Although this novel is classified as horror, the nature of that horror is somewhat ambiguous. There are hints of supernatural horror and there is the presence of violent criminality but, in some ways, it is the Indian city of Calcutta (Kolkata in modern spelling) itself that is the true horror portrayed in this book. This is due to its densely overpopulated environment, its shocking levels of deprivation, its gulfs of inequality, and its poor sanitation – all of it worsened by the monsoon season, during which time the story is set. The protagonist, Robert Luczak’s, introduction to Calcutta was at night:‘The marshy fields of darkness that had bordered the highway gave way suddenly to a jumble of shacks that came right up to the shoulder of the road. [...] Seemingly without transition we were out of the country and winding through narrow, rain-filled streets that twisted past blocks of derelict high-rises, miles of tin-roofed slums, and endless vistas of decaying, blackened storefronts.’ (p. 26)‘It began to rain again. The sudden downpour beat at the metal of the bus like fists from the dark sky. Only the driver’s side of the windshield had a wiper, and it moved sluggishly against the curtain of water that soon put a veil between the city and us.’ (p. 28)In the daytime, Luczak found the city to be ‘impressive’, if a little ‘intimidating’:‘The scene was almost comical in its mad intensity. Pedestrians, flotillas of bicycles, oriental-looking rickshaws, automobiles, flatbed trucks adorned with swastikas, countless motorbikes, and creaking bullock carts all vied for our narrow lane of torn-up pavement. Cattle wandered freely, blocking traffic, poking their heads into shops, and wading through heaps of raw garbage which were stacked on curbs or piled in the center of the street. At one point the refuse lay knee-deep for three blocks, lining the street like a dike. Human beings also waded through it, competing with the cattle and crows for edible bits.Farther on, schoolgirls in prim white blouses and blue skirts crossed the street in single file while a brown-belted policeman held up traffic for them. [...]The sweet smell of incense and sewage came in through the open window of the car. [...] And everywhere was the unceasing movement of brown-skinned humanity – an almost tidal flow of jostling, white- and tan-garbed population which seemed to make the very air heavy with its moist exhalations.’ (p. 35)The plot is interesting enough – a literary journalist in America (Luczak) is given an assignment by his editor to travel to India with his Indian wife and their young daughter so that he can interview a poet who had apparently resurfaced after disappearing in 1969. What appears to be a straightforward task (coupled with visiting in-laws in India) turns out to be an increasingly mysterious and dangerous undertaking that appears to involve him with cultists of the Hindu goddess, Kali. The ever-present environment recedes into the background to some degree as the tension builds and the protagonist’s situation becomes more strange and desperate. Set in 1977, the story was written in the early 1980s when there was no World Wide Web or mobile phones – the Telex was still being used to send long-distance messages (p. 30) – and the humble typewriter was still de rigeur for journalists. Today, an interview would most likely be conducted over an email exchange or a video chat, leaving no opportunity for a story like Song of Kali, which hinges on a clash of cultures in an environment alien to the protagonist, to unfold.What I liked most about this book is its rich, yet economical, prose and its wry humour. Examples of this style of writing include:‘Somewhere closeby [sic], a toilet flushed explosively’. (p. 31)‘Suddenly a white-smocked retainer appeared from the shadows and distributed chipped cups heavy with sugar, clotted buffalo milk, and a little tea.’ (p. 36)‘Her voice was as high and shrill as a saw moving on metal. The irritable, nasal tones clashed with her dignified appearance.’ (p. 37)‘He was tall and skinny, wearing dirty brown trousers and a white shirt that looked gray and grimy in the green fluorescent lighting. His face was relatively young – late twenties, perhaps – and clean-shaven, but his black hair stood out in great electric tufts and his dark, piercing eyes gave an impression of such intensity that it bordered on a sense of restrained violence. His eyebrows were dark brush strokes that almost met above a falcon’s predatory beak.’ (p. 22)Literary names are occasionally dropped (e.g. Joyce Carol Oates and Rabindranath Tagore on pp. 2-3) while Luczak ponders his inability to convince his wife, Amrita, to take an interest in ‘the trashy Stephen King novels’ he liked bringing with him to the beach (p. 52). I wonder if King subsequently took a similar swipe at Simmons’ work in one of his own books?I found some observations about Calcutta in the 1970s to be interesting, such as how cow dung was gathered and then kneaded into patties to be used as fuel for fires, both to cremate the dead and to cook food (pp. 95, 193), and that gold bracelets worn by young girls dressed in rags would later be used as their dowry (p. 141). There is an interesting discussion of contrasting Indian and Western views of poverty, politics and the caste system between Amrita, Luczak and his formal literary contact in India, Michael Leonard Chatterjee, a well-to-do member of the Bengali Writers’ Union, on pp. 129-40.As this was set in the ’70s, a few things reminded me of my childhood. Luczak and his family flew to India on a BOAC (British Overseas Airways Corporation) flight (p. 20), a little anachronistically since the company was renamed British Airways in 1974. Having flown on some BOAC flights myself as a young child, I was reminded of my membership of the BOAC Junior Jet Club. Here's a picture of my club badge: When Luczak notices for the first time somebody tapping a cigarette against a cigarette case (pp. 249-50), it reminded me of my father’s habit of doing this on cigarette packs (and occasionally his own cigarette case) as I was growing up. Luczak’s childhood recollection of his parents’ set of Compton’s Pictured Encyclopedia and its pages with translucent overlays showing the various parts and functions of the human body is similar to the Worldbook Encyclopedia set my own parents got in the late ’70s with its similar overlays of the human body!Overall, the book was an enjoyable read as much because of its prose as for the compelling and, at times, bizarre narrative. As horror, I thought it was relatively mild, much of it being suggestive rather than actual and I was a little disappointed at that. However, I very much liked the story related by a young Indian man to Luczak (over the space of three chapters) about his own experiences with the Kali cultists, as it contained a significant amount of horror in its own right and hinted strongly at the supernatural. This would’ve been entertaining to read as a short story in its own right! If the horror is a bit weak, the quality of the prose makes this still a worthwhile read. I look forward to reading more of Simmons’ work in the future.Book finished on 1 Nov. 2013; review posted 13 Oct. 2014!
In Jones & Newman's "Horror: 100 Best Books," Edward Bryant, writing of his choice for inclusion in that overview volume, Dan Simmons' "Song of Kali," mentions that Simmons had spent precisely 2 1/2 days in Calcutta before writing his first book, in which that city plays so central and memorable a role. Despite Simmons' short stay, Bryant reveals that the author filled "voluminous notebooks" with impressions and sketches of the city, and any reader who enters the grim but remarkably detailed horror novel that is "Song of Kali" will be amazed that its author spent such a short time there. The city is superbly well depicted in this book, and indeed is its most fully fleshed-out "character": a vile, overcrowded, steaming cesspool of a city that breathes iniquity, mystery and corruption. It is a stunning backdrop for a grisly tale of terror that deservingly won 1985's World Fantasy Award, as well as a spot in Jones & Newman's volume.In the novel, we are introduced to Robert Luczak, an American poet who travels to Calcutta, with his Indian wife and 6-month-old daughter, to do a magazine article on M. Das, an Indian poet who was believed long dead but who has now seemingly, uh, resurfaced and wants his new epic poem to see publication. Luczak and his family undergo a particularly horrendous time during their 10 days in the city, in a story that conflates Kali, the living goddess of death, her maniacal followers, reincarnation, kidnapping, leprosy, rats, morgue scenes, oodles of decomposing bodies, stabbings, drugs, smuggling, festering slums and other assorted nastiness. Simmons treats the reader to two especially horrific sequences: the first, a Kali initiation ceremony, as described by an Indian student; the second, Luczak's remarkable experiences in the Kali temple and his subsequent escape. Those readers with a squeamish temperament should be forewarned; as Bryant has written elsewhere, "Where Stephen King flinches, Simmons doesn't." First-time novelist Simmons shows remarkable control throughout, carefully keeping the suspense high, the shocks strategically placed, the detail convincing and the Luczak family likable and well drawn. Despite the downbeat proceedings, the author even manages to work in a hopeful ending of sorts; a plea for sanity and reason in a world seemingly more and more dominated by violence and death...the song of Kali. Today, Simmons is something of a big deal, a Hugo winner (for his 1990 "Hyperion") and one of the brightest lights in the fields of fantasy, horror and sci-fi. How remarkable it is to see