Utsob Roy

I really don't know what to say. Annoying yet funny.

Until you finish it, you'll never notice how well-crafted this novel is. That is how good art or literature should be. It will hide the craftsmanship. The narrative was concise, flowing, and captivating.

Another thing not strictly about this book is, I envy authors who (though being a man) can portray women such a way that it compels you to think that they know women from the depth of their psychology. I know they don't know everything about women. However, they can create a character which may not be like ‘This is how women are' but will be like ‘this is also how a woman can be'. Dazai can do this very well.

It has been suggested, for instance, that the Mahābhārata, the great early Sanskrit epic, owes a debt to the Iliad and to the Odyssey, with the theme of the abduction of Lady Sita by Rāvaa a direct echo of the elopement of Helen with Paris of Troy.

It is supposed to be Rāmāyana, not Mahābhārata. Mistakes like this, and that also in the first few pages made me skeptical about the quality of this book.

Beyond that, I found this book enlightening. Writing a history based on how businesses have been made (and related things like coercion and war) is a very refreshing read.

Only recently, I think, Manto is getting traction once again. A writer disowned by his country because of cultural bigotry (This act is an irony itself since Manto himself left his country and then regretted it.) and was unable to grow in his new ground, died as a middle-aged man.

The stories are indeed well-chosen, as the translator claimed to show the spectrum of Manto’s ability. I can also vouch for the translation quality because I’ve already read some excellent translations of Manto in Bengali. Since all the languages in the Indian subcontinent are kin, they share similarities. You can easily get a vibe of the original writing.

To see in Manto’s eyes is like seeing with sensors rather than wisdom. You don’t need any special depth to understand Manto, I think. His writings are all about the things that are alive. You’ll rarely find any description about the environment in his writings, but whenever you get some, they will hit some of your nerves. You may find yourself beside a long wall with the stink and stains of urine, or in a room so small that you may suffocate. These stains and stinks, these feelings of suffocation, are lively. Attention to minute details, which is a strength of many writers, is almost absent in his works. Rather, he will talk about people's minds and thoughts in length, what they are thinking, acting, and living… The stories are stories of living things, and you’ll start living and breathing in these stories.

Time to time, we talk about this and that, the responsibilities of writers and artists in general. Well, to be truthful, an artist’s only responsibility is to speak his mind truthfully. To do that, an artist may, and historically always has been, an iconoclast in their style, subject, and expression. Obscene, Manto was, and also sceptical about the then-contemporary ideas of revolution and freedom. An icon, be it Gandhi or Virginity, he has challenged. By doing this, he expressed truths that transcend beyond society's ethics, yet are very close to our human self.

It is an absolutely fantastic collection of short stories. I read it while I was travelling through Thailand. With all the things I saw as a tourist, the real life of the Thai people is beyond my grasp. This book is a portal of their life, happiness, humiliation, and sorrow.