NON FICTION TITLES

* Chatterjee, Partha Nationalist Thought in the Colonial World, a Derivative Discourse

Partha Chatterjee is one of the great minds of his generation, and this is his first great intellectual effort. A must read for students of political theory and Indian society, Nationalist Thought will reward any reader with even cursory philosophical interests. Considering its theoretical import, Nationalist Thought is an extremely short book, which is further subdivided into two sections. The first half is a weighty but concise theoretical exploration whose beautifully argued central thesis – that post-colonial nationalism represents a unique historical moment best understood through Gramsci’s notion of “passive revolution” – goes a long way to explaining why the Italian Marxist is such a big deal these days. This section also features some memorable polemics against students of nationalism (including the great Benedict Anderson) who have mistakenly conceived of the post-colonial situation as a footnote to the real history of nationalism, written primarily in 18^th and 19^th century Europe. The second half presents close readings of three seminal figures in Indian nationalism – Bankimchandra, Gandhi and Nehru – who Chatterjee uses to signpost his schematic understanding of the passive revolution as “Departure, Manoeuver and Arrival”. The section on Gandhi, which brings out both the unmatched significance and amazing moral force of this incredible man, is especially fascinating, and taken as a whole the close readings give the book a nice balance of abstraction and detail, though admittedly the detail is mostly limited to the writings of these three figures. While Nationalist Thought is brilliant throughout, it is not without its flaws. Chatterjee’s tendency towards schematization in the second half of the work is a bit implausible, as is his willingness to conflate India with “the colonial world”. That three very Indian figures are made to stand so exactly for the three essential moments of colonial nationalism reads as a bit of a stretch. That said, Chatterjee’s incisive dissection of the Indian situation is so compelling that one is tempted to go along with even his more far flung assertions. No need to say more – read this book! 

* Chatterjee, Partha A Nation and its Fragments

Less groundbreaking but in many ways more compelling than Nationalist Thought. Having done the hard systematic theoretical work in his first book, Chatterjee here turns his attention to the fabric of the nation, reaching beyond texts and into the concrete realities of Indian life. The book is arranged as a series of essays on different “fragments” of the nation – women, peasants, religious leaders. While unitary in their outlook, which assumes throughout the case made in Nationalist Thought, the chapters offer a variety of scholarly approaches, and each one presents a relatively coherent and separate argument. Chatterjee’s central themes, such as Indian nationalism’s private/public split, can seem pedestrian or obvious, until you realize that the author was instrumental in establishing them as seminal ideas! Especially memorable chapters on Ramakrishna and the creation of Bengali middle class; the role of women as guardians of the national culture and the transition from Puranic to empiricist historiography, but most every chapter is equally rewarding. The short final chapter, which begins in typical Chatterjee fashion with an excerpt from a play, goes a long way in outlining the possibilities and imposing limitations of what I see as Chatterjee’s ultimate intellectual project, namely “constructing an alternative universal to the dominant dharma” that is the hegemonic collaboration between capital and the nation. Readers will learn more from this book about Indian history and will probably enjoy the process more as well, but I would still recommend starting with Nationalist Thought.     

Dalyrymple, William The Age of Kali

This one really rubbed me the wrong way, tough I’m told that his White Moguls, an epic novel about New Delhi, is excellent. Dalrymple deserves full credit for an adventurous spirit and nose for trouble that lands him all sorts of amazing and interesting interviews and experiences. That said, his writing is journalistic in the more pejorative sense of the word (read: pedestrian) and his tone throughout is wide-eyed and tediously upbeat. Presented as a series of article/essays, the unifying trope is a neo-orientalist imagining of modern India as mired in the predatory and immoral Kali Yuga (Age of Folly). While one can hardly contradict the observation that India is a haven for all manner of human depredation, this basic point remains facile unless undergirded by a sophisticated critical apparatus. Unfortunately, interpretation seems basically foreign to Dalrymple’s intellectual project, making his unifying trope little more than a glib borrowing from the Puranas, and his essays little more than tabula rasa on which his various interview subjects can etch their particular views on the ills of Indian society, with little resistance from the good natured reporter. I put this one down to stay after Dalrymple concluded a profile of a particularly nasty Hindu right leader with the incisive observation that very bad people can be very courteous at tea time. Thanks, Will, but I prefer my chai with something a little more hard hitting than that stale biscuit of analysis. 

