"An Englishman in California studying Sufism, and in particular Rumi", so says the back cover on who the protagonist is. Having discovered Rumi rather late in life and getting drunk on him ever since, the pull was too strong to resist and back it came with me from the last trip to the library.The story starts with John Macmillan in Damascus meeting up with an enigmatic old professor, Khalil and ending up carrying a gift back for his friend. Originally from London, he seems to be running away from his life and love and moving towards something that neither he nor the reader can make sense of, at least in the beginning. His trip to dleiver Khalil's gift brings Camilla Jensen to his life, who gets intricately entangled with him. The story goes in and out of their unusual meetings with each other. In between are the encounters with his professor and mentor, Sefadhi, who seem to have an alternate life.Interspersed (or was it supposed to be the main plot?) is the rumor about an original manuscript of Sufi poems which seem to mysteriously surface here and there. Yes, it even brings John to India. All the characters seem to have some mystery or other that shrouds their past, each one of them trying to uncover or hide from it.The narrative is mystical, in line with the the theme of the story. There are some good insights by the author on religion, mysticism, Sufism and of course Rumi, Shams and Hafez. To cut a long story short, I had to conclude that I am neither intellectual nor mystical enough yet to really enjoy such an esoteric theme and author :-)One interesting anecdote that I loved is, "Rumi has replaced the Dalai Lama in greeting cards". To a certain extent, the author is able to convey the pain of a race as they helplessly watch their soul getting so blatanly commercialized. Keeping the story apart, there are some brilliant allusions to the genre of poems that we have come to equate to Sufism. The biggest revelation for me was that "The cry of the Sufi is, quite simply, the cry of abandoned love", and not a celebration of love that is.The best of piece of advice came from Professor Sefadhi,"My only words of advice: remember, please, to keep the poets higher than your thoughts of them. Don't pull them down to your level; let them draw you up to theirs...It is best to make sure always there is something in them you don't understand."Looks like, sadly I have to go a long way to reach that level.Verdict : Not te be read with abandon. Take it up if you love mysterious characters in all shades of grey and of course Sufis, their lives and poems
I'm quite a fan of Pico Iyer's travelogues, so this was a book that had to be checked out. The protagonist is John Macmillan, an Oxford-educated Englishman, in California to study the work of the Sufi poet, Rumi, and complete his thesis under the guidance of his professor Sefadhi. On a trip to Damascus, he happens to meet a reclusive professor, who requests him to carry a package to California, to be handed over to a Kristina Jensen. While doing that, he happens to meet Camilla, Kristina's sister, who, despite her flighty and fragile nature, makes inroads into his life. And then starts a journey that's part a search for an Iranian manuscript, part an inward search for John, much like the sufis - "We are even mysterious to ourselves, they believe: a part of us going through the rituals of our daily life, while another part, a deeper part, cries out for whatever it is that can take us back. The stranger whose voice we recognize as our own.", "..for the true Sufi, the looking is the key. Even if you don't know what you're looking for."The word 'Abandon' too can be seen from different perspectives - from the Sufis' mystical version of abandoning themselves to a higher power, John's need to let go of his notions and caution, and Camilla's seemingly unconscious way of living her life in abandon, even as she fears that John might her leave her because of it. To me, the novel by itself was a kind of 'abandon', just like John's thesis in the book - as though the author worked on a structure for some part before, towards the end, he let the work chart its own course. I do think the book might have a lot of subtext that deals with Islam, its interpretations, and its relationships with the rest of the world, but I'm not really qualified to explore those aspects. Even otherwise, its a very good read, in which there seem to be layers hidden beneath each statement, waiting to be uncovered, just like the excellent poetry that is shared within.
What do You think about Abandon (2004)?
Reading Abandon, I was struck by how hard it must be to write a good novel. I really enjoy Iyer's travel writing. He manages to consistently amuse while offering pithy observations about the culture in which he finds himself, without the whining and pontification found in most travel writing. Abandon features the same ability to make characters real and interesting. Certain parts are very good, and I was interested in the characters' happiness. However, I didn't feel a clear understanding of their motivations and pathologies, making the behaviors seem gratuitously melodramatic at times. Had the author conveyed and sold me on the characters' quirks more successfully, I would have really liked the book.
—Inert1
I am not sure if it's me or if it's the writing. It gave me bouts of queasiness. May be it's true. I have lost faith in the sentiment of love.Of all places, I had read this on the twitter page of a certain Mr Mahesh Bhatt. That human beings seek permanence not through longevity but through their relationships. Believing that a lover, a partner, a friend will be there forever. And through them we will remain intact. Our past, present and future. Nothing kills us as losing someone. Remember that beautiful line by Chandler? 'Saying goodbye is like dying a little.' Or something like that.We verbalise too much for our own good.I have this notion that all of us here have set quotas for experiencing different things in life. From the most esoteric to the most mundane. A quota for food. For films. For money. For travels. For stories. Love. Pain. Joy. Words. Either we spread these out through out our entire lifetime or we experience them all at once and then live the rest of our lives without that experience. I think I am trying to squeeze my entire quota of words into this period of my life, so that I may enjoy freedom from them for the remaining of it.
—Sukanya
though not as strong as his non-fiction, iyer's second attempt at fiction is still great. if for nothing else, it introduced me to this poem:If, with the fire of love I burn,Away, away, I hope you'll turn,And yet, when all the earth is scorched,I'll leave you with a single torchA torch to light your slow, sad way,A torch to turn the night to day;A torch to guide you through the dark,Until, unknowing, you embarkOn boats that pass across the seas,Sudden as lightning, not by degrees,To a place you know as your deepest home,Next to me, and my love, in a gold-blue dome.
—cicie
