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Run and Hide
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Arun knows there is only way out of this small railway town. He is about to enrol in the prestigious Indian Institute of Technology, determined to make something of himself. But once there, he meets two friends who are prepared to go to unimaginable lengths to succeed.
In just a few years, Arun's friends become the success stories of their generation. In private planes and expensive cars, from New York to Tuscany, they play out their Gatsby-style fantasies.
In reality, these men are about to pay for their transgressions, but who exactly will pay the price? Will it be Arun? Will it be Alia, a female writer and influencer, who is piecing together the story of a big global financial scandal?
Run and Hide is a novel about a group of friends in an age of upheaval and breakdown; it is a story for our times.
Arun knows there is only way out of this small railway town. He is about to enrol in the prestigious Indian Institute of Technology, determined to make something of himself. But once there, he meets two friends who are prepared to go to unimaginable lengths to succeed.
In just a few years, Arun's friends become the success stories of their generation. In private planes and expensive cars, from New York to Tuscany, they play out their Gatsby-style fantasies.
In reality, these men are about to pay for their transgressions, but who exactly will pay the price? Will it be Arun? Will it be Alia, a female writer and influencer, who is piecing together the story of a big global financial scandal?
Run and Hide is a novel about a group of friends in an age of upheaval and breakdown; it is a story for our times.
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First published February 24, 2022
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About the author
Pankaj Mishra
68books676followersPankaj Mishra (पंकज मिश्रा) is a noted Indian essayist and novelist.
In 1992, Mishra moved to Mashobra, a Himalayan village, where he began to contribute literary essays and reviews to The Indian Review of Books, The India Magazine, and the newspaper The Pioneer. His first book, Butter Chicken in Ludhiana: Travels in Small Town India (1995), was a travelogue that described the social and cultural changes in India in the context of globalization. His novel The Romantics (2000), an ironic tale of people longing for fulfillment in cultures other than their own, was published in 11 European languages and won the Los Angeles Times Art Seidenbaum award for first fiction. His book An End to Suffering: The Buddha in the World (2004) mixes memoir, history, and philosophy while attempting to explore the Buddha's relevance to contemporary times. Temptations of the West: How to be Modern in India, Pakistan and Beyond (2006), describes Mishra's travels through Kashmir, Bollywood, Afghanistan, Tibet, Nepal, and other parts of South and Central Asia.
In 1992, Mishra moved to Mashobra, a Himalayan village, where he began to contribute literary essays and reviews to The Indian Review of Books, The India Magazine, and the newspaper The Pioneer. His first book, Butter Chicken in Ludhiana: Travels in Small Town India (1995), was a travelogue that described the social and cultural changes in India in the context of globalization. His novel The Romantics (2000), an ironic tale of people longing for fulfillment in cultures other than their own, was published in 11 European languages and won the Los Angeles Times Art Seidenbaum award for first fiction. His book An End to Suffering: The Buddha in the World (2004) mixes memoir, history, and philosophy while attempting to explore the Buddha's relevance to contemporary times. Temptations of the West: How to be Modern in India, Pakistan and Beyond (2006), describes Mishra's travels through Kashmir, Bollywood, Afghanistan, Tibet, Nepal, and other parts of South and Central Asia.
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January 26, 2022As a voracious reader, I’ve come to believe there are two kinds of books. The first are the “warm� books � the ones that embrace you in a bear hug and pull you into their fictional orb. The second are the “cool� books that hold you at an arm’s length and that you end up admiring but not particularly loving.
Run and Hide is the latter. I was intrigued by its premise: “an intimate story of achieving material progress at great moral and emotional cost.� And I was even more interested that it was purported to tackle the inequalities of gender and class. I knew I had to be an early reader.
The author is a renowned Indian essayist and non-fiction writer, and this becomes obvious in the prose. The prose drills down in its granularity, swooping in on finite details about the remote rural town that Arun � our narrator � grew up in. At a prestigious technology school, he meets two students who share his socioeconomic background but, unlike him, have a fierce and relentless drive to succeed.
But as the novel coalesces, and his counterparts become powerful men, Arun takes another path, retreating to a Himalayan Village to look after his mother and share his insight with Alia, a writer who is focused on Inia’s new global power brokers � including his classmates.
Throughout, there is a lot of philosophizing about where India is heading and an essay-like recounting that moves us from the characters to a more macrocosmic view. I am choosing not to rate Run and Hide because I do not believe I am the right reader of this style. That is not to imply that the book won't appeal to its intended audience. I thank Farrar, Straus and Giroux for the privilege of being an early reader in exchange for an honest review.
Run and Hide is the latter. I was intrigued by its premise: “an intimate story of achieving material progress at great moral and emotional cost.� And I was even more interested that it was purported to tackle the inequalities of gender and class. I knew I had to be an early reader.
The author is a renowned Indian essayist and non-fiction writer, and this becomes obvious in the prose. The prose drills down in its granularity, swooping in on finite details about the remote rural town that Arun � our narrator � grew up in. At a prestigious technology school, he meets two students who share his socioeconomic background but, unlike him, have a fierce and relentless drive to succeed.
But as the novel coalesces, and his counterparts become powerful men, Arun takes another path, retreating to a Himalayan Village to look after his mother and share his insight with Alia, a writer who is focused on Inia’s new global power brokers � including his classmates.
Throughout, there is a lot of philosophizing about where India is heading and an essay-like recounting that moves us from the characters to a more macrocosmic view. I am choosing not to rate Run and Hide because I do not believe I am the right reader of this style. That is not to imply that the book won't appeal to its intended audience. I thank Farrar, Straus and Giroux for the privilege of being an early reader in exchange for an honest review.
January 10, 2022
The psychology of the economically rising masses of the developing world, told through the fates of a trio of graduates from a prestigious Indian information technology school. The subject of modernity as experienced in Asia the theme of most of Mishra's writing, and it reaches an apotheosis in this fictional work. I was genuinely haunted by much of it. This is Mishra's most unsparing writing to date and is the moment that he transcends Naipaul as a critic of the Third World, at least in my view. Nothing happens in this book and everything happens. An astonishing novel.
December 12, 2022
Published today 24-2-22
Panjak Mishra is an Indian essayist, non-fiction writer and novelist
He seems best known for his 2017 non-fiction book “An Age of Anger: A History of the Present� � a book which was written as an explicit argument against pro-liberalism writers such as Fukayama (and his “end of history�) and Huntingdon (and his “clash of civilisations�) � it seems (from some quick research) to have a basic thesis that the various nationalist movements (from ISIS to Modi to Brexit to Trump) are a response to globalisation in the sense that unresolved Western issues arising from capitalism, individualism and secularism are now spreading across the world.
On a personal level he moved to a Himalayan village in 1992 (aged 23) where he wrote essays and reviews for literary magazines and has written about travels in Tibet.
This novel seems to be a novelistic examination of non-fiction ideas, with a partly auto-biographical element.
The book’s first party narrator (the book effectively told to a single recipient) is Arun. He grew up in a remote Indian backwater but the pushing and dedication of his parents, his own abilities and some sleight of hand (changing his name to imply he is of a higher Caste) leads him to success in hyper-competitive national examinations and a place at the prestigious Indian Institute of Technology in Delhi, just at a time when Indians are starting to take advantage of such degrees to make their fortunes overseas in the burgeoning financial and IT industries.
There he meets two other students � both also from difficult backgrounds (one a low-Caste Indian) � and despite fierce bullying as part of their initiations as new students at IIT we find out that both make it � one, Virenda, as a fabulously wealthy financial player (ironically working for the leader of their IIT bullies), the other (Aseem) as an influential author/influencer/think tank operator.
Arun though to Aseem’s despair works first for an upper class Indian literary journal and the opts for a life of simplicity, taking his mother (deserted by his father) to live with him in a remote Himalayan village, where he works translating obscure Hindi-language literary authors into English.
After a spectacular fall from grace of the financial players, Assem contacts Arun to introduce him to a near neighbour Alia � a beautiful, old-money social media activist and wannabe-writer who is trying to write an expose of the two financiers and wants to interview Arun and Alia and Arun then start a relationship which moves on to England and causes Assem to question all of his values.
