Peace amidst pandemonium

Photo courtesy: www.ibnlive.com

When it rains, it really pours. Flash floods caused by unprecedented rainfall at this time of the year have taken a heavy toll on god and man alike.

Hundreds have died, thousands are homeless and missing, and an equal number, mostly pilgrims, are stranded in the North Indian states of Uttarakhand and Himachal Pradesh, geographically, located at the foothills of the mighty Himalayas. Hundreds of houses, schools, hospitals, temples and shrines, and entire infrastructure, such as roads, bridges, and railway tracks, have been destroyed or washed away by the monsoon fury. The destruction of over two-dozen bridges has cut off access to hundreds of villages across the two states.

Photo courtesy: AFP

Some of the worst-hit areas were the revered temple towns of Kedarnath and Rishikesh in Uttarakhand where most of the pilgrims are stranded. Mud and slush, caused by overflowing rivers, submerged several temples and shrines and the deities they adorned. The pictures show a submerged statue of Lord Shiva, one of the Hindu Trinity, in Rishikesh, which bore the brunt of River Ganga’s fury.

The central (federal) government has ordered its disaster management authority to carry out relief and rescue operations on a war footing. The army and air force and paramilitary forces are already assisting the respective state administrations in conducting search and rescue missions. Whatever they do, it'll never be enough.

In decades at least, neither has India’s annual monsoon struck with such ferocity nor has it rained so terribly in the month of June. With the rains usually stretching to September, people living in rural areas and along the cyclone-prone coastlines are joining their palms in silent prayer.

Will Lord Shiva open his third eye (or inner eye) located in the centre of his forehead and bring succour to the hopeless millions?

MUSIC & LYRICS

Believe by Cher (1998)

A musical treat this Tuesday for Overlooked Films, Audio and Video over at Todd Mason's blog Sweet Freedom.

“Do you believe in life after love

I can feel something inside me say

I really don't think you're strong enough, now”

Did you know that Cher released three films in 1987? They were The Witches of Eastwick, based on the novel by John Updike, Suspect, and Moonstruck. Did you also know that the American pop diva has acted in more than a dozen films and television series? I didn’t.

I haven’t seen Suspect which sounds like a good crime thriller with Cher playing a lawyer. Dennis Quaid and Liam Neeson are in the film too.

I liked The Witches of Eastwick mainly on account of Jack Nicholson and Susan Sarandon. The latter with Cher and Michelle Pfeiffer made three fine witches. Moonstruck almost put me to sleep. I prefer Nicholas Cage as a much older actor in his latter films. 

This post is not about Cher the actor but Cher the singer, and that is primarily what she is. A couple of months ago, we were at a mall when her hit single, Believe, played. The song sounded terrific on the hidden loudspeaker system. I wondered where I’d heard it before and then I remembered that I listened to it occasionally on my cellphone. What a difference it made! 

I cannot analyse the music behind Cher’s powerful, manly voice. But, according to Wikimedia, “Believe is a dance-pop song that incorporates elements of techno, Eurodance, and house music. It also uses heavy amounts of Auto-Tune, which has since become one of the song's most notable features.” 

Released in October 1998, Believe is the lead single from Cher’s twenty-third album of the same name and it has become one of the best-selling singles of all time.

For previous Music & Lyrics, see under Labels.

BOOK PREVIEW

A Moment on the Edge: 100 Years of Crime Stories by Women edited by Elizabeth George (2005)

The only books I’m tempted to buy are books that are out of print or hard to find. I usually buy them in secondhand bookshops and on the footpaths of Bombay (now Mumbai). I rarely purchase new books from new bookstores though I have bought a few ebooks from Amazon. I think the last two new books I bought were The Complete Prose of Woody Allen and Flint by Louis L'Amour.

Woody Allen is one of the finest humour writers I've read. I equate his sardonic wit with that of Groucho Marx and Kurt Vonnegut. I discovered Woody Allen the writer after I read his brilliant short story ‘The Kugelmass Episode’ in Present Laughter: An Anthology of Modern Comic Fiction edited by English author Malcolm Bradbury. I purchased this hardback for Rs.100 (a little over $2) from a used bookstore.

