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The Siege of Krishnapur

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I had never heard of J.G. Farrell or The Siege of Krishnapur until one day I was scanning a list of winner of England's Booker Prize and I noticed that Siege was out-of-print in America. I was so intrigued I sent off to England for it, but it is now also available in the U.S.

The novel narrates the story of the British community at Krishnapur during the Indian Mutiny of 1857, when the entire community holed up in the Residency (like a governor's palace) for months under siege. Farrell's style is highly cinematic, reminiscent of great movie epics about that era, such as "The Man Who Would Be King," - lots of scope, majesty, explosions, and bright-red uniforms, added to the day-to-day domestic squabbles of the community. Farrell's take is not a shallow war novel though; he is witty, ironic, inspired, and sad in turn.

The book features remarkable turns of fortune and engaging details on every page, all of which were dramatically motivated and apt. (Examples: When the besieged run out of ammunition, they create canister shot by stuffing ladies' stockings with silverware. There's a sudden infestation of flying bugs that will make you jump right out of your chair. Two doctors have an argument about the cause of cholera with dramatic consequences. A lucky shot by a Lieutenant....well I won't spoil it for you.)

The main character, the Collector, seems to stand in for all of Britain as he is transformed by his Indian experience: first arrogance and a passion for bringing British `civilization' to the uncivilized, then bravado as he stands up to the initial assaults, then despair as he watches the failure of mere ingenuity to overcome the natives. In a wonderful little coda at the end of the book you can see how he has been utterly transformed by the experience.

A wonderful find, a 'must read'! I'm off to read the rest of Farrell's novels!

The bloody Siege of Krishnapur in 1857 is the pivot around which the action revolves in this Booker Award-winning novel by J. G. Farrell, but Farrell's focus is less on Krishnapur and the siege than it is on the attitudes and beliefs of the English colonizers who made that siege an inevitability. He puts these empire-builders under the microscope, then skewers their arrogant and superior attitudes with the rapier of his wit, subjecting them to satire and juxtaposing them and their narrowly focused lives against the realities of the world around them. Remarkably, he does this with enough subtlety that we can recognize his characters as individuals, rather than total stereotypes, at the same time that we see their absurdity and recognize the damage they have done in their zeal to spread their "superior" culture.

From the opening pages, Farrell builds suspense as the English colony ignores reports of unrest in Barrackpur, Berhampur, and Meerut. The flirtations of the single women, the amorous attentions of the young men, the boorish and insensitive behavior of the officials, the gossipy whispering of their wives, and the unrelenting efforts to maintain the same society they enjoyed at home--with tea parties, poetry readings, and dances--all attest to their degree of isolation from the world around them. When violence breaks out in Krishnapur and all the inhabitants take refuge in the colonial Residence, Farrell turns it into a microcosm which illuminates their misplaced values and goals as they interact with each other and face dangers from without--and from within. The siege continues for more than three months, with bloodshed, disease, starvation, lack of water and medicine, and the summer weather taking their toll.

Farrell's dark humor is unparalleled. Using irony, understatement, and a sense of the absurd, he conveys his disapproval of colonialism without resorting to the harshness of polemics. By concentrating exclusively on the English in the Residence and not on India's local population (ironically reflecting the approach of the colonizers themselves), he makes their behavior appear ridiculous in its own right, rather than ridiculous in comparison to other cultures. Mr. Rayne, the Opium Agent, calls the sale of opium, "progress." The Padre cannot understand why the Bible was originally written in an obscure language like Hebrew, rather than English, which is "spoken in every corner of every continent." A dying man offering up his last, heartfelt prayer is told by the Magistrate, "Yes, yes, to be sure, don't worry about it." The heads from a collection of small sculptures of the "great minds of Europe" are used as deadly explosives when shot becomes scarce.

Through his precise imagery, his acute eye for memorable and revealing details, his unerring ear for dialogue, his ability to maintain pace and suspense, and his humor, Farrell creates a historical novel with the enduring qualities which make it as relevant today as it was when published thirty years ago. Mary Whipple

Chapatis. It is always difficult to start a novel convincingly, but it's a long time since I saw it done better than it is here. The harbinger of the brutal and bloody Indian uprising of 1857 was, in this narrative at least, the secret distribution of chapatis to the intended victims. I have long forgotten what little I may ever have known about these events, and I would actually be delighted to discover that this detail was not an invention of the novelist's but what actually happened.