The author’s themes, which largely mirror his non-fiction writings while also looking at the implications for individuals trying to navigate a world with race, gender, and class issues and who are torn between modernism and tradition, West and India, religion and secularism, invidualism and community, family and career � as well as a world which just when it seems to be finally opening up its promise of globalised liberal prosperity to them seems to be reverting to populism and nationalism.
My issue with the book though is that I felt myself distanced from the novel very early on.
The IIT section reminded me of books about Fraternity hazing (one bugbear of mine); there was far too much use of non-English words which I had to look up (another bugbear � albeit later on much of the Hindi is translated immediately afterwards, I could still not see this as adding anything but a sense of distance); the characters were ridiculously privileged (a third bugbear) and there was far too much name dropping and inclusion of IRL famous people (a fourth).
And little in the rest of the book changed.
So an interesting concept but not for me.
My thanks to Random House UK, Cornerstone for an ARC via NetGalley
It had become impossible for educated people like us to rest in a worldview that continues unchanged from generation to generation. That life eternal of humility and prayer, in which nothing was felt as too frightening or shocking, since it was all divinely ordained, and the pageantry of religion offered both drama and mystery, had come to an end with the generation of our parents. But who were we to scorn it? Brought up into a life with little meaning, we had convinced ourselves that meaningful ways of being existed, and we would find them. In reality, this amounted to running this way and that, uncertain of our destination, and looking back enquiringly all the time
Panjak Mishra is an Indian essayist, non-fiction writer and novelist
He seems best known for his 2017 non-fiction book “An Age of Anger: A History of the Present� � a book which was written as an explicit argument against pro-liberalism writers such as Fukayama (and his “end of history�) and Huntingdon (and his “clash of civilisations�) � it seems (from some quick research) to have a basic thesis that the various nationalist movements (from ISIS to Modi to Brexit to Trump) are a response to globalisation in the sense that unresolved Western issues arising from capitalism, individualism and secularism are now spreading across the world.
On a personal level he moved to a Himalayan village in 1992 (aged 23) where he wrote essays and reviews for literary magazines and has written about travels in Tibet.
This novel seems to be a novelistic examination of non-fiction ideas, with a partly auto-biographical element.
The book’s first party narrator (the book effectively told to a single recipient) is Arun. He grew up in a remote Indian backwater but the pushing and dedication of his parents, his own abilities and some sleight of hand (changing his name to imply he is of a higher Caste) leads him to success in hyper-competitive national examinations and a place at the prestigious Indian Institute of Technology in Delhi, just at a time when Indians are starting to take advantage of such degrees to make their fortunes overseas in the burgeoning financial and IT industries.
There he meets two other students � both also from difficult backgrounds (one a low-Caste Indian) � and despite fierce bullying as part of their initiations as new students at IIT we find out that both make it � one, Virenda, as a fabulously wealthy financial player (ironically working for the leader of their IIT bullies), the other (Aseem) as an influential author/influencer/think tank operator.
Arun though to Aseem’s despair works first for an upper class Indian literary journal and the opts for a life of simplicity, taking his mother (deserted by his father) to live with him in a remote Himalayan village, where he works translating obscure Hindi-language literary authors into English.
After a spectacular fall from grace of the financial players, Assem contacts Arun to introduce him to a near neighbour Alia � a beautiful, old-money social media activist and wannabe-writer who is trying to write an expose of the two financiers and wants to interview Arun and Alia and Arun then start a relationship which moves on to England and causes Assem to question all of his values.
The author’s themes, which largely mirror his non-fiction writings while also looking at the implications for individuals trying to navigate a world with race, gender, and class issues and who are torn between modernism and tradition, West and India, religion and secularism, invidualism and community, family and career � as well as a world which just when it seems to be finally opening up its promise of globalised liberal prosperity to them seems to be reverting to populism and nationalism.
‘The terrible thing about the trampled-upon darkies like Virendra is that their claim upon the richness of the world came too late. Just before we entered the endgame of modernity all over the world. Every grand edifice of modernity � growing economies, political institutions, information ecosystems, trust between citizens � is collapsing today, and we all risk being buried alive by the flying debris.�
My issue with the book though is that I felt myself distanced from the novel very early on.
The IIT section reminded me of books about Fraternity hazing (one bugbear of mine); there was far too much use of non-English words which I had to look up (another bugbear � albeit later on much of the Hindi is translated immediately afterwards, I could still not see this as adding anything but a sense of distance); the characters were ridiculously privileged (a third bugbear) and there was far too much name dropping and inclusion of IRL famous people (a fourth).
And little in the rest of the book changed.
So an interesting concept but not for me.
The British Airways route map came as an early intimation of how, while I was still trying to root myself in a little village, the world had come to be densely interconnected; and how, in this increasingly mixed and irregular realm, the catalogue of available identities had thickened.
Until I met you and your friends and relatives, I hadn’t been able to see your background of global nomadism clearly. Aseem had gone on about the early twenty-first-century globalised man (not woman: did women feature at all, I now wonder, in his vision of a larger emancipation?), but I hadn’t myself noticed the fact that going away for a tiny minority of the world’s population was not an undesirable but an unavoidable solution to an intolerable existence; it was a chosen way of life, a compulsive movement through a world made safe for them by class and education, in which the failings of no society clung to them for too long.
I was always � struck by how, placidly celebrating their good fortune in London, these beneficiaries of global capitalism seemed to have assumed multicultural existence to be the norm; how with such dreamy benevolence they had imagined the future to consist of enlarged freedoms for more and more people.
My thanks to Random House UK, Cornerstone for an ARC via NetGalley
July 10, 2022
I am trying to remember reading something like this, and I can’t. As an open letter to an unknown person, this fictional memoir renders a pre ‘New� India. One in which Arun, the narrator, comes from a poor, low-caste family but manages to improve his lot by going to ITT: the India Institute of Technology. Where he meets two boys aspiring to grow up and become the new thinkers embedded in a new wave that will constitute this India. Broken up in four parts, each roughly corresponding to adolescence, adulthood, mid-life, and present circumstances—we see how the method in constructing the modern man has left Arun a kind of non-protagonist protagonist. Trauma and obligations, the lack of a galvanizing, positive force in his life has left him listless and disaffected. His life is a sail boat riding privilege, and he knows this, as he pens an incredibly apt changes in India, even while feeling removed from them himself.
But who is he writing to? Why is it rooted in these two boyhood friends? How does their trajectory compare, as a microcosm of the new India, to himself? These mysteries, along with just superb prose work—as well as an MFA approach where the feeling Arun lacks is embedded in the structure and granularity of what is occurring—propel the novel consistently. Even when it is gruelling, it took me a while to figure out that this feeling is what Arun is unable to articulate. He does so through the book only. His character; his memory of himself is an indictment of the modern man in a way I have not seen before. There is no rags to riches or intelligence overcoming things, or emotional pathos. The breakthrough IS the novel. Everything he loathed about himself is there.
It is nothing more than a gesture at attempting to show what most life paths are like for the average man, even with privilege. And why and how it has led to a great many of them unable to find a voice and a purpose that isn’t a lie that fits society. Which is then counterpointed to the other two boys, and the mysterious figure, to whom he writes all of this out for. It is not romantic. It’s not sexy. It is truly an indictment and therefor perhaps one of the only non aggrandizing self reflections of a person. One that, as I say, wouldn’t be a protagonist in any other book, really. But is also a perfect reflection of malaise and willful distortion expected of people to make a good living. Or any living.
It is methodically paced, meta in a literature MFA kind of way for the voice, concerned with capturing the character paralleling the growth of a nation, as well as place. Not so much time, though. Which is quite fluid. Positioning everything as memory. Moving from sweeping to extremely granular as buttressing for this fictional, mystery writer, who watched his classmates cash-in on the Wests desire to fetishize India intellectuals, quite aptly, as the modern white man possesses the same disaffected malaise captured here with Arun.
It’s a challenging read, but more than a worthy one.
