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Нож: Размисли след опит за убийство е смелият и безмилостно интимен разказ на Салман Рушди за физическото и духовното му оцеляване след покушението над него трийсет години след издадената фатва от иранския аятолах Хомейни.
На 12 август 2022 година Салман Рушди като един съвременен гладиатор се изправя на сцената в амфитеатралната зала на Институт „Шътокуа“, за да говори колко важно е писателите да творят в защитена и безопасна среда, когато към него се втурва мъж, облечен в черно. С нож в ръка. Следва варварски акт на фанатизирана жестокост, разтърсил света на литературата и всяко почтено човешко същество на планетата. В своята книга изповед писателят за пръв път описва в незабравими подробности травмиращите събития от онзи трагичен ден и дългия път към своето оцеляване и изцеление, станали възможни благодарение на обичта и подкрепата на неговата съпруга Елайза, на семейството му, на талантливите и всеотдайни медицински специалисти и на писателските и читателски общности по цял свят.
На агресията и безумието Рушди противопоставя силата на интелекта, стоицизма и благородството на духа. И обезоръжаващата искреност. Защото неговият път към осмисляне на немислимото минава през литературата. Защото за него изкуството не е ненужен лукс, то е дълбоката същност на човешката природа. Защото той вярва, че любовта – а не омразата – има силата да премества планини и да променя света.
И защото един глас в съзнанието му не спира да нашепва: живей, живей!
„Искрена, открита и завладяваща книга... Напомня ни за какво си струва да се борим.“ - Ню Йорк Таймс
На 12 август 2022 година Салман Рушди като един съвременен гладиатор се изправя на сцената в амфитеатралната зала на Институт „Шътокуа“, за да говори колко важно е писателите да творят в защитена и безопасна среда, когато към него се втурва мъж, облечен в черно. С нож в ръка. Следва варварски акт на фанатизирана жестокост, разтърсил света на литературата и всяко почтено човешко същество на планетата. В своята книга изповед писателят за пръв път описва в незабравими подробности травмиращите събития от онзи трагичен ден и дългия път към своето оцеляване и изцеление, станали възможни благодарение на обичта и подкрепата на неговата съпруга Елайза, на семейството му, на талантливите и всеотдайни медицински специалисти и на писателските и читателски общности по цял свят.
На агресията и безумието Рушди противопоставя силата на интелекта, стоицизма и благородството на духа. И обезоръжаващата искреност. Защото неговият път към осмисляне на немислимото минава през литературата. Защото за него изкуството не е ненужен лукс, то е дълбоката същност на човешката природа. Защото той вярва, че любовта – а не омразата – има силата да премества планини и да променя света.
И защото един глас в съзнанието му не спира да нашепва: живей, живей!
„Искрена, открита и завладяваща книга... Напомня ни за какво си струва да се борим.“ - Ню Йорк Таймс
224 pages, Paperback
First published April 16, 2024
About the author
Salman Rushdie
136 books12.1k followers
The Satanic Verses
(1988), novel of Indian-born British writer Salman Rushdie led Ruholla Khomeini, the ayatollah of Iran, to demand his execution and then forced him into hiding; his other works include
Midnight's Children
(1981), which won the Booker prize, and
The Moor's Last Sigh
(1995).
Sir Ahmed Salman Rushdie, a novelist and essayist, set much of his early fiction at least partly on the Indian subcontinent. His style is often classified as magical realism, while a dominant theme of his work is the story of the many connections, disruptions and migrations between the Eastern and Western world.
His fourth novel led to some violent protests from Muslims in several countries. Faced with death threats and a fatwa (religious edict) issued by Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, then Supreme Leader of Iran, which called for him to be killed, he spent nearly a decade largely underground, appearing in public only sporadically. In June 2007, he was appointed a Knight Bachelor for "services to literature", which "thrilled and humbled" him. In 2007, he began a five-year term as Distinguished Writer in Residence at Emory University.
Sir Ahmed Salman Rushdie, a novelist and essayist, set much of his early fiction at least partly on the Indian subcontinent. His style is often classified as magical realism, while a dominant theme of his work is the story of the many connections, disruptions and migrations between the Eastern and Western world.
His fourth novel led to some violent protests from Muslims in several countries. Faced with death threats and a fatwa (religious edict) issued by Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, then Supreme Leader of Iran, which called for him to be killed, he spent nearly a decade largely underground, appearing in public only sporadically. In June 2007, he was appointed a Knight Bachelor for "services to literature", which "thrilled and humbled" him. In 2007, he began a five-year term as Distinguished Writer in Residence at Emory University.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,991 reviews
May 30, 2024
This is a tough book to evaluate. What works well is the lucidity with which Rushdie articulates his own experience of a very public act of terror. He went through something life shattering and is remarkably poised in sharing how he and his family navigated the trauma.
It was also interesting when he spoke to the decades long trauma of the fatwa issued after the publication of The Satanic Verses. To be able to write and live a public life while being haunted by precarity is no small feat.
I would have liked to see more depth of reflection. But is that fair to ask of a memoir? I don’t know.
It was also interesting when he spoke to the decades long trauma of the fatwa issued after the publication of The Satanic Verses. To be able to write and live a public life while being haunted by precarity is no small feat.
I would have liked to see more depth of reflection. But is that fair to ask of a memoir? I don’t know.
April 18, 2024
A must read
Words can't be destroyed in a healthy society. As long as they hold meaning for people, books are indestructible, especially in the digital age. Unfortunately, humans are more fragile, and authors become targets for dangerous extremists who cannot accept another opinion.Salman Rushdie is a powerful man. He not only survived an attempted murder but also decades of attacks and restrictions.
'Knife' talks about all that in a profound and meaningful way. It is a rare non-fiction book written by one of the greatest contemporary fiction writers. It shows a courageous man who, despite all the hate he received, still found a way to live a happy and fulfilled life.
Words can't be destroyed in a healthy society. As long as they hold meaning for people, books are indestructible, especially in the digital age. Unfortunately, humans are more fragile, and authors become targets for dangerous extremists who cannot accept another opinion.Salman Rushdie is a powerful man. He not only survived an attempted murder but also decades of attacks and restrictions.
'Knife' talks about all that in a profound and meaningful way. It is a rare non-fiction book written by one of the greatest contemporary fiction writers. It shows a courageous man who, despite all the hate he received, still found a way to live a happy and fulfilled life.
September 13, 2024
Now Nominated for the National Book Award for Nonfiction 2024
It's hard to categorize this text, and that's where the intrigue lies: Sure, it's a kind of a memoir depicting the 13 months following the knife attack in Chautauqua, New York, in August 2022, but it's also an intense psychological self-portrait and, as the sub-title suggests, a meditation on survival techniques against all despair. Ayatollah Khomeini's fatwa against Rushdie was issued in 1989, he was stabbed 33 years later - how insane is it to have your life that you have dedicated to telling people stories constantly invaded by life-threatening idiocy so absurd it's almost impossible to grasp that it's even real?
And Rushdie's imagined conversation with his attacker is very clear regarding the social status and intellectual capacity of the guy - and here's a left-field connection for you, because I'm pretty sure Rushdie has never heard the biggest hit of German punk rock heroes Die Ärzte, an anti-fascist smasher that describes a young isolated man with low self-esteem who gets radicalized - and the chorus culminates in the chant "oh-oh-oh Arschloch!", which is exactly how Rushie calls his attacker, whom he imagines to be just like the dude in the Ärzte song, throughout his book: A. (okay, it could stand for assassin, but I'm pretty sure it's asshole).
Rushdie juxtaposes horrifying depictions of his injuries, time in the hospital and inner turmoil with tales about what got him through: His family and friends, and also public solidarity. In a way, this is also a written monument of survival, crafted by a guy extremists want to kill so he will finally shut up. But he won't. And while he's afraid he might now be "the guy who got stabbed", this also won't be true: Rushdie is the world-renowned storyteller who has written books so powerful that they terrify fundamentalists into trying to stop him from telling more stories. They should be terrified of all the people who read Rushdie's works and stand with him, because we are too many to defeat.
Rushdie made a movie about the attack: "Through a Glass Darkly"
You can also sing along with tens of thousands of people screaming "A...." with Die Ärzte here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=paXR7...
It's hard to categorize this text, and that's where the intrigue lies: Sure, it's a kind of a memoir depicting the 13 months following the knife attack in Chautauqua, New York, in August 2022, but it's also an intense psychological self-portrait and, as the sub-title suggests, a meditation on survival techniques against all despair. Ayatollah Khomeini's fatwa against Rushdie was issued in 1989, he was stabbed 33 years later - how insane is it to have your life that you have dedicated to telling people stories constantly invaded by life-threatening idiocy so absurd it's almost impossible to grasp that it's even real?
And Rushdie's imagined conversation with his attacker is very clear regarding the social status and intellectual capacity of the guy - and here's a left-field connection for you, because I'm pretty sure Rushdie has never heard the biggest hit of German punk rock heroes Die Ärzte, an anti-fascist smasher that describes a young isolated man with low self-esteem who gets radicalized - and the chorus culminates in the chant "oh-oh-oh Arschloch!", which is exactly how Rushie calls his attacker, whom he imagines to be just like the dude in the Ärzte song, throughout his book: A. (okay, it could stand for assassin, but I'm pretty sure it's asshole).
Rushdie juxtaposes horrifying depictions of his injuries, time in the hospital and inner turmoil with tales about what got him through: His family and friends, and also public solidarity. In a way, this is also a written monument of survival, crafted by a guy extremists want to kill so he will finally shut up. But he won't. And while he's afraid he might now be "the guy who got stabbed", this also won't be true: Rushdie is the world-renowned storyteller who has written books so powerful that they terrify fundamentalists into trying to stop him from telling more stories. They should be terrified of all the people who read Rushdie's works and stand with him, because we are too many to defeat.
Rushdie made a movie about the attack: "Through a Glass Darkly"
You can also sing along with tens of thousands of people screaming "A...." with Die Ärzte here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=paXR7...
April 20, 2024
One has to find life, I said. One can't just sit about recovering from near death. One has to find life.
I think it's the lack of complete shaping and the unsmoothed edges of this book that speak most eloquently of the trauma that Rushdie relives here: the shock, the agony, the fear, the vulnerability of a man in his mid-seventies experiencing not just a murderous attack but the huge aftermath that is personal, public and artistic. There's a definite sense that this book is not just a way of reclaiming the narrative, a refusal of being reduced to no more than victimhood, but also a way of re-establishing a voice, an authority and, I suspect, a sense of self.
We all know the horror of that attack in August 2022 but the private struggle to repair body, mind and spirit is recounted here in unsparing detail. The style is quite unlike the flashy, flamboyant, exuberant prose of Rushdie's fiction: this is plain, sober, humble. What comes over most strongly is Rushdie's immense love for his wife, for his sons and for his friends. There is grace in this memoir which is dedicated to the people who saved his life, and which is hopeful but also unsure about the future.
Rushdie has always been, for me, an immensely intelligent writer who merges Indian and western literary traditions to often dazzling and spectacular effect. He has been politically outspoken and unafraid to stand up for what he believes in: art, literature, a liberal progressiveness and democratic fairness. This book feels like a reckoning with what that has cost him and the people close to him: it is clear-sighted, aware all too well of mortality and yet remains stalwart. Will Rushdie write another novel? Will he, as he puts it, find another story? I can only hope so.
Thanks to Random House/Vintage for an ARC via NetGalley
August 27, 2024
We would not be who we are today without the calamities of our yesterdays.
Knife is Rushdie’s account of the attempt on his life on August 11, 2022 in Chautauqua during a lecture.
He begins this autobiographical contemplation from the day before the horrifying incident and takes us to a journey which would have been filled with unbearable pain, hopelessness and despair but for the love and helping hands of his wife, family and friends.
I have always believed that love is a force, that in its most potent form it can move mountains. It can change the world.
This book is the sum of experiences of one man on the brink of death.
This book is heartbreaking and shocking. It is funny and bright. It makes you laugh, chuckle and often shed tears.
This book is a closing of a circle.
We begin from violence; from blood and tears. We ponder. We evaluate. We question.
We say, bravo! We say, he did it, so can we.
This book brightens the mood and defines life anew.
One has to find life, I said. One can’t just sit about recovering from near death. One has to find life.
Knife is Rushdie’s account of the attempt on his life on August 11, 2022 in Chautauqua during a lecture.
He begins this autobiographical contemplation from the day before the horrifying incident and takes us to a journey which would have been filled with unbearable pain, hopelessness and despair but for the love and helping hands of his wife, family and friends.
I have always believed that love is a force, that in its most potent form it can move mountains. It can change the world.
This book is the sum of experiences of one man on the brink of death.
This book is heartbreaking and shocking. It is funny and bright. It makes you laugh, chuckle and often shed tears.
This book is a closing of a circle.
We begin from violence; from blood and tears. We ponder. We evaluate. We question.
