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Shame: A Novel Kindle Edition
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherRandom House
- Publication dateFebruary 16, 2011
- File size845 KB
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Editorial Reviews
Review
“A pitch-black comedy of public life and its historical imperatives.”—The Times (UK)
“There can seldom have been so robust and baroque an incarnation of the political novel as Shame. It can be read as a fable, polemic, or excoriation; as history or as fiction. . . . This is the novel as myth and as satire.”—Sunday Telegraph
“Shame is and is not about Pakistan, that invented, imaginary country, ‘a failure of the dreaming mind.’ . . . Rushdie shows us with what fantasy our sort of history must now be written—if, that is, we are to penetrate it, and perhaps even save it.”—The Guardian
“Mr. Rushdie’s style [is] a source of delight, a bright stream of words . . . a voice at once whimsical, sly and exclamatory, full of apostrophes and asides, flexible enough to incorporate the up-to-date slang and obscenities of the warring men and the peculiar speech rhythms . . . of the Pakistani ladies in a state of excitement.”—The New York Times Book Review
“The extravagantly tragicomic nightmare evoked by Shame . . . does for Pakistan what Mr. Rushdie’s equally remarkable . . . Midnight’s Children did for India. The narrative voice of Shame creates its own irresistible logic. In a postscript to his story, the author acknowledges having quoted Milan Kundera, Franz Kafka, Nikolai Erdmann and Georg Büchner. Here and there in the text, one can’t help thinking of Gabriel García Márquez. These are extraordinary writers with whom to be associated, but it’s company that Salman Rushdie deserves.”—The New York Times
“Revelation and obscurity, affairs of honor, blushings of all parts, the recession of erotic life, the open violence of public life, create the extraordinary Rushdie mood.”—The Guardian (London)
“Shame should consolidate [Rushdie’s] position as one of the finest young writers around. This novel of crossed family destinies in contemporary Pakistan teems with interesting characters, dramatic events, and marvelous verbal inventions. Like its predecessor, it recreates an exotic but thoroughly believable world that is a delight to experience. . . . A wonderful book.”—Quill & Quire
From the Inside Flap
From the Back Cover
"A pitch black comedy of public life and historical imperatives." -- The Times
About the Author
From the Trade Paperback edition.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
THE DUMB-WAITER
In the remote border town of Q., which when seen from the air resembles nothing so much as an ill-proportioned dumb-bell, there once lived three lovely, and loving, sisters. Their names … but their real names were never used, like the best household china, which was locked away after the night of their joint tragedy in a cupboard whose location was eventually forgotten, so that the great thousand-piece service from the Gardner potteries in Tsarist Russia became a family myth in whose factuality they almost ceased to believe … the three sisters, I should state without further delay, bore the family name of Shakil, and were universally known (in descending order of age) as Chhunni, Munnee and Bunny.
And one day their father died.
Old Mr Shakil, at the time of his death a widower for eighteen years, had developed the habit of referring to the town in which he lived as ‘a hell hole’. During his last delirium he embarked on a ceaseless and largely incomprehensible monologue amidst whose turbid peregrinations the household servants could make out long passages of obscenity, oaths and curses of a ferocity that made the air boil violently around his bed. In this peroration the embittered old recluse rehearsed his lifelong hatred for his home town, now calling down demons to destroy the clutter of low, dun-coloured, ‘higgling and piggling’ edifices around the bazaar, now annihilating with his death-encrusted words the cool whitewashed smugness of the Cantonment district. These were the two orbs of the town’s dumb-bell shape: old town and Cantt, the former inhabited by the indigenous, colonized population and the latter by the alien colonizers, the Angrez, or British, sahibs. Old Shakil loathed both worlds and had for many years remained immured in his high, fortress-like, gigantic residence which faced inwards to a well-like and lightless compound yard. The house was positioned beside an open maidan, and it was equidistant from the bazaar and the Cantt. Through one of the building’s few outward-facing windows Mr Shakil on his death-bed was able to stare out at the dome of a large Palladian hotel, which rose out of the intolerable Cantonment streets like a mirage, and inside which were to be found golden cuspidors and tame spider-monkeys in brass-buttoned uniforms and bellhop hats and a full-sized orchestra playing every evening in a stuccoed ballroom amidst an energetic riot of fantastic plants, yellow roses and white magnolias and roof-high emerald-green palms – the Hotel Flashman, in short, whose great golden dome was cracked even then but shone nevertheless with the tedious pride of its brief doomed glory; that dome under which the suited-and-booted Angrez officers and white-tied civilians and ringleted ladies with hungry eyes would congregate nightly, assembling here from their bungalows to dance and to share the illusion of being colourful – whereas in fact they were merely white, or actually grey, owing to the deleterious effect of that stony heat upon their frail cloud-nurtured skins, and also to their habit of drinking dark Burgundies in the noonday insanity of the sun, with a fine disregard for their livers. The old man heard the music of the imperialists issuing from the golden hotel, heavy with the gaiety of despair, and he cursed the hotel of dreams in a loud, clear voice.