If paraphrased, the amount of gore and squalor that is detailed here on page after page would seem grotesque and even intolerable. As told by Farrell, it manages to be neither. This was the Victorian era, and the story is a scenario of British Victorians subjected to pressure and strain of near-incredible ferocity. The author does not spare us the specifics, and it will be a long time before I forget the spongy piles of corpses, the sense of near-unbearable heat in which I for one would have had difficulty in even wearing the stuffy formal clothes let alone dancing let alone battling for my very life, the pervasive stench, the outbreak of cholera and the indelible vignette of the lapdog chewing the face off a fallen defender. Even more extraordinary, to me, than the way they keep going is what they don't do and in particular what they think and don't think. There is no real instance of irrational panic whatsoever, and although the Padre for one has clearly gone slightly round the bend, the way this manifests itself is in an obsessional fixation with denouncing Sin and Heresy, and largely with his frantic concern to prove that great Victorian preoccupation The Existence of God from something like Aquinas's Argument from Design.

At the height of the horror, the Collector is still thinking in Victorian vocabulary and expressing himself in subordinate clauses. Staring death in the eye, the young intellectual Fleury is still concerned with his theories, whether in respect of the operation of guns or of the progress of rationalism. The ladies themselves, who might have been expected to be in a state of blind terror, are still weighing up the niceties of how the matrons and widows on the one hand, and the Fallen Woman on the other, are expected to comport themselves. Most amazingly of all, when the cholera first breaks out the two doctors conduct a lengthy and articulate debate on its causes and remedies, keeping the attention not just of each other but of an attentive audience.

The book abounds in unforgettable incidents - the smothering cloud of cockchafer beetles, the snowstorm, the slaughter of one rebel contingent with silver forks from the dining-room and marble busts of Socrates and Keats - but what is distinctive and extraordinary about this book is its tone. Its tone is quiet, detached and wry without being aggressively ironic. No heavy lessons are preached (although it's not hard to see which side the author is on when it comes to religion). No particular political standpoint is adopted either, the nearest we get to that being the shoulder-shrugging last paragraph. The whole saga ought to have been a filthy nightmare, but instead the reader feels rather like the onlookers who have come along with picnic lunches to watch the events as if they were watching a game of cricket. It has all been Virgil's `plurima mortis imago' - the omnipresent face of death, and yet it has been a bit of a spectator-sport too. I'm actually rather glad I'm no historian in this instance. I don't know what set off the uprising, and once the relief forces turn up so far as I know things went back to much as they were before. The author offers us no theories or explanations: he just leaves us having witnessed wholesale and insensate slaughter and wondering what it can all have been in aid of.

For those seeking greater insights into Britain's imperial ethos, I urge you to read THE SIEGE OF KRISHNAPUR, by the late(and great)Anglo-Irish writer J.G. Farrell. It's about the Sepoy Rebellion of 1857, when thousands of native Indian Army troops (know as Sepoys) rose up against their English masters. The bloody mutiny began in Meerut barracks in May of '57 and quickly spread along a 500-mile string of cities and villages in northern India. It was finally put down five months later. Marked by appalling atrocities on both sides, thousands of Indians and hundreds of Europeans were slaughtered. The proximal cause of the uprising was the introduction of rifle cartridges greased with animal fat, which was unacceptable on religious grounds to both Hindus and Muslims. The underlying (if at the time unarticulated) cause of course rested in dissatisfaction on the part of Indians, the inhabitants of an ancient and sophisticated civilization, over their subjugation by foreigners.

In the 18th century, the presence of the British in India, most of whom were men, was generally benign and not much noticed. By the mid-nineteenth century, however, the behavior of the British toward Indians had become increasingly oppressive and arrogant, in large part due to the presence of English wives, who ghettoized the English communities and regarded all native Indians with fear and contempt. After the rebellion, such attitudes hardened and became pervasive; this in turn fed the resolve of Indians to expel the British from their country - which they did 92 years later. Although there is no record of it, at the time, a few thoughtful Englishmen must have recognized that the rebellion was an indelible sign of what would inevitably follow.

The centerpiece, if you will, of the Sepoy Rebellion was the four-month siege by the rebels of the Residency at Lucknow. The "residency" was in fact a large, walled compound which served as the British administrative center of an area consisting of thousand of square miles and millions of inhabitants. It was also the social center of the British community and the home of the "Collector", the region's chief administrative officer. THE SIEGE OF KRISHNAPUR, first published in 1973 and winner of the Booker Prize that year, is a fictionalized account of the Lucknow siege - although most of the incidents related in the book actually occurred and most of the characters are based on real people.