Flint is one of my favourite western novels by Louis L'Amour. I always wanted to own a brand new copy of this book.

Last week, I visited a new bookstore and nearly bought A Moment on the Edge: 100 Years of Crime Stories by Women by American writer Elizabeth George. The 560-page book published by HarperCollins in 2005 is a collection of stories by some of the best-known women writers, past and present. I’m familiar with most of the 26 authors though I haven't read every one of them. There are stories by Dorothy L. Sayers, Ngaio Marsh, Shirley Jackson, Dorothy Salisbury Davis, Margery Allingham, Nadine Gordimer, Ruth Rendell, and Joyce Carol Oates.

The publisher has put out the following description for the book:

“New York Times bestselling author Elizabeth George serves up a century's worth of superb crime fiction penned by women. This veritable all-star team delivers tales of dark deeds that will keep you reading long into the night… A Moment on the Edge is a rare treat not only for fans of crime fiction but also for anyone who appreciates a skillfully written, deftly told story.”

I read a part of the introduction by Elizabeth George. It’s a superb piece of writing on crime literature and its domination by women writers.

Although I was tempted to buy this book, I did not because it would have been criminal to do so at a time when I have more than fifty used books to read. This is not counting the dozens of copyright-free ebooks, fiction and nonfiction, I have downloaded. And then there are the vintage comics and comic strips.

Multiplicity, I wish.

BOOKS

No Comebacks by Frederick Forsyth (1982)

If you like short stories, then I recommend this fine collection by Frederick Forsyth for Friday’s Forgotten Books at Patti Abbott’s blog Pattinase.

My copy of the book.

I thought I had a clear memory of authors whose novels I read in my youth. Frederick Forsyth proved me wrong. Rather my wife did when she picked up No Comebacks, a collection of ten delightful short stories. Until then, I didn't know the septuagenarian British author had written short stories. In fact, he has written two more short story collections vis-à-vis The Deceiver (1991), chronicling the career of British secret agent Sam McCready, and The Veteran (2001), an assortment of crime stories.

At least I have read most of his best-known thrillers including The Day of the Jackal, The Odessa File, The Dogs of War, The Devil's Alternative, and The Fourth Protocol. Some of these novels have been made into successful films. Admittedly, I haven't read any of his novels published in the past two decades, a disservice to a very fine writer.

Mark Sanderson liked women. For that matter he also liked Aberdeen Angus fillet steaks, medium-rare with tossed heart-of-lettuce salad, and he consumed both with equal if passing enjoyment.

This is the opening line of the first story, No Comebacks, after the title of the 332-page book. It tells us the story of Mark Sanderson, a 39-year old English magnate and philanderer who is used to having his way and getting what he wants. “Whatever Mark wants Mark gets” is his self-styled credo. He leads three lives—public, professional, and secret—without scruples. This story concerns his third life, of boredom and of his desperate need to cherish and possess the woman of his dreams. He meets her in the form of Mrs. Angela Summers, a tall and handsome woman who lives with her husband on the Mediterranean coastline in Spain. She has a brief non-sexual affair with Mark. When Angela refuses to leave her husband because he needs her, Mark plots to kill him. So he hires a Corsican assassin to get him out of the way.

‘Is youse the darkie McQueen has put on the job?’ he demanded.
Ram Lal stopped in his tracks. ‘Harkishan Ram Lal,’ he said. ‘Yes.’
‘Well get in the fecking truck,’ he said.

Surprisingly, the protagonist in the second story, There Are No Snakes in Ireland, set in Northern Ireland, is a young Indian medical student called Harkishan Ram Lal who desperately needs money to complete his education. He takes up a job with a demolition contractor in Bangor and is assigned to a wrecking crew whose foreman, Big Billie Cameron, is a 6-feet and 4-inch racist brute. He hates Ram Lal on first sight and calls him a “darkie” and a “black bastard.” Ram Lal swallows the insults and the humiliation because he needs the money to complete med school. He works with quiet resentment but he doesn’t keep still. He plots revenge. He returns to India for a week, buys a venomous viper, and takes it back to England. At the demolition site, he drops it into the right-hand pocket of Cameron’s jacket where he keeps his pipe and tobacco pouch.

