The Two Mediums

Published August 2009

So let’s say there’s this movie that you really want to watch. It’s opened to decent reviews. Friends seem keen on it. The catch? It’s a film based on some bestselling paperback or another.

I guarantee that you will come across fans of the book sprouting the usual lines of “the movie was not as good. The book will always be better.” It’s a statement that I find a little redundant given that most directors of calibre these days are aware of sensitivities from the author’s point of view and will try their best to stay true to the gist of the story.

I had a lengthy conversation with some friends whose tastes differ greatly from mine. My interpretation of a Sunday morning would be to languish horizontally in front of the telly until the need to tend to a hint of a hangover gets me out of bed.

Said friends interpretation on the best way to unwind during the weekend would be to stick their respective noses into one new novel or another. A concept that is still a little lost on me. Nothing wrong with it at all, in fact it’s a pastime I admire. I just don’t think I have it in me to hit the books again. And yes, these friends are the sort who would agree that most movies don’t do justice to the books that they’re based on.

I am aware that some would be surprised to know that I don’t usually enjoy reading – and the last proper novels I read were at the beginning of last year. They were Thrity Umrigar’s ‘The Space Between Us’ and Kiran Desai’s ‘Inheritance Of Loss’. My reasons for picking those two award winning books were less for biblio gratification, and more to educate myself further on my culture, something that I feel a little removed from at times.

Taking into account that my chosen profession is one that requires me to study various forms of writing, reading is pure work to me. It’s a chore. I wasn’t always like this though. In my younger days I was a voracious reader who could rip through anything that was put in front of me.

It started off harmlessly enough with Enid Blyton’s ‘The Wishing Chair’ and ‘The Faraway Tree’ series. I then moved on to more contemporary reading, completed my first proper novel when I was 9 and by the age of 16 I was grappling with Dante and his Divine Comedy – though it has to be said that Dante got the better of me. I was never able to fully enjoy his work and it ended up being my Waterloo. With my neurons pretty much fried, Dante’s work was the last proper piece of solid literature that I touched for over 10 years.

My personal opinion on the whole book and movie debate is very simply this: The movie will never be as good as the book. But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the movie’s take on things. To be fair, however, I do know how it feels when some piece of work isn’t interpreted as you think it should be.

Before I delve even further along my tangent I will state that I was mortified when the movie ‘Queen of the Damned’ was released several years ago. I was horrified at the brutal chopping and meshing of two books from gothic horror writer Anne Rice’s brilliant Vampire Chronicles – the other title being ‘The Vampire Lestat’.

I picked up on Anne Rice while I was a teenager who was exploring each and every artistic facet that I could. To say that I was (and still am) a bit of a Rice fan would be a severe understatement to anyone who knows me well.

I had watched and enjoyed Neil Jordan’s successful adaptation of Rice’s ‘Interview With The Vampire’ to the silver screen so when I heard that ‘Queen’ was headed in the same direction, so help me, I had expectations.

I won’t go into the bitter disappointment I felt watching two brilliantly rich works of fiction that had been mangled to fit into some sort of celluloid fantasy clearly meant for the layperson. And no disrespect to the late Aaliyah who played the eponymous role of Akasha. She was probably the best thing about it to be honest. And the movie did well. So well in fact that it still boggles the mind. But please permit me a small bon mot in wondering aloud if this had something to do with Aaliyah’s untimely and tragic death prior to the launch of the film. Had she not passed away I sincerely doubt that it would have been a worldwide hit.

Going back to me and my take on the book versus movie conundrum, I have no issues in enjoying a film for the pure entertainment of it, of what I take away from it.

I fell heavily in love with Anthony Minghella’s ‘The English Patient’, an adaptation of Michael Ondaatje’s Booker Prize winning novel. I guess it comes down to the fact that I think of myself as more of a visual person. I enjoy watching, rather than wondering or imagining. And yes, books are always going to give readers a richer sense of feeling and emotion. However, if the director is able to pull off condensing text appropriately and apply the correct amount of emotion, description and action into something tangible, then I’d say it’s a job well done.

There are also ongoing discussions that show no signs of slowing down. One famous example would be on ‘Memoirs of a Geisha’ by Arthur Golden and the screen adaptation that followed it several years later by Rob Marshall. While I’ve not read the book as yet, it is interesting to note that many who have are supportive of the film. The general statement is that the book was not an easy one to navigate around while the movie was able to sum up an epic tale succinctly.

J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter highly successful series of books and films also do not escape debate, with legions of fans proffering their own interpretation of her highly personalized lexicons and characters.

In summation, regardless of personal taste or preference, there seems to be no clear answer as to which medium is better. I suppose it all boils down to the ability to utilize one’s imagination. And should you find that one of your favourite reads is being adapted to movie form, I’d say best to keep an open mind. What you see may end up surprising you.

