The Reader

Brilliant! That’s how I would describe “The Reader” in one word. The novel written by Bernhard Schlink is one of the deepest most moving books I have read in a while. It’s one of those stories that don’t just end after you turn the last page. But the disturbing events and questions haunt you and keep you thinking.
The story starts with the relationship between a fifteen-year old teenager, Michael, with an older Hanna (who in today’s Hollywood flashy terms would be called a cougar). The relationship is further complicated by power struggles, crippling dependence, and betrayals. However, their relationship is beyond naïve distinctions of right and wrong. In a sense, it transcends the average mundane love story in a tradition that is reminiscent of Milan Kundera's "The Unbearable Lightness of Being".
Throughout the next chapter we learn about Hanna’s past work in a concentration camp. Ironically, Michael is involved in the court that is supposed to condemn Hanna. The story audaciously humanizes those who have been readily labeled as “villains”. But at the same time, it does not fully exempt Hanna of the guilt and responsibility of what she had committed. Every detail about her character adds complexity and depth. For example, her passion for fine literature in the midst of the horrors of the concentration camp gives her both a humane and a villainous dimension. While the Holocaust is at the center of the novel, it doesn’t stop at that. The questions raised are universal questions on morality, love, and perceptions. The main characters are confused and complex. They are struggling to understand others and themselves, which makes any reader relate to them even if they haven’t been through the horrors, suffering, guilt and shame associated with the Holocaust. Simply put, this is not your average mopey Holocaust story as I first thought. It is deeper. It is more comprehensive. It is brilliant!

The Reluctant Fundamentalist

Ah, finally I’m done with the longest short novel ever! For some reason the 200-page novel entitled “The Reluctant Fundamentalist” seemed to infinitely drag on. Even though, Hamid has a good story to tell, something about a “conversation” in a monologue style seriously turned me off.
The story starts when Changez, a Pakistani from Lahore who studied and worked in the US, presumably accidentally meets a presumably American “tourist”. Changez invites the man for a cup of tea, and almost immediately spills his story about his experience in the US including some really personal details. Although grabbing random tourists and rambling on about my life, isn’t exactly my style, I continued reading the story hoping that something will actually happen. I was disappointed. All the main events happen in retrospect. Their truth and accuracy are even questioned at one point in the story. So, instead of traveling back in time with Changez and feeling involved in the story, I found myself sitting in a café with a chatty Pakistani and a suspiciously anxious American. Although, logically I should identify with Changez, I really felt more for the poor trapped “tourist” who had to sit for the whole evening listening to some guy ramble about a girl he almost had and a brilliant future he almost had. Sorry, but this one-sided conversation only reminded me of those abhorred Eid visits I had to sit through as a child to greet the older members of our extended family.
To be fair, Hamid raises some very good points about alienation, not just post 9/11, but about life in general. Most characters of the novel seemed to me like individual islands, each floating in his/her own direction. Of course, there is also the brilliant comparison between the harsh world of business and that of religious extremists. My guess is that the novel was short-listed for a Booker Prize for the ideas it raises. But apart from that, neither technique nor language really grabbed me.
Anyway, I see that Hamid has another novel entitled “Moth Smoke” about a fallen man from Lahore in an impossible relationship . Mmm, sounds a little familiar. Should I give it a try? Nope. Next, please.