Meander

Well, I cheated. Held off posting for an extra day to buy myself more time. But I finally caught up with you mighty Meanderers! And props to folks who are still reading and just a little bit behind. I am not in a judging mood, my friends. None of us perfectly pure. Faulty towels one and all, over-fed a tad on the piaya of prophecies, perhaps.

There was lots of truth in the thread this week, as ever — we marvel at the language. Many of us are glad to be reading this book. Many of us feel like “meander” is starting to sound a bit sarcastic.

Computillo hit it on the head when she said:

Despite the fact that many of us often feel lost in the detail of this novel, I see now that every detail has been critical. Every detail is “organized into one damn thing.”

I continue to swoon a bit over the way everything comes back again, usually 7 or 8 times.

Like Jeff, I was in a little bit of awe at the end of Book Two. Despite the carnage, I felt relief at a gazillion prophecies finally made real, resolved. Tidy.

But then of course, we met the man-dog. The hound-guy? You know who I mean. The children called him big nose. And so here we are back in the vortex with a new slew of onions to peel. Or as the pooch-person calls ’em: coming-soon featurettes…

Either way, we’re getting wildly close to the close, Meander-mates (tone: sarcasm-free!). We can do this. You can do this. I’m starting to think even I can do this!

But before we do that: Let’s meet at the end of the section entitled “The Shadow of the Mosque” (aka page 464 in the Random House paperback), where “God knows what to do with that poor girl.”

And here? Here be the post for comments on sections 3.2 through 3.4.

And also: “enuresis” is defined by Merriam-Webster as… No. No, I don’t think I’m going to define that one.

Friends, I have no one to blame but myself! I set us an ambitious goal and like a few fellow Meanderers, this is the week that tripped me up.

Perhaps both the book and real life had just a little more plot than my brain was ready to handle. 🙂

With your indulgence, I’ll go perhaps a little easy on us (aka me) with this week’s page target, and aim to rejoin you all at the next roadstop. Speaking of which….

The next roadstop: Let’s gather our ponies and/or kick up our sandals at the end of the section entitled “The Buddha” (aka page 413 in the Random House paperback), where something “swallows them up.”

And this? This is the post for comments on sections 2.15 through 3.1.

And also: Wikipedia tells us that “Shakespeare’s phrase, ‘hoist with his own petard,’ is an idiom that means ‘to be harmed by one’s own plan to harm someone else’ or ‘to fall into one’s own trap,’ implying that one could be lifted (blown) upward by one’s own bomb, or in other words, be foiled by one’s own plan.”

Past the midpoint are we — midpoint’s children mayhaps? More than that — we’re the ones headed for the finish line!

Like the excellent folks in the comments I’m find it tricky going here and there, but worth the effort.

A few highlights as I dash to make the Sunday night deadline:

• “When you have things, then there is time to dream; when you don’t, you fight.”
• “Most of what matters in your life takes place in your absence.”
• Rushdie (it seems) making a guest appearance at the Social as a young smoothie….

I also dug the section at the start of the The Kolynos Kid, when Rushdie spells out the many ways he’s weaving Saleem into the actual and metaphorical development of India’s childhood…

Speaking of which, Noodle sent along this excellent helpful graphic to assist in sorting things out:

Next stop: We’ve only got four weeks to go my friends and fellow travelers. Let’s dig in and meet up at the end of the section entitled “Jamila Singer” (aka page 373 in the Random House paperback), where someone “proved to be more believable than what she knew to be so.” (That sounds like a good thing…)

And this? This is the post for comments on sections 2.11 through 2.14.

And also: Merriam-Webster tells us that tergiversatory is an “evasion of straightforward action or clear-cut statement : equivocation.” Hat tip to So-Called Bill for calling that one out in the thread. Oh, and speaking of SCB, he’s just started what promises to be an excellent exploration of Van “the man” Morrison over on The Philter — well worth checking out if you enjoy words and/or music.

Thanks and have a good week all….!
-Cecil

Another great section, and the book is officially exactly nothing like I was expecting when we started.

And that’s a joyous distraction, this week of all weeks.

I’m going to keep the post a little short, but I did want to share a quote that’s been buzzing around my head while I’ve read the last chapter or two.

It’s my favorite line from TV’s Johnny Carson. Legend has it that during Steve Martin’s first appearance on The Tonight Show, Johnny leaned over during a commercial break and told him “You’ll use everything you’ve ever learned.” (See: balloon tricks, banjo playing, et al)

That’s how I feel reading MC. The time I’ve spent looking up tetrapods and reccine has been paid back 50 fold. So when I pause to look up “feronia,” I do so with the peace that comes from knowing my effort will be rewarded, if not in this book than perhaps in the bookafter.

Next stop: Let’s meet at the end of the section entitled “Commander Sabarmati’s Baton” (aka page 307 in the Random House paperback), where awaits “the possibility of love.”

And this? This is the post for comments on sections 2.8 through 2.10.