‘Shut that window,’ he shouted, ‘so that I don’t have to die listening to that racket,’ and when the old womanservant Hashmat Bibi had fastened the shutters he relaxed slightly and, summoning up the last reserves of his energy, altered the course of his fatal, delirious flow.
‘Come quickly,’ Hashmat Bibi ran from the room yelling for the old man’s daughters, ‘your fatherji is sending himself to the devil.’ Mr Shakil, having dismissed the outside world, had turned the rage of his dying monologue against himself, calling eternal damnation down upon his soul. ‘God knows what got his goat,’ Hashmat despaired, ‘but he is going in an incorrect way.”
The widower had raised his children with the help of Parsee wet-nurses, Christian ayahs and an iron morality that was mostly Muslim, although Chhunni used to say that he had been made harder by the sun. The three girls had been kept inside that labyrinthine mansion until his dying day; virtually uneducated, they were imprisoned in the zenana wing where they amused each other by inventing private languages and fantasizing about what a man might look like when undressed, imagining, during their pre-pubertal years, bizarre genitalia such as holes in the chest into which their own nipples might snugly fit, ‘because for all we knew in those days,’ they would remind each other amazedly in later life, ‘fertilization might have been supposed to happen through the breast.’ This interminable captivity forged between the three sisters a bond of intimacy that would never completely be broken. They spent their evenings seated at a window behind a lattice-work screen, looking towards the golden dome of the great hotel and swaying to the strains of the enigmatic dance music … and there are rumours that they would indolently explore each other’s bodies during the languorous drowsiness of the afternoons, and, at night, would weave occult spells to hasten the moment of their father’s demise. But evil tongues will say anything, especially about beautiful women who live far away from the denuding eyes of men. What is almost certainly true is that it was during these years, long before the baby scandal, that the three of them, all of whom longed for children with the abstract passion of their virginity, made their secret compact to remain triune, forever bound by the intimacies of their youth, even after the children came: that is to say, they resolved to share the babies. I cannot prove or disprove the foul story that this treaty was written down and signed in the commingled menstrual blood of the isolated trinity, and then burned to ashes, being preserved only in the cloisters of their memories.
But for twenty years, they would have only one child. His name would be Omar Khayyam.
All this happened in the fourteenth century. I’m using the Hegiran calendar, naturally: don’t imagine that stories of this type always take place longlong ago. Time cannot be homogenized as easily as milk, and in those parts, until quite recently, the thirteen-hundreds were still in full swing.
When Hashmat Bibi told them that their father had arrived at his final moments, the sisters went to visit him, dressed in their brightest clothes. They found him in the grip of an asphyxiating fist of shame, demanding of God, in gasps of imperious gloominess, that he be consigned for all eternity to some desert outpost of Jahannum, some borderland of hell. Then he fell silent, and Chhunni, the eldest daughter, quickly asked him the only question of any interest to the three young women: ‘Father, we are going to be very rich now, is that not so?’
‘Whores,’ the dying man cursed them, ‘don’t count on it.”