You might guess how both these suspense stories end. Frederick Forsyth ensures that your guess is all wrong. He is the master of the proverbial twist in the tale. He takes you by surprise in each of the ten stories in No Comebacks that are entertaining and narrated with chilling effect. I selected these two stories because I liked them the most. I'm not surprised that There Are No Snakes in Ireland won Forsyth the Edgar Allan Poe Award for best short story. The author's telling of the sinister antics of Harkishan Ram Lal and Big Billie Cameron deserved the honour.

FILMS

The Dirty Dozen (1967) and 

The Devil's Brigade (1968)

This week, The Devil’s Brigade plays catch-up with Robert Aldrich’s masterpiece for Overlooked Films, Audio and Video over at Todd Mason’s blog Sweet Freedom.

Lt. Col. Robert T. Frederick (William Holden) to Major Cliff Bricker (Vince Edwards) in The Devil’s Brigade: “Major, when you address me, take that cigar out of your mouth.”

Comparisons between The Dirty Dozen (1967) and The Devil's Brigade (1968) are inevitable. Both the WWII films have much in common, in the main, the theme and a multi star cast, and both are based on books.

The Dirty Dozen tells the story of a secret plan to infiltrate a chateau in France and wipe out a cluster of high-ranking German officers.

The Devil's Brigade revolves around a secret plot to end German occupation of a strategic mountain in Italy.

A victory in both military campaigns will give the Allied Forces a huge advantage in the war.

While The Dirty Dozen is made up of twelve battle-hardened convicts who storm the Nazi party at the chateau, The Devil’s Brigade comprises a ragtag bunch of misfits who take over the mountain.

Both the secret missions are led by formidable and respected commanding officers played by two popular actors, Lt. Col. Robert T. Frederick (William Holden) in The Devil’s Brigade and Major John Reisman (Lee Marvin) in The Dirty Dozen. Both men must overcome all kinds of odds, including rank indiscipline and rowdy behaviour, to turn the men under their command into precision-guided fighting outfits.

However, in the course of training, both the Lieutenant-Colonel and the Major are soldiers first and officers second, as they treat their men as humans rather than as machines. There is also many a hilarious moment during the training process or at least until the men embark on their dangerous mission.

Where The Devil’s Brigade lacks is in the glamour quotient and dramatic pace of The Dirty Dozen.

The Dirty Dozen, directed by Robert Aldrich, is overwhelmed by a long line of famous actors that include the likes of John Cassavetes, Telly Savalas, and Donald Sutherland whose animated characters bring the film more alive than it already is. It’s the kind of film that would do well at the box office on the sheer strength of its cast. And I believe it did.

The Devil’s Brigade fails to match up in the celebrity stakes though William Holden holds up his end well with some fine performances by Major Cliff Bricker (Vince Edwards), assistant to the CO, Major Alan Crown (Cliff Robertson) of the Canadian contingent, and Privates Omar Greco (Richard Jaeckel), Theodore Ransom (Andrew Prine), Rocky Rockman (Claude Akins), and Hugh MacDonald (Richard Dawson).

The only common actor in both the movies is Richard Jaeckel who is point man to Lee Marvin’s character in The Dirty Dozen. He impresses in both the films.

Interestingly, The Devil’s Brigade provides a piece of history. The US army misfits team up with an elite Canadian military unit and train—and entertain—together for a mission that is originally planned in Norway but is later diverted to Italy.

According to internet sources, the story is based on a book of the same name by American novelist and historian Robert H. Adleman and Col. George Walton, a member of the brigade. It is a fictionalised account of the First Special Service Force, the joint Canada-US World War II commando group under Col. Robert T. Frederick.

The film was shot with the 3rd United States Army Special Forces Group at Camp Williams, 20 miles south of Salt Lake City, and battle locations on Mount Jordan, both in Utah, and on location in Italy. Apparently, producer David L. Wolper found it cheaper to film in an Italian village rather than build an Italian set in America. The US Department of Defence is also believed to have provided 300 members of the Utah National Guard to play soldiers in the battle scenes.

