The Ground Beneath Her Feet (Review)

It's only fitting that one of the most playful contemporary authors gets to write a novel about two rock'n'roll stars and a no less rock'n'roll photographer. The Ground Beneath Her Feet, which originally came out in 1999, finds Salman Rushdie in a mirthful, but still pensive mood.

Spanning forty years, the novel focuses on the relationship between rock star Ormus Cama, the surviving half of twins, music phenomenon Vina Aspara, half-Indian, half American and the "invisible" Rai whose real name is Umeed Merchant.

Through these three main characters and a wild array of supporting ones, Rushdie weaves a tale about love, myths, religion and humankind. There's even time and space for paranormal activity, as exemplified by Ormus's communication with his dead twin brother. Both Ormus and Rai fall for Vina on the same day in 1950s Bombay, whilst on a day out with their families. By then, the teenage girl had had her own share of grief, including a bloodbath in her previous house in the US. Of the three leading characters, Vina's is probably the richest and most interesting. Hers is a mix of iconography - rooted in the ancient Abrahamic traditions -, feminism and femininity. The latter two turn her into a symbol of Diana, the late Princess of Wales, magnitude.

In such a long novel (my copy boasts more than five-hundred and seventy pages), Rushdie cleverly brings real people from the world of rock'n'roll to orbit around his characters. Thus, we get cameos from the likes of Elvis, Dylan and U2. In fact, the Irish band went the extra mile and recorded the song that, in the book, serves as the nexus between Ormus and Vina. The clip appears below at the end of this review. In addition, Salman also scatters these three stars (Rai turns out to be one of the better photographers of his generation) all around the globe, rooting them firmly especially in Bombay, London and New York.

There are parallels between the author's life and the story he tells, although he would probably scoff at notions suggesting that The Ground Beneath Her Feet is autobiographical. However, anyone familiar with Rushdie's social interactions might come to the conclusion that Ormus and Vina's shoulder-rubbing with the rich and famous might be a bit too similar to Salman's love of glamour and glitz. And they wouldn't be completely wrong.

Where to me the two strongest poinst of the novel lie is in its exploration of myths and its meditation on belief. The former reeks heavily of Princess Diana's death and the cult it inspired with the thousands of wreaths adorning the gates and fences of Buckingham Palace and the very public outcry it unleashed. This, in a land famed for its stiff upper lip. It's a similar situation with Vina Aspara when she's swallowed up by an earthquake in Mexico (fret not, I'm not giving the plot away; in fact, that's how the novel starts). The outpouring of grief at her death is so much that a whole industry based on her life and work does not take long to spring up and cash in. In regards to beliefs, Rushdie's always been very vocal against organised religion, especially in the wake of the fatwa issued against him by Ayatollah Khomeini. However, in The Ground Beneath Her Feet, Salman is far from a staunch, dyed-in-the-wool, Richard-Dawkins-style atheist. He is more interested in musing over the relationship between gods and humans, including those artists whom some people worship as semigods. Lennon comes to mind. He uses the imagery of ground-cracking or ground-shifting to show progress, evolution and also backwardness and procrastination, not from a biological or historical point of view, but rather from an artistic and human one. Above all, it's the way he plays (and I use the word in the sense of "toying") with reality and a "parallel world". One that we can only access through Ormus's double vision.

Although The Ground Beneath Our Feet came out twelve years ago, its message of love and humanism is as relevant as ever. Another great read by master Salman which I totally recommend.

© 2011

Next Post: “Sunday Mornings: Coffee, Reflections and Music”, to be published on Sunday 6th November at 10am (GMT)

'Shame' by Salman Rushdie

YouenterSalmanRushdie'srealmatyourownperil.

Sorry. Let me start again.

You enter Salman Rushdie's realm at your own peril. And you are entirely responsible for it. Do not come back to tell me that I did not warn you, that you did not know, that you were lured. The odds are that once you are in Rushdian territory you will either leave in haste, or you will stay until the end. Whichever way you go, you will have a strong reaction towards the book you have just read. But that's Salman for you.

And 'Shame' reinforces that view in my opinion. This novel is based on the contemporary politics of Pakistan, not that you would know it, though, as Rushdie plays 'now you see it, now you don't', whenever it becomes too obvious that the country featured in the novel might be that Asian land. The shame of the title comes as the result of the political intrigues in this imaginary nation. However, far from being a political or historical narrative, the book bathes in dark humour. There's even a little nod to Walt Disney's abstract animation 'Fantasia', in my opinion, with the novel's myriad surreal characters. At some point I expected some of the personages to start performing 'Dance of the Hours' in tutus and ballet slippers.

'Shame' centres on the figure of Iskander Harappa, the Prime Minister du jour, and his relationship with his rival Raza Hyder, the President. But these two gentlemen are merely supporting characters in a tapestry that incorporates a mentally disabled woman transformed into an avenging angel (Raza's daughter Sufiya, whose name gives the book its name), another progeny, Iskander's offspring monstrous, cold-hearted daughter Ironpants, who is the real power behind the power; and last but not least, Omar Khayam Shakil, son of three sisters who claim to jointly share his maternity.

It is this last character who is left in charge of sketching out the course of action in the novel from the beginning. At his three mothers' six breasts, Omar is warned against all feelings and nuances of shame. Through his marital union with Sufiya, Rushdie explores the contradictions and problems of Pakistan, circa the Bhutto and Zia eras. The result is a devastating political satire and exquisite, uproarious entertainment.

The only flaw I can spot in the novel is that unlike its predecessor, 'Midnight's Children', 'Shame' seems effortful in parts due to Salman's indulgence in too much verbiage in certain passages, a trait seized upon by his detractors. However, the result is far from detrimental to the book, rather it is like seeing someone gorging themselves with too much chocolate. We nod silently and smile complicitly.

It is hard to believe that Salman's fatwa came only after the publication of his most famous oeuvre 'The Satanic Verses'. 'Shame' puts Islam under the microscope in a way that most imams would find at best unappealing, at worst downright antagonistic. That this critique is delivered by a brilliant mind in a florid and baroque style, is a message lost on people for whom religion is their strongest identity marker.

My conclusions are that 'Shame' is a book that deserves to be read.

Copyright 2008