 *Guha, Ranajit ed. A Subaltern Studies reader 1986-1995

There are more than a few collections of subaltern studies essays and I honestly can’t tell you which ones are the best. Like other collections, this one saves you the time of leafing through the chaffe that has appeared in the dozen or so Subaltern Series publications to date. The collection features many of big names – Chatterjee, Pandey, Chakrabarty – and I trust that the editor, Ranajit Guha, who is kind of the granddad of the movement, has done an able job of picking the brightest fruits from a laden tree. I have read about half of the essays, and my general reaction is mixed. I have always been somewhat skeptical about the theoretical underpinnings of the subaltern studies project, and the essays in this collection have done nothing to change my mind. Not only do I agree with those who have argued against the project’s curiously essentialist presuppositions, but as a sometimes scholar of religion, I can’t help resisting a collapsing of all “subaltern” activity (such as it exists) into the binary of resistance or submission. Though Marxism may have been jettisoned, subalternists still seem mired in a certain form of historical materialism, for lack of a better word. Of course, its all more complicated than that, but the point is that there’s nothing surprising about the theoretical approach of these essays. Which fact is in many ways a good things. Whether you think the overall project is coherent, subalternists deserve the utmost credit for re-orienting Indian historiography toward populations, movements and identities that have either been overlooked or indiscriminately squeezed into Marxist schematics. What’s more, they do so in original ways that display throughout a deep sympathy for their subject and an appropriate (if occasionally tortured) awareness of their own role as producers of knowledge about Indian history. Careful perusal of these essays will reward the reader with detailed descriptions of the tendentious relations between Indian subaltern populations and the colonial state. Guha’s introduction, though overly brief, is also helpful in terms of the basic “what are these guys and gals on about”, though I actually think that the subaltern studies project (which I would still have trouble defining myself) has been more convincingly named and situated from outside than from within. If you see this one in a bookstore, pick it up, but if you see a collection by a different name, it will probably do just as well.  

*Ludden, David ed. Reading Subaltern Studies

By no means the most insightful critic of the subaltern studies movement, Ludden has adopted an interesting and ultimately successful editorial approach. His basic thesis – that subaltern studies can be productively read through its various critics – is spot on, and while the actual results are uneven, the overall effect is illuminating. The gems in this collection of essays are Rosalind O’Hanlon’s essay “Recovering the Subject. . . “, the first major review of subaltern studies outside of India, and Sumit Sarkar’s brilliant polemic against his formal subaltern brethren, “The Decline of the Subaltern. . .” which closes the collection in grand fashion. Ludden’s summary introduction is helpful in terms of general orientation, but not otherwise noteworthy. Credit is also due to the editor for commencing the collection with critical essays from the Indian academy, which might normally be overlooked by international scholars. While one should not approach this book as a replacement for engaging with the subalternists own representations of their project, the ballast provided by these (relative) outsiders can be crucial for understanding how subaltern studies fits into the larger intellectual milieu in which it is operating.  

Mehta, Gita Karma Cola

Ostensibly an unmasking of the seedy underbelly that lurks Jabba-the-Hut style beneath the saffron glitter of India’s various gurus, ashrams and other centers for spiritual transcendence, Karma Cola is kind of a mad (as in crazy) screed without a real point. Not surprisingly, this polemic sans argument is in the end a bit unsatisfying: Mehta wants you to love her or hate her, but I never quite made it past the “what is she on about?” stage. I think Mehta’s point, which among other things comes off as a bit dated, goes like this: as you probably know, (some) ashrams are full of charlatan sants-cum-thieves and stoned-out, sexually immature nitwits. What you may not know, however, is that this is actually a really bad thing, and not just because these folks are giving religion a bad name (not clear that she cares) and setting horrible standards for personal hygiene. For, in addition to getting fleeced and fucked, a lot of these foreigners (and Mehta does present some amazing numbers on just how many people from Europe and America are “hanging out” in India), actually go crazy, as in totally gonzo, at which point their governments, whose visa and passport rules they have systematically defied, have to come rescue them, at some considerable cost and effort. I say that I think that this is Mehta’s point because the book is presented as a jumble of interviews, sketches and mini-rants that, while intended as stylish and experimental, often ends up sounding like it was written during a weeklong ashram drug binge (not that Mehta is the type). The book definitely has its share of brilliant moments and memorable phrases that make the reader’s effort more than worthwhile, and its recommended for anyone interested in the ashram scene specifically or all manner of new age and revivalist spirituality in general. That said, you can’t help feeling that the author could have done so much more with the bizarre material she’s uncovered. 