And lastly: wikipedia insists that “feronia” was “a goddess associated with wildlife, fertility, health, and abundance.”

Welcome to Week Five, in which we careen in a meandery way toward something approaching the halfway mark!

Like Amanda in the comments, I was struck by how Saleem’s newfound Umbrella Academy-ish (hat tip Guzmán) abilities nicely match the experience of reading. And really, what better super power for a narrator?

We continue to be caught in a vortex of prophecies. Enough that I’ve started noting them in the margins, not to track them, but more to acknowledge them and let them go.

And thank goodness because this section ended by rolling up what felt like a wheelbarrow of prophecies: “But Evelyn Lilith Burns is coming; the Pioneer Café is getting painfully close; and–more visually–midnight’s other children … are pressing extremely hard. Soon the cracks will be wide enough for them to escape…”

And even with all that, super enjoying the journey and equally curious what genre it will turn out we were reading when we get to the end — magically realistic historical fiction? a religious tract that could use some reordering? sci fi….?

(And here I thought The Blind Assassin was a mashup.)

Next stop: Let’s meet at the end of the section entitled (look at that!) “At the Pioneer Café” (aka page 254 in the Random House paperback), where “large things [may] be close behind”…

And this? This is the post for comments on sections 2.5 through 2.7.

And lastly: “Pehlwan” is defined by Collins as hindi for “a wrestler” or “a strongman.”

Well, that was unexpected! 🙂

I think I’ll follow the thread-lead (good instincts, Ute!) and not spoil, except to say that it was fun to find that the title doesn’t mean exactly/only what I always thought it meant.

I’m still taken by the way he uses and talks about time. Then there’s all those references to the color blue. And there’s the Venn diagram of these two topics, where you’ll find a paper I almost want to write about time, the color blue, and the many parallels between Midnight’s Children and Alan Moore’s immortal Watchmen.

But instead of focusing thence, I think I’ll just strongly agree with Jeff’s thread-comment that this is a book I wouldn’t make it through solo, and (imho) just the stuff Meanders are made for. Thank you to you all for charging forth! (And sympathy for those who’ve fallen a tad behind — not to worry — there’s plenty of time to rejoin the pack.)

I’ll also note that despite it’s (what the hell, I mean really) meandering trajectory, this book is also somehow weirdly/wonderfully efficient. It feels like every word I look up ends up getting used five times. (I’m talking to you, “tetrapod.”) It all contributes to the feeling that this is an exceptionally orderly chaos we’re making our way through…

Speaking of making our way through, where to next? Let’s meet at the end of “All-India Radio” (page 205 in the Random House paperback), where somebody (yikes!) “also met his death.”

And this? This is the post for comments on Book 2.2 through 2.4.

And lastly: “tetrapod” is “a vertebrate (such as an amphibian, a bird, or a mammal) with two pairs of limbs” (merriam webster).

MW adds: “The earliest tetrapods, or ‘four-footed animals,’ were mammal-like reptiles that evolved before the rise of the dinosaurs and ranged from mouse-sized to cow-sized. Today the tetrapods include the reptiles, the amphibians, the birds, and the mammals — including humans. Though the fish aren’t classified as tetrapods, it’s quite possible that our own limbs began as paired fins hundreds of millions of years ago.”

The more you know, about tetrapods!

Wonderful section, wonderful thread…!

I agreed with just about all the comments this week.

Like Furiosa, I’m hoping to use “funtoosh” in a sentence soon. Like just about everyone, I’m still swirling from the cinematic mashup of the monkeys, the money, and the man who prophesied too much.

Like Computillo I was thinking of Vonnegut — not so much Mother Night (love it tho I do), but more Billy Pilgrim, as I often felt a little bit unstuck in time.

And like many, I kept finding myself reaching for my phone to look up “reccine” and dive down a wiki-rabbit hole populated by Pakistan’s parade of power brokers.

But cinema, spittoons, and sometimes sideways citations aside, more than anything I just loved the music of it all. The repetition of phrases — themes and variations. The mythic overtones.

Sure it can be a bit of work (per So-Called Bill), but a little bit work is at least part of what these Meanders are all about (per Jim C). Otherwise, why even funtoosh?

So where to next? Let’s meet up at the end of “The Fisherman’s Pointing Finger” (pg. 154 in the Random House paperback) where something floats “belly-side-up, like scaly fingers in to shore.” So that’s exciting.

And this? This is the post for comments on Book 1.7 through 2.1.

And lastly: “assiduity” (yes, yes, I’m embarrassed; honest, but embarrassed) is “the quality or state of being assiduous” or, more helpfully, “persistent personal attention.” (Merriam-Webster).

Noses forward, on we go!

Welcome fellow Meanderers to our first pause that refreshes. Be careful, though, taking a dip in the river, nosing around the tussock, stepping over the plentiful ordure….

So many great comments this week! From Noodles’ #metameandermoment, to Furiosa’s call out to The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, to Susan C sketching out the line that connects this Meander, to the last, to the last.