Andrew V. McLaglen, who directed The Devil’s Brigade, appears to have a liking for multi star cast films as evident in at least two other war films The Wild Geese (1978) and The Sea Wolves (1980), the latter shot in my backyard in Goa where I spent my childhood, and two westerns, The Way West (1967) and Bondolero! (1968). I have yet to see the last mentioned.

The Devil’s Brigade is a fairly entertaining film in spite of its striking resemblance to The Dirty Dozen in more ways than one.


In case you missed — War movies worthy of World War II (December 13, 2011).

When books are a rewarding experience

“As the wind howled, it seemed to be the very soul of the land.”
— A line from Hard Texas Winter

Westerns are one of my favourite categories of books. I read them with an air of anticipation. There is excitement with every turn of the page.

I also enjoy reading westerns because of their historical backdrop as the stories are mostly set in and around the Frontier and the Civil War years.

For instance, the story of Hard Texas Winter (1981) by Preston Lewis begins just six months after the end of the Civil War.

Morgan Garrett, a former Confederate soldier crippled in the war, is riding from Alabama to Santa Fe in New Mexico in search of work and a new life. Tired and hungry in the bitterly cold winter, Garrett decides to spend the night at Crossrock, a small nondescript town in Texas.

On his way there Garrett meets former Union soldier Big Bill Murphy. When Garrett asks the massively-built man the way to Crossrock, Murphy replies with unconcealed contempt for the former Reb, “Just ‘bout two miles the way you’re headed, Johnny.”

I found out that ‘Johnny’ was the nickname given to Confederate soldiers by their Union counterparts during the war. That and "greyback," in reference to the grey uniforms the Confederates wore, were used in a derogative fashion.

Garrett enters the town’s only functional saloon wearing “a gray greatcoat with the faded gold braid in a double knot that signified a captain’s rank” and his useless arm hanging by his side. The saloon is empty save for the saloon owner and his wife and five men sitting in a far corner of the room. They mean trouble.

As the men leave the saloon, one of them deliberately knocks off Garrett’s greatcoat from the chair onto the sawdust-covered floor.

He says, “Oh, I’m sorry, soldier boy…but just a little bump and that coat fell just like the whole Confederate army.”

Garrett sits quietly and swallows the insult. He is in town only for a night, for some food and a warm bed, and he doesn't want trouble.

But gun trouble finds him.

All this action takes place in only the first few pages of the novel and there is already enough reference to the Civil War. In a way it brings the one-time foes, Morgan Garrett and Bill Murphy, on the same side of the battle in Crossrock.

I’m waiting to read the rest of the story as, I’m sure, it continues to unfold in the backdrop of the war.

As I said, there is never a dull moment in a western, a very enriching and rewarding exercise for me. Do you feel the same way about certain genre of books?


For Forgotten Books this week, head over to Patti Abbott's blog Pattinase.

FILMS

The Phantom (1996) and Daredevil (2003)

A couple of superhero films for this week’s Overlooked Films, Audio and Video at Todd Mason’s blog Sweet Freedom.

Kristy Swanson and Billy Zane in The Phantom.

I am a purist when it comes to cinematic versions of superhero comics. I often have reservations about the actors selected to play the mighty roles. They’re all very good actors but they often fall short of both character and appearance as humans, and as I know them in my comic books. For instance, Tobey Macguire looks nothing like the wavy-haired Peter Parker in the Spider-Man comics. I don’t care what they look like behind their masked outfits.

Here’s more food for the speech bubbles…

I’d cross out Michael Keaton in Batman and George Clooney in Batman & Robin, Billy Zane in The Phantom, Tobey Maguire in the Spider-Man series, Edward Norton as Dr. Bruce Banner/Hulk in The Incredible Hulk, Brandon Routh in Superman Returns, Robert Downey Jr in Iron Man, Chris Hemsworth in Thor, and Mark Ruffalo as Dr. Bruce Banner/Hulk in The Avengers. That doesn't leave out many.