We say, bravo! We say, he did it, so can we.
This book brightens the mood and defines life anew.
One has to find life, I said. One can’t just sit about recovering from near death. One has to find life.
May 9, 2024
I want to be clear that I obviously DO NOT support stabbing writers. Even writers as obnoxious as Salman Rushdie. I also want to be clear that I feel nothing but empathy and sorrow for what Rushdie went through on August 12, 2022. Nobody should ever go through that. But Jesus Christ, dude. You had ONE job! And that was to tell your story. But instead you wallowed in being a victim. with an Everest-sized ego. You LOVED being the center of attention. You doubled, nay tripled, nay quarupled down on the remarkable hubris that EVERYONE in the literary world knows you for and here, at the VERY MOMENT IN WHICH EVERYONE IN THE FUCKING WORLD COMMISERATES WITH YOU, you proved yourself to be a completely insufferable prick, incapable of humility or grace or reflection.
If I told you that Rushdie actually devoted a passage bemoaning the damage done to his Ralph Lauren suit, you'd think it was satire, right? But, no, he actually WROTE this. This would literally be the last thing on 99.9999% of people's minds.
Oh, and there's also a longass imagined dialogue Rushdie has with his attacker. And for all of Rushdie's "imagination," it's exactly what you think it is. Predictable. Unimaginative.
Literally any other writer in the world who had the misfortune to experience something this terrible would have written one of the best books of his/her life. But Rushdie is the exact opposite of that. The dude literally believes that he's the greatest writer that humankind has ever bestowed upon the universe. And while I feel utterly awful about what happened to Rushdie, I also felt utterly awful having to soldier through his cloying victimhood and his constant bragging. Yes, cloying. There is literally NO OTHER WRITER ON EARTH who could have written something this self-aggrandizing and bereft of humility or self-examination. But here's the thing. Rushdie KNOWS you'll buy into this bullshit. I mean, look at the Goodreads rating in the first week of release. He played you all for suckers.
It's truly a pity. Because here was a real opportunity for Rushdie to show us that he was different. But he's absolutely indistinguishable from any other privileged tosspot.
If I told you that Rushdie actually devoted a passage bemoaning the damage done to his Ralph Lauren suit, you'd think it was satire, right? But, no, he actually WROTE this. This would literally be the last thing on 99.9999% of people's minds.
Oh, and there's also a longass imagined dialogue Rushdie has with his attacker. And for all of Rushdie's "imagination," it's exactly what you think it is. Predictable. Unimaginative.
Literally any other writer in the world who had the misfortune to experience something this terrible would have written one of the best books of his/her life. But Rushdie is the exact opposite of that. The dude literally believes that he's the greatest writer that humankind has ever bestowed upon the universe. And while I feel utterly awful about what happened to Rushdie, I also felt utterly awful having to soldier through his cloying victimhood and his constant bragging. Yes, cloying. There is literally NO OTHER WRITER ON EARTH who could have written something this self-aggrandizing and bereft of humility or self-examination. But here's the thing. Rushdie KNOWS you'll buy into this bullshit. I mean, look at the Goodreads rating in the first week of release. He played you all for suckers.
It's truly a pity. Because here was a real opportunity for Rushdie to show us that he was different. But he's absolutely indistinguishable from any other privileged tosspot.
April 29, 2024
This is an immensely personal, intimate, moving, and powerful account of 13 months in Salman Rushdie’s life. On 12 August 2022, when he is about to start a lecture at the Chautauqua Institution, a man rushes onto the stage and attacks him with a knife. This almost claimed Rushdie’s life, and cost him the sight in one eye. The book charts 13 months of the physical and emotional impact of this attack on Rushdie and those in his closest circles of love and friendship. His account of the incident, and the impact it had on his physical health, his wife and family, is eloquent and moving.
The book is divided into two parts. The first part deals with the attack itself, and the aftermath of hospitalisation and rehab. The description of the attack is intense and immediate, and feels immensely personal. The second part is reflective on Rushdie reclaiming some sense of normality, and trying to find some perspective for the incident and its ongoing impact on his life.
I knew very little about Salman Rushdie before reading this - beyond the fact of the fatwa issued in 1989 for his death, due to the content of his book The Satanic Verses. And it was the long tail of that fatwa that, ultimately, and obtusely, resulted in the knife attack. Rushdie draws on his knowledge of history, politics, art, literature, and philosophy to try to bring meaning and context to what has happened to him.
It’s difficult to find fault with such a personal, honest, introspective - and, ultimately, engaging and well told - account.
Thank you #NetGalley and Random House UK / Vintage for the free review copy of #Knife in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.
The book is divided into two parts. The first part deals with the attack itself, and the aftermath of hospitalisation and rehab. The description of the attack is intense and immediate, and feels immensely personal. The second part is reflective on Rushdie reclaiming some sense of normality, and trying to find some perspective for the incident and its ongoing impact on his life.
I knew very little about Salman Rushdie before reading this - beyond the fact of the fatwa issued in 1989 for his death, due to the content of his book The Satanic Verses. And it was the long tail of that fatwa that, ultimately, and obtusely, resulted in the knife attack. Rushdie draws on his knowledge of history, politics, art, literature, and philosophy to try to bring meaning and context to what has happened to him.
It’s difficult to find fault with such a personal, honest, introspective - and, ultimately, engaging and well told - account.
Thank you #NetGalley and Random House UK / Vintage for the free review copy of #Knife in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.
April 16, 2024
Rushdie’s fear is being known for his attacks and not his work. I’m here to say that the world can shun him, critique him, and even blind him, but they cannot silence him or his powerful literary works. That voice stands on its own.
April 24, 2024
Rushdie’s situation is and always has been so unique, even more so given the recent attempt on his life, so I knew once this was announced I would definitely read it. Though it was a bit of a slog, I did like ‘Midnight’s Children’ well enough, and for such a rare thing to happen to an author of all people, who wouldn’t be at least somewhat interested in reading what they have to say about it? How often do you get that chance? Unfortunately, something I had entirely failed to consider happened instead. That this coinciding of fascinating event and profession might not actually produce something of much merit at all.
Far be it for me to suggest what someone who has been through such a thing should have to say about it, but I think the thing I struggled with the most is the things Rushdie chose to write about here. They just didn’t interest me. I didn’t need some long graphic account of how it feels to have a knife in your neck or in your eye, but it was surprising just how little time he spent on the attack itself, both the action and his emotional response to it. Now, this would have been plenty forgivable if he forwent this in favour of further revelations, things the attack affected or changed in him in terms of life, love, about his career or his writing. But really, this was pretty absent too. Yes, he mentioned those things, he mentioned that the attack made him think about these things, but really he delves into almost none in any kind of powerful or meaningful way. It didn’t even feel like the opposite, a reaction of defiance, a refusal to be changed by such an event. There was simply little of much substance.
For example, he does talk about love, but rather than any profundities from a new perspective this event may have given to him, he just kind of strangely gushed about how perfect his relationship is and has been. Over and over. It really read like a teen boasting about their newest infatuation, just insisting over and over again how strong and perfect their love was but without giving me any real sense of it. All of the things he said about his wife just felt like cliches and platitudes, things I’ve heard a dozen times before.
Too much of it, in this sense and others, also just read like a basic diary. A lot of it was a very direct account of the exact medical issues and remedies in the order they appeared and disappeared. It’s not that I didn’t want or expect these details from this book, but more I expected them in relation to larger philosophical or emotional sentiments, about the impact they may have had on Rushdie. But alas, none of this. Plenty of banal and exact detail, things like what movie he watched, or which particular friend came to visit, what test they may have run, none of how this might change him or not, how it really made him feel on a deeper level.
There is also the element that Rushdie is just kind of lame, lacking in the wit he desperately wants. His bad jokes aren’t even endearing in that dadly kind of way, they just inflict second hand embarrassment. And on that note, the less said about the 30 page imagined interview with his attacker the better. A truly pointless section that just felt so peculiar. Bizarre and uncomfortable enough that I stopped the book here and couldn’t bring myself to even finish those last 40 pages or so.
I’m loathe to say it, because it’s so stupid, but we live in stupid times, so I want to make it clear. I obviously think what happened to Rushdie is abhorrent and my reaction to this volume is a disappointment of its quality, not a reflection of how I feel about what happened to him. I equally believe that Rushdie is entitled to feel however he feels, and say whatever he wants to say about it. But that also doesn’t mean I believe it’s interesting enough to read. One of the sentiments expressed by one of Rushdie’s editors in this is that he’s sure he will write about it, and clearly he did. But I can’t help but think this is the kind of thing he should have written to get out of his system, put away, and then channelled his deeper feelings into his next work of fiction. To me, this volume was ultimately kind of pointless, and really offered me little to no insights. I read the majority of it, and I could hardly tell you of any deeper impact it might have had on Rushdie as person, which after reading almost a whole memoir about it is just dumb. It just felt like it was barely about what it was supposed to be about, and therein lay my biggest disappointment.
Far be it for me to suggest what someone who has been through such a thing should have to say about it, but I think the thing I struggled with the most is the things Rushdie chose to write about here. They just didn’t interest me. I didn’t need some long graphic account of how it feels to have a knife in your neck or in your eye, but it was surprising just how little time he spent on the attack itself, both the action and his emotional response to it. Now, this would have been plenty forgivable if he forwent this in favour of further revelations, things the attack affected or changed in him in terms of life, love, about his career or his writing. But really, this was pretty absent too. Yes, he mentioned those things, he mentioned that the attack made him think about these things, but really he delves into almost none in any kind of powerful or meaningful way. It didn’t even feel like the opposite, a reaction of defiance, a refusal to be changed by such an event. There was simply little of much substance.
For example, he does talk about love, but rather than any profundities from a new perspective this event may have given to him, he just kind of strangely gushed about how perfect his relationship is and has been. Over and over. It really read like a teen boasting about their newest infatuation, just insisting over and over again how strong and perfect their love was but without giving me any real sense of it. All of the things he said about his wife just felt like cliches and platitudes, things I’ve heard a dozen times before.
Too much of it, in this sense and others, also just read like a basic diary. A lot of it was a very direct account of the exact medical issues and remedies in the order they appeared and disappeared. It’s not that I didn’t want or expect these details from this book, but more I expected them in relation to larger philosophical or emotional sentiments, about the impact they may have had on Rushdie. But alas, none of this. Plenty of banal and exact detail, things like what movie he watched, or which particular friend came to visit, what test they may have run, none of how this might change him or not, how it really made him feel on a deeper level.
There is also the element that Rushdie is just kind of lame, lacking in the wit he desperately wants. His bad jokes aren’t even endearing in that dadly kind of way, they just inflict second hand embarrassment. And on that note, the less said about the 30 page imagined interview with his attacker the better. A truly pointless section that just felt so peculiar. Bizarre and uncomfortable enough that I stopped the book here and couldn’t bring myself to even finish those last 40 pages or so.
I’m loathe to say it, because it’s so stupid, but we live in stupid times, so I want to make it clear. I obviously think what happened to Rushdie is abhorrent and my reaction to this volume is a disappointment of its quality, not a reflection of how I feel about what happened to him. I equally believe that Rushdie is entitled to feel however he feels, and say whatever he wants to say about it. But that also doesn’t mean I believe it’s interesting enough to read. One of the sentiments expressed by one of Rushdie’s editors in this is that he’s sure he will write about it, and clearly he did. But I can’t help but think this is the kind of thing he should have written to get out of his system, put away, and then channelled his deeper feelings into his next work of fiction. To me, this volume was ultimately kind of pointless, and really offered me little to no insights. I read the majority of it, and I could hardly tell you of any deeper impact it might have had on Rushdie as person, which after reading almost a whole memoir about it is just dumb. It just felt like it was barely about what it was supposed to be about, and therein lay my biggest disappointment.
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May 16, 2024So moving. Feel a little uncomfortable rating such a personal account. Rushdie is a trailblazer. The internal struggle he went through to come to terms with why his attacker did what he did was palpable.
Really glad I got to read this. Enjoyed and was moved immensely.
Really glad I got to read this. Enjoyed and was moved immensely.
May 1, 2024
I sat with this book for a long time. I didn’t know what I felt more – angry or hopeful.
How does one answer such violence with art?
In Knife, Salman Rushdie, truly, rises to become that artist who defies norms of pain, injustice and loss with his sublime friendship with words, and relationships forged in their hearth.
August 12, 2022 at Chautauqua turned his life upside down. The dark shadows of a fatwa issued 33 years ago, once again, blackened his sky and fell on him in murderous stabs. The stabs charted a manic path, ripping through multiple organs – palm, fingers, face, lips, neck, chest – and erasing one altogether. The left eye - the vision in it was gone.
Emergency admission and a series of complex surgeries held the life whiff from leaving him completely. But what lay ahead was the most arduous eight months of his life – the recovery, of body and (badly damaged) spirit.