Like many Meandermates, I found the book challenging early on, but we’re off and walking now, with Padma alongside to keep our narrator in check when he gets too caught up in the dot dot dot, whatsitsname, bounce about.

My phone’s been a handy companion, helping me look up words or pieces of history I didn’t know. And this list of characters has become a favorite bookmark.

So much to enjoy on the stroll-along. One of a gazillion beats I extra dug: “Naseem Aziz who he had made the mistake of loving in fragments.” Loving in fragments. What a phrase. There lots of poetry in this prose. History too. And yes, dung reveries. More than enough reason to pick ourselves back up and launch toward the next sign post.

Where to? How about we meet at the end of “Many-headed Monsters” (pg. 100 in the Random House paperback) where the countdown appears to be underway. No rush, my friends, but seriously, “tick tock.”

And this? This is the post for comments on Book 1.4 through 1.6.

Soundtrack: The companion playlist is up and running already — open to the public, so feel free to add as the weeks go on and the moment inspires….

And lastly: “Kine,” it turns out, is an “archaic plural of cow.” (Merriam-Webster) Another gift from the ever-generous Mr. Rushdie.

Thanks for great company. Onward!

Greetings! Explanations follow. But first, a confession:

I’ve been afraid of Midnight’s Children for three decades. It was assigned to me in college. I never read it. And it has been staring at me balefully ever since. Like, completely full of bale.

So it was that out of fear, I cheated — cracking open the cover ahead of time yesterday afternoon. And hell if the first several pages weren’t a blast. Yes friends, I’m here to report — there was joy, not terror! A few new-to-me words. Tussock! Cheroot! But Rushdie sure can write. I’m not scared now, I’m stoked.

Also, the eerie close-coincidence of timing revealed in the second sentence? Unplanned! Spooky! Delightful! Affirmation, perhaps, that this is the book we’re supposed to be reading right now. And that I was supposed to cheat and start a day early. Phew!

In case you’re embarking on your first Meander, or you’re considering embarking on your first Meander, here’s an explanation in brief of what’s about to happen:

• Each Sunday I’ll letcha know the weekly target in a post on ye olde blog (see below for an example).
• By the following Saturday you’ll aim to read that section — usually around 50 pages or so, letting us know you’re meandering by posting a comment on that week’s thread.
• Are there prizes? Of course there are prizes! Comment each week, finish the book on time, and you’ll win a genuine magnet-sized collectible (it attracts, it adheres, it astonishes).

That’s it. That’s how it works.

Now some people will tell you that you can’t do it. That you aren’t up to the challenge. But if I may offer a modest counterpoint:

I have peered deep into your soul. I’ve witnessed that spark of the eternal that you uniquely possess. And I’m pretty sure you can do this. I like your odds, is what I’m saying. I believe in you and your Meander-ability. And I’m very glad to have your company as we take to the road, reading Midnight’s Children en masse, trying not to trip despite reading and walking at the same time.

So what’s next? The aforementioned target! Let’s meet up at the end of “Hit-the-Spittoon (pg. 52 in the Random House paperback) where, in some confusion, someone’s asking “is he going to be your father?”

And this here? This is the post for comments on MC: Book 1.1 through Book 1.3.

Oh, and also/lastly: A tussock is “a compact tuft especially of grass or sedge.” (Merriam-Webster)

Greetings friends!

In brief:
New Meander starts August 16th!

Which is to say:
Following fast on the heels of the internationally acclaimed White Noise and Blind Assassin Meanders, Vortex Industries is thrilled to announce the imminent arrival of The Midnight’s Children Meander, in which a hardy crew of folks like you will embark on a 9-week group-read of Salman Rushdie’s mega-ultra-Booker-Prize-winning neo-classic: Midnight’s Children.

A book I was really supposed to read in college and totally dropped the ball on.

Cecil (you say), I’m so excited, I’m reading too quickly and skipped over that first part. Can you remind me when this all starts?
Gladly!

The MCM kicks off Sunday August 16th!

OK. But Cecil (you ask), how can I fill the time til then?
Well, you could buy the book for one. And you could shout out on this here thread to let fellow Meanderers know you’re getting laced up for the trail. Also, I just started The Umbrella Academy, and it seems promising.

Lastly, Cecil (you inquire), would you mind spelling out how this works for new folks?
Delighted!

• Every Sunday (starting August 16th) you’ll find a new post on this here site, with the week’s target — typically 50-60 pages-ish.
• Read that section.
• When you’re done, post a comment on that week’s blog post.
• Finish the book.
• Get an exciting prize! (and you can double-bet it’ll be magnetized)

Rushdie is certainly beloved by some and less beloved by others, which is bound to make for a jaunty thread. This Meander for me is decades in the making, and I kinda can’t wait to get started. But wait I will….

Questions? Give a holler! Hope to have you join our merry band.

Until then, stay kind, and remember: “Meandering is just like dancing except without rhythm or music or things like that.”™
-Cecil