Ben Affleck in the Daredevil.

Those I’d tick right are Christopher Reeve in the Superman series, Val Kilmer in Batman Forever, Ben Affleck in Daredevil, Hugh Jackman as Wolverine in the X-Men series, and Chris Evans in Captain America and The Avengers.

I’m not surprised there’re more nays than ayes.

Those who swing both ways are Ryan Reynolds in Green Lantern, Thomas Jane as the antihero in The Punisher, Michael Chiklis as Ben Grimm/The Thing in The Fantastic Four, because he is permanently cursed with his “orange rocky appearance,” Nicholas Cage in Ghost Rider, Ron Perlman in Hellboy, and Thomas Haden Church as Flint Marko/Sandman in Spider-Man 3.

Two masked superheroes I like quite a lot are Phantom—man who cannot die—and Daredevil—the man without fear. They’re both appealing as comic-book heroes.

So, I was a bit disappointed with the choice of Billy Zane as the jungle hero in Simon Wincer’s The Phantom. The only thing that worked in Zane’s favour was his broad smile. It was the smile of the Phantom.

The ghost who walks and guardian of the eastern dark dons a suit, assumes the name of Kit Walker, and travels to New York to track down a wealthy but crazy man called Xander Drax (Treat Williams) who will overcome anything, or anyone, to possess three magic skulls that will give him unimaginable powers. He takes the Phantom’s girlfriend, Diana Palmer (Kristy Swanson) hostage, guarded by Sala (Catherine Zeta-Jones in a semi-villainous role).

The story was average and more or less in keeping with many stories in Phantom comics. Zane’s appearance as the Phantom was not convincing at all though he tried hard to fit into the purple-coloured body-hugging suit, sitting astride Hero, his majestic white stallion, and Devil, his brave wolf, by his side.

The Phantom’s masked appearance in 2013 would have been more cutting edge, like Christian Bale’s Batman. Unfortunately, there is no Phantom movie on the cards.

If you have read Daredevil comics, you’ll know that Ben Affleck was born to play blind lawyer Matt Murdock in the film version directed by Mark Steven Johnson. Everything about Affleck, either as Murdock the lawyer wearing a suit and dark glasses and carrying a blind man’s cane or as Daredevil in a crimson body suit and mask with twin canes, his deadly weapons of choice, was perfect.

Daredevil is more human than the accidental superhero he becomes (the consequence of a mishap with toxic waste that renders him blind but gives him superhuman vision and other senses) as he pursues his father’s killer and arch enemy, the Kingpin (Michael Clarke Duncan), and his hired assassin, Bullseye (Colin Farrell). An excellent superhero film.

Like The Phantom, the makers of Daredevil aren't thinking of a remake of the man without fear. I’m hoping Steven Spielberg buys the rights to the ghost who walks at least.

VINTAGE COMICS

The Freedom Train

Freedom Train by Howard Lockhart Fogg, an American artist
who specialised in railroad artwork.

Freedom is fought hard and won. In a novel concept, America ran the Freedom Train from 1947 through 1949 to remind its citizens not to take their freedom, as enshrined in the principles of liberty and democracy, for granted. Two years after the Second World War ended, Attorney General Tom C. Clark mooted the idea of the Freedom Train so that Americans did not forget the sacrifices made by the country and its people during successive wars. The idea was approved by President Harry S. Truman.

Christened the Spirit of 1776 on September 5, 1947, the Freedom Train travelled over 37,000 miles through more than 300 cities in 48 states for 413 days, capturing the imagination of Americans wherever it went, as did the distinctive red, white, and blue colour scheme of the locomotive. 

What was significant about the train was that it carried the original versions of the United States Constitution, the Declaration of Independence, the Truman Doctrine, and the Bill of Rights among other rare documents and artefacts.

The bicentenary of the Freedom Train was celebrated in 1975-1976 when a similar locomotive called the American Freedom Train toured the country.

The historic journey was captured in popular culture including comics which, admittedly, first caught my attention. Until then, I didn't know about the Freedom Train, a fascinating piece of America's history.

