| Delhi Delivers Great Noir |
August 20, 2009
Akashic Books' Noir series is a doubly-generous gift to the reading world: first, the collections are stunning compendiums of geographically-specific writers, many of whom will be new (and wonderful) discoveries for readers; second, noir is a fantastic genre offering psychological, sociological, and political insights, all delivered with chill-inspired adrenalin that makes the experience of reading powerful and unforgettable. Good noir, that is, and Akashic gives good noir.
Delhi Noir, the latest release of Akashic Books (www.akashicbooks.com), delivers great noir short stories, every single one by an author new to me and now newly installed in my personal pantheon of exciting writers. The writers are all from India and some still live there, others have emigrated but maintain strong memories to the very particular and unique characteristics of India and its capital city, Delhi. It is a city that draws people from every corner of India, every caste, every ambition, and every ability; the stories in Delhi Noir reflect the diversity and energy of Delhi, and of course, being noir, the underbelly of ambition and ability, which is corruption, greed, abuse, and vengeance. The stories seethe with corruption, bubble over with greed, curdle with abuse, and boil with vengeance. And yet the humanity -- the overbelly, if you will -- pulses throughout every story as well; even if it is just an un-named narrator bearing witness, the lives reported are lives remembered, even in fiction. Because for every fictional character brought forth in this enthralling collection of stories, there exists ten-fold non-fiction versions pacing, having paced, or foretold to pace, the streets of Delhi.
The writing is consistently good in these stories, the characters unique and unforgettable and the settings evoked subtly but thoroughly. A few of the stories' plots are a bit predictable but even those provide so much in terms of characters, both the actors themselves and the most fascinating character of all, Delhi, that every single story is good. Most of the stories move well beyond predictable, from the heroin-addled consultant whose clothes are stolen but finds profitable enterprise (and new clothes) in grave-intercourse and passes on the benefit of nakedness to another, to the rickshaw driver who delivers vengeance but to whose benefit?, to the private eye caught up in what she thinks is a quest for forgiveness of the mass killings of Sikhs following the murder of Indira Ghandi, to the boy sucked into a prostitution ring run by an aunty when he should have stuck to playing chess, to the cleaner who finds a stash of cash in a health club's walls, to a futuristic tale of caste vengeance, most cleverly delivered.
There are many great lines in Delhi Noir but my favorite is from Uday Prakash's "The Walls of Delhi", when a character describes his wife: "She'd remain silent but glare at him with flames that licked at the inside of his head all day long." These stories will lick at the insides of your head, not enflaming but instead chilling and enthralling, and remaining as souvenirs of your tour of Delhi.
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