THE SIEGE OF KRISHNAPUR is, bar none, my favorite 20th century novel. It is a sublime book that has everything - elegant, crystalline writing, vividness, tight novelistic structure, tremendous scope and depth, action, excitement, moving, convincing sentiment, comedy and tragedy, uproarious savage satire and searing irony. Supporting these virtues is a serious philosophical discourse about the nature of human progress as it is reflected in the efforts of Westerners to "civilize" the rest of the world. For all of that, although KRISHNAPUR demands close attention, for the literate, it is a highly accessible, highly satisfying "read". I know that you'll enjoy it, and in reading it will, I believe, learn a bit more about the human condition.

Should you be inspired to learn more about the Sepoy Rebellion, I recommend Christopher Hibbert's THE GREAT MUTINY, Viking, l978. And for a trenchant, entertaining examination of day-to-day life during the Raj (from the British perspective), see PLAIN TALES FROM THE RAJ, edited by Charles Allen (Holt, Rinehart, l985)

Absurdly, J.G. Farrell died in a fishing accident in 1979. Among his other works are: TROUBLES (1970), set in Dublin in l919, THE SINGAPORE GRIP (1978), set in Singapore in the weeks immediately before the Japanese invasion of the city in 1940, and the unfinished THE HILL STATION, set in Simla in pre-independence days.

Let me begin by saying this is one of the best books I have ever read. It is cinematic, epic, brilliant, totally entertaining, horrifying, funny, shocking, infuriating, and a masterpiece.

Based on a real mutiny in India in 1857 against the East India Company, this utterly amazing book is packed from cover to cover with scrupulously well-researched details that are brilliantly presented to the reader through the eyes of its engaging and deluded British characters. One feels thoroughly engrossed in every aspect of this work: its characters, its actions, its historical setting, its philosophical ruminations, and its detailed descriptions of cholera, furniture, art, buildings, villages, natives, disease, landscapes, death, starvation, and war. In fact, whatever Farrell chooses to write about, he does it in completely convincing fashion. One can envision this work on a huge screen, in bright color, acted out by the world's greatest actors. What's also brilliant about it is its complete relevance to today's world politics. What we have here (and in today's world) is a massive head-on collision of two worlds, two cultures, two religious views, two planets, and the disastrous consequences of that encounter as they play out across a vast stage. Farrell understood how misguided the British were in India as they willfully exploited the landscape and its people. Yet he empathized enough with the British to create the memorable character of the Collector, who sincerely believes at the outset that the "idea" of bringing "civilization" and "progress" to India outweighed any difficulties it caused. But in the end, the uprising he alone knew was coming throws all his notions away, and in the end he is a changed man, stripped bare of all his values and cares and left to think only about love and the past. This transformation also brings the reader to transform his vision of what the British Empire and its presence in India was all about. One is also left wondering what we in the West are all about as we blunder our way into the Islamic world, crashing into a different culture and mind set in our efforts to bring "democracy" to places it has never been.

Sometimes reading other books makes you return to a novel. In my case reading Burmese Days from Orwell ( a gripping satire of the moral bancruptcy of colonial life) and the recently published A Glass Palace by A. Ghosh ( a historical novel on Birma wriiten by an Indian writer, highly recommended) made me pick up my old copy of Farrell's Siege again.

Much more benign than Orwell, but no less effective in his description of the decline of Colonial Rule, Farrell's book should be on the short list of readings for everybody interested in the history of Colonial Rule in general and India in particular.

The book describes, in a nutshell as one of the reviewers quite aptly remarked, the transformation of a group of self-confident and morally superior rulers to a group of helpless people in an alien environment. It shows in a beautifully described way the rapid decrease in moral cohesion which resulted of their change in circumstances.

In a way, the books mirrors the decline of Western Rule we have seen in the past 150 years and serves as a wonderful reflection of the behaviour of the West in the past.

In my view it ranks amongst the very few top novels ( like Passage to India and Jewel in the Crown and the earlier mentioned Birmese Days) of the colonial past.

It is a shame that this book is not among the standard range of books offered in the bookshops anymore because it is as much part of our literary history as it's more well known contemporaries.

J.G. Farrell's book came out in 1972 was about the Sepoy Mutiny and a part of Indian History that is not well traced. Though there are versions of it, one wonders which is accurate. Thus it is an apt topic for a novel. He looks at it from various perspectives - the British, the Indians and the Princes. In bitter irony, he spares none and tears each of them. The book starts with mirth and gradually descends into darkness as the fight between the Indian soldiers and British intensifies. As is often traced in history, such darkness leads to reduction of ones senses and it is seen in the book. Though it only a novel, it captures all aspects of the story beautifully.