But who is he writing to? Why is it rooted in these two boyhood friends? How does their trajectory compare, as a microcosm of the new India, to himself? These mysteries, along with just superb prose work—as well as an MFA approach where the feeling Arun lacks is embedded in the structure and granularity of what is occurring—propel the novel consistently. Even when it is gruelling, it took me a while to figure out that this feeling is what Arun is unable to articulate. He does so through the book only. His character; his memory of himself is an indictment of the modern man in a way I have not seen before. There is no rags to riches or intelligence overcoming things, or emotional pathos. The breakthrough IS the novel. Everything he loathed about himself is there.
It is nothing more than a gesture at attempting to show what most life paths are like for the average man, even with privilege. And why and how it has led to a great many of them unable to find a voice and a purpose that isn’t a lie that fits society. Which is then counterpointed to the other two boys, and the mysterious figure, to whom he writes all of this out for. It is not romantic. It’s not sexy. It is truly an indictment and therefor perhaps one of the only non aggrandizing self reflections of a person. One that, as I say, wouldn’t be a protagonist in any other book, really. But is also a perfect reflection of malaise and willful distortion expected of people to make a good living. Or any living.
It is methodically paced, meta in a literature MFA kind of way for the voice, concerned with capturing the character paralleling the growth of a nation, as well as place. Not so much time, though. Which is quite fluid. Positioning everything as memory. Moving from sweeping to extremely granular as buttressing for this fictional, mystery writer, who watched his classmates cash-in on the Wests desire to fetishize India intellectuals, quite aptly, as the modern white man possesses the same disaffected malaise captured here with Arun.
It’s a challenging read, but more than a worthy one.
August 18, 2022
I've read reviews of this book that laud and lambast it, and somehow found myself agreeing with them all. My overall feeling towards Run and Hide is definitely positive- I found all of what I like about Mishra's non-fiction writing here in spades. The layer of narrative that was added on to some of his observations mostly works! I was really impressed by his detailing of the neuroses, conflicts, and degradations associated with the relentless pursuit of upward mobility and success that came about in ~1990s India.
I was quite curious about just how autobiographical parts of this book might have been. Much of it- chiefly Arun's childhood in poverty, living near a railway station, and his eventual retreat to the Himalayas- are things Mishra himself experienced. At the same time, Arun's alienation from- and critical eye towards- privileged circles in London also feels like it might come from the author's own experiences in the literary circuit.
That being said, there is no denying that Arun, the narrator and main character, is one of the weaknesses of the book. So much of the story- basically all of it- is his narration, his thoughts, his observations, his memories, and so on. As a result, while the reader comes to know him quite deeply, in a sense, you're also left having no idea how he interacts with the people around him, what he says in conversation, and what kind of person he is outside of his own head. The few glimpses we get of what he's really like are not pretty, and that does mean that I found myself not really liking Arun. When the narration was given to bouts of self-loathing, a part of me couldn't help but agree with his harsh assessment of himself.
I could sense myself feeling a vague political/philosophical discomfort with the way story began to head in the end, but ultimately found it ambiguous enough to forestall any lengthy critique or discomfort. There are multiple ways you could interpret it, and I suppose that uncertainty is part of fiction. I'm sure my own feelings on this book won't be static and, while I can see why people might either love it or hate it, I think that for now I'd lean towards the former.
I was quite curious about just how autobiographical parts of this book might have been. Much of it- chiefly Arun's childhood in poverty, living near a railway station, and his eventual retreat to the Himalayas- are things Mishra himself experienced. At the same time, Arun's alienation from- and critical eye towards- privileged circles in London also feels like it might come from the author's own experiences in the literary circuit.
That being said, there is no denying that Arun, the narrator and main character, is one of the weaknesses of the book. So much of the story- basically all of it- is his narration, his thoughts, his observations, his memories, and so on. As a result, while the reader comes to know him quite deeply, in a sense, you're also left having no idea how he interacts with the people around him, what he says in conversation, and what kind of person he is outside of his own head. The few glimpses we get of what he's really like are not pretty, and that does mean that I found myself not really liking Arun. When the narration was given to bouts of self-loathing, a part of me couldn't help but agree with his harsh assessment of himself.
I could sense myself feeling a vague political/philosophical discomfort with the way story began to head in the end, but ultimately found it ambiguous enough to forestall any lengthy critique or discomfort. There are multiple ways you could interpret it, and I suppose that uncertainty is part of fiction. I'm sure my own feelings on this book won't be static and, while I can see why people might either love it or hate it, I think that for now I'd lean towards the former.
February 25, 2022
I am not a stranger to Pankaj Mishra. I had a review copy of one of his early books, The Romantics, about 20 years ago. I remember I found it rather dull and uninspiring. I thought that I know a lot more about India now than I did way back in those early days. I figured that if he's still writing all these years later, maybe he's moved on and maybe this time he'd blow my socks off.
I don't think he has.
My feet remain firmly socked.
Run and Hide is a book of unremitting dullness. It rambles about all over the place without the slightest sense of delivering a story. It's very disappointing. Sorry, it just didn't work for me.
We start with three young men, freshers at New Delhi's IIT (Indian Institute of Technology) being hazed by the boys from the year above. It's pretty shocking. It's pretty explicit. The author is living a lie, passing off his more humble origins as a Brahmin heritage. It starts well and shows great promise and then heads off down a series of dead ends.
We skip forward in time. One of the boys has become a billionaire tech entrepreneur in the USA. He's corrupt and has an expensive taste for blonde Russian prostitutes. The other is a literary figure, writing books, pontificating about the world and society, and sleeping with a lot of women. And our narrator is a humble man, living with his mother in the Himalayas, translating books, and completely failing to deliver on the promise of his top of the pile education.
A lot of the book is directed to a woman who has been asked to write a book about the narrator's two friends. She's wealthy, sexy, highly-respected in her field, hot on social media - oh, and a Muslim who drinks and sleeps with men.
If I hadn't read the synopsis, I don't think I would have followed this at all. And when I got to the end, I wondered why I'd bothered. I couldn't relate to any of these characters.
Thank you to Netgalley and the publishers for my copy.
I don't think he has.
My feet remain firmly socked.
Run and Hide is a book of unremitting dullness. It rambles about all over the place without the slightest sense of delivering a story. It's very disappointing. Sorry, it just didn't work for me.
We start with three young men, freshers at New Delhi's IIT (Indian Institute of Technology) being hazed by the boys from the year above. It's pretty shocking. It's pretty explicit. The author is living a lie, passing off his more humble origins as a Brahmin heritage. It starts well and shows great promise and then heads off down a series of dead ends.
We skip forward in time. One of the boys has become a billionaire tech entrepreneur in the USA. He's corrupt and has an expensive taste for blonde Russian prostitutes. The other is a literary figure, writing books, pontificating about the world and society, and sleeping with a lot of women. And our narrator is a humble man, living with his mother in the Himalayas, translating books, and completely failing to deliver on the promise of his top of the pile education.
A lot of the book is directed to a woman who has been asked to write a book about the narrator's two friends. She's wealthy, sexy, highly-respected in her field, hot on social media - oh, and a Muslim who drinks and sleeps with men.
If I hadn't read the synopsis, I don't think I would have followed this at all. And when I got to the end, I wondered why I'd bothered. I couldn't relate to any of these characters.
Thank you to Netgalley and the publishers for my copy.
March 23, 2022
Like a slap in the face. A fascinating and uncomfortable read in many ways, leaving a reader begging the question: what is it to become a ‘winner� in this globalised world, and is it ever possible to overcome the ‘many small humiliations� of class and caste in childhood?
I’m not sure how I felt about the format (writing a letter to a woman it takes ages to meet), but I do think credit is due for the type of exploration Mishra does in this book, of the inner world of characters going thru a time of major economic transition in the world�
I’m not sure how I felt about the format (writing a letter to a woman it takes ages to meet), but I do think credit is due for the type of exploration Mishra does in this book, of the inner world of characters going thru a time of major economic transition in the world�
March 10, 2022
I thought this novel was terrible. I don’t understand the critics� praise. The first person narrative with flat, nearly nonexistent characters makes it an essay. It is a tedious pontification forced into a novel format. Yes, classism sucks. I get it comes with bullying and trying to outrun one’s history. Nationalism and racism is awful. I would appreciate this as a short essay and be done. I would have gotten much more out of that format.