MUSIC & LYRICS

Funkytown by Lipps Inc

There are some songs that stay inside your head forever. Songs that you'll find yourself humming for no rhyme or reason several years after you first heard them. Funkytown by Lipps Inc. is one song that has refused to go away. Written by Steven Greenberg and performed by Lipps Inc, the 1980 disco hit was sung by Cynthia Johnson. I have no idea who these people are but I enjoyed their music, especially the very funky beat of Funkytown, from the album Mouth to Mouth. It was a big hit in many countries including India. Check it out below.

For previous Music & Lyrics, see under Labels.

BOOKS

The Snake by Mickey Spillane (1964)

A Mike Hammer mystery for Friday’s Forgotten Books at Patti Abbott’s blog Pattinase.

“The pull on the door was enough to rock the car and ever so steadily the corpse of Blackie Conley seemed to come to life, sitting up in the seat momentarily. I could see the eyes and the mouth open in a soundless scream with the teeth bared in a grimace of wild hatred.”

My copy of the book

Finally, I read a Mickey Spillane paperback after more than two decades. Everything has its own time and place. With me, it’s books.

I don’t remember my first impressions of Mike Hammer, the iconic private investigator created by an iconic crime fiction writer. The Snake, the eighth novel featuring Hammer, gave me some idea.

Hammer is a strong character. He is a tough, no-nonsense detective with a propensity for violence that can at times turn your stomach. In fact, it follows him wherever he goes. He is fearless to the point where he, often intentionally, gets into hostile situations because he knows he will get out alive. He kills easily and effortlessly with his inseparable .45 Colt.

He is open about his investigation and does not hesitate to lay it out before NYPD, in particular Capt. Pat Chambers of the homicide division. Pat is a very close friend and their love for the same woman, Velda, does not come in the way of their friendship or respect for each other. 

Velda is Hammer’s brave, beautiful, and seductive secretary who loves her boss enough to risk her life for him. She has nothing to fear because she knows Hammer is watching her back.

The Snake is a sequel to The Girl Hunters in which Velda vanishes. I haven’t read that book yet.

The story begins with her sudden reappearance and offering protection to Sue Devon, a young girl on the run from her stepfather, Sim Torrence, a former district attorney who is fighting for the state governorship with an eye on the White House.

Sue believes Sim is out to kill her because he thinks she knows something about the $3 million a gang of robbers stole and botched thirty years ago. She is convinced Sim killed her mother, Sally Devon, a showgirl and the gangsters’ moll, for the money. The girl also keeps talking about someone she refers to as the Snake. 

Hammer would probably have stayed out of it if hired killers, operating separately, hadn't taken potshots at him and Velda at the same time, in their desperate bid to eliminate Sue. He kills two of them and wounds the third seriously.

With both he and Velda in trouble, Hammer steps into the firing line to investigate why the girl is wanted badly. He's the sort of guy whose sympathies are with the underdog though, you suspect, he also has a penchant for reckless adventure.

Hammer’s investigations take him back thirty years, to the gang of robbers, to Blackie Conley and Sonny Motley and others who botched the heist, to double-cross, to a young DA who sent them to prison for long years, and finally to the mysterious Snake.

In The Snake, Mike Hammer is constantly on the move, fighting and firing his way out of desperate situations. But, he’s not infallible. In this novel at least Hammer goes into one blind spot too many and is trusting to the point where it nearly costs him and Velda dearly. I found that unusual and I wonder if he’s usually that way in the other novels.

Mickey Spillane has written a cracker of a mystery where the characters, from Hammer downwards, seem all too real, in the kind of story that might have actually taken place in mid-20th century New York. The end is a real humdinger, one I didn't see coming.

First lines from the book: You walk down the street at night. It’s raining out. The only sound is that of your own feet.