I have seen death, up close. It chooses its people. And sometimes, we cannot make sense of its decisions. Why? Why? We bang the doors of anyone who cares to withstand our unravelling and ask – Why him? Why her? There are answers, perhaps. But none of them hit home. Salman, once back in America, still frail but spirited, meets friends who are fighting their own battles. Martin Amis, his friend for long, writes this heartwarming note:
Time spent with his dear friends – Martin Amis, Ian McEwan, Paul Auster – fortified his own restoration. Remembering the barbaric knife attacks on other writers like Naguib Mahfouz and Samuel Beckett brought him a stabilizing perspective of discarding rationale to such dastardly acts. Perhaps that’s why he finds the courage to steer clear of the imaginary conversations he was holding with his attacker, whom he named Mr. A, across multiple sessions. But how else could he have made peace with his (near) nemesis if not with words? How else would he have turned his howls and torment into barbs of humor if not with words? Words were his only weaponry.
And the most beautiful part of words? They are entirety in themselves. They need no crutches, no form, no closure. Unsuppressed words can fly till sky and drag the greys away. That’s precisely what the words do for Salman – all the words of family, friends, writers, readers take him to a place, after thirteen months, where it all began – Chautauqua. And as he stands at the exact spot where he had fallen, looking at the now empty amphitheater, he feels triumphant.
--
Note: We lost Paul Auster yesterday. But he shall live on in his words. Many, many of them, quietly, rousingly, honoring their master.
‘I would answer violence with art.’But how to do it? Especially when one imagines the intensity, the horror, the sheer inexplicability of violence? Violence that beats its bare chest over the unarmed, defenceless body of a 75-years old man, turning bloody at an alarming rate under the merciless, unflinching, repeated stabs of a sharp knife, driven by a brain-washed bigot of mere 24-years, a mind-boggling fourteen times over twenty-seven long seconds? Violence that snips the connection with loved ones and rams one’s very existence into the limbo that carries no certainty of a morning?
How does one answer such violence with art?
In Knife, Salman Rushdie, truly, rises to become that artist who defies norms of pain, injustice and loss with his sublime friendship with words, and relationships forged in their hearth.
August 12, 2022 at Chautauqua turned his life upside down. The dark shadows of a fatwa issued 33 years ago, once again, blackened his sky and fell on him in murderous stabs. The stabs charted a manic path, ripping through multiple organs – palm, fingers, face, lips, neck, chest – and erasing one altogether. The left eye - the vision in it was gone.
Emergency admission and a series of complex surgeries held the life whiff from leaving him completely. But what lay ahead was the most arduous eight months of his life – the recovery, of body and (badly damaged) spirit.
When Death comes very close to you, the rest of the world goes far away and you can feel a great loneliness. At such a time kind words are comforting and strengthening. They make you feel that you're not alone, that maybe you haven't lived and worked in vain. Over the next twenty-four hours I became aware of how much love there was flowing in my direction, a world-wide avalanche of horror, support, and admiration.The ardent love and support of his wife, Eliza Griffith meets the dogged belief of his children of his recovery, the immediate action of the Chautauqua staff and audience (of whom one kept his thumb on Salman’s neck so that the bleeding is arrested till the helicopter comes to pick him up from the venue) multiplies with the resolve of his doctors and other medical staff, rousing gathering of his fellow writers and readers augments his pen that brings Victory City, and the Knife, to blazing life.
I have seen death, up close. It chooses its people. And sometimes, we cannot make sense of its decisions. Why? Why? We bang the doors of anyone who cares to withstand our unravelling and ask – Why him? Why her? There are answers, perhaps. But none of them hit home. Salman, once back in America, still frail but spirited, meets friends who are fighting their own battles. Martin Amis, his friend for long, writes this heartwarming note:
“When we recently saw each other for the first time since the atrocity, I have to admit that I expected you to be altered, diminished in some way. Not a bit of it: you were and are intact and entire. And I thought with amazement, He's EQUAL to it."Few months later, Martin left peacefully in sleep. If Salman was troubled by it, he doesn’t hide it. Why him?
Time spent with his dear friends – Martin Amis, Ian McEwan, Paul Auster – fortified his own restoration. Remembering the barbaric knife attacks on other writers like Naguib Mahfouz and Samuel Beckett brought him a stabilizing perspective of discarding rationale to such dastardly acts. Perhaps that’s why he finds the courage to steer clear of the imaginary conversations he was holding with his attacker, whom he named Mr. A, across multiple sessions. But how else could he have made peace with his (near) nemesis if not with words? How else would he have turned his howls and torment into barbs of humor if not with words? Words were his only weaponry.
And the most beautiful part of words? They are entirety in themselves. They need no crutches, no form, no closure. Unsuppressed words can fly till sky and drag the greys away. That’s precisely what the words do for Salman – all the words of family, friends, writers, readers take him to a place, after thirteen months, where it all began – Chautauqua. And as he stands at the exact spot where he had fallen, looking at the now empty amphitheater, he feels triumphant.
‘I remembered, but refrained from reciting, lines from "Invictus" by W. E. Henley. “Under the bludgeonings of chance/My head is bloody, but unbowed."’Thank you for writing this book. I feel a throbbing vein of resilience in its every page.
--
Note: We lost Paul Auster yesterday. But he shall live on in his words. Many, many of them, quietly, rousingly, honoring their master.
Read
August 3, 2024Diz-se que as últimas palavras de Henry James foram: “Ei-la finalmente, a coisa admirável.” A morte vinha ao meu encontro, também, mas não me parecia admirável. Pereceu-me anacrónica.
Este é o primeiro livro de Salman Rushdie que leio (apesar de já ter tentado fazê-lo anteriormente), e é estranhamente humano que ele tenha quase deixado de existir para eu querer mesmo saber o que ele tem a dizer, mas a verdade é que é muito fácil entrar e avançar ao longo do relato de ��Faca”. Apesar de estar a par do ataque que sofreu e das mazelas físicas daí advindas, o relato na primeira pessoa é claro, acerado, muito assustador e realmente gráfico, transportando o leitor para aquele palco, para o hospital e para todo o processo de recuperação e reabilitação.
Os lábios do homem no espelho não se movem. Tem um golpe no cimo da testa. Tem um corte no canto esquerdo da boca. Tem a barba muito crescida e revolta. Tem a pálpebra direita cosida. Consegue evacuar com êxito. Consegue lavar-se e limpar-se. O seu olho único parece triste. O rosto parece chocado. Está a desempenhar bem o seu papel.
É este processo que diz respeito à primeira parte, “Anjo da Morte”, um período compreendido entre 22 de agosto e 26 de setembro de 2022. É uma descrição do ataque, da forma como foi socorrido e tratado, mas também uma análise profunda sobre os acontecimentos que conduziram à sua sentença de morte e sobre a fragilidade da vida, onde não deixa de incluir grandes amigos seus, como Martin Amis, que morreu enquanto Rushdie escrevia o livro, e Paul Auster, que morreu após a sua publicação.
De acordo com os relatos noticiosos, o A. esteve 27 segundos comigo. Em 27 segundos – caso esteja em maré de religiosidade – a pessoa pode recitar o padre-nosso. Ou, abstendo-se da religião, poderia ler em voz alta um dos sonetos de Shakespeare, aquele sobre o dia de verão, talvez, ou meu favorito [e o meu também], o nº 13, “Minha amante nos olhos sol não tem”. (…) Uma intimidade de estranhos. É uma frase que utilizei por vezes para expressar aquela coisa jubilosa que acontece no ato da leitura, essa feliz união das vidas interiores de autor e leitor.
A segunda parte, “Anjo da Vida”, é a outra face desta moeda, aquela que me desiludiu. Não dou classificação quantitativa a obras autobiográficas porque o olhar crítico de que abuso aplica-se sem remorsos aos escritores mas menos às pessoas, pois se elas sentiram isto e pensaram aquilo, não merecem mais ou menos pontuação. Tendo dito isto, para mim, “Faca” divide-se em três momentos de empatia: a primeira em que a senti completamente em relação a um homem que é cobardemente atacado, sendo ainda para mais um escritor a defender a liberdade de expressão; a segunda em que ela treme, porque Rushdie imagina um extenso e fastidioso diálogo filosófico e religioso com o seu agressor; e a terceira em que deixei de simpatizar com o autor pelas opções que tomou, que está no direito de tomar, mas que não me caíram bem.
A prisão era um pequeno conjunto de modestos edifícios de tijolo. (…) Tirei-lhe uma fotografia e mandei-a a Sameen, que me enviou de volta uma mensagem de texto: “Parece tão vulgar.” Parecia mesmo. Mas teve um efeito inesperado em mim. Enquanto estava a olhar para lá, tentando imaginar o A. algures lá dentro, com o seu uniforme prisional branco e preto, senti-me disparatadamente feliz e apeteceu-me, absurdamente, dançar. “Para com isso”, alertou-me Eliza. “Quero tirar uma fotografia tua em frente deste sítio e não deves estar a sorrir ou aos saltos.”
Já li recensões escandalizadas pela obsessão de Rushdie pelo fato Ralph Lauren que envergava no dia do ataque ter ficado ensopado em sangue, mas sei que é comum numa situação de vida ou morte as pessoas dizerem ou pensarem nas coisas mais absurdas que pouco têm a ver com a finitude da vida. Contudo, o facto de ele ter voltado a mencionar o mesmo fato no final, já em retrospectiva, juntamente com um comentário totalmente desnecessário sobre a mala que ofereceu à mulher em Florença, dá-me a ideia de um novo-rico que já podia ter deixado de ser aos 75 anos.
Não seríamos quem somos hoje sem as calamidades dos nossos ontens.
NOTA: Numa época em que as conversões se fazem com um clique na Internet, só posso entender como uma enorme preguiça a opção do tradutor manter as unidades de medida americanas/inglesas. Que sentido tem para um português saber, por exemplo, que Rushdie pesava 250 libras e que devia pesar menos 50?
Este é o primeiro livro de Salman Rushdie que leio (apesar de já ter tentado fazê-lo anteriormente), e é estranhamente humano que ele tenha quase deixado de existir para eu querer mesmo saber o que ele tem a dizer, mas a verdade é que é muito fácil entrar e avançar ao longo do relato de ��Faca”. Apesar de estar a par do ataque que sofreu e das mazelas físicas daí advindas, o relato na primeira pessoa é claro, acerado, muito assustador e realmente gráfico, transportando o leitor para aquele palco, para o hospital e para todo o processo de recuperação e reabilitação.
Os lábios do homem no espelho não se movem. Tem um golpe no cimo da testa. Tem um corte no canto esquerdo da boca. Tem a barba muito crescida e revolta. Tem a pálpebra direita cosida. Consegue evacuar com êxito. Consegue lavar-se e limpar-se. O seu olho único parece triste. O rosto parece chocado. Está a desempenhar bem o seu papel.
É este processo que diz respeito à primeira parte, “Anjo da Morte”, um período compreendido entre 22 de agosto e 26 de setembro de 2022. É uma descrição do ataque, da forma como foi socorrido e tratado, mas também uma análise profunda sobre os acontecimentos que conduziram à sua sentença de morte e sobre a fragilidade da vida, onde não deixa de incluir grandes amigos seus, como Martin Amis, que morreu enquanto Rushdie escrevia o livro, e Paul Auster, que morreu após a sua publicação.
De acordo com os relatos noticiosos, o A. esteve 27 segundos comigo. Em 27 segundos – caso esteja em maré de religiosidade – a pessoa pode recitar o padre-nosso. Ou, abstendo-se da religião, poderia ler em voz alta um dos sonetos de Shakespeare, aquele sobre o dia de verão, talvez, ou meu favorito [e o meu também], o nº 13, “Minha amante nos olhos sol não tem”. (…) Uma intimidade de estranhos. É uma frase que utilizei por vezes para expressar aquela coisa jubilosa que acontece no ato da leitura, essa feliz união das vidas interiores de autor e leitor.
A segunda parte, “Anjo da Vida”, é a outra face desta moeda, aquela que me desiludiu. Não dou classificação quantitativa a obras autobiográficas porque o olhar crítico de que abuso aplica-se sem remorsos aos escritores mas menos às pessoas, pois se elas sentiram isto e pensaram aquilo, não merecem mais ou menos pontuação. Tendo dito isto, para mim, “Faca” divide-se em três momentos de empatia: a primeira em que a senti completamente em relação a um homem que é cobardemente atacado, sendo ainda para mais um escritor a defender a liberdade de expressão; a segunda em que ela treme, porque Rushdie imagina um extenso e fastidioso diálogo filosófico e religioso com o seu agressor; e a terceira em que deixei de simpatizar com o autor pelas opções que tomou, que está no direito de tomar, mas que não me caíram bem.
