a lot of metal type for some reason, which I forget (typical for me with this book). Eventually the type migrates through his body and starts to come out through his skin. Okay, so that is supposed to be an analogy for something ....maybe the process of writing the novel? But it's just sickening and weird, as you read it; and of course, it's impossible as well.
As at least one other reviewer has noted, this is an unusually male-centric story. Few women are portrayed, and the ones that are seem to be distant, conniving, and/or evil. It's all about the guys.
The heroic and magical deeds of Sanjay and Sikander are probably supposed to be epic echoes of other stories, maybe even of Gilgamesh of Sumer and his pal Enkidu.....but somehow I DON'T CARE!

What a delicious and intoxicating brew this book is! I found it hard to put it down, and sank into it gratefully each evening. The stories are captivating, the language is full-bodied, the styles are various, and the characters and their struggles are unforgettable. You feel like you're caught up in a long stream, you're swept up in emotion and ideas. I was incredibly moved by this book, found myself crying several times. The book is demanding, but the payoff is huge. You'll be glad you read it.

This is one of the best books I've ever read.