Zadie Smith describes On Beauty as an old-fashioned novel. It really is the kind of book you read as a kid, the kind that made you feel melancholy and cheated when it was over. Because it had no business getting over. The houses and streets of mythical university town Wellington are now familiar to me but I am not going to get to go there anymore.Some people try gamely to get back in the book because the locations are real. Mad Bindu went with a notepad and a crisp copy of the Da Vinci Code to all the English locations in the book. (Bottle-imp tells me that when he was in Salzburg The Sound of Music house had closed its gazebo to tourists because an 80 year old broke her hip after attempting to sing “I am 16, going on 17″ and pirouette at the same time. Ahem.) Literary tours seems to be thriving. You can obviously go to Stratford-on-Avon or Greece but you can also do the Lorca tour or the Yucatan tour or the Lost Generation of the Twenties Paris Tour.Salon.com displaying one of their frequent displays of grandiosity now has something called the Literary Guide to the World. This just means a bunch of short essays about major books from a place that you can take with you when you visit the place. Right now it is rather irritatingly sketchy and not just because Martha’s Vineyard and West Texas, literary capital of the world is on the list but India is not. In South America only Chile is listed and in Africa only Togo and Zimbabwe. And its all super breezy and “here are your Amazon links”. Harrumph.
When the settings of books have been well…imaginary, fans have contented themselves by creating the most gorgeous literary maps. (These are sometimes even better than the killer contoured military maps of the fantasy genre.) I am sure Harper Lee would be astonished at the number of sweet fervent adults and kids who have mapped Maycomb, the imaginary hometown of Scout and Atticus Finch.( Another Mockingbird map created as part of some online English course is very efficient and full of useful links but is scarily devoid of charm.) An interesting pit-stop is the Library of Congress exhibition of literary maps such as the Beat Generation map, map of Black Writers for Young America and several interesting photographs collections of a literary persuasion.
While people maybe stuck-up about admitting they took the Da Vinci Code tour there could be nothing more ‘yo’ than the New York Times literary map of Manhattan where “imaginary New Yorkers lived, worked, played, drank, walked and looked at ducks.” It’s a lovely thing full of quotes and references and links to reviews all compiled from reader submissions. You can see where Clarissa of The Hours stepped out to buy flowers, the streets where Chester Himes’ ‘high yellow’ beauties stage-managed plots, where Harriet the Spy walked around seething with story, where Babar the elephant stayed when he came to America, where Don Corleone was shot, the brownstone where Nero Wolfe gorged and unraveled mysteries. If you are so inclined you can see where Gogol of the dull-Lahiri-ness romanced.
While people maybe stuck-up about admitting they took the Da Vinci Code tour there could be nothing more ‘yo’ than the New York Times literary map of Manhattan where “imaginary New Yorkers lived, worked, played, drank, walked and looked at ducks.” It’s a lovely thing full of quotes and references and links to reviews all compiled from reader submissions. You can see where Clarissa of The Hours stepped out to buy flowers, the streets where Chester Himes’ ‘high yellow’ beauties stage-managed plots, where Harriet the Spy walked around seething with story, where Babar the elephant stayed when he came to America, where Don Corleone was shot, the brownstone where Nero Wolfe gorged and unraveled mysteries. If you are so inclined you can see where Gogol of the dull-Lahiri-ness romanced.
Another sort of map altogether. A tourist map of literature of interest only to the bored/addicted. Type in one of your favourite authors’ names. Zadie Smith, I say and around her name appears a shimmering constellation with Roddy Doyle, David Lodge, Toni Morrison, Anais Nin and dozens of names I don’t know but the site predicts I will like. I click on Roddy Doyle and a new constellation presents itself which has Billy Collins, Michael Cunningham and many of my favourites. Fun fun fun.
The cartographical possibilities in Indian literature are immense. One scholarly gent has mapped Malgudi (sadly not available online). Ms. Roy’s Ayemenem is tangible sitting by the river as directed, hosting Palat Pickles (Paradise Pickles in the book), the History House and the mortal version of Ayemenem House. How about mapping Madna from English, August or Kanthapura or Bharat’s motorcycle trail from Delhi to Bangalore in The Truth About Bharat Almost? More ambitious would be the Mandala of Sherlock Holmes tour. Or a Kalidasa tour. What a lovely map would be possible of Mumbai with Rushdi, Vikram Chandra, Ramu Ramanathan, Rohinton Mistry, Arun Kolatkar, Anita Desai and Gregory David Roberts. (Aside: during the floods someone who did not want to brave and stoic anymore came up with this list of Alternative Bombay Book Titles)?
Mongoose and I once had a misunderstanding about locating fiction in Bangalore. Having lived here my whole life I can’t think why I should not locate fiction here and Mongoose whose mind runs along more analytical lines wanted to know how I did it in my two and half attempts. I dunno, Mongoose.
I was walking around yesterday and I was thinking what fun it would be to have so many books about where we live. My favourite fat-waisted tree in Cubbon Park would be the cold site of a murder at dawn. A romance would take place among the VV Puram food stalls, divorce in Basavangudi and farce in Koshy’s. Lamp posts and strange walls would remind you of books you read. Or maybe this is all there in new Kannada literature and I am missing out on all of it because I have read so little of it. *Note to self: Find out*