A prisão era um pequeno conjunto de modestos edifícios de tijolo. (…) Tirei-lhe uma fotografia e mandei-a a Sameen, que me enviou de volta uma mensagem de texto: “Parece tão vulgar.” Parecia mesmo. Mas teve um efeito inesperado em mim. Enquanto estava a olhar para lá, tentando imaginar o A. algures lá dentro, com o seu uniforme prisional branco e preto, senti-me disparatadamente feliz e apeteceu-me, absurdamente, dançar. “Para com isso”, alertou-me Eliza. “Quero tirar uma fotografia tua em frente deste sítio e não deves estar a sorrir ou aos saltos.”
Já li recensões escandalizadas pela obsessão de Rushdie pelo fato Ralph Lauren que envergava no dia do ataque ter ficado ensopado em sangue, mas sei que é comum numa situação de vida ou morte as pessoas dizerem ou pensarem nas coisas mais absurdas que pouco têm a ver com a finitude da vida. Contudo, o facto de ele ter voltado a mencionar o mesmo fato no final, já em retrospectiva, juntamente com um comentário totalmente desnecessário sobre a mala que ofereceu à mulher em Florença, dá-me a ideia de um novo-rico que já podia ter deixado de ser aos 75 anos.
Não seríamos quem somos hoje sem as calamidades dos nossos ontens.
NOTA: Numa época em que as conversões se fazem com um clique na Internet, só posso entender como uma enorme preguiça a opção do tradutor manter as unidades de medida americanas/inglesas. Que sentido tem para um português saber, por exemplo, que Rushdie pesava 250 libras e que devia pesar menos 50?
May 28, 2024
Profound, wise and humane. Not only does this impressive, small, and very personal book tell us what is like to survive attempted murder, it also offers valuable reflections on what is like to be a writer and a human being. Above all, it is very well written, with the precision and honesty that characterise a true master.
August 13, 2024
Die Fakten zu dem Attentat auf Salman Rushdie am 12. August 2022 sind bekannt. In "Knife" geht es um die Wahrheit dahinter. Es geht um die Details des Attentats, des Überlebenskampfes und der langsamen Genesung. Dabei sind die Gedanken des Autors genauso wichtig wie die medizinischen Aspekte.
Es geht um das Leben und Schreiben von Salman Rushdie, aber auch um die Zerstörung seines Privatlebens durch das Messer des Attentäters.
Rushdies Partnerin Eliza wurde durch die Ereignisse unfreiwillig auch zur öffentlichen Person. Ohne das Attentat hätte wohl niemand erfahren, dass die beiden am 24. September 2021 geheiratet haben. Rushdie setzt dem erzwungenen sein eigenes, liebevolles Bild seiner Frau entgegen.
Salman Rushdie berichtet von den Reaktionen seiner Familie. Er findet dabei eine gute Balance zwischen Diskretion und Nähe.
Sein Roman "Victory City" kommt heraus. Immer wieder bekommen wir Einblicke in Rushdies Leidenschaft für die Literatur. An eine Lesereise ist aber nicht zu denken.
Rushdie führt ein fiktives Gespräch mit seinem Attentäter. Es geht vor allem um Religion. Am Ende des Buches werden die anstehenden Gerichtsprozesse thematisiert. Salman Rushdie und Eliza sehen sich das Gefängnis an, in dem der Attentäter einsitzt.
Salman Rushdie hat dem Attentäter und den Befürwortern seiner Tat mit diesem Buch gezeigt, dass Kunst stärker ist als Hass. "Auf Gewalt wollte ich mit Kunst antworten." Er hat dem Schrecklichen die Literatur entgegengesetzt. Die Literatur hat gewonnen.
Es geht um das Leben und Schreiben von Salman Rushdie, aber auch um die Zerstörung seines Privatlebens durch das Messer des Attentäters.
Rushdies Partnerin Eliza wurde durch die Ereignisse unfreiwillig auch zur öffentlichen Person. Ohne das Attentat hätte wohl niemand erfahren, dass die beiden am 24. September 2021 geheiratet haben. Rushdie setzt dem erzwungenen sein eigenes, liebevolles Bild seiner Frau entgegen.
Salman Rushdie berichtet von den Reaktionen seiner Familie. Er findet dabei eine gute Balance zwischen Diskretion und Nähe.
Sein Roman "Victory City" kommt heraus. Immer wieder bekommen wir Einblicke in Rushdies Leidenschaft für die Literatur. An eine Lesereise ist aber nicht zu denken.
Rushdie führt ein fiktives Gespräch mit seinem Attentäter. Es geht vor allem um Religion. Am Ende des Buches werden die anstehenden Gerichtsprozesse thematisiert. Salman Rushdie und Eliza sehen sich das Gefängnis an, in dem der Attentäter einsitzt.
Salman Rushdie hat dem Attentäter und den Befürwortern seiner Tat mit diesem Buch gezeigt, dass Kunst stärker ist als Hass. "Auf Gewalt wollte ich mit Kunst antworten." Er hat dem Schrecklichen die Literatur entgegengesetzt. Die Literatur hat gewonnen.
May 18, 2024
3.5/5
"তুমি কে��� বেঁচে গেছো জানো? তোমার ঘাতক জানতো না ছুরি দিয়ে কীভাবে মানুষ খুন করতে হয়।"
knife নিয়ে আমার প্রথম প্রতিক্রিয়া হচ্ছে - "terrific and tiresome," দারুণভাবে শুরু হলেও যে গল্প কোথাও কোথাও ঝুলে পড়েছে, বিরক্তির উদ্রেক করেছে কিন্তু সব মিলিয়ে গুরুত্বপূর্ণ।
স্বভাবতই বইয়ের প্রথম অংশে আছে রুশদির ওপর হওয়া হামলার বর্ণনা। একেবারে পুঙ্খানুপুঙ্খ ও স্নায়ুক্ষয়ী বর্ণনা যাকে বলে! এটা বইয়ের সেরা অংশ। ঘাতক, যার নাম রুশদি উল্লেখ করেননি, মাত্র ২৭ সেকেন্ড সুযোগ পেয়েছিলো তাকে কোপানোর। এই ২৭ সেকেন্ডেই রুশদির চেনা জগৎ চিরদিনের জন্য ধ্বংস হয়ে যায়। খুন করতে না পারলেও ঘাতক তাকে মৃত্যুর দ্বারপ্রান্তে নিয়ে গিয়েছিলো। বইয়ের পরের অংশে আছে ডাক্তার, নিজের নতুন স্ত্রী ও দুই সন্তানের সহায়তায় কীভাবে অত্যন্ত ধীরগতিতে নিজের স্বাভাবিক জীবনে ফিরে আসার আপ্রাণ চেষ্টা চালান তিনি। এখানে কিছু পুনরাবৃত্তি ও অতিরিক্ত কথা থাকলেও রুশদি সম্ভবত তার সে সময়ের মানসিক অবস্থা, যাপিত দিনের ক্লান্তি, অসহায়ত্ব, ভার ও দৃঢ়তা বোঝাতে ইচ্ছাকৃতভাবেই এমনটা লিখেছেন। কীভাবে এই হত্যাপ্রচেষ্টা শুধু লেখকেরই নয়, তার স্ত্রী ও সন্তানদেরও আক্রান্ত করেছে, তাদের মানসিক পীড়া দিয়েছে সে বর্ণনাও উল্লেখযোগ্য।
ঘাতকের সাথে কাল্পনিক কথোপকথনে ব্যক্তিগত বিশ্বাস ও মতপ্রকাশের কারণে কাউকে খুন করার অসারতা প্রমাণ করেছেন লেখক।
তবে রুশদি আরো কিছু সময় পর, ঘটনা থেকে নিরাপদ দূরত্বে দাঁড়িয়ে বইটা লিখলে ভালো করতেন। নিজের ঘটনার সাথে সারাবিশ্বে ঘটে যাওয়া এই ধরনের ঘটনার মধ্যবর্তী সংযোগ স্থাপন ও সর্বজনীনতা প্রদান জরুরি ছিলো।
"তুমি কে��� বেঁচে গেছো জানো? তোমার ঘাতক জানতো না ছুরি দিয়ে কীভাবে মানুষ খুন করতে হয়।"
knife নিয়ে আমার প্রথম প্রতিক্রিয়া হচ্ছে - "terrific and tiresome," দারুণভাবে শুরু হলেও যে গল্প কোথাও কোথাও ঝুলে পড়েছে, বিরক্তির উদ্রেক করেছে কিন্তু সব মিলিয়ে গুরুত্বপূর্ণ।
স্বভাবতই বইয়ের প্রথম অংশে আছে রুশদির ওপর হওয়া হামলার বর্ণনা। একেবারে পুঙ্খানুপুঙ্খ ও স্নায়ুক্ষয়ী বর্ণনা যাকে বলে! এটা বইয়ের সেরা অংশ। ঘাতক, যার নাম রুশদি উল্লেখ করেননি, মাত্র ২৭ সেকেন্ড সুযোগ পেয়েছিলো তাকে কোপানোর। এই ২৭ সেকেন্ডেই রুশদির চেনা জগৎ চিরদিনের জন্য ধ্বংস হয়ে যায়। খুন করতে না পারলেও ঘাতক তাকে মৃত্যুর দ্বারপ্রান্তে নিয়ে গিয়েছিলো। বইয়ের পরের অংশে আছে ডাক্তার, নিজের নতুন স্ত্রী ও দুই সন্তানের সহায়তায় কীভাবে অত্যন্ত ধীরগতিতে নিজের স্বাভাবিক জীবনে ফিরে আসার আপ্রাণ চেষ্টা চালান তিনি। এখানে কিছু পুনরাবৃত্তি ও অতিরিক্ত কথা থাকলেও রুশদি সম্ভবত তার সে সময়ের মানসিক অবস্থা, যাপিত দিনের ক্লান্তি, অসহায়ত্ব, ভার ও দৃঢ়তা বোঝাতে ইচ্ছাকৃতভাবেই এমনটা লিখেছেন। কীভাবে এই হত্যাপ্রচেষ্টা শুধু লেখকেরই নয়, তার স্ত্রী ও সন্তানদেরও আক্রান্ত করেছে, তাদের মানসিক পীড়া দিয়েছে সে বর্ণনাও উল্লেখযোগ্য।
ঘাতকের সাথে কাল্পনিক কথোপকথনে ব্যক্তিগত বিশ্বাস ও মতপ্রকাশের কারণে কাউকে খুন করার অসারতা প্রমাণ করেছেন লেখক।
তবে রুশদি আরো কিছু সময় পর, ঘটনা থেকে নিরাপদ দূরত্বে দাঁড়িয়ে বইটা লিখলে ভালো করতেন। নিজের ঘটনার সাথে সারাবিশ্বে ঘটে যাওয়া এই ধরনের ঘটনার মধ্যবর্তী সংযোগ স্থাপন ও সর্বজনীনতা প্রদান জরুরি ছিলো।
September 18, 2024
I’ve read most of his books, and I’m always struck by the vastness of his imagination. Satanic Verses was the first time I’d encountered magical realism, and I remember being grateful to be at a liberal arts college (Mount Holyoke) that was teaching it as part of an Islam class. My second book was Midnight’s Children, and that was the first time I’d learned about the Indian-Pakistani partition (also taught at Mount Holyoke as part of an Indian literature class). Since then, I’ve read almost every one of his books, and I’ve gained so much from all of them. So I was filled with sadness to find out that the reason he now wears eyeglasses with one side blacked out was due to a stabbing.
April 28, 2024
Art challenges orthodoxy. To reject or vilify art because it does that is to fail to understand its nature. Art sets the artist’s passionate personal vision against the received ideas of its time. Art knows that received ideas are the enemies of art. Clichés are received ideas and so are ideologies, both those that depend on the sanction of invisible sky gods and those which do not.
I remember the horror I felt on that August day when I heard the news of the brutal attack on Salman Rushdie. Not only was he a favorite author, but he was a living symbol of defiance against the tyranny of controlling orthodoxy. And now, decades after religious fanatics put a price on his head, some wild eyed man-child not yet born when the fatwa was issued against the author had viciously attacked him and left him fighting for life.
As days went by and Rushdie did not die, it occurred to me that if he pulled through, he would almost certainly write a book about his experience. The prospect excited me. Rushdie had already proven his talent at memoir with his book Joseph Anton — should he survive to write a memoir of the attack it would be another triumph over humorless orthodoxy. Knife is that book. It’s a bit raw, it falls short of his best work (which, after all, is a damned high bar) but it still counts as a triumph.
There’s a thing I used to say back in the day when catastrophe rained down upon The Satanic Verses and its author, that one way of understanding the argument over that book was that it was a quarrel between those with a sense of humor and those without one. I see you now, my failed murderer. You could try to kill because you didn’t know how to laugh.
Knife is a first person account of the brutal attack that almost killed the author. Rushdie includes his painful and traumatic recovery, and the way the attack shattered and reshaped his life and the lives of his family. It’s a most human accounting. He includes thoughts and experiences that are in no way shaped for a hero’s narrative, but rather paint an accurate picture of how one might expect a 75 year old man suddenly attacked and stabbed 15 times to react — not pretty, but believably human.