Metcalf, Thomas and Barabara Metcalf A Concise History of INDIA

Workmanlike in its presentation, well informed and catholic in its outlook, faithful to its title in terms of brevity; not surprising that this book is eventually so uninspiring. Maybe it’s just the nature of a concise history, which sacrifices deep analysis and copious detail for orienting generalizations and punctuated empiricism. Maybe it’s the tiresome “we’re from the Cambridge school and we’re damned well proud of it tone”; or maybe its because I actually agree with subalternists that the Cambridge school is needlessly obsessed with Indian factionalism at the expense of a deeper and broader understandings of the forces active in Indian history. Maybe it’s the slightly weird image I have of this husband and wife India all-star historical team speaking Hindi in Berkeley coffee shops. Reading history is for me about two things: a really great story and an absurdly gluttonous feast of details that you’re soon to forget (or else store away for unexpected cameos in decades hence brainstorms and bar trivia games). The Metcalfs are not great storytellers, and at least in this instance their job was to set a rather meager table. I definitely learned a few things, especially about the role India played in the development of the modern state as we know it – did you know the first modern census took place in India?? – but the dullness of the experience makes retention of these lessons doubtful.       

*Orwell, George Orwell and the Disposessed 

Not really about India, though the theme of poverty is at least tertiarily related, and there’s a great 1944 evisceration of Rudyard Kipling (or so Andrea tells me – I haven’t quite gotten to it yet). The major text in this collection is Down and Out in Paris and London, which is sort of Orwell’s riff on the poor and artsy in Paris lark, that is, until he leaves Paris and goes to London. Paris section has nothing on Hemingway or Henry Miller. London section is cooler and more in Orwell’s comfort zone somehow – gives a typically spare but evocative portrait of life as a tramp in depression era London (1933). Lots of other random reviews, letters, articles etc. that give a rounder portrait of Orwell than you’ll get if you stop at 1984 and the cartoon version of Animal Farm. I’m putting this in here mostly because I sweat Orwell and I want anyone who reads this to know it. There’s definitely a healthy mix of the seaweed in with the pearls, not surprising since this collection grabs just about everything Orwell ever wrote on the subject of being broke, and I don’t think Down and Out is Orwell at his best, but this guy’s seaweed beats most people’s pearls by a mile.   