The Fine Line

The Fine Line - Published January 2008

"The Space Between Us" by accomplished journalist and novelist Thrity Umrigar is an incomplex story about the lives of women in a society fraught with hierarchy, beliefs and taboos as old as time.
It delves into the lives of Bhima, a poor Hindu servant living in the slums of modern day Mumbai who has spent the last 20 years working for Sera Dubash, a Parsi patrician from an upper-middle class family. These are the two main protagonists and the writing switches back and forth between them easily. The prose tiptoes across the fine line between happiness and misery with grace.

The parallels between Bhima's unwavering loyalty and Sera's cultivated distancing are laid bare and are captivating. From Bhima's honest love and devotion to a family that has given her so much, to Sera's obvious and open affection for Bhima - even though Bhima works in a household that doesn't allow her to eat and drink with the same cups and utensils, nor sit on any furniture. It is a dynamic that is a sensitive topic for many and Feroz, Sera's husband, confirms this : "Treating that woman as if she's a family member. Servants have to be kept in their place, I tell you. One of these days I'll come home to find you waiting on Bhima."

There is also Maya, Bhima's orphaned granddaughter, who's predicament much of the novel centers around. And then there is Dinaz, Sera's daughter. "Dinaz, refusing to eat a chocolate unless she can share it with Bhima; Dinaz, begging Bhima to sit on the furniture with her when the two of them were alone at home; Dinaz, slipping money from her allowance into Bhima's embarrassed hands. Before there was Maya, there was Dinaz who had loved her with an abandon that only a child could muster."

The fact that Bhima has kept all the household secrets is never lost on Sera however, and she in turn becomes Bhima's source of emotional and financial support, even going so far as to pay for Bhima's granddaughter Maya's college tuition fees.
This book explores boundaries and the goings-on of life in a country where the poor are invisible while the rich rule all. It shows us how women can be so easily cast down in the eyes of society for the slightest infringement of what is deemed to be acceptable behavior and that violence can be found anywhere. It also measures the human capacity for euphoria as well as despair.

"The Space Between Us" opens with Bhima struggling with the issue of what to do with Maya who has recently become pregnant and who refuses to reveal the identity of the baby's father. As the sole guardian of Maya, Bhima is unable to deal with this and blames herself for being a poor, illiterate old woman, unable to provide a better life for the girl. Not knowing where to turn, Bhima seeks advice from Sera as the story unfolds : "And Serabai, tall, fair, a sentry who stood at the gates of hell and tried to keep Bhima from being snatched away by the infernal fires."
Bhima's surname is never mentioned or revealed and this seems to suggest unimportance in her family history while her fierce protector Sera Dubash comes from a financially comfortable, educated background. The pitiful yet lovingly careful way that Bhima is described endears the reader even further to her. Someone who has spent her entire life in servitude to other families. Old Bhima with her wrinkled skin, thin, bony fingers and her aching hip: "Bhima jumps to her feet, and as she does, her left hip lets out a loud pop. She stands still for a moment, waiting for the wave of pain that follows the pop, but today is a good day. No pain."

This book addresses prejudices so guttural and difficult it borders on incomprehension, but it is these said prejudices that are still very much alive today. Umrigar's description of the practice of dehumanizing people who are of a lower stature is brutal but is altogether refreshing in it's honesty.The writing flows effortlessly and even though local colloquialisms are thrown in now and again, it is easy for a non-Hindi speaker to understand the gist of what is being said.

This book does not propose to revolutionize the world with any suggestion of great cultural insight but is instead a simple, moving story woven in and around the lives of two women from opposite ends of society who have both experienced great love and immeasurable loss.
"The Space Between Us" sheds light on deep-rooted animosity that Umrigar herself refers to as a polarization of class divisions. But while a lot of the writing suggests desperation and gloom, it also hits home with the concept of the silver lining to every dark cloud.

Umrigar drew from her own wealth of personal experiences when defining the characteristics of both Bhima and Sera. She has likened it to growing up in a household where there was a real Bhima in 'A Conversation With Thrity Umrigar'. "I was an earnest, well-meaning teenager and I loved Bhima

Explains Umrigar, "The Space Between us is an attempt to understand, through the illuminating searchlight of fiction, paradoxes that I could never make sense of in real life. I began the novel in the spring of 2003. But in fact I have been writing this book forever." And the dedication of this book, "for the real Bhima and the millions like her," really does evoke a powerful sense of hope against humiliation, for the wrongly perceived bête noire of the fragile class structure in a country still heavily immersed in tradition gone awry.

Thrity Umrigar is a Mumbai born writer who moved to the United States at the age of 21. Her other novels are "Bombay Time", "First Darling Of The Morning" and "If Today Be Sweet". A journalist for over 17 years, Umrigar has written for the Washington Post as well as Pulitzer-prize winning publication the Akron Beacon Journal. Umrigar won the Nieman Fellowship to Harvard University in 1999 and currently resides in Cleveland, Ohio.