I remember the horror I felt on that August day when I heard the news of the brutal attack on Salman Rushdie. Not only was he a favorite author, but he was a living symbol of defiance against the tyranny of controlling orthodoxy. And now, decades after religious fanatics put a price on his head, some wild eyed man-child not yet born when the fatwa was issued against the author had viciously attacked him and left him fighting for life.
As days went by and Rushdie did not die, it occurred to me that if he pulled through, he would almost certainly write a book about his experience. The prospect excited me. Rushdie had already proven his talent at memoir with his book Joseph Anton — should he survive to write a memoir of the attack it would be another triumph over humorless orthodoxy. Knife is that book. It’s a bit raw, it falls short of his best work (which, after all, is a damned high bar) but it still counts as a triumph.
There’s a thing I used to say back in the day when catastrophe rained down upon The Satanic Verses and its author, that one way of understanding the argument over that book was that it was a quarrel between those with a sense of humor and those without one. I see you now, my failed murderer. You could try to kill because you didn’t know how to laugh.
Knife is a first person account of the brutal attack that almost killed the author. Rushdie includes his painful and traumatic recovery, and the way the attack shattered and reshaped his life and the lives of his family. It’s a most human accounting. He includes thoughts and experiences that are in no way shaped for a hero’s narrative, but rather paint an accurate picture of how one might expect a 75 year old man suddenly attacked and stabbed 15 times to react — not pretty, but believably human.
April 24, 2024
This is a solid literary version of a true crime memoir. It’s exactly what you think it is. Rushdie gives us his own recollections on the attack along with his journey toward healing and logistics of it all. He also adds a meta scene where he imagines a convo with his assailant that we didn’t need. Overall it’s good if not a bit surface and perfunctory.
June 17, 2024
Ik moest denken aan een pleidooi van Olga Tokarczuk in haar knappe De tedere verteller. Een pleidooi voor schrijvers van nu om weerwoord te bieden aan de vloedgolf van autofictie en autobiografische non-fictie die ons en vooral de verbeelding van de literatuur overspoelt in tijdens van self-exposure op sociale en andere media. Dat het tegenwoordig allemaal echt gebeurd moet zijn, realistisch of op ware feiten gebaseerd om waarde te hebben; alsof die norm de kwaliteit bepaalt.
De romans van Salman Rushdie zijn stuk voor stuk odes aan die verbeelding waar Tokarzcuk voor pleit. Het is aan zijn métier als romancier te danken dat het voor ons zo'n wonderlijke, rijke leeservaringen zijn. De taal en de in de vorm van zijn thema's gegoten schrijfstijl zijn de wapens waarmee hij werkt en strijd voert. Tedere, maar vlijmscherpe wapens. Met 'Mes' bewijst hij dat groot schrijverschap geen verschil kent tussen fictie en autobiografische non-fictie. De juiste woorden voor het juiste onderwerp zorgen ervoor dat 'Mes' even diep raakt als gelijk welke van zijn magisch-realistische romans.
'Gedachten na een poging tot moord' luidt de ondertitel. Verwacht je echter niet aan een opsomming van losse elementen. 'Mes' is een coherent, perfect opgebouwd meesterwerkje dat haarfijn de grens opzoekt tussen de heftigheid van het geweld en de aanslag die op de schrijver gepleegd werd en de kracht van liefde, vriendschappen en overtuigingen die hem hielpen om de fysieke en mentale slag te boven te komen. Salman Rushdie sleept je als lezer meedogenloos teder mee in zijn wijze, fijngevoelige, nietsontziende en heldere relaas. Van de feiten zowel als de nasleep. Het is adembenemend sterke én diepmenselijke literatuur.
Dus om de cirkel rond te maken: Olga Tokarczuks pleidooi blijft gelden met deze Salman Rushdie als pleitbezorger, omdat hij enerzijds in zijn romans de verbeelding verdedigt en anderzijds in dit boek autobiografische non-fictie schrijft die ertoe doet. Want 'Mes' moet je gewoonweg lezen om te leren waartoe een mens in staat is, zowel het lelijkste als het mooiste. Bovendien gaat het ook over wat literatuur en de kracht van taal vermag, niet alleen tegen weerloosmakend geweld. En is dat niet toevallig precies wat goede literatuur ook doet? Jawel. Zeker als het geschreven is door een ambachtsman als Rushdie.
De romans van Salman Rushdie zijn stuk voor stuk odes aan die verbeelding waar Tokarzcuk voor pleit. Het is aan zijn métier als romancier te danken dat het voor ons zo'n wonderlijke, rijke leeservaringen zijn. De taal en de in de vorm van zijn thema's gegoten schrijfstijl zijn de wapens waarmee hij werkt en strijd voert. Tedere, maar vlijmscherpe wapens. Met 'Mes' bewijst hij dat groot schrijverschap geen verschil kent tussen fictie en autobiografische non-fictie. De juiste woorden voor het juiste onderwerp zorgen ervoor dat 'Mes' even diep raakt als gelijk welke van zijn magisch-realistische romans.
'Gedachten na een poging tot moord' luidt de ondertitel. Verwacht je echter niet aan een opsomming van losse elementen. 'Mes' is een coherent, perfect opgebouwd meesterwerkje dat haarfijn de grens opzoekt tussen de heftigheid van het geweld en de aanslag die op de schrijver gepleegd werd en de kracht van liefde, vriendschappen en overtuigingen die hem hielpen om de fysieke en mentale slag te boven te komen. Salman Rushdie sleept je als lezer meedogenloos teder mee in zijn wijze, fijngevoelige, nietsontziende en heldere relaas. Van de feiten zowel als de nasleep. Het is adembenemend sterke én diepmenselijke literatuur.
Dus om de cirkel rond te maken: Olga Tokarczuks pleidooi blijft gelden met deze Salman Rushdie als pleitbezorger, omdat hij enerzijds in zijn romans de verbeelding verdedigt en anderzijds in dit boek autobiografische non-fictie schrijft die ertoe doet. Want 'Mes' moet je gewoonweg lezen om te leren waartoe een mens in staat is, zowel het lelijkste als het mooiste. Bovendien gaat het ook over wat literatuur en de kracht van taal vermag, niet alleen tegen weerloosmakend geweld. En is dat niet toevallig precies wat goede literatuur ook doet? Jawel. Zeker als het geschreven is door een ambachtsman als Rushdie.
April 27, 2024
২৪ বছর বয়সী যে ছেলেটি সালমান রুশদিকে ছুরির আঘাতে মেরে ফেলতে চেয়েছিল, সে নিশ্চয়ই রুশদিকে প্রচণ্ড ঘৃণা করতো। কীভাবে গড়ে উঠেছিল এই ঘৃণা? 'সেটানিক ভার্সেস' বইটির মাত্র ২টো পৃষ্ঠা পড়েছিল সে (হ্যাঁ দুটো, দুই, two— অধ্যায় নয়, পৃষ্ঠা)। এবং কিছু রুশদি-বিরোধী ইউটিউব ভিডিও দেখেছিল। ব্যাস, এই ছিল তার সম্বল।
এই জাতীয় দুর্বোধ্য ঘৃণা আজকের দুনিয়ায় খুবই সুলভ ঘটনা। যৎসামান্য তথ্যকে সম্বল করে এরকম অর্থহীন ঘৃণা কীভাবে গ্রাস করে একজন মানুষকে? আমি ভেবেছিলাম মূলত এই প্রশ্নটির উত্তর খোঁজার জন্য বইটি লেখা হয়েছে (বইটির সম্পূর্ণ শিরোনাম পড়েও তেমন ধারণা হয়েছিল)। কিন্তু রুশদি এই বিষয়ে নতুন কোনো চিন্তার দিগন্ত সংযোজন করতে পারেননি। উল্টে আমাকে চূড়ান্ত বিরক্তিকর কিছু সময় উপহার দিয়েছেন।
বইটির দুই-তৃতীয়াংশ জুড়ে রয়েছে ছুরিকাঘাতে মারাত্মক আহত হওয়ার পরে লেখকের বেঁচে ওঠার বৃত্তান্ত। অধ্যায়ের পর অধ্যায়, পৃষ্ঠার পর পৃষ্ঠা তিনি অতি গভীর মনোযোগ এবং উৎসাহের সঙ্গে লিখে রেখেছেন সেই জীবনদায়ী চিকিৎসাকাণ্ডের খুঁটিনাটি বিবরণ। সেই অসম্ভব বোরিং এবং অনিঃশেষ বর্ণনা পড়তে পড়তে, খুব অনুতাপের সঙ্গে ���্বীকার করছি, মাঝে একবার আমার মনে হয়েছিল : এই বুড়ো মরলো না ক্যানো!
তবু সবকিছুই বৃথা যায়নি। ভীষণ গুরুত্বপূর্ণ কিছু ভাবনা রয়েছে বইটিতে। এমনিতে রুশদির ননফিকশন গদ্য তো খুবই উপভোগ্য। জীবনে এত বিপর্যয় সত্ত্বেও তাঁর স্বকীয় সরসতা এখনও বজায় আছে। স্ট্রেস তাঁর সেন্স অব হিউমরকে পুরোপুরি গিলে খেতে পারেনি। জীবন, সমাজ, ঈশ্বর, ধর্ম, শিল্প, প্রেম, ব্যক্তিস্বাধীনতা, মৃত্যু, হিংসা, ক্ষমা, নিয়তি, আনন্দ— এইসব বিষয়ে তাঁর মতামত খুবই স্পষ্ট এবং বুদ্ধিদীপ্ত।
মুশকিলটা হল, সম্ভবত মৃত্যুমুখ থেকে ফিরে আসার পরে স্বাভাবিক মানসিক স্থৈর্যের অভাবে, বইটি তিনি গুছিয়ে লিখে উঠতে পারেননি। (অন্তত আরো বছর-তিনেক পরে বইটি লেখা উচিত ছিল কি? ফতোয়া-পরবর্তী তাঁর নির্বাসিত গোপন জীবনের ব্যাপারে স্মৃতিচারণমূলক বইটি— "জোসেফ আন্তন"— তিনি লিখেছিলেন ঘটনার প্রায় ২২ বছর পরে)। তবু যাই হোক, খাপছাড়াভাবে হলেও, কিছু জরুরি কথা তিনি লিখেছেন, নিচে তেমন একটি উদ্ধৃতি উল্লেখ করে লেখাটি শেষ করলাম। আমার মনে হয়েছে, দৈর্ঘ্যে একটু বড়ো হলেও উদ্ধৃতিটি পুরোটা তুলে দেওয়া উচিত।
"The most important thing is that art challenges orthodoxy.
"To reject or vilify art because it does that is to fail to understand its nature. Art sets the artist’s passionate personal vision against the received ideas of its time. Art knows that received ideas are the enemies of art. Clichés are received ideas and so are ideologies, both those which depend on the sanction of invisible sky gods and those which do not. Without art, our ability to think, to see freshly, and to renew our world would wither and die.
"Art is not a luxury. It stands at the essence of our humanity, and it asks for no special protection except the right to exist.
"It accepts argument, criticism, even rejection. It does not accept violence.
"And in the end, it outlasts those who oppress it. The poet Ovid was exiled by Augustus Caesar, but the poetry of Ovid has outlasted the Roman Empire. The poet Mandelstam’s life was ruined by Joseph Stalin, but his poetry has outlasted the Soviet Union. The poet Lorca was murdered by the thugs of General Franco, but his art has outlasted the fascism of the Falange."
এই জাতীয় দুর্বোধ্য ঘৃণা আজকের দুনিয়ায় খুবই সুলভ ঘটনা। যৎসামান্য তথ্যকে সম্বল করে এরকম অর্থহীন ঘৃণা কীভাবে গ্রাস করে একজন মানুষকে? আমি ভেবেছিলাম মূলত এই প্রশ্নটির উত্তর খোঁজার জন্য বইটি লেখা হয়েছে (বইটির সম্পূর্ণ শিরোনাম পড়েও তেমন ধারণা হয়েছিল)। কিন্তু রুশদি এই বিষয়ে নতুন কোনো চিন্তার দিগন্ত সংযোজন করতে পারেননি। উল্টে আমাকে চূড়ান্ত বিরক্তিকর কিছু সময় উপহার দিয়েছেন।
বইটির দুই-তৃতীয়াংশ জুড়ে রয়েছে ছুরিকাঘাতে মারাত্মক আহত হওয়ার পরে লেখকের বেঁচে ওঠার বৃত্তান্ত। অধ্যায়ের পর অধ্যায়, পৃষ্ঠার পর পৃষ্ঠা তিনি অতি গভীর মনোযোগ এবং উৎসাহের সঙ্গে লিখে রেখেছেন সেই জীবনদায়ী চিকিৎসাকাণ্ডের খুঁটিনাটি বিবরণ। সেই অসম্ভব বোরিং এবং অনিঃশেষ বর্ণনা পড়তে পড়তে, খুব অনুতাপের সঙ্গে ���্বীকার করছি, মাঝে একবার আমার মনে হয়েছিল : এই বুড়ো মরলো না ক্যানো!