The bottomless sea of wealth on which everyone had supposed the Shakil family fortunes to be sailing proved, on the morning after his foulmouthed death, to be an arid crater. The fierce sun of his financial incompetence (which he had successfully concealed for decades behind his imposing patriarchal façade, his filthy temper and the overweening hauteur which was his most poisonous legacy to his daughters) had dried out all the oceans of cash, so that Chhunni, Munnee and Bunny spent the entire period of mourning settling the debts for which his creditors had never dared to press the old man while he lived, but for payment of which (plus compound interest) they now absolutely refused to wait one moment longer. The girls emerged from their lifelong sequestration wearing expressions of well-bred disgust for these vultures swooping down to feast upon the carcass of their parent’s great improvidence; and because they had been raised to think of money as one of the two subjects that it is forbidden to discuss with strangers, they signed away their fortune without even troubling to read the documents which the money-lenders presented. At the end of it all the vast estates around Q., which comprised approximately eighty-five per cent of the only good orchards and rich agricultural lands in that largely infertile region, had been lost in their entirety; the three sisters were left with nothing but the unmanageably infinite mansion stuffed from floor to ceiling with possessions and haunted by the few servants who refused to leave, less out of loyalty than from that terror of the life-prisoner for the outside world. And – as is perhaps the universal custom of aristocratically bred persons – they reacted to the news of their ruin by resolving to throw a party.
In later years, they told each other the story of that notorious gala night with a simple glee that restored to them the illusion of being young. ‘I had invitations printed in the Cantt,’ Chhunni Shakil would begin, seated beside her sisters on an old wooden swing-seat. Giggling happily about the old adventure, she continued, ‘And what invitations! Embossed, with gold lettering, on cards stiff as wood. They were like spits in the eye of fate.’
Product details
- ASIN : B004KABEOW
- Publisher : Random House; Reprint edition (February 16, 2011)
- Publication date : February 16, 2011
- Language : English
- File size : 845 KB
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Screen Reader : Supported
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- X-Ray : Not Enabled
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Print length : 321 pages
- Page numbers source ISBN : 0676970648
- Best Sellers Rank: #306,523 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
- Customer Reviews:
About the author
Sir Salman Rushdie is the author of many novels including Grimus, Midnight's Children, Shame, The Satanic Verses, The Moor's Last Sigh, The Ground Beneath Her Feet, Fury and Shalimar the Clown. He has also published works of non-fiction including The Jaguar Smile, Imaginary Homelands, The Wizard of Oz and, as co-editor, The Vintage Book of Short Stories.
Customer reviews
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Learn more how customers reviews work on AmazonCustomers say
Customers praise the writing quality and find the book enjoyable. They describe the narrative style as intricate, blending magical realism, mythology, religion, oral literature, and metafiction. Readers appreciate the rich character development and how the characters serve as allegories to Pakistani politicians. However, opinions differ on the story complexity - some find it thrilling and easy to follow, while others feel it's disjointed with timeline jumps.
AI-generated from the text of customer reviews
Customers praise the book's writing quality. They find it engaging and well-written, with a rare balance of literary mastery and entertainment. Readers appreciate Rushdie's skillful use of language and verbal fireworks that draw them into the story.
"...Modern classic and truly enjoyable. It strikes that rare balance of literary mastery while being entertaining and just enjoyable." Read more
"...Shame” possesses a complicated and yet aureate style of writing, the blend of magical realism, mythology, religion, oral literature, and other..." Read more
"Shame met all my expectations. Rushdie writes in a lyrical way that draws the reader into the story...." Read more
"In my opinion, this is the best book written by Mr. Rushdie. Rushdie's sentences make even the most mundane details memorable...." Read more
Customers enjoy the book. They find it interesting and well worth reading for its history lesson. The book makes even mundane details memorable, making it a good assigned reading. Readers praise the author's writing style and consider it one of his best works.