Revel, Jean Francois and Matthieu Ricard The Monk and the Philosopher

Please contact me if you manage to read this book cover to cover – I may know some psychologists who will pay good money to perform certain tests on you. Honestly, how do two such well-educated, apparently interesting people discussing some of the most important questions of our age manage to sound so consistently boring, pompous and pedantic for so long? The basic premise of the book - western philosopher/public intellectual dad and scientist-turned-Buddhist monk son meet in Switzerland for chats about the meaning of life et al. – sounds mildly appealing, despite the facile East meets West gloss. But whatever potential exists is quickly swallowed up by the two combatants’ ineptitude. Speaking for the “West”, Revel, who apparently is some big thing in France, seems mostly interested in showing off his admittedly vast knowledge of the history of Western philosophy. Besides intellectual preening, the noted philosopher offers an interrogation of his son’s Buddhist beliefs that is predictable, repetitive and uninspired, while his own flaccid defense of liberalism, which he portrays as the best thing going now that socialism and fundamentalism have been giving their philosophical walking papers, is equally expected and lackluster. The best Revel manages are a few interesting comparisons between some of the ancient Greeks (obviously one of his specialties) and certain Buddhist ideas, but its nothing that hasn’t been said far better by the international Buddhological community (e.g. Jay Garfield) which is often impressively well schooled in these matters. As for son Matthieu (and by the way, what’s the deal with the different last names – did guru-ji make Matt drop the Revel??), while his back-story is fascinating - trained scientists leaves lab to spend twenty years at the feet of a Tibetan Rinpoche - and his tone bears little hint of his father’s pedantry, the results are hardly more inspiring. Representing the “East”, Matthieu trots out all of the typical clichés about how Tibet's venerable spiritual science might be the essential ballast to the deep unhappiness generated by the West’s materialist scientism. While such things are true enough as far as they go, the point is they don’t go very far at all. Obviously an ardent student at the monastery, Ricard offers some interesting details about specific Tibetan psycho-philosophical ideas and meditation techniques, however, his overall presentation lacks a unifying argument outside the usual tropes. Moreover, as Ricard lacks his father’s glibness or talent for argumentation, the points he does have end up sounding awkward and unconvincing. Of course, it’s no easy trick to make incredibly divergent systems of thought talk to one another, so the false starts and utter failures that are legion in this book are neither unexpected nor unprecedented; indeed, better men and women have failed where these two dare to tread. What’s more, I personally give credit to anyone who embarks on such effort, even if they lack the sort of openness required (father) or have aims that are largely apologetic (son). There’s also something heartwarmingly familiar about father making determined but occasionally inept effort to understand son’s strikingly different life choices, but Revel is in the end too pretentious and oblivious to sustain this positive association.

* Sarai Media Lab Sarai Readers 1-4

No, I did not read all four readers cover to cover. In fact, these collections are made for skimming, skipping around, flipping through and other occasional and accidental approaches to reading. The reward for random exploration can be varied – the Sarai folks are as cutting edge as it gets, which sometimes means more like bleeding edge. At its best, the writing is inspiringly avant garde, as in: a real glimpse of the future, imagined in turns idealistically or cynically. Widely diverse yet invariably connected issues like free software, surveillance, identity, nationalism, development and terrorism are approached from compelling and inventive angles, with an eye towards a kind of productive cultural criticism that exists at the crossroads between the philosophical and the political. Moreover, the meaning and the message are appropriately unified, both in terms of the wide variety of writing styles presented – from email exchanges and free associated rambles to tightly organized scholarly writing – and the overall design and copious artwork. At less inspiring moments, some authors are too willing to let jargon and abstruse in-jokes stand in for substantive criticism, making their work both difficult to wade through and eventually unsatisfying. A mixed bag, then, as would be expected in such willfully eclectic collections, but full of next generation party favors. For lighter doses of the same, check out www.sarai.net, where tolerance for a bit of jargon will put you in touch with the heart of India’s next generation of public intellectuals.  

A tour de force presentation of modern Indian “history from below”. In summarizing massive amounts of recent research on modern Indian history, Sarkar negotiates effectively and at times inspiringly between traditional Marxist economism and a still developing subaltern perspective. Systematic and comprehensive, the book is no picnic to get through, but the dedicated reader is amply rewarded with a historical portrait that effectively signposts the many roads not taken in the development of the Indian state, without therefore succumbing to the temptations of counter-factual history. Historiography is a set of largely dead facts animated by the careful attentions of the historian; Sarkar’s careful and broad use of sources is at the heart of his amazing ability to breathe life into his subjects, whether world historical figures like Gandhi and Nehru or obscure leaders of peasant revolts. His treatment of Gandhi and Nehru especially combines forceful critique with genuine sympathy. The reader is left with a crucial understanding of how the Indian nationalist leadership succumbed to the prerogatives of bourgeois capitalism that somehow preserves an appropriate respect and admiration for the heroes of the nationalist struggle and the massive significance of their anti-colonial agitation. A virulent and effective critic of the horrendous role played by the Hindu right throughout this period but especially in the lead-up to partition, Sarkar does seem to give a free pass to Jinnah and the other side of communalist extremism, but in terms of the bulk of Indian historiography, this is probably an appropriate corrective. This book is required reading for anyone interested in modern India.

*Sen, Amartya Inequality Re-examined