তবু সবকিছুই বৃথা যায়নি। ভীষণ গুরুত্বপূর্ণ কিছু ভাবনা রয়েছে বইটিতে। এমনিতে রুশদির ননফিকশন গদ্য তো খুবই উপভোগ্য। জীবনে এত বিপর্যয় সত্ত্বেও তাঁর স্বকীয় সরসতা এখনও বজায় আছে। স্ট্রেস তাঁর সেন্স অব হিউমরকে পুরোপুরি গিলে খেতে পারেনি। জীবন, সমাজ, ঈশ্বর, ধর্ম, শিল্প, প্রেম, ব্যক্তিস্বাধীনতা, মৃত্যু, হিংসা, ক্ষমা, নিয়তি, আনন্দ— এইসব বিষয়ে তাঁর মতামত খুবই স্পষ্ট এবং বুদ্ধিদীপ্ত।
মুশকিলটা হল, সম্ভবত মৃত্যুমুখ থেকে ফিরে আসার পরে স্বাভাবিক মানসিক স্থৈর্যের অভাবে, বইটি তিনি গুছিয়ে লিখে উঠতে পারেননি। (অন্তত আরো বছর-তিনেক পরে বইটি লেখা উচিত ছিল কি? ফতোয়া-পরবর্তী তাঁর নির্বাসিত গোপন জীবনের ব্যাপারে স্মৃতিচারণমূলক বইটি— "জোসেফ আন্তন"— তিনি লিখেছিলেন ঘটনার প্রায় ২২ বছর পরে)। তবু যাই হোক, খাপছাড়াভাবে হলেও, কিছু জরুরি কথা তিনি লিখেছেন, নিচে তেমন একটি উদ্ধৃতি উল্লেখ করে লেখাটি শেষ করলাম। আমার মনে হয়েছে, দৈর্ঘ্যে একটু বড়ো হলেও উদ্ধৃতিটি পুরোটা তুলে দেওয়া উচিত।
"The most important thing is that art challenges orthodoxy.
"To reject or vilify art because it does that is to fail to understand its nature. Art sets the artist’s passionate personal vision against the received ideas of its time. Art knows that received ideas are the enemies of art. Clichés are received ideas and so are ideologies, both those which depend on the sanction of invisible sky gods and those which do not. Without art, our ability to think, to see freshly, and to renew our world would wither and die.
"Art is not a luxury. It stands at the essence of our humanity, and it asks for no special protection except the right to exist.
"It accepts argument, criticism, even rejection. It does not accept violence.
"And in the end, it outlasts those who oppress it. The poet Ovid was exiled by Augustus Caesar, but the poetry of Ovid has outlasted the Roman Empire. The poet Mandelstam’s life was ruined by Joseph Stalin, but his poetry has outlasted the Soviet Union. The poet Lorca was murdered by the thugs of General Franco, but his art has outlasted the fascism of the Falange."
May 26, 2024
Rushdie’s account of being attacked by a knife-wielding would-be assassin and the aftermath of that attack is, of course, beautifully written. It’s also remarkable in its openness and humanity. Rushdie himself reads the audiobook.
June 24, 2024
This is not your usual Rushdie book. No spirits, no living things flying around. This is Rushdie's record of being attacked, recovering and changing his attitude about some things. On August 12, 2022, Rushdie had just been introduced to speak at Chautauqua, an annual grouping of folks to learn more about world issues in an ideally upstate New York encampment. Suddenly, a man in black clothing rushed the stage and attacked Rushdie, with multiple knives. Rushdie was 75 years old, in good health and recently married to the most recent love of his life. (He has been married 5 times.)
Rushdie has very little memory of the actual wounds but was aware that the attacker wanted to murder him. He was rescued by many people, some grabbed the attacker and held him down until police arrived, some began life saving measures on Rushdie until the EMTs arrived. A helicopter also arrived because there are no high trauma medical places near the outpost. Many observers thought Rushdie would die, but Rushdie did not give up hope or fighting for his life.
From my observation, the worst wound was losing one eye. Other major wounds were trying to stop his life. The doctors patched and sewed and patched again and prescribed many medicines, including pain killers, to keep him alive.
We see Rushdie's humor when he can not remember the names of his therapists and doctors. It was Eye doctor #1, or physical therapist #3 who was talking to him, pulling, pushing, advising. Life was a muddle and got better when his wife arrived - but not much. He was happy to have his wife there to keep track of what was happening and to help him make medical decisions but life was still hard.
Rushdie repeatedly makes reference to other writers or written material, especially Shakespeare. From his writing, we know he is well read and can remember his citations. He regrets that his new Ralph Lauren suit is going to be cut off of him and he tells people around him to get his credit cards and house keys.
Thirty three years before this date, a little known Muslim Ayatollah, had ordered death for Rushdie because of his book The Satanic Verses. Many condemned Rushdie but few of them read the book, including the man who had attacked Rushdie at this public venue. Through out this book, Rushdie does something that I wish I could do when I am hurt. He refuses to speak/write the attacker's name. Rushdie calls him A throughout the book - I assume this is for A--hole. But Rushdie never confirms what the A stands for. Near the end of the book, Rushdie wants to meet the person who tried to kill him, but never gets or creates the chance. Instead we have a chapter where Rushdie imagines he meets the unsuccessful assassin. Like many parts of the book, this section is enlightening and humorous. As Rushdie details some of the pain of dealing with rehabilitation and acknowledgment his losses, i.e., one of his eyes, he shares his joy, optimism, heartache, and frustration. He often cites other writers and famous people he knows. This was very entertaining.
Best of all, was the awareness Rushdie has about so many things. In one way, this is a love letter to his wife, Eliza, for all she means to him and for her being there for him. This book was delightful and an inspiration to me about how Rushdie gets through a terrible physical attack on many parts of his body and learns how to diminish his attacker (attempted murderer) and live with the joy he has. I loved this book and recommend it to everyone. It would be a great book for a discussion group.
Rushdie has very little memory of the actual wounds but was aware that the attacker wanted to murder him. He was rescued by many people, some grabbed the attacker and held him down until police arrived, some began life saving measures on Rushdie until the EMTs arrived. A helicopter also arrived because there are no high trauma medical places near the outpost. Many observers thought Rushdie would die, but Rushdie did not give up hope or fighting for his life.
From my observation, the worst wound was losing one eye. Other major wounds were trying to stop his life. The doctors patched and sewed and patched again and prescribed many medicines, including pain killers, to keep him alive.
We see Rushdie's humor when he can not remember the names of his therapists and doctors. It was Eye doctor #1, or physical therapist #3 who was talking to him, pulling, pushing, advising. Life was a muddle and got better when his wife arrived - but not much. He was happy to have his wife there to keep track of what was happening and to help him make medical decisions but life was still hard.
Rushdie repeatedly makes reference to other writers or written material, especially Shakespeare. From his writing, we know he is well read and can remember his citations. He regrets that his new Ralph Lauren suit is going to be cut off of him and he tells people around him to get his credit cards and house keys.
Thirty three years before this date, a little known Muslim Ayatollah, had ordered death for Rushdie because of his book The Satanic Verses. Many condemned Rushdie but few of them read the book, including the man who had attacked Rushdie at this public venue. Through out this book, Rushdie does something that I wish I could do when I am hurt. He refuses to speak/write the attacker's name. Rushdie calls him A throughout the book - I assume this is for A--hole. But Rushdie never confirms what the A stands for. Near the end of the book, Rushdie wants to meet the person who tried to kill him, but never gets or creates the chance. Instead we have a chapter where Rushdie imagines he meets the unsuccessful assassin. Like many parts of the book, this section is enlightening and humorous. As Rushdie details some of the pain of dealing with rehabilitation and acknowledgment his losses, i.e., one of his eyes, he shares his joy, optimism, heartache, and frustration. He often cites other writers and famous people he knows. This was very entertaining.
Best of all, was the awareness Rushdie has about so many things. In one way, this is a love letter to his wife, Eliza, for all she means to him and for her being there for him. This book was delightful and an inspiration to me about how Rushdie gets through a terrible physical attack on many parts of his body and learns how to diminish his attacker (attempted murderer) and live with the joy he has. I loved this book and recommend it to everyone. It would be a great book for a discussion group.
May 30, 2024
(2.7)Some thoughts on this work:
Rushdie survived an attack that took almost thirty years to come to fruition…he’s quite commendable…
“but a knife attack is a kind of intimacy, a knife’s a close-up weapon, and the crimes it commits are intimate encounters. Here I am, you bastard, the knife whispers”
Yes, same reason OJ stabbed his wife so many times…
“The spirit of young Trayvon Martin, whose murder by George Zimmerman, and Zimmerman’s disgraceful subsequent acquittal.”
Nothing disgraceful about a fight where one man found himself under another man with his head being pounded into the ground…and defended his life
“This move away from First Amendment principles allowed that venerable piece of the Constitution to be co-opted by the right.”
Rushdie’s such a leftist that when the left has abandoned free speech he has to claim the Right somehow co-opted this most sacred right…yeah…it’s called defending free speech…
“The First Amendment was now what allowed conservatives to lie, to abuse, to denigrate. It became a kind of freedom for bigotry. The right had a new social agenda too, one that sounded a lot like an old one: authoritarianism,”
Yes, Rushdie, free speech gives folks the right to be wrong for the wrong reasons…or plz tell me if hunters laptop was his? Did Covid come from a lab? What is a woman? Was Trump guilty of collusion?
“A gun’s only way of being in the world was violence; its sole purpose was to cause damage, even to take lives, animal or human.”
No, a gun can deter violence as every woman knows who has an open carry license..
“There were probably exceptions to this principle, but very few of the people who ought to regret their lives—
Donald Trump, Boris Johnson, Adolf Eichmann,”
Comparing Trump to an architect of the Holocaust..how pathetically deranged Rushdie is here…
“Milan wanted to talk about Trump. I didn’t, really. But I did say, “If he is re-elected this country may become impossible to live in.”
See above….
“I can. Because a real meeting is improbable—make that impossible—I have to imagine my way into his head.
I’m not looking for an apology. I do wonder how he feels, now that he has had time to think things over. Has he had second thoughts? Or is he proud of himself? Would he do it again? He has been offered a reward by an organization in Iran. Does he hope to serve a sentence and then travel”
Rushdie spends a whole chapter imagining a conversation with his assailant…a profound mistake of the overly intellectual…thinking that the low IQ cogitate in a similar way to even the average minded….
“Meanwhile, America is sliding back towards the Middle Ages, as white supremacy exerts itself not only over Black bodies, but over women’s bodies too.”
Folks who count themselves liberal or very liberal estimate that 10,000 unarmed blacks or killed by police every year…the real number was 12…
“The weaponizing of Christianity in the United States has resulted in the overturning of Roe v. Wade and the ongoing battle over abortion, and women’s right to choose.”
Nothing to do with Christianity but an understanding of the constitution. There never was a right to privacy in the document and reverting the difficult decision of abortion back to states and their democracies is far more liberal than anointing nine lawyers to foist their beliefs on a nation…
“I talked about how important PEN was “at this moment when books and libraries as well as authors are so widely under siege.”
No books are being banned…parents have every right to curate what their children read…and btw you can download any book in ten seconds off Amazon…it’s the 21st century try living in it
“the New York sky orange and made the air dangerous to breathe. Climate records were broken in Las Vegas..
and in the soaring heat of Death Valley, people began to die. I remembered the 1961 science-fiction film
announced, and there were reports that fish were boiling in the sea.”
Rushdie is an atheist but he believes in Armageddon..he’s lived in NYC for decades. Has the shoreline near his apartment changed in all that time?
“We passed through idyllic small towns and villages, their delightful aspect marred only by a few trump signs”
And the obligatory denouement mention in Trump…
Rushdie survived an attack that took almost thirty years to come to fruition…he’s quite commendable…
“but a knife attack is a kind of intimacy, a knife’s a close-up weapon, and the crimes it commits are intimate encounters. Here I am, you bastard, the knife whispers”
Yes, same reason OJ stabbed his wife so many times…
“The spirit of young Trayvon Martin, whose murder by George Zimmerman, and Zimmerman’s disgraceful subsequent acquittal.”
Nothing disgraceful about a fight where one man found himself under another man with his head being pounded into the ground…and defended his life
“This move away from First Amendment principles allowed that venerable piece of the Constitution to be co-opted by the right.”
Rushdie’s such a leftist that when the left has abandoned free speech he has to claim the Right somehow co-opted this most sacred right…yeah…it’s called defending free speech…
“The First Amendment was now what allowed conservatives to lie, to abuse, to denigrate. It became a kind of freedom for bigotry. The right had a new social agenda too, one that sounded a lot like an old one: authoritarianism,”
Yes, Rushdie, free speech gives folks the right to be wrong for the wrong reasons…or plz tell me if hunters laptop was his? Did Covid come from a lab? What is a woman? Was Trump guilty of collusion?
