Book Review -Tokyo Cancelled

This review appeared in the Deccan Herald

Thirteen passengers stranded overnight in a strange airport tell each other stories all night in Rana Dasgupta’s debut novel. The darkened airport lounge (“like the back corridor between 2 worlds ..where people only alighted when something was seriously wrong with the eschatological machinery”) works effectively as an eerie setting for the strange and magical tales exchanged between these displaced individuals.

The stories themselves are striking - not only for their page turning ‘what comes next’ quality, but also for the richness of their resonances. Dasgupta draws inspiration from a timeless fairy tale genre, simultaneously subverting it, by situating each story geographically and temporally in a magical and yet tangibly disquieting reality. This could be our world, as on the streets of Paris and London, Delhi, Istanbul and Buenos Aires, poverty and the plague coexist with industry and money.

And yet it is a fantastic fairy tale world peopled by kings and princes as well as tailors, sailors and magic map readers, a rich Indian industrialist who makes a Faustian bargain with a cloning scientist and an Argentinean video store owner who turns recycler of garbage - or is he all along really the dictator?

The many tragic twists and turns in these modern day fairy tales make for racy reading and also for much provocative questioning - events are arguably driven not so much by destiny as by greed and power, and the magic that could so easily have been technology gone all awry. All this in events and symbols that could only belong to today.

So the Cinderella like figure in the fifth story is really actress Isabella Rossini’s illegitimate daughter and her Prince