such a sure hand, the master's touch, in his very first outing. This really is some kind of bravura work.That said, I must add that Simmons' grasp is not 100% full in this, his first novel. A close reading will reveal, for example, some confusion as regards dates. When the story opens, it is June 1977, and Luczak mentions that his daughter is 7 months old; but several pages later, he says that she had been born on January 22, 1977. Wouldn't that make her 5 months old in mid-June? In another scene, in Calcutta in July, one of the characters mentions that Vladimir Nabokov had just passed away (Nabokov died on July 2 of that year). A few Calcutta days later, and another character mentions that New York City had just experienced an historic blackout. But that blackout didn't occur until July 13! Something funny there! There are a few other inconsistencies that a careful reading will reveal, such as Luczak telling us that his Exeter, New Hampshire home contains nine original oil paintings; some 300 pages later, that number is said to be eight. But these are mere quibbles, really, that only the pettiest of nitpickers (yeah, that's me!) would notice. The fact is, "Song of Kali" is a terrific horror novel that really does deliver the goods. It leaves many outstanding questions unanswered, which may indeed frustrate some, but for this reader, that only added to its air of evil and mystery. I wouldn't go within 500 miles of Calcutta now if you paid me...a sure sign of the power and effectiveness of Simmons' first book!
What do You think about Song Of Kali (2005)?
For the majority of this book, I thought there were some creepy scenes and it was excellent writing, but it didn't really scare me. It was rather like reading a Stephen King novel; I enjoyed the ride, but I wasn't going anywhere important.But then, about 20 pages from the end of the book--it's as if you're on a bicycle, coming out of an alleyway on your way to work in a sleepy little French village on a beautiful July morning, and just as you look ahead and smile, WHAM! you're crushed to the pavement by a garbage truck, your brains spilling out into a sewer drain (kudos to anyone who can tell me which movie that's from).I really don't know any other way to describe it. It was that sudden, and that shockingly horrific, tragic, and just as very senseless. That's the whole point, of course, that's what the makes the entire novel you've been reading, in retrospect, so terrifying. The horrifying sudden senseless tragedy, the kind of thing that stops your heart for long enough for you to notice...and suddenly I'm curled up in a ball sobbing my eyes out at 3 AM on a Saturday morning, with this granite weight in the bottom of my stomach and this empty yawning pit where my heart used to be.Honestly. Read this. It might not hit you quite like it hit me, but it'll still hit you. I fully understand why so many people said this was such an amazing piece of horror fiction.
—Trixie Jack
Although Dan Simmons talks about many ancient practices of Hinduism that were rendered illegal by the insurgence of British humanitarian laws, the scope of this novel and its main focus go way beyond that. From the perspective of the Indian folklore and myths, he puts forth how the “age of Kali” (which is metaphorically synonymous to “the era of destruction”) has begun. Though the book is dark and disturbing at certain parts and the opinion of the protagonist, Luczak, is offensive towards the Hindu religion and Indian culture as a whole, the book was a good read. The main reason for this is the respect that the writer shows towards the Hindu beliefs by incorporating parts of the folklore into his storyline – the main twist was left unrevealed which may intrigue the readers enough to think about the possibility of supernatural interventions.Being a follower of Hinduism and having a locally termed “jagrata” temple of Kali attached to the front of our village house, I must admit that I could relate to the environment that Dan Simmons created and the horror that it might present. I highly recommend the book to those of you who love myths in general and are interested in legends from different cultures and religions.
—Sudipto Saha
Дан Симънс рови сред ужасите на индийската митология в “Песента на Кали”: http://www.knigolandia.info/2009/12/b... Чели ли сте сагата “Хиперион”? Или двутомието “Илион” и “Олимп”? И в двете Дан Симънс се доказва като един от най-великите фантасти на всички времена. Но в “Песента на Кали” се откроява друга негова дарба – на разказвач на страшни истории от ранга на Стивън Кинг. Журналистът Робърт Лучак е командирован в Калкута да издири поет, който се счита за загинал преди 8 години при мистериозни обстоятелства. Наскоро са се появили нови негови стихове, мрачни и кървави, и шефовете на Робърт се надяват да направят материал както за поета, така и за новата му поезия.
—Христо Блажев