“A gun’s only way of being in the world was violence; its sole purpose was to cause damage, even to take lives, animal or human.”
No, a gun can deter violence as every woman knows who has an open carry license..
“There were probably exceptions to this principle, but very few of the people who ought to regret their lives—
Donald Trump, Boris Johnson, Adolf Eichmann,”
Comparing Trump to an architect of the Holocaust..how pathetically deranged Rushdie is here…
“Milan wanted to talk about Trump. I didn’t, really. But I did say, “If he is re-elected this country may become impossible to live in.”
See above….
“I can. Because a real meeting is improbable—make that impossible—I have to imagine my way into his head.
I’m not looking for an apology. I do wonder how he feels, now that he has had time to think things over. Has he had second thoughts? Or is he proud of himself? Would he do it again? He has been offered a reward by an organization in Iran. Does he hope to serve a sentence and then travel”
Rushdie spends a whole chapter imagining a conversation with his assailant…a profound mistake of the overly intellectual…thinking that the low IQ cogitate in a similar way to even the average minded….
“Meanwhile, America is sliding back towards the Middle Ages, as white supremacy exerts itself not only over Black bodies, but over women’s bodies too.”
Folks who count themselves liberal or very liberal estimate that 10,000 unarmed blacks or killed by police every year…the real number was 12…
“The weaponizing of Christianity in the United States has resulted in the overturning of Roe v. Wade and the ongoing battle over abortion, and women’s right to choose.”
Nothing to do with Christianity but an understanding of the constitution. There never was a right to privacy in the document and reverting the difficult decision of abortion back to states and their democracies is far more liberal than anointing nine lawyers to foist their beliefs on a nation…
“I talked about how important PEN was “at this moment when books and libraries as well as authors are so widely under siege.”
No books are being banned…parents have every right to curate what their children read…and btw you can download any book in ten seconds off Amazon…it’s the 21st century try living in it
“the New York sky orange and made the air dangerous to breathe. Climate records were broken in Las Vegas..
and in the soaring heat of Death Valley, people began to die. I remembered the 1961 science-fiction film
announced, and there were reports that fish were boiling in the sea.”
Rushdie is an atheist but he believes in Armageddon..he’s lived in NYC for decades. Has the shoreline near his apartment changed in all that time?
“We passed through idyllic small towns and villages, their delightful aspect marred only by a few trump signs”
And the obligatory denouement mention in Trump…
May 22, 2024
"...thanks to a combination of luck, the skill of surgeons and loving care...I'd been given a second shot at life. So the question was: What do you do with it? How do you use it? What should I do the same way, what might I do differently?"
I am still processing this short memoir by Rushdie that goes into the events and aftermath of his recent stabbing. I am not a big Rushdie fan and have only read Midnight's Children and found that tough going but an excellent read. I was drawn to this book after hearing the author interviewed by Terri Gross of NPR's Fresh Air. I am a medical person and was interested in hearing more about Rushdie's recovery from this traumatic attack. Yes there are medical/physical injuries that are discussed but this memoir looks primarily at the mental recovery and how Rushdie worked to recover his life.
I would hesitate to call this an older person's book but I feel this is a book that I would encourage anyone trying to recover from a tragic event and particularly would encourage anyone over 65 to read, as Rushdie recounts what he finds important and necessary as one grows older and the challenges age can present for all.
It was a fantastic read. Short, easy, heartfelt. I will be thinking about it for a long time. In line for the audio as Rushdie reads it himself and I feel this would add a lot. The title makes this sound like it might be angry or sad or perhaps bitter, but it is the most hopeful, inspirational book I have read in many a year. It may even inspire me to get back to more Rushdie. 5 stars
I am still processing this short memoir by Rushdie that goes into the events and aftermath of his recent stabbing. I am not a big Rushdie fan and have only read Midnight's Children and found that tough going but an excellent read. I was drawn to this book after hearing the author interviewed by Terri Gross of NPR's Fresh Air. I am a medical person and was interested in hearing more about Rushdie's recovery from this traumatic attack. Yes there are medical/physical injuries that are discussed but this memoir looks primarily at the mental recovery and how Rushdie worked to recover his life.
I would hesitate to call this an older person's book but I feel this is a book that I would encourage anyone trying to recover from a tragic event and particularly would encourage anyone over 65 to read, as Rushdie recounts what he finds important and necessary as one grows older and the challenges age can present for all.
It was a fantastic read. Short, easy, heartfelt. I will be thinking about it for a long time. In line for the audio as Rushdie reads it himself and I feel this would add a lot. The title makes this sound like it might be angry or sad or perhaps bitter, but it is the most hopeful, inspirational book I have read in many a year. It may even inspire me to get back to more Rushdie. 5 stars
April 18, 2024
Having been at Chautauqua on the date, I am one of many with vivid memories. This memoir is transparent and incredibly human. And, hopeful as to the power of the Spirit to enhance life.
May 11, 2024
Salman Rushdie is a prolific author who has been sentenced to die by Ayatollah Khomeini (a fatwa was declared) for writing the book The Satanic Verses in the 1980s. Rushdie was therefore in witness protection for 13 years following the declaration of the fatwa in 1989. However, that could not last forever (not least because no government was willing to pay for his protection for so long). Thus, he's been "out" since the early 2000s, aware of the fatwa never having been rescinded.
On August 12, 2022, he was on a stage to talk about - ironically enough - the dangers some authors have to face and how artists should and could be protected when a 24-year-old radical Muslim rushed the stage with - you guessed it - a knife and stabbed him 15 times (and trying to keep on stabbing even when people restrained him).
Rushdie lost his right eye but luckily survived despite the deep slash across his neck. A New York state trooper and a sheriff's deputy were in the audience and arrested the attacker while a doctor, also attending the lecture, tended to Rushdie and his interviewer (who got cut, albeit far less severeley, when trying to help).
Rushdie suffered 4 wounds to the stomach area, 3 wounds to the front right side of his neck, 1 wound to his right eye (the knife went in deep enough to sever the optic nerve), 1 wound to his chest and 1 wound to his right thigh. He also lost function to several nerves in his right arm and sustained liver damage (though that has apparently healed - the liver IS an amazing organ). Rushdie had to be put on a ventilator after arriving in the hospital and undergoing surgery.
Funnily enough, in an interview with the New York Post, the attacker said that he was surprised that Rushdie had survived. He added that he had only read "a couple pages" of The Satanic Verses, but he did not like Rushdie due to his criticism of Islam and a number of his videos he had watched on YouTube. He refused to say whether he had attacked Rushdie because of the fatwa against him, although he stated that he respected Khomeini. So yes, fanatism at least aided if not straight-up caused by not knowing what someone is talking about.
However, it is important to note just how lucky Rushdie was. He was 76 years old at the time of the attack and if that one stab to the eye had gone in even only one millimeter more, there would have been brain damage. I was happy to read just how lucky and therefore grateful Rushdie was to be alive - him being so down to Earth is one of his defining features. The other defining quality of Rushdie's is his iron will, his tenacity to cling on, which certainly helped as well.
This books details the attack but also his recovery afterwards. It details how the attack not only affected him physically, but mentally, and the repercussions that had for his family life. It's his way of coming to terms with what has happened, being able to kinda put it behind him, while also thanking the people who rushed to help and took care of him.
And he muses on other authors and the attacks carried out against them as well as the other writers who stood up in solidarity. It brought me to tears, this cultural war, because while most physical attacks are firmly in Islamist territory, the western world fights its own version, too (book bans and such) and we should know better. *sighs*
All of Rushdie's accounts and musings are presented in the author's wonderful way of writing, matter-of-factly but also wonderfully prosaic. I'm sure some will claim this is a cash grab, and maybe it is - after all, all those hospitals bills don't pay themselves - but if it is, I got my money's worth AND got a chance to help the author, who definitely deserves it.
On August 12, 2022, he was on a stage to talk about - ironically enough - the dangers some authors have to face and how artists should and could be protected when a 24-year-old radical Muslim rushed the stage with - you guessed it - a knife and stabbed him 15 times (and trying to keep on stabbing even when people restrained him).
Rushdie lost his right eye but luckily survived despite the deep slash across his neck. A New York state trooper and a sheriff's deputy were in the audience and arrested the attacker while a doctor, also attending the lecture, tended to Rushdie and his interviewer (who got cut, albeit far less severeley, when trying to help).
Rushdie suffered 4 wounds to the stomach area, 3 wounds to the front right side of his neck, 1 wound to his right eye (the knife went in deep enough to sever the optic nerve), 1 wound to his chest and 1 wound to his right thigh. He also lost function to several nerves in his right arm and sustained liver damage (though that has apparently healed - the liver IS an amazing organ). Rushdie had to be put on a ventilator after arriving in the hospital and undergoing surgery.
Funnily enough, in an interview with the New York Post, the attacker said that he was surprised that Rushdie had survived. He added that he had only read "a couple pages" of The Satanic Verses, but he did not like Rushdie due to his criticism of Islam and a number of his videos he had watched on YouTube. He refused to say whether he had attacked Rushdie because of the fatwa against him, although he stated that he respected Khomeini. So yes, fanatism at least aided if not straight-up caused by not knowing what someone is talking about.
However, it is important to note just how lucky Rushdie was. He was 76 years old at the time of the attack and if that one stab to the eye had gone in even only one millimeter more, there would have been brain damage. I was happy to read just how lucky and therefore grateful Rushdie was to be alive - him being so down to Earth is one of his defining features. The other defining quality of Rushdie's is his iron will, his tenacity to cling on, which certainly helped as well.
This books details the attack but also his recovery afterwards. It details how the attack not only affected him physically, but mentally, and the repercussions that had for his family life. It's his way of coming to terms with what has happened, being able to kinda put it behind him, while also thanking the people who rushed to help and took care of him.
And he muses on other authors and the attacks carried out against them as well as the other writers who stood up in solidarity. It brought me to tears, this cultural war, because while most physical attacks are firmly in Islamist territory, the western world fights its own version, too (book bans and such) and we should know better. *sighs*
All of Rushdie's accounts and musings are presented in the author's wonderful way of writing, matter-of-factly but also wonderfully prosaic. I'm sure some will claim this is a cash grab, and maybe it is - after all, all those hospitals bills don't pay themselves - but if it is, I got my money's worth AND got a chance to help the author, who definitely deserves it.
May 23, 2024
In 2022, Salman Rushdie suffered multiple stab wounds by an assailant while giving a talk at the Chautauqua Institute in New York. The assailant was a 24 year old man, inspired by his belief in radical Islam. Rushdie was 75 years old at the time. The knife wounds were so extensive and severe that he was not expected to survive. This is his memoir of his ordeal and fight to reclaim his life. Rushdie goes into detail about his resulting health issues and treatments. He also pays tribute to his young wife (Eliza Griffiths) who was his rock and support during this time.
I have not read any of Rushdie's books, so I had little familiarity with him while reading his memoir. As he is a historic figure, I was aware of the fatwa issued by Khomeini in 1988, due to Rushdie's book, The Satanic Verses.
What is remarkable is Rushdie's resiliency and wish to not only survive, but to live and live as well as he can. He addresses his problems in a straightforward way. Along the way, Rushdie looks at his own struggles in the larger context of history, literature and religion.
I found this to be a heavy and sobering read and felt somewhat disadvantaged by not having familiarity with Rushdie's writings.
3.5 stars
Additional Notes: At a point in the book, Rushdie has an imaginary conversation with the man who attacked him. Rushdie imagines him to be an antisocial misfit who grew up playing violent video games. I do share Rushdie's thinking that violent video games are more destructive than the public believes.
Rushdie is an atheist and has been the target of religious fanaticism. He believes that religion should be a private matter, best left up to the individual - not governmentally legislated.
I have not read any of Rushdie's books, so I had little familiarity with him while reading his memoir. As he is a historic figure, I was aware of the fatwa issued by Khomeini in 1988, due to Rushdie's book, The Satanic Verses.
What is remarkable is Rushdie's resiliency and wish to not only survive, but to live and live as well as he can. He addresses his problems in a straightforward way. Along the way, Rushdie looks at his own struggles in the larger context of history, literature and religion.
I found this to be a heavy and sobering read and felt somewhat disadvantaged by not having familiarity with Rushdie's writings.
3.5 stars
Additional Notes: At a point in the book, Rushdie has an imaginary conversation with the man who attacked him. Rushdie imagines him to be an antisocial misfit who grew up playing violent video games. I do share Rushdie's thinking that violent video games are more destructive than the public believes.
Rushdie is an atheist and has been the target of religious fanaticism. He believes that religion should be a private matter, best left up to the individual - not governmentally legislated.
May 9, 2024
50th book of 2024.