"...Modern classic and truly enjoyable. It strikes that rare balance of literary mastery while being entertaining and just enjoyable." Read more
"...Rushdie's sentences make even the most mundane details memorable. Once you start reading the book, it is hard to put it down!" Read more
"...The whole book was a downer, but well worth the read for the history lesson." Read more
"...mythological drama, Salman Rushdie teases, captures, and satisfies his readers interest...." Read more
Customers enjoy the narrative style. They find it complex and intricate, with a blend of magical realism, mythology, religion, oral literature, and a mystical and Daliesque world. The book is described as an example of metafiction, with Rushdie often interrupting the narrative. Readers appreciate the combination of history, metaphysics, and prose that elevates the imaginative world.
"...Indian and English literature, it allows him to create this bold, imaginary world and still preserves his courage and responsibility to accept all..." Read more
"...in the ballpark of what they have come to expect, a mystical and daliesque world, full of shape shifting and jumps back and forth in time and space...." Read more
"...This book is also an example of metafiction; Rushdie will often interrupt the story to remind readers this book is fictional and the leaders fake...." Read more
"...The combination of history, metaphysics, and prose uniquely elevate the quality of literature Rushdie can produce and this is but one example of that..." Read more
Customers enjoy the character development. They find the characters rich and sophisticated, with many serving as an allegory to Pakistani politicians.
"...I cannot recommend this book enough! The characters are rich and plot lines sophisticated...." Read more
"...Rushdie uses the elaborate intricacies among characters and fuse these fantasies together with the Pakistani reality...." Read more
"...Many of the characters serve as an allegory to Pakistani politicians. Rushdie's writing style is unlike any other's I have read...." Read more
Customers have different views on the story complexity. Some find the characters rich and plot lines sophisticated, allowing them to immerse themselves in the thrilling storyline. Others mention that the story is disjointed with timelines jumping around, making it difficult to follow.
"Extremely well written as expected but the story was a bit below his best shot." Read more
"...The characters are rich and plot lines sophisticated. I cannot even put into words how much this booked touched and impressed me...." Read more
"...The story is disjointed with timelines jumping all over the place. As much as I just didn’t care about the plot, the worst part was the writing...." Read more
"It’s a complex and intricate novel but uneven at times. Many shimmering moments and lines, but it’s easy to get disoriented and lost...." Read more
Top reviews from the United States
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- Reviewed in the United States on May 31, 2014Absolute perfection. What a complex and gorgeous tour de force. I cannot recommend this book enough! The characters are rich and plot lines sophisticated. I cannot even put into words how much this booked touched and impressed me. Modern classic and truly enjoyable. It strikes that rare balance of literary mastery while being entertaining and just enjoyable.
- Reviewed in the United States on July 10, 2014“Shame” by Salman Rushdie is a story that is fabricated based on an imaginary country – a dream that eventually crumbles. Rushdie uses the elaborate intricacies among characters and fuse these fantasies together with the Pakistani reality. It is essentially a historical escapade being narrated both allusively and fictitiously. The plot centers around the personal enmities and bad blood between the two family clans: Harappa and Hyder. This actually is an indirect insinuation to the partitioning of the Indian subcontinent and the situation in Pakistan that was characterized by turbulence and intranquility in its modern history. According to Rushdie, irrational religion and political violence are the driving forces in society where the culture of shame and shamelessness is originated. Through this novel, we see how the process of a modern country is being established and how it eventually self-destructs. “Shame” possesses a complicated and yet aureate style of writing, the blend of magical realism, mythology, religion, oral literature, and other elements. It is established in the Indian subcontinent where there is a unshakable, ingrained cultural background. Because of the fact that Rushdie is both deeply and equally implicated in Indian and English literature, it allows him to create this bold, imaginary world and still preserves his courage and responsibility to accept all the ramifications.
The setting of “Shame” is quite exotic and distant. Undoubtedly, the depiction of utopianism is in existence and full of madness in the novel, and Rushdie has indirectly placed some irony and sarcasm towards civilization itself. He is accused of misrepresenting Pakistani history, and basically vilifying the Islamic faith. In the beginning, he narrates a very odd story in which the three sisters in the town of Q have established an agreement that they will sleep in one room and endure the same consequences and shame. Even when one of them is pregnant, the other two simultaneously show signs of pregnancy. Their son Omar Shakil is the outcome of their actions. Here, we see the structural background of allegory: the three people are sisters and yet are dissimilar creating a fat Omar Shakil – the structure of the Holy Trinity is very close who the Rushdie is – being nourished by India, Pakistan, and England.