FILMS

35 underrated actors who deserve better

I haven’t seen any films that would qualify for Overlooked Films at Todd Mason’s blog Sweet Freedom this week. I did, however, dash off a protest letter to my DTH cable operator demanding the restoration of TCM which was taken off the air last year. They have promised to look into my grievance. Meanwhile, here’s something to bite into…

I have drawn up a list of 35 actors who, in my opinion, are underrated in spite of landing major roles in many films. They are a big part of mainstream cinema and yet I can’t help picturing them on the kerbstones of the Hollywood walk of fame. These are actors whose films I have enjoyed watching immensely. I have also had the satisfaction of watching every one of the 20 films listed below. I chose them because I remember them well, over a 20-year period I’m familiar with. I am aware that I have left out many fine actors, both underrated and forgotten, who should have made it to this list. But then, all lists are subjective and so is this one. I’d be delighted if you made additions (or subtractions) to it.

Jeremy Irons in The French Lieutenant's Woman, 1981

Kevin Kline in Consenting Adults, 1982

Michael Biehn in The Terminator, 1984

Josh Brolin in The Goonies, 1985

William Hurt in Children of a Lesser God, 1986

Richard Dreyfuss in Stakeout, 1987

Emilio Estevez in Young Guns, 1988

Jeff Daniels in The House on Carroll Street, 1988

Tom Selleck in An Innocent Man, 1989

Ray Liotta in Goodfellas, 1990

Tim Curry in Oscar, 1991

Michael Madsen in Reservoir Dogs, 1992

Harvey Keitel in The Piano, 1993

Bill Paxton in Tombstone, 1993

John Goodman in Born Yesterday, 1993

Woody Harrelson in Natural Born Killers, 1994

Forest Whitaker in Species, 1995

Christian Slater in Broken Arrow, 1996

Bill Pullman in Independence Day, 1996

Kevin Spacey in The Negotiator, 1998

15 honourable mentions: Kiefer Sutherland, Colin Firth, Don Cheadle, Kevin Bacon, Matthew Broderick, Alan Rickman, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Mathew Modine, Liev Schreiber, David Morse, Alfred Molina, Tom Skerritt, Robert Carlyle, Gabriel Byrne, and Powers Boothe.

Now why didn't I think of reviewing one of these films?

BOOK BUYS

Readings from the raddiwala

Some of the best books and comics in my collection have come from the ubiquitous raddiwala, but more about that later.

The raddiwala is roughly an old paper mart or a scrap dealer whose main business is to buy old newspapers, magazines, and books from residential and commercial premises. He also buys all kinds of other used stuff that you no longer use, like faucets, stoves, copper wires, utensils, and iron pipes, to give you an idea. Most of these items are recycled and at some point find their way back into your home, as brand new items. You wouldn’t know.

Mumbai recycles everything, even school notebooks and textbooks after your kid has passed out of an academic year, an annual ritual. The city has become one big recycle bin. 

The raddiwala usually operates from a small shop often wedged between bigger shops on either side, selling fancier stuff. Like the omnipresent paanwala (betel leaf and tobacco seller), the raddiwala is found in all lanes and bylanes of Mumbai, as he is in every part of the country. His shop is easily distinguishable by the row of magazines and plastic containers hung from the corrugated iron roof. The raddiwala sits on a flat cushion or a wooden bench in front of a pair of weighing scales and a room lined with heaps of old newspapers. He usually lives in the hole in the wall, with his wife and kids.

The raddiwala is an important part of the commercial milieu of Mumbai. He comes from a poor background, mostly from the northern Hindi speaking belt of the country, but he can be enterprising too. He often deals in old newspapers and new mobiles at the same time and he may also have a chain of raddi shops across the city.

The current rate for old newspapers and magazines is Rs.9-10 per kg (less than 25 cents). It varies according to the ‘going’ price in the recycle market. The raddiwala weighs your old papers, calculates, and pays you cash on the spot. No questions asked. 

Most houses in Mumbai prefer to call the raddiwala home. He comes over to your place on his bicycle with a dirty sack and portable weighing scales in tow. He ties up your old newspapers into a neat bundle, hooks it up to the scales, and turns it towards the light so you can see the reading and calculate, lest you feel you’re being cheated. The exchange of paper for money is usually preceded by a little haggling over the price offered or the reading of the scales or both.

In Mumbai, people cultivate their raddiwala in the same way they cultivate their barber, grocer, vegetable vendor, and tailor. You seldom go elsewhere. The more you buy from the same place, the better the bargain and treatment you’ll get.