Begins, Knife, somewhat with a false promise. I don't know what I expected, exactly, but it wasn't quite this; but I don't want to unfairly hound him. I am very interested in violence as a subject, especially since I taught martial arts for many years and had my own school. The concept of a man who had been attacked (I have been 'attacked' a few times myself, but never with a weapon) and nearly died, only to turn over and write, put me in a state of awe. The pen is mightier than the sword, indeed.
But what most of the book is dedicated to is writing about how amazing his wife is and how much he loves her. I'm not one for declarations of love, really, so this already puts me cold. And secondly, Rushdie is now on his fifth wife, so I'm sceptical of any grand declarations of such after so many marriages. I understand these are personal reflections, but they hold true to my experience with the book. I actually rolled my eyes at points, like when he records his wife saying, "And what we have is the greatest story, which is love." Vomit.
I also found the writing disarmingly simple, even poor. Rushdie is a skilled writer, I believe that, but I guess he dropped all the style and just went for honesty. I can't, really, fault him for that. With that in mind, the most interesting part of the book is when he turns to fiction: he has an imaginary conversation with his attacker, which spans for quite a few pages. I'll quote a chunk of it below because I found the discussion particularly interesting. This is part way through the imagined conversation, and it is Rushdie speaking first in this extract, which you can probably guess by what is said.
One could easily say, as people say about Plato, that the Socratic dialogue lends itself to the writer talking rings around his adversary, especially since the latter is imagined. But I found it the most interesting part of the book around lovey-dovey remarks and the breakdowns of his recovery and the processes he went through.
Other than that, strange Mandalorian references, quotes from writers you wouldn't expect, like Jodi Picoult, and bits about Martin Amis and Paul Auster, both of whom were alive but struggling, and the former then dying. We lost Auster, obviously, after this was published.
At quarter to eleven on August 12, 2022, on a sunny Friday morning in upstate New York, I was attacked and almost killed by a young man with a knife just after I came out on stage at the amphitheater in Chautauqua to talk about the importance of keeping writers safe from harm.
Begins, Knife, somewhat with a false promise. I don't know what I expected, exactly, but it wasn't quite this; but I don't want to unfairly hound him. I am very interested in violence as a subject, especially since I taught martial arts for many years and had my own school. The concept of a man who had been attacked (I have been 'attacked' a few times myself, but never with a weapon) and nearly died, only to turn over and write, put me in a state of awe. The pen is mightier than the sword, indeed.
But what most of the book is dedicated to is writing about how amazing his wife is and how much he loves her. I'm not one for declarations of love, really, so this already puts me cold. And secondly, Rushdie is now on his fifth wife, so I'm sceptical of any grand declarations of such after so many marriages. I understand these are personal reflections, but they hold true to my experience with the book. I actually rolled my eyes at points, like when he records his wife saying, "And what we have is the greatest story, which is love." Vomit.
I also found the writing disarmingly simple, even poor. Rushdie is a skilled writer, I believe that, but I guess he dropped all the style and just went for honesty. I can't, really, fault him for that. With that in mind, the most interesting part of the book is when he turns to fiction: he has an imaginary conversation with his attacker, which spans for quite a few pages. I'll quote a chunk of it below because I found the discussion particularly interesting. This is part way through the imagined conversation, and it is Rushdie speaking first in this extract, which you can probably guess by what is said.
I'd like to talk about books.
There's only one book worth talking about.
Let me tell you about a book about a book. It's written by the Turkish author Pamuk, and called "The New Life". In this book there's a book that has no name, and we do not know anything about what's written on its pages. But everyone who opens this book has their whole life changed. After they read the book they are not the same as they were before. Do you know a book like that?
Of course. It is the book containing the Word of God, as given by the Archangel to the Prophet.
Did the Prophet write it down immediately?
He came down from the mountain and recited, and whoever was nearby wrote it down on whatever came to hand.
And he recited with complete accuracy. What the Archangel said: word for word. And then they wrote it down with complete accuracy also. Word for word.
That is obvious.
And what happened to these pages?
After the Prophet's life ended, his Companions put them in order, and that is the Book.
And they put them in order with complete accuracy.
Every true believer knows this. Only the godless would question this, and they don't matter.
Can I ask you a question about the nature of God?
He is all-encompassing. All-knowing. He is All.
It is in your tradition, is it not, that there is a difference between your God and the God of the other People of the Book, the Jews and the Christians. They believe, as it says in their books, that God created Man in His own image.
They are wrong.
Because, if they were right, then God might have some resemblance to men? He might look like a man? He might have a mouth, and a voice, and be able to use it to speak to us?
But this is not correct.
Because, in your tradition, the idea of God is that He is so far superior to Man, so much more exalted, that He shares no human qualities.
Exactly. For once you are not talking garbage.
What would you say were human qualities?
Our bodies. How we look and how we are.
Is love a human quality? Is the desire for justice? Is mercy? Does God have those?
I am not a scholar. Imam Yutubi [the YouTube star the attacker supposedly watched] is a scholar. He is many-headed and many-voiced. I follow him. I have learned everything from him.
I don't mean to ask for your scholarship. You agree that your God has no human qualities, according to your own tradition. Let me just ask this. Isn't language a human quality? To have a language, God would have to have a mouth, a tongue, vocal chords, a voice. He would have to look like a man. In his own image. But you agree that God is not like that.
So what?
So if God is above language—so far above it as He is so far above all that is merely human—then how did the words of your Book come into being?
The Angel understood God and brought the Message in a way that the Messenger could understand, and the Messenger received it.
Was the Message in Arabic?
That's how the Messenger received it and how his Companions wrote it down.
Can I ask you something about translation?
You do this too much. We are going in one direction and then you swerve across the road and start driving the other way. Not only a butterfly but a bad driver.
I only want to suggest that when the Archangel understood the Word of God and brought it to the Messenger in a way that the Messenger could understand, he was translating it. God communicated it the way that God communicates, which is so far above human understanding that we cannot even begin to comprehend it, and the Angel made it comprehensible to the Messenger, by delivering it in human speech, which is not the speech of God.
The Book is the uncreated Word of God.
But we agreed that God has no words. In which case, what we read is an interpretation of God. And so maybe there could be other interpretations? Maybe your way, your Yutubi's way, is not the only way? Maybe there is no one correct way?
You are a snake.
Can I ask what language you read the Book? In the first language or another?
I read it in this inferior tongue in which we are speaking now.
Another translation.
One could easily say, as people say about Plato, that the Socratic dialogue lends itself to the writer talking rings around his adversary, especially since the latter is imagined. But I found it the most interesting part of the book around lovey-dovey remarks and the breakdowns of his recovery and the processes he went through.
Other than that, strange Mandalorian references, quotes from writers you wouldn't expect, like Jodi Picoult, and bits about Martin Amis and Paul Auster, both of whom were alive but struggling, and the former then dying. We lost Auster, obviously, after this was published.
September 24, 2024
Hogy egy evidenciával kezdjem: ennek a könyvnek az a titka, hogy tényleg megtörtént. Tényleg akadt egy ostoba önjelölt asszaszin (vagy ahogy Rushdie nevezi: "Gyagyás"), aki fogott egy kést, és nekiment vagy ezer szemtanú előtt egy hetvenöt éves írónak, hogy tizenötször belemártsa. Miért? Mert a "Gyagyás" speciel egy olyan Jóistenben hitt, aki hetvenöt éves írók megszurkálását tartja erkölcsileg kívánatosnak. (Megjegyzés: ha a fejetekben lévő Jóisten ilyesmiket mond nektek, akkor az nem a Jóisten, szóval szedjetek be gyorsan valami bogyót. "Szúrd le az öreget, kapsz egy húrit a másvilágon!" - ilyet épeszű Isten egyszerűen nem mond. Nincs "de..." meg "mindazonáltal..." - nem mond. Kész, pont.) Mák, hogy ez a fiatalember még asszaszinnak is szánalmas volt, úgyhogy Rushdie felépült, és megírta ezt a könyvet itt. Amely könyvről már csak témájánál fogva is lepereg a kritika jó része - no nem azért, mert áldozatok prózáit nem illendő megítélni, hanem mert egy olyan személyes tapasztalatot, egy olyan folyamatot ír le, amivel kapcsolatban az írónak igazoltan több tudása van nálunk. Ugyanakkor - ezzel párhuzamosan - ez a tapasztalat számunkra is tanulsággal bír, mert sehol nincs kőbe vésve, hogy nem kerülünk egyszer olyan helyzetbe, mint Rushdie. Hisz bármikor találkozhatunk mi is az értelmetlen erőszakkal, amit azok alkalmaznak, akik gyűlölik a világot, mert nem olyan, amilyennek látni akarják, és túl hülyék vagy lusták ahhoz, hogy e gyűlöltet mögött felfedezzék saját korlátaikat.
Amúgy meg ez a kötet: gyászmunka. Leltárba vétele annak, amit elveszítettünk, és annak, amit nem tudtak elvenni tőlünk. A szerző először számba veszi az első halmazt, de csak azért, hogy annál értékesebbnek lássa aztán a másodikat. Ez egy göröngyös út, ahol az egyik legnehezebb akadály az a félelem és bosszúvágy, amit az áldozat az erőszak alkalmazója iránt/miatt érez. Rushdie pontosan tudja, hogy akkor mondhatja csak: "Túléltem!", amikor ezeket a mérgező érzéseket kigyomlálta magából. Ahogy a gyilkos megpróbálta őt megsemmisíteni, úgy próbálja ő megsemmisíteni magában a gyilkost - elérni, hogy egyszerűen ne számítson, hogy totálisan és véglegesen Senkivé váljon. Amíg a tettes képtelen megszabadulni saját döntéseinek konzekvenciáitól, addig az áldozat lerázza magáról a tett súlyát - ez az igazi győzelem. És szeretek arra gondolni, hogy ez kicsit az irodalom metaforája is: a szavak erősebbek a késeknél. Még akkor is visszhangoznak, amikor a sebek már rég beforrtak.
Amúgy meg ez a kötet: gyászmunka. Leltárba vétele annak, amit elveszítettünk, és annak, amit nem tudtak elvenni tőlünk. A szerző először számba veszi az első halmazt, de csak azért, hogy annál értékesebbnek lássa aztán a másodikat. Ez egy göröngyös út, ahol az egyik legnehezebb akadály az a félelem és bosszúvágy, amit az áldozat az erőszak alkalmazója iránt/miatt érez. Rushdie pontosan tudja, hogy akkor mondhatja csak: "Túléltem!", amikor ezeket a mérgező érzéseket kigyomlálta magából. Ahogy a gyilkos megpróbálta őt megsemmisíteni, úgy próbálja ő megsemmisíteni magában a gyilkost - elérni, hogy egyszerűen ne számítson, hogy totálisan és véglegesen Senkivé váljon. Amíg a tettes képtelen megszabadulni saját döntéseinek konzekvenciáitól, addig az áldozat lerázza magáról a tett súlyát - ez az igazi győzelem. És szeretek arra gondolni, hogy ez kicsit az irodalom metaforája is: a szavak erősebbek a késeknél. Még akkor is visszhangoznak, amikor a sebek már rég beforrtak.
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June 28, 2024An interesting, sometimes touchingly vulnerable memoir in which Rushdie attempts to process the knife attack on a stage that deprived him of an eye and nearly his life. As he explains, he could not move on to write another book until he dealt with the attack by writing this one, to be his way "of owning what had happened, taking charge of it, making it mine, refusing to be a mere victim. I would answer violence with art." He writes about the terrible mechanics of physical recovery and the pain of mental recovery, the latter experienced not just by him but also by his wife and other family. As well, he explores the value of art and reiterates his personal atheism and ongoing concern for freedom of expression. In a middle section he imagines a fictional - and unsatisfactory - dialogue with his young attacker: this I found dull and rather cringeworthy, the attacker depicted only as dull-witted and two-dimensional. There is a fair amount of name-dropping and perhaps a tad more than healthy self-regard. While his reflections do come to a natural conclusion with a return trip to the scene of the attack, one imagines that the process of recovery remains ongoing, and inevitably still rather fresh.
[Rushdie trying to understand, with some embarrassment and shame, why he did not 'fight back' when charged by a man with a knife at a speaking engagement] "...the targets of violence experience a crisis in their understanding of the real."
"To regret what your life has been is the true folly, I told myself, because the person doing the regretting has been shaped by the life he subsequently regrets."
"I have rarely enjoyed the actual moment of publication. It feels like undressing in public, which allows people to point and laugh."
[Rushdie trying to understand, with some embarrassment and shame, why he did not 'fight back' when charged by a man with a knife at a speaking engagement] "...the targets of violence experience a crisis in their understanding of the real."
"To regret what your life has been is the true folly, I told myself, because the person doing the regretting has been shaped by the life he subsequently regrets."
"I have rarely enjoyed the actual moment of publication. It feels like undressing in public, which allows people to point and laugh."
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