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December 16, 2022Well my resolution not to try to read more lit fic lasted around two days because this book showed up in Libby. However, I learned from my last experience at least enough to just 1) scan ŷ for spoilers, and then seeing there weren’t any, 2) skip directly to the end of the book and read backwards for a bit. Honestly the best way (for me) to read this book! I can’t say I have a desire to go back and actually read it from the beginning, but it’s interesting to know what happens.
July 4, 2022
Starts off well with a graphic description of life in IIT hostels, but then tends to meander all over the world. Some lyrical graphic descriptions of the beauty of hills and the ocean.
October 8, 2022
Nonfiction marauding as fiction.
“Going past the temple, where a new pujari with no known depravities sat under the neem tree, past the herds of sluggish buffaloes and bullock carts on the dusty road, further away from the rutted path that led to the nullah, I felt fear rather than relief- what now seems a chilly breath from the future, a premonition of a world growing even stranger, demanding constant treason against the past.�
Here’s the thing, I read this book two months ago and now I can’t even remember what my initial reaction was after finishing this book. But what I could deduce from my goodreads� rating, it was neither a hit nor a flop. Pankaj Mishra has previously written multiple essay collections and regularly contributes in New York Times and The Guardian and while reading Run And Hide one can clearly see that he is a writer of non fiction. The novel predominately follows the lives of three IIT friends as they set to leave their past lives behind and rush headlong into the future that they desire. While Pankaj Mishra has done an astounding job in depicting the social as well as political turmoils of our country, I’m sad to say that he fails miserably to give any personality to his narrator Arun, who seems like an embodiment of the author’s view. The book heavily relies on commentary and concerns only with things not personal to the characters� lives. There were certain chapters that I still vividly remember, chapters were about the small town where eventually Arun shifts with his mother, the monotonous routines of the people around him and his regular walks into the mountains. But when it turned to bigger things, political things, it started to lose my attention and there were pages and pages of this. I also felt like it was poorly edited. Sometimes the same points were made multiple times throughout the book as if readers could not be trusted to remember certain things. Overall, I had no strong feelings about it. Once I was done, I was done and since then never thought of this.
“Going past the temple, where a new pujari with no known depravities sat under the neem tree, past the herds of sluggish buffaloes and bullock carts on the dusty road, further away from the rutted path that led to the nullah, I felt fear rather than relief- what now seems a chilly breath from the future, a premonition of a world growing even stranger, demanding constant treason against the past.�
Here’s the thing, I read this book two months ago and now I can’t even remember what my initial reaction was after finishing this book. But what I could deduce from my goodreads� rating, it was neither a hit nor a flop. Pankaj Mishra has previously written multiple essay collections and regularly contributes in New York Times and The Guardian and while reading Run And Hide one can clearly see that he is a writer of non fiction. The novel predominately follows the lives of three IIT friends as they set to leave their past lives behind and rush headlong into the future that they desire. While Pankaj Mishra has done an astounding job in depicting the social as well as political turmoils of our country, I’m sad to say that he fails miserably to give any personality to his narrator Arun, who seems like an embodiment of the author’s view. The book heavily relies on commentary and concerns only with things not personal to the characters� lives. There were certain chapters that I still vividly remember, chapters were about the small town where eventually Arun shifts with his mother, the monotonous routines of the people around him and his regular walks into the mountains. But when it turned to bigger things, political things, it started to lose my attention and there were pages and pages of this. I also felt like it was poorly edited. Sometimes the same points were made multiple times throughout the book as if readers could not be trusted to remember certain things. Overall, I had no strong feelings about it. Once I was done, I was done and since then never thought of this.
January 4, 2023
Impostor syndrome.
I couldn't stop wishing had given the narrator, Arun Dwivedi, enough self-awareness to name his own condition.
The other unstoppable thing was the feeling that the writing part of had been outsourced. As if once Mishra crystallised the idea, he got a code writing workshop to produce the text. So banal is the language, completely shorn of any localising markers, that it might as well be composed by an algorithm.
If we go by the conventional way of packaging, marketing, and judging a novel, this is an unmitigated disaster. A total train smash. A consultant from one of the newfangled Indian companies might even say, with a dismissive shake of the head: ekdum clusterfuck, yaar!
Mishra isn't, from what I have gathered over the years, a great one for dialogue. Or plot. Or indeed --èԱ. Why write the sodding thing then? Youthful folly excepted, why birth a second novel?!
This is where I think the marketing blurbs are misleading. This isn't a cautionary tale about the 'new India' at all. The Indian version of the Horatio Alger myth it most certainly ain't. Not a morality play, nor a 'kaleidoscopic portrait of a society bedazzled by power and wealth' (as per apparently).
Mishra is far too theoretically astute and steeped in the literary canon to write something so asinine. I think this book is a deliberate act of self-sabotage. It enacts what its characters experience: the inexorable grip of caste, and the futility of any attempt at escape. Mishra engineers the prose to run off the cliff, to self-immolate with the sheer weight of its own pessimism.
In other words, he counters in advance the absurdity of becoming rich off this book. He won't, because unless public reading taste goes massively off piste, this isn't exactly bestseller material.
Of the many literary luminaries dotted liberally around this work, one name is conspicuous by its absence. The poet , whose Todesfugue can be seen as a response to 's famous question: how can poetry be possible after Auschwitz? I get the sense that Mishra wants to ask a similar question: how is fiction possible for the likes of Arun, Aseem and Virender? The redemptive promise of the narrative arc: isn't that just another fantasy that keeps the outcastes trapped downstairs in perpetuity?
Turns out the nagging voice inside my head was wrong. Impostor syndrome is too grand a term for what's at stake in the lives of this novel's characters.. Because even the most basic pretense requires a stable base on which to erect the fiction of an alternative future. The outcastes of India have persisted for millennia in conditions that pre-empt real stability by presenting inertia and obedience as the only viable way to live. Death doesn't bring release. Changing religions isn't the solution. Material excess provides no exit.
I couldn't stop wishing had given the narrator, Arun Dwivedi, enough self-awareness to name his own condition.
The other unstoppable thing was the feeling that the writing part of had been outsourced. As if once Mishra crystallised the idea, he got a code writing workshop to produce the text. So banal is the language, completely shorn of any localising markers, that it might as well be composed by an algorithm.
If we go by the conventional way of packaging, marketing, and judging a novel, this is an unmitigated disaster. A total train smash. A consultant from one of the newfangled Indian companies might even say, with a dismissive shake of the head: ekdum clusterfuck, yaar!
Mishra isn't, from what I have gathered over the years, a great one for dialogue. Or plot. Or indeed --èԱ. Why write the sodding thing then? Youthful folly excepted, why birth a second novel?!
This is where I think the marketing blurbs are misleading. This isn't a cautionary tale about the 'new India' at all. The Indian version of the Horatio Alger myth it most certainly ain't. Not a morality play, nor a 'kaleidoscopic portrait of a society bedazzled by power and wealth' (as per apparently).
Mishra is far too theoretically astute and steeped in the literary canon to write something so asinine. I think this book is a deliberate act of self-sabotage. It enacts what its characters experience: the inexorable grip of caste, and the futility of any attempt at escape. Mishra engineers the prose to run off the cliff, to self-immolate with the sheer weight of its own pessimism.
In other words, he counters in advance the absurdity of becoming rich off this book. He won't, because unless public reading taste goes massively off piste, this isn't exactly bestseller material.
Of the many literary luminaries dotted liberally around this work, one name is conspicuous by its absence. The poet , whose Todesfugue can be seen as a response to 's famous question: how can poetry be possible after Auschwitz? I get the sense that Mishra wants to ask a similar question: how is fiction possible for the likes of Arun, Aseem and Virender? The redemptive promise of the narrative arc: isn't that just another fantasy that keeps the outcastes trapped downstairs in perpetuity?
Turns out the nagging voice inside my head was wrong. Impostor syndrome is too grand a term for what's at stake in the lives of this novel's characters.. Because even the most basic pretense requires a stable base on which to erect the fiction of an alternative future. The outcastes of India have persisted for millennia in conditions that pre-empt real stability by presenting inertia and obedience as the only viable way to live. Death doesn't bring release. Changing religions isn't the solution. Material excess provides no exit.
June 20, 2022
Pankaj Mishra employs a morbidly restrictive prose by imposing form on form-the essay (written to establish evidence) on fiction (written to make discoveries). As a reader, I supposed these were the respective purposes of the two forms. Here we are, in a book whose mission (to establish evidence for a truth the writer has already revealed), and beyond the first few pages, there is nothing more to reveal. The book clobbers the reader over the head with repeated assertions of the claims the author made in the first few pages and one is left wondering if this is the longest way to write a two page essay which would have served the same purpose. Yet, in its meandering prose, repeated pontificating, and a kind of re-establishing of late-capitalist history, there is a knowing comfort, that the clusterfuck you imagine the current world to be, is not a figment of your imagination. Perhaps for that, the book deserves to be read.
November 17, 2021
Thanks to Netgalley and FSG for the ebook. In India, young and impoverished Arun feels like he’s won the lottery when he is accepted into the Indian Institute of Technology. The students are brutal to one another, but Arun makes two friends that have similar backgrounds to his own. Years later, one of those friends flies high in the rarified air of Wall Street and the other stakes out the life of literature and becomes a cultural voice in India. Arun seems to dip his toe into a new life, but eventually moves with his mother to a small town in that Himalayas and makes a living quietly doing translations. A woman, who is writing a book about the careers of his classmates, tempts Arun into love and a life of luxury in London. Arun finds, as his two famous classmates tragically find, that you can only reinvent yourself on the outside. Inside it’s much harder to escape your origins.
October 3, 2022
Somewhere, perhaps around page 70 or so, Pankaj forgets he's writing novel and not a 10,000 word LRB essay.
April 26, 2023
Arun arbeitet als Verleger und Übersetzer und ist kürzlich mit seiner kränkelnden Mutter ins abgelegene Dorf Ramipur in den Himalya gezogen. Seine Eltern hatten sich abgerackert für den Aufstieg ihres einzigen Sohnes (der Vater verkaufte im Bahnhof von Deoli/Rajasthan Tee und Samosas); seine Schwester Meena musste die Schule verlassen, sowie sie Lesen und Schreiben gelernt hatte. Arun arbeitete sich aus der untersten indischen Kaste bis zum Abschluss des Indian Institut of Technology IIT hoch. Fundament seiner Karriere war die gewagte Idee seines Vaters, ihn bei der Schuleinschreibung unter einem Familiennamen aus der Kaste der Brahmanen anzumelden. Die Angst vor Entlarvung und sein Hass auf die eigene Unterwürfigkeit werden sein Leben prägen. Wie Aseem und Virendra, Aufsteiger wie er, erträgt Arun noch in den 80ern erniedrigende Aufnahmeriten für Erstsemester und lernt die eigene Opferrolle als gegeben hinzunehmen.
Inzwischen Teil jener Gesellschaft, die auf Menschen wie seine Eltern herabsah, will Arun den Rückzug in den Himalaya zu einer Bilanz in der Mitte seines Lebens nutzen. Ihn überrascht, dass Alia, in England sozialisierte Autorin eines Buchmanuskripts über den in den USA lebenden Virendra, hier über eine Villa ihrer Familie verfügt. Er wird auf Vermittlung Aseems Alias Manuskript lektorieren. Sein direkter Appell an sie, ihre Bewertung von Aseems Einfluss auf Virendra zu korrigieren, klingt zunächst erstaunlich unentschlossen. Für Mishras Leser:innen ist die Absurdität kaum zu überbieten, dass die in England sozialisierte Tochter einer wohlhabenden muslimischen Familie über einen Selfmademan aus der untersten Kaste Indiens schreibt. Was weiß bei allem politischen Interesse eine Frau wie sie schon über einen Dalit? Arun ahnte bis vor kurzem noch nicht einmal, dass es in Indien auch eine weibliche Autorenszene gibt. Mit einer muslimischen Frau kann er kaum über bittere Armut und Erniedrigung durch die Kastengesellschaft sprechen.
Mit der wachsenden Liebesbeziehung zu Alia und einer gemeinsamen Reise nach London wird Arun deutlich, dass sein technisches Studium zwar materiellen Aufstieg ermöglichte, die Kulturszene jedoch eine neue Kastengesellschaft bereithält und einem Autor ohne Vernetzung mit alten Eliten den Respekt verweigert. Kaste und regionale Herkunft können alle drei Kastenflüchtlinge so wenig ablegen wie ihre Hautfarbe.
Pankaj Mishra, in Deutschland bisher als Sachbuchautor bekannt, legt mit „Goldschakal� den sozialkritischen Roman einer Generation globaler Nomaden vor, die die Werte der indischen Kastengesellschaft abgewählt zu haben glaubt, dem Einfluss alten Geldes jedoch keine neuen Strukturen entgegenzusetzen hat. Der regionale, autobiografische Bezug (Mishra lebt seit den 90ern in Mashobra/Himalaya) schlägt einen Bogen zu Überbevölkerung, Erosion und Gentrifizierung idyllischer Regionen. Durch Aruns beschränkten Blick des Schreibtischmenschen auf die Schicksale von Mutter und Schwester und Aseems abfällig-vulgäre Art ist die Lektüre des Romans anfangs keine reine Freude. Das reiche Themenspektrum von Braindrain, Entwurzelung durch sozialen Aufstieg, Gehabe einer männlich dominierten Literaturszene, über die MeToo-Bewegung bis zur beginnenden Pandemie lohnt allerdings das Eintauchen in das Making-Of einer Aufsteiger-Biografie im Kontext von Herkunft und Kaste.
Inzwischen Teil jener Gesellschaft, die auf Menschen wie seine Eltern herabsah, will Arun den Rückzug in den Himalaya zu einer Bilanz in der Mitte seines Lebens nutzen. Ihn überrascht, dass Alia, in England sozialisierte Autorin eines Buchmanuskripts über den in den USA lebenden Virendra, hier über eine Villa ihrer Familie verfügt. Er wird auf Vermittlung Aseems Alias Manuskript lektorieren. Sein direkter Appell an sie, ihre Bewertung von Aseems Einfluss auf Virendra zu korrigieren, klingt zunächst erstaunlich unentschlossen. Für Mishras Leser:innen ist die Absurdität kaum zu überbieten, dass die in England sozialisierte Tochter einer wohlhabenden muslimischen Familie über einen Selfmademan aus der untersten Kaste Indiens schreibt. Was weiß bei allem politischen Interesse eine Frau wie sie schon über einen Dalit? Arun ahnte bis vor kurzem noch nicht einmal, dass es in Indien auch eine weibliche Autorenszene gibt. Mit einer muslimischen Frau kann er kaum über bittere Armut und Erniedrigung durch die Kastengesellschaft sprechen.
Mit der wachsenden Liebesbeziehung zu Alia und einer gemeinsamen Reise nach London wird Arun deutlich, dass sein technisches Studium zwar materiellen Aufstieg ermöglichte, die Kulturszene jedoch eine neue Kastengesellschaft bereithält und einem Autor ohne Vernetzung mit alten Eliten den Respekt verweigert. Kaste und regionale Herkunft können alle drei Kastenflüchtlinge so wenig ablegen wie ihre Hautfarbe.
Pankaj Mishra, in Deutschland bisher als Sachbuchautor bekannt, legt mit „Goldschakal� den sozialkritischen Roman einer Generation globaler Nomaden vor, die die Werte der indischen Kastengesellschaft abgewählt zu haben glaubt, dem Einfluss alten Geldes jedoch keine neuen Strukturen entgegenzusetzen hat. Der regionale, autobiografische Bezug (Mishra lebt seit den 90ern in Mashobra/Himalaya) schlägt einen Bogen zu Überbevölkerung, Erosion und Gentrifizierung idyllischer Regionen. Durch Aruns beschränkten Blick des Schreibtischmenschen auf die Schicksale von Mutter und Schwester und Aseems abfällig-vulgäre Art ist die Lektüre des Romans anfangs keine reine Freude. Das reiche Themenspektrum von Braindrain, Entwurzelung durch sozialen Aufstieg, Gehabe einer männlich dominierten Literaturszene, über die MeToo-Bewegung bis zur beginnenden Pandemie lohnt allerdings das Eintauchen in das Making-Of einer Aufsteiger-Biografie im Kontext von Herkunft und Kaste.
March 4, 2023
In Heenkomen schetst auteur Pankaj Mishra een beeld van zijn generatie. De roman gaat over ‘laaggeboren� Indiase mannen die opgroeien ten tijde van de economische bloei van India en een enorme maatschappelijke sprong maken, die door vorige generaties nooit voor mogelijk was gehouden.
Op de achterflap van de roman wordt Mishra, essayist voor onder andere de New York Times en schrijver van non-fictieboeken zoals Tijd van woede, beschreven als een van de belangrijkste schrijvers en intellectuelen van onze tijd. Wat een schrijver is moge duidelijk zijn, maar wat is een intellectueel? ‘Iemand met een hoge algemene ontwikkeling, die beschouwelijk is aangelegd, zorgvuldig nadenkt en verstandelijk overweegt�, zegt de Dikke van Dale. Zo bezien is dit niet alleen een beschrijving van Mishra, maar ook van zijn ik-verteller in Heenkomen, Arun Dwivedi. En daar wringt de schoen tijdens het lezen: Arun is een vervelend hoofdpersonage dat alles zo doorwrocht analyseert, dat de lezer alle interpretatievrijheid wordt ontnomen.
Het verhaal vangt aan met de aankomst van Arun in het Indian Institute of Technology in Delhi, samen met Aseem en Virendra, die zijn vrienden zullen worden. Arun en Aseem komen uit gezinnen van de lage middenklasse, waarin al een klasse-sprongetje is gemaakt. Virendra is een dalit: de allerlaagste groep in het kastensysteem. De drie jongens zijn zogenaamde eerstegeneratie-studenten: waar studeren voorheen onmogelijk was voor mensen van hun afkomst, kunnen zij dat nu wel. Het maakt dat ze enorm gemotiveerd zijn maatschappelijk te slagen, zeker omdat hun ouders geld in hen geïnvesteerd hebben � geld dat er amper is.
Virendra vliegt al snel uit naar Amerika, waar hij een fortuin verdient en zo ‘de eerste dalitmagnaat van India� wordt. Arun beschrijft hem als een soort Jay Gatsby. Ook Aseem slaagt dubbel en dwars, vliegt de wereld over met een gemak zoals anderen naar het toilet gaan. Het leven van beide mannen bestaat uit feesten, seksen en uit snelle bevrediging van al hun verlangens. Dat dit ten koste gaat van hun morele kompas, nemen ze voor lief. Arun kiest een ander pad. Hij trekt zich juist terug in het dorpje Ranipur in de Himalaya, waar hij samen met zijn moeder gaat wonen en zich wijdt aan het vertalen van Hindiliteratuur. Soms komt hij wel in aanraking met het jetset-leven, bijvoorbeeld wanneer hij Virendra opzoekt of met Aseem belt. Maar hij verliest zich pas in die wereld wanneer een rijke journaliste in Ranipur komt wonen op wie hij verliefd wordt. Voor hij het weet trekt hij met haar naar Londen, en gaat hij alle feestjes af.
Heenkomen is één lange brief van vijftiger Arun aan die vijftien jaar jongere journaliste, Alia genaamd, nadat hun relatie is beëindigd. Alia heeft een boek geschreven over de nieuwe Indiase rijken, met een hoofdrol voor Virendra, en hun corrupte praktijken. Arun doet uit de doeken wat zij volgens hem over het hoofd gezien heeft bij haar beschrijving van deze nouveaux riches, met name hun moeilijke jeugd. Vervolgens vertelt hij haar zijn levensverhaal en beschrijft hij opnieuw de totstandkoming van hun eigen liefdesrelatie, en de reden van het op de klippen lopen daarvan. Dit relaas vult Arun aan met beschouwingen over ‘het nieuwe India�, de Indiase premier Modi, boeddhisme, intellectueel links en genderkwesties. Hij doet dit in een taalregister dat in de academische wereld aanvaardbaar is, maar in een roman tot recht overeind staande haren leidt:
‘Maar als mijn onzelfkritische mannelijkheid het erkennen van een aantal wezenlijke feiten niet toestond, dan weerhielden jouw moeiteloos overgeërfde privileges met betrekking tot opvoeding, klasse en rijkdom je ervan de paniek en ontreddering te zien van de selfmade men.�
Dit soort passages zijn niet alleen esthetisch afstotelijk, maar houden ook de lezer op een afstand. De auteur laat zelden ruimte om tot een eigen interpretatie te komen, doordat hij Arun alles al laat overdenken. De lezer kan hooguit knikken � of hoofdschudden. Misschien had Mishra beter een non-fictieboek kunnen schrijven, wanneer het precies begrepen worden zo belangrijk is. Er zal geen groot romancier verloren gaan, wanneer hij besluit zich nog slechts op intellectuele non-fictie te richten. Zijn meer literaire passages hebben immers veel weg van een kitscherig soort mooischrijverij:
‘Ik voelde een veelbelovend kneepje van jouw vingers in mijn hand en de elegant wilde glans in je ogen toen je naar me glimlachte, leek ons te verbinden in een verrukkelijke samenzwering.�
Als Heenkomen iets bewijst, is het met name dat een roman meer is dan een sterk gefictionaliseerd essay.
Op de achterflap van de roman wordt Mishra, essayist voor onder andere de New York Times en schrijver van non-fictieboeken zoals Tijd van woede, beschreven als een van de belangrijkste schrijvers en intellectuelen van onze tijd. Wat een schrijver is moge duidelijk zijn, maar wat is een intellectueel? ‘Iemand met een hoge algemene ontwikkeling, die beschouwelijk is aangelegd, zorgvuldig nadenkt en verstandelijk overweegt�, zegt de Dikke van Dale. Zo bezien is dit niet alleen een beschrijving van Mishra, maar ook van zijn ik-verteller in Heenkomen, Arun Dwivedi. En daar wringt de schoen tijdens het lezen: Arun is een vervelend hoofdpersonage dat alles zo doorwrocht analyseert, dat de lezer alle interpretatievrijheid wordt ontnomen.
Het verhaal vangt aan met de aankomst van Arun in het Indian Institute of Technology in Delhi, samen met Aseem en Virendra, die zijn vrienden zullen worden. Arun en Aseem komen uit gezinnen van de lage middenklasse, waarin al een klasse-sprongetje is gemaakt. Virendra is een dalit: de allerlaagste groep in het kastensysteem. De drie jongens zijn zogenaamde eerstegeneratie-studenten: waar studeren voorheen onmogelijk was voor mensen van hun afkomst, kunnen zij dat nu wel. Het maakt dat ze enorm gemotiveerd zijn maatschappelijk te slagen, zeker omdat hun ouders geld in hen geïnvesteerd hebben � geld dat er amper is.
Virendra vliegt al snel uit naar Amerika, waar hij een fortuin verdient en zo ‘de eerste dalitmagnaat van India� wordt. Arun beschrijft hem als een soort Jay Gatsby. Ook Aseem slaagt dubbel en dwars, vliegt de wereld over met een gemak zoals anderen naar het toilet gaan. Het leven van beide mannen bestaat uit feesten, seksen en uit snelle bevrediging van al hun verlangens. Dat dit ten koste gaat van hun morele kompas, nemen ze voor lief. Arun kiest een ander pad. Hij trekt zich juist terug in het dorpje Ranipur in de Himalaya, waar hij samen met zijn moeder gaat wonen en zich wijdt aan het vertalen van Hindiliteratuur. Soms komt hij wel in aanraking met het jetset-leven, bijvoorbeeld wanneer hij Virendra opzoekt of met Aseem belt. Maar hij verliest zich pas in die wereld wanneer een rijke journaliste in Ranipur komt wonen op wie hij verliefd wordt. Voor hij het weet trekt hij met haar naar Londen, en gaat hij alle feestjes af.
Heenkomen is één lange brief van vijftiger Arun aan die vijftien jaar jongere journaliste, Alia genaamd, nadat hun relatie is beëindigd. Alia heeft een boek geschreven over de nieuwe Indiase rijken, met een hoofdrol voor Virendra, en hun corrupte praktijken. Arun doet uit de doeken wat zij volgens hem over het hoofd gezien heeft bij haar beschrijving van deze nouveaux riches, met name hun moeilijke jeugd. Vervolgens vertelt hij haar zijn levensverhaal en beschrijft hij opnieuw de totstandkoming van hun eigen liefdesrelatie, en de reden van het op de klippen lopen daarvan. Dit relaas vult Arun aan met beschouwingen over ‘het nieuwe India�, de Indiase premier Modi, boeddhisme, intellectueel links en genderkwesties. Hij doet dit in een taalregister dat in de academische wereld aanvaardbaar is, maar in een roman tot recht overeind staande haren leidt:
‘Maar als mijn onzelfkritische mannelijkheid het erkennen van een aantal wezenlijke feiten niet toestond, dan weerhielden jouw moeiteloos overgeërfde privileges met betrekking tot opvoeding, klasse en rijkdom je ervan de paniek en ontreddering te zien van de selfmade men.�
Dit soort passages zijn niet alleen esthetisch afstotelijk, maar houden ook de lezer op een afstand. De auteur laat zelden ruimte om tot een eigen interpretatie te komen, doordat hij Arun alles al laat overdenken. De lezer kan hooguit knikken � of hoofdschudden. Misschien had Mishra beter een non-fictieboek kunnen schrijven, wanneer het precies begrepen worden zo belangrijk is. Er zal geen groot romancier verloren gaan, wanneer hij besluit zich nog slechts op intellectuele non-fictie te richten. Zijn meer literaire passages hebben immers veel weg van een kitscherig soort mooischrijverij:
‘Ik voelde een veelbelovend kneepje van jouw vingers in mijn hand en de elegant wilde glans in je ogen toen je naar me glimlachte, leek ons te verbinden in een verrukkelijke samenzwering.�
Als Heenkomen iets bewijst, is het met name dat een roman meer is dan een sterk gefictionaliseerd essay.
March 16, 2022
I think this book is intended to be a tale of modern India told through the experiences of Arun and his more exciting friends. The problem is that Arun isn't very interesting or dynamic whereas Alia was completely captivating. When Alia wasn't in the story I wasn’t engaged at all and it felt like a slog.
April 14, 2022
I have known and admired Mishra as a public intellectual and writer of essays and articles for years, but haven't ever tackled a full length book of his until now. Run and Hide is his first novel in 20 years and it touches upon many of the themes that he returns to regularly. It focuses upon recent history, primarily a group of self made men from humble backgrounds who get into one of India's most prestigious universities through hard work, and then spend the next decades ascending in class status. The main protagonist, Arun, is less ambitious and more reserved than his compatriots Aseem and Virendra, who rise to become a literary and cultural celebrity and a Wall Street billionaire respectively. The novel provides a canvas upon which Mishra can expound thoughts about the new rising India, the breakdown of the old Patrician, class and caste ridden country being transformed into a new country, with ambitious, greedy, Americanised parvenus grasping for money, power and status, and with the rise of nationalism and Hindu fundamentalism with Modhi being mirrored by the rise of people like Trump and Johnson in the decadent and declining West. It explores the damage that is being done through tearing up the old beliefs, behaviours and structures of Indian society, and the impact it as on the soul, family and romantic relationships, gender roles and more. It has lots of references to the sudden literary boom that saw the rise to fame of people like Vikram Seth, Arundhati Roy, Arvind Adiga and more, there are frequent references to VS Naipul, and there are echoes of writers like Fitzgerald, Stendhal, Turgenev and more. I would have liked to explore the character of Virendra a bit more, and I was a bit surprised that there was so little attention being paid to political solutions to some of these issues, but maybe that just wasn't the novel Mishra wanted to write.
October 5, 2022
Despite being quite interested in India and its (English language) literature, of which I've read a fair amount, I couldn't finish this book. The premise, as I grasp it, isn't necessarily a problem: three boys from poor backgrounds meet when they have managed to matriculate at a prestigious university; two of them become fabulously successful and one doesn't. But the characters are cardboard cutouts. I found myself unable to care about any of them.
March 2, 2022
In Run and Hide, Arun Dwivedi tells the story of his life and how it intertwines with three other men he first meets when they are all students at the prestigious Indian Institute of Technology (IIT) in Delhi.
It is framed as an account written to a young female author and influencer, Alia, who is researching a global financial scandal in which two of the four are implicated.
Arun’s parents have sacrificed much to give him this elite education. His impoverished childhood and his pressure to succeed are vividly evoked, as is the atmosphere of the small railway town where he grows up. Mishra captures the deadening daily humiliations and rare moments of beauty. The subtle depiction of Arun’s family and their strange, silent cohabitation is haunting.
He portrays a brutal hazing at IIT, and the different responses of Arun and the students from similarly deprived backgrounds as they begin to map out their futures, negotiating the shifting dynamics of friendship, jealousy and shame.
But in their lives after IIT, the sweep of the book is much broader and the writing less involving. Two take up careers in finance in the United States, while another becomes a prominent figure on the Delhi literary scene, and soon is embellishing his reputation worldwide. Arun is on the fringes of the literary scene, living a quiet, low-key life in comparison. His knowledge of the others is limited, he gives us an outsider’s perspective.
The narrative frame means Arun is recalling, and editing, his thoughts on events that are either at a physical or a temporal distance. He is playing to Alia's expectations. He is, at points, lecturing. (He is also, for our benefit, telling her things she already knows.)
Run and Hide has some powerful and moving writing. Much of the novel, though reads like a series of broadsheet columns, a disquisition on the changing politics and culture of India, and the Indian diaspora worldwide, with a few pop-culture references thrown in.
I kept thinking of how it might have been with a different narrative structure, if we were inside the heads, or walking alongside, the other characters. As it is, for me it didn’t fully come to life.
*
I received a copy of Run and Hide from the publisher via Netgalley.
It is framed as an account written to a young female author and influencer, Alia, who is researching a global financial scandal in which two of the four are implicated.
Arun’s parents have sacrificed much to give him this elite education. His impoverished childhood and his pressure to succeed are vividly evoked, as is the atmosphere of the small railway town where he grows up. Mishra captures the deadening daily humiliations and rare moments of beauty. The subtle depiction of Arun’s family and their strange, silent cohabitation is haunting.
He portrays a brutal hazing at IIT, and the different responses of Arun and the students from similarly deprived backgrounds as they begin to map out their futures, negotiating the shifting dynamics of friendship, jealousy and shame.
But in their lives after IIT, the sweep of the book is much broader and the writing less involving. Two take up careers in finance in the United States, while another becomes a prominent figure on the Delhi literary scene, and soon is embellishing his reputation worldwide. Arun is on the fringes of the literary scene, living a quiet, low-key life in comparison. His knowledge of the others is limited, he gives us an outsider’s perspective.
The narrative frame means Arun is recalling, and editing, his thoughts on events that are either at a physical or a temporal distance. He is playing to Alia's expectations. He is, at points, lecturing. (He is also, for our benefit, telling her things she already knows.)
Run and Hide has some powerful and moving writing. Much of the novel, though reads like a series of broadsheet columns, a disquisition on the changing politics and culture of India, and the Indian diaspora worldwide, with a few pop-culture references thrown in.
I kept thinking of how it might have been with a different narrative structure, if we were inside the heads, or walking alongside, the other characters. As it is, for me it didn’t fully come to life.
*
I received a copy of Run and Hide from the publisher via Netgalley.
February 16, 2022
Pankaj Mishra is a well known Indian essayist and novelist. You can read his political and literary essays in NYT, Guardian and London Review of Books. As the recipient of the 2014 Windham–Campbell Prize for non-fiction, he is well known internationally!
In Run and Hide, Mishra attempts to personalize the dream that many of us have to escape our roots. Arun is a young and poor Indian who has hit the jackpot when he is accepted into the Indian Institute of Technology. Amongst the truly horrible hazing of new students, Arun makes two friends close friends that share his impoverished history.
The. novel takes a bit of an autobiographical turn as Arun, much like Pankaj, moves to the Himalayas to write. His two friends branch out to finance (Wall Street) and political commentary at the National Level. The true purpose of the story is revealed when Alia, who is writing a book about the careers of his classmates. Arun follows her to London and is tempted by the luxury. What Arun finds next is the crux of the story. It also includes quite a bit of commentary on where India is going as a nation, and it's fascinating if you have traveled to India in the last ten years and observed the ultra quick development of the country for better or for worse.
If you are fascinated by tales in other places, cultural identities that aren't far from your own or just would like to read some true literary prose, then #RunandHide is for you! #NetGalley #NetGalleyReads. #FarrarStrausGiroux
In Run and Hide, Mishra attempts to personalize the dream that many of us have to escape our roots. Arun is a young and poor Indian who has hit the jackpot when he is accepted into the Indian Institute of Technology. Amongst the truly horrible hazing of new students, Arun makes two friends close friends that share his impoverished history.
The. novel takes a bit of an autobiographical turn as Arun, much like Pankaj, moves to the Himalayas to write. His two friends branch out to finance (Wall Street) and political commentary at the National Level. The true purpose of the story is revealed when Alia, who is writing a book about the careers of his classmates. Arun follows her to London and is tempted by the luxury. What Arun finds next is the crux of the story. It also includes quite a bit of commentary on where India is going as a nation, and it's fascinating if you have traveled to India in the last ten years and observed the ultra quick development of the country for better or for worse.
If you are fascinated by tales in other places, cultural identities that aren't far from your own or just would like to read some true literary prose, then #RunandHide is for you! #NetGalley #NetGalleyReads. #FarrarStrausGiroux
October 18, 2022
The multilayered format is intriguing: a narrator (Arun) talking, at first, about two others (Aseem and Virendra), to a third (Alia). In the process each of the four is characterized. I found Arun hard to care about as he explained his world and his world view, at least until about the last 70 pages of the novel. I am glad, though, that I didn't stop reading early on, and having read the ending wonder what I will think/feel on rereading the beginning. I'm guessing I will feel less distant and indifferent. I also thought it unconvincing that all this would be written to a person who had participated in some of the experiences. Earlier, maybe, the childhood that he complained she had never asked about. Early on it seemed a draft for the memoir she had suggested he write, but neither held as the narrative progressed--until about the last 50 pages another purpose was revealed.
In the process of narrating the four lives there is critique of inequality, the caste structure in India, class elsewhere, politics in India, England, and the USA. On first reading it dominated; I'm not sure it will on rereading. We'll see someday, not right away.
In the process of narrating the four lives there is critique of inequality, the caste structure in India, class elsewhere, politics in India, England, and the USA. On first reading it dominated; I'm not sure it will on rereading. We'll see someday, not right away.
May 4, 2022
The fact that one of my most favorite writers wrote his second novel after twenty years and that I tried to drag it down to almost two months, occasionally reading, reminiscing, dragging.. The fact that Mishra 's fiction is perfect : frail, not eloquent, seeped in non-literary metaphor, tiring but beautiful.
Arun traces capitalism and it's benefices very dexterously while Alia and Aseem help us a lot in learning and un-learning the methods of what Arun is complaining about. I love that Mishra brings no extensive promises, no faltering plots, nothing exquisite just bare human realities as they are coming today in a world ravaged by materialism, dying mother nature and hasty decisions of aggressive politics everywhere.
Arun traces capitalism and it's benefices very dexterously while Alia and Aseem help us a lot in learning and un-learning the methods of what Arun is complaining about. I love that Mishra brings no extensive promises, no faltering plots, nothing exquisite just bare human realities as they are coming today in a world ravaged by materialism, dying mother nature and hasty decisions of aggressive politics everywhere.
June 27, 2022
i did not really like or understand what this novel was doing until the final act, when we get to the heart of the story. told in second person, the book begins with some vague vignettes of fraught relationships from youth that are difficult to “get at� as a reader. emptiness sits at the center of every one of Arun’s memories - almost like Arun himself. this is what makes it such a frustrating read! in the end i found it worth the wait. the prescience, the prose, and the slipperiness all clicked into place. this novel begs the question “in our modern age is it more noble to retreat, hide, bury yourself, than chase anything in such a brutal world?�
November 15, 2022
There's much to admire about the different perspectives that this novel offers, but I think Mishra is a better essayist than novelist. Too often the characters seemed like mouthpieces for particular views than fully articulated people in their own right.
February 10, 2023
Found this book very informative about Indian society - it forced me to look up the meanings of words which helped my understanding of the characters in the book. Because it was written in such an impersonal way, it was unlike the type of book I usually read. I found the descriptions of the authors early upbringing illuminating and disturbing, the crippling subordination of his mother and sisters lives. It was a local Bookclub recommendation and I intend to read some more of this authors work.
May 10, 2022
This novel is inconsistent both in the quality of its prose and in the quality of its thought. It also has a frame (the novel’s supposed telling to the narrator/protagonist’s apparent ex-girlfriend) that doesn’t really work.
And yet it has a lot going for it. Its very complex, both critical and sympathetic picture of Indian nouveaux riches is fascinating. Its narrator is equally complex and compelling. The novel raises many issues, literary, philosophical, and political. It is always interesting, despite a bit too much repetition. It is sometimes beautiful and sometimes profound. A 3.5.
And yet it has a lot going for it. Its very complex, both critical and sympathetic picture of Indian nouveaux riches is fascinating. Its narrator is equally complex and compelling. The novel raises many issues, literary, philosophical, and political. It is always interesting, despite a bit too much repetition. It is sometimes beautiful and sometimes profound. A 3.5.
March 25, 2022
This book sounded so good but it just left me cold for some reason.
Three boys from lower castes in India are identified by their families as having potential for success. Their families -at enormous sacrifice- send them to a technical college in India where they are hazed and abused in unconscionable ways. The one from the lowest caste (I believe he is an "untouchable") moves to the US and becomes some sort of tech billionaire. The second becomes an internationally renowned writer of popular books emphasizing machismo themes and lives as a socialite or playboy. The third has a quiet life in a mountain village, eventually bringing his mother to live with him after his abusive father leaves her for another woman. He has a poorly paid occupation, translating books to Hindu. Through the friend who is an author, he meets a woman restoring a nearby villa. She is Muslim, reasonably wealthy, an activist and is purportedly writing a book about the downfall of the tech billionaire friend.
The rest of the book covers the relationship between the woman and the translator. The interaction between the three former schoolmates is minimal throughout the book, particularly the man who is the tech millionaire. I guess I was looking for something a little faster paced, with a focus on the three students and the impact of their upbringing and experiences at school on their adult life.
I doubt I will read anything else by this author. Not a bad book, but there is so much to read that is better.
Three boys from lower castes in India are identified by their families as having potential for success. Their families -at enormous sacrifice- send them to a technical college in India where they are hazed and abused in unconscionable ways. The one from the lowest caste (I believe he is an "untouchable") moves to the US and becomes some sort of tech billionaire. The second becomes an internationally renowned writer of popular books emphasizing machismo themes and lives as a socialite or playboy. The third has a quiet life in a mountain village, eventually bringing his mother to live with him after his abusive father leaves her for another woman. He has a poorly paid occupation, translating books to Hindu. Through the friend who is an author, he meets a woman restoring a nearby villa. She is Muslim, reasonably wealthy, an activist and is purportedly writing a book about the downfall of the tech billionaire friend.
The rest of the book covers the relationship between the woman and the translator. The interaction between the three former schoolmates is minimal throughout the book, particularly the man who is the tech millionaire. I guess I was looking for something a little faster paced, with a focus on the three students and the impact of their upbringing and experiences at school on their adult life.
I doubt I will read anything else by this author. Not a bad book, but there is so much to read that is better.
February 25, 2022
This is a vivid description of Indian life and its complicated and often brutal caste system. It is a story in two parts (pre-36% and post-36%) and somewhat disjointed with disparate and often cruel characters. It reads as an autobiography although the author states it is a work of fiction. It makes for a difficult read at times and is not for the faint hearted.
Thank you to both Netgalley and the publisher for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Thank you to both Netgalley and the publisher for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
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