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A review by frankkasell
East, West: Stories by Salman Rushdie
4.0
I don't often read short stories, but Rushdie has never once ceased to impress me (and, more often than not, totally bowl me over), so I figured it was worth a shot.
As expected, it was mostly magnificent. His style varies widely from story to story, demonstrating his erudition and imaginative capabilities as he jumps deftly from poignant snapshots in time to experimental postmodern monologues. As always, he writes with exuberance, precision, delicacy, joy, and occasional venom.
As other reviewers have written, some stories struck me more than others (though it's interesting to note how the stories some people highlight as dreck are the same ones that the next person will describe as their favorites). Though I enjoyed them all, I was particularly impressed with "Yorick," "At the Auction of the Ruby Slippers," "Chekov and Zulu," and "The Courter" (yes, I realize that my list there covers nearly half of the book).
Contentwise, the stories cover a lot of the same topics of Rushdie's novels: the concept of "home," the often corruptive powers of religion and money, the often redemptive nature of love, and (obviously) the interactions, collisions, and engagements between East and West. The reader occasionally becomes aware that this was written during his decade of hiding after the Ayatollah's fatwa, particularly during "At the Auction of the Ruby Slippers." In that story, the reader finds the narrator longing for the abstract "home," and criticizing the extreme type of tolerance that opens the doors of dialogue to intolerant people (read: people who would order a death sentence for an author because of what he wrote) because to not invite them to the table would be intolerant.
Stylistically, as others have remarked, it is curious the way that the triad of "East" stories, all of which take place in India, are written in a relatively straightforward, realistic style. Though he is not employing his magical realism or postmodern linguistic pyrotechnics here, Rushdie is as sharp as ever. In contrast, all three of the "West" stories are written in experimental postmodern styles. To my mind, this implies that the West has lost its grounding to some extent. With all of the varieties of people and thoughts inhabiting the Western world, we don't have a stable foundation of thought and philosophy. We are ummoored from reality in a way, without a clear concept of "home." The style of the three "West" stories reflects this state.
Overall, I gave this a four-star rating because short stories still aren't quite my bag. I respect what he has done here and deeply enjoyed the book, but I found myself wanting more. In a full length novel, Rushdie has the space to expand his thoughts and really grapple with huge issues. In short stories, he is limited to snapshots of those big issues, so he has a much smaller canvas on which to dazzle the reader. Nonetheless, it's still Rushdie, and it's still marvelous.
As expected, it was mostly magnificent. His style varies widely from story to story, demonstrating his erudition and imaginative capabilities as he jumps deftly from poignant snapshots in time to experimental postmodern monologues. As always, he writes with exuberance, precision, delicacy, joy, and occasional venom.
As other reviewers have written, some stories struck me more than others (though it's interesting to note how the stories some people highlight as dreck are the same ones that the next person will describe as their favorites). Though I enjoyed them all, I was particularly impressed with "Yorick," "At the Auction of the Ruby Slippers," "Chekov and Zulu," and "The Courter" (yes, I realize that my list there covers nearly half of the book).
Contentwise, the stories cover a lot of the same topics of Rushdie's novels: the concept of "home," the often corruptive powers of religion and money, the often redemptive nature of love, and (obviously) the interactions, collisions, and engagements between East and West. The reader occasionally becomes aware that this was written during his decade of hiding after the Ayatollah's fatwa, particularly during "At the Auction of the Ruby Slippers." In that story, the reader finds the narrator longing for the abstract "home," and criticizing the extreme type of tolerance that opens the doors of dialogue to intolerant people (read: people who would order a death sentence for an author because of what he wrote) because to not invite them to the table would be intolerant.
Stylistically, as others have remarked, it is curious the way that the triad of "East" stories, all of which take place in India, are written in a relatively straightforward, realistic style. Though he is not employing his magical realism or postmodern linguistic pyrotechnics here, Rushdie is as sharp as ever. In contrast, all three of the "West" stories are written in experimental postmodern styles. To my mind, this implies that the West has lost its grounding to some extent. With all of the varieties of people and thoughts inhabiting the Western world, we don't have a stable foundation of thought and philosophy. We are ummoored from reality in a way, without a clear concept of "home." The style of the three "West" stories reflects this state.
Overall, I gave this a four-star rating because short stories still aren't quite my bag. I respect what he has done here and deeply enjoyed the book, but I found myself wanting more. In a full length novel, Rushdie has the space to expand his thoughts and really grapple with huge issues. In short stories, he is limited to snapshots of those big issues, so he has a much smaller canvas on which to dazzle the reader. Nonetheless, it's still Rushdie, and it's still marvelous.