In the real world, the word shame leads the reader to connect to the word disgrace in which people feel embarrassed. Rushdie's “Shame” wants to unearth the origin of such concept. According to him, there are two kinds of violence that create shame and shamelessness: psychological impact of religion and the every day political violence. Rushdie endows “shame” as a resisting power, a hidden power, to disintegrate the fictional country that is supported by religion and political violence. It is cyclical that a country that is built based on shame will be crumbled too because of it. However, the reality is more cruel because even if a utopia is eradicated, there will be another one established because violence follows the principle of shame.
- Reviewed in the United States on July 29, 2016Shame met all my expectations. Rushdie writes in a lyrical way that draws the reader into the story. Also, his wry since of humor compels the reader to stay involved with the story.
- Reviewed in the United States on July 8, 2014In my opinion, this is the best book written by Mr. Rushdie. Rushdie's sentences make even the most mundane details memorable. Once you start reading the book, it is hard to put it down!
- Reviewed in the United States on March 25, 2022It’s a complex and intricate novel but uneven at times. Many shimmering moments and lines, but it’s easy to get disoriented and lost. Quite graphic too so def not for young ones. For fans of his other works, it is probably right in the ballpark of what they have come to expect, a mystical and daliesque world, full of shape shifting and jumps back and forth in time and space. For first time readers of him, I would not recommend.
- Reviewed in the United States on November 8, 2020Incredibly written, each sentence evokes a different thought. Taken one way, brought back again another, a story weaved as intricately as one of Rani's shawls.
- Reviewed in the United States on January 15, 2023All the books I am getting the pages are wavy, why?
I just ordered a bunch of different books from different people. and they are all weather damaged. The pages (both hard back and paperback) are wavy, which happens when the books are in a moist area too long.
And two where left o u t s i d e in the rain, the d r i v e r never told me they where there. And the books where only protracted by a thin paper.
But I do not recall which two books it was.
But all the books the pages are wavy.
The paper the books are made out of are cheap ad will not last long, if they are already deformed - all the books should be new.
I have not yet read any of the books as I have heavy books sitting on top of them all trying to flatten the books
- Reviewed in the United States on August 29, 2020Rushdie has his fingers right on the pulse of Muslim society, in Pakistan and elsewhere.
Top reviews from other countries
- Abhijeet SinghReviewed in India on January 17, 2021
5.0 out of 5 stars Paper quality is fine
Paper quality is good and received the delivery in time.
If you want to know more about the book.. check it on Goodreads
Abhijeet Singh
Reviewed in India on January 17, 2021
If you want to know more about the book.. check it on Goodreads
Images in this review - Venera RogersReviewed in France on June 1, 2020
5.0 out of 5 stars Very actual
A book to read. A page turner.
- RaikohReviewed in the United Kingdom on May 25, 2020
5.0 out of 5 stars Great, fascinating read
This is the second time I’ve tried reading this book, and I finally managed to get through it.
A story that is part semi-historical and part fantasy, it tells the story of Pakistan through two families as they come together, fall apart, come back together, in a realistic chain of political and romantic events. At times difficult to read, but overall it absorbed me completely.
My only quibble is with this kindle edition and some errors that the proof-readers missed. The use of 1 (Ones) instead of the capital I. The last three chapters bore more spelling errors of names and other words (weire instead of we’re, which is implied by the context). It’s nothing that can’t be figured out which I done, but breaks the immersion in the story for a moment.
Despite this, I have to give this book a 5 star rating. I don’t do this often, but books rarely impress me as much as this, and possibly not since Yuya Sato’s Dendera. I would definitely recommend this book.
- AC MorrisReviewed in Canada on June 20, 2018
5.0 out of 5 stars Good item for father’s Day
Gift for dad in law he loved it
-
Client amazonReviewed in France on February 13, 2021
5.0 out of 5 stars Bien
Je recommande