It shows the collector as a ramrod person who sticks to his rules as a typical Britisher of the past. He has his positives and negatives and foresees the problem but is unable to cope with it. He thinks that he is bringing civilization to an uncivilized place and as the story unfolds, one wonders who is civilized. On a more concrete note, one understands the pros and cons of imperialism and how difficult it gets to justify it at times. Though the British were under the East India Company during this time, after this they moved under Royal Flag. That shows the extent of the impact this war created. This is one of most beautiful novels of that decade. Farrell travelled to India during the research for the novel and commented that he was more confused after seeing India than before. He was an eclectic author who wrote books like Singapore Grip, but this was his masterpiece. It is worth owning.

1857 is a seminal year in the history of India but I'd bet most Indians could only associate it with a foggy notion of some big-time rebellion against the East India company, involving the ilk of Queen of Jhansi. A more intricate level of detail about the Sepoy mutiny and its lack of any highfalutin weaponry is mostly lost.

That a Brit would capture that time so vividly and with such insouciant wit is staggering. Between Farrell's "Troubles" (about Irish liberation struggles) and this book I am convinced that his historical backdrops should be required reading in schools.

The premise of this novel is simple: during a time of the Sepoy "siege", the idiosynchrasies of the English colonialists in Residence remain as quirky as ever -- a risibly uppetty "expat" attitude that is shown to have made the mutiny inevitable in the first place. Yet, Farrell's brits are not card-board characterizations of arrogance but more akin to oddball misfits in the wrong place at the wrong time. For instance, reports of unrest in Barrackpur, a sepoy mutiny in Berhampur, and unforeseen problems in Meerut create a sense of unease for the reader, but in the carefree hedonistic confines of the colony, "There was no cause for alarm and, besides, now that everyone had finished eating, a game of blind man's bluff was being called for."

Note that unlike the impressions of some other reviewers, the author does not need to overindulge in racial parallels between the Indians and the British. His characters are too busy making fools of themselves in their own Residence. Which makes it harmless humor, for those who are sensitive to such things.

I own a second-hand, badly mutilated copy of this little novelette, purchased from a ubiquitous warehouse mart in Mumbai for Rs. 15 (about 25 US cents). Yet, this is one of my most treasured possessions. You need to read it to know why.

I read this book maybe 5 years ago and just yesterday found and picked up another copy at a used bookstore. In hindsight, I almost can't believe just how wonderful this book is in every way, and how mysteriously rare it seems to be on the used book circuit.

Years ago I set myself the task of reading all the Booker Prize winning novels, but quickly realized that being a Booker didn't at all guarantee a good book! Thank God the Siege of Krishnapur was a winner though, or I'd surely never have come across it - I found a hardcover at a dingy book sale with a fly squashed in the cover and bought it because I vaguely remembered the title from my precious Booker lists.

Every aspect of this book is exceptional - the characters and characterizations, the plot, the setting, and both the historical and the literary value. It would be hard to ask more from any book, and on top of all this its one of the most entertaining reads I've ever enjoyed.

Since reading it, I've leant the book to everyone I know who loves to read, and invariably they're just giddy about it - it's just that enjoyable. Though not of the highest literary caliber, the simple fact is that this is a spectacular gem of a book, that could be recommended to absolutely anyone at all - literary and non-literary readers alike.

Buy several copies and give them as gifts... we need more of these in the used book stores.

PS: I also read `Troubles', the first of J.G. Farrell's historical trilogy regarding England's loss of the colonies (`Siege' is the second book), and it was a very good book, but nothing to compare to this brilliant and endearing read.

"The first sign of trouble at Krishnapur came with a mysterious distribution of chapatis, made of coarse flour and about the size and thickness of a biscuit; towards the end of February 1857, they swept the countryside like an epidemic." When I was a young teacher living in China in 1984, an English colleague traded me his well-worn copy of The Siege of Krishnapur for my stack of back issues of The New York Times. Set during the British Raj, Krishnapur is the story of a slow-brewing sepoy rebellion and yearlong siege at a remote hill station, loosely based on the Indian Mutiny of 1857. (The sepoys comprised the native Indian regiments of the British army.) The late novelist J. G. Farrell perfectly captures the beauty of the Indian landscape. With deft irony, he tweaks the complacent, insular attitudes of the British ex-patriots, who are bewildered by the rage directed at them by the native population. More suspenseful and less sentimental than other famous epics about the Raj, Krishnapur is a wry, funny book.
Incidentally, Farrell wrote two other comic novels about hapless Englishmen caught up in the sweep of history: Troubles, set in Ireland, and The Singapore Grip, set in Malaya on the eve of the Japanese invasion.