The raddiwala has been my favourite haunt for secondhand books for many years, though they’re much smarter nowadays, selling the used novels they get in their raddi to professional secondhand book dealers who know their value as well as you do. 

Nonetheless, I have bought some fine books and comics from raddiwalas in the past. My most memorable acquisition from the raddiwala was half-a-dozen vintage Phantom and Mandrake comics under the erstwhile Indrajal imprint published by Bennett Coleman & Co. Ltd, owners of The Times of India. I bought them for Rs.50 ($1) only to have them eaten by termite a few months later.

Three purchases from the raddiwala I cherish are the 160-page The Science Fiction Book: An Illustrated History by Franz Rottensteiner, a hardback illustrated edition of Futuredays: A Nineteenth-Century Vision of the Year 2000 by Isaac Asimov, and Cows of Our Planet: A Far Side Collection by Gary Larson. They cost a pittance.

On the face of it, these books may not seem much. They do when you buy them from the raddiwala.

BOOK PREVIEW

A Pride of Kings by Justin Scott (1982) 

Last evening, I wrote five paragraphs of my proposed review of The Snake, a Mike Hammer novel by Mickey Spillane, for Friday’s Forgotten Books at Patti Abbott’s blog Pattinase. Since then, the Word file has vanished.

Something came up and I had to leave my seat in office. Before I did, however, I closed the file. When I came back, I took up something else, several news reports for editing. In between, I deleted a few files and I think my incomplete review of The Snake, which lay coiled on my desktop, accompanied them to the recycle bin. Now I have this habit of clearing the bin no sooner I delete files and images, it’s a sort of reflex action. I knew at once that The Snake was gone.

Had it really? I mean, what if I’d mixed up my review with some of the news stories I was editing? I remember copying and pasting stuff at the time. What if those five paragraphs became a part of a story on the outlook for India’s construction equipment market or India’s policy on offshore wind energy? What fun! I spent the next half-hour opening all the official Word and QuarkXPress files and going through each of them with a fine-tooth comb. The Snake was not to be found, not even a shred of snake skin.

I still don’t know what happened to my review. I learnt some lessons, though: never write a blog post with a print deadline hovering over your head; better still, never write a blog post in office and even if you do, never leave your desk until you have finished it; never forget to save after every few words (that I do) and never forget to store the file on multiple drives; never leave too many software (Word, Excel, Chrome, MS Outlook, NoteTab…), or folders, open at the same time, especially if you’re working on just one file; and finally, never ever multitask. I do all the time.

Could I rewrite those five paragraphs from memory? I could if I tried but I know it won’t have the same ring to it. Yesterday was yesterday. So I have decided to write it all over again for FFB next week.

So far, the title of the book in the headline hasn't justified the content. So I’m going to tell you something about it. I have not read A Pride of Kings since I bought it for Rs.20 (less than 25 cents) two weeks ago. The 620-page novel set during WWI promises to be “A burning epic of action, love and treachery” which it might well be. Consider this synopsis on the back cover…

"The Russian Empire 1916: At war with Germany, seething with dissent, boiling on the brink of revolution…

"There is only one man King George V can trust to go into this cauldron of violence and intrigue to bring out his cousin Czar Nicholas II.

"That man is naval officer Kenneth Ash. And in the glittering cities and frozen wastes of Russia, Ash faces not only the torturers and assassins who will try to stop him, but also a more insidious foe: he must confront the fear, the failure and the lost love of his own haunting past…and this time, he must win." 

Justin Scott, aka Paul Garrison, J.S. Blazer, and Alexander Cole, has written 23 thrillers and mystery novels, including The Shipkiller and Normandie Triangle, and is known as “the Dick Francis of yachting” because many of his books are set at sea. He has also collaborated with Clive Cussler on the Isaac Bell adventures. You can read more about Justin Scott at www.justinscott-paulgarrison.com.

The last book I read on the Russian empire was The Romanov Succession (1974) by Brian Garfield and I loved it. So I’m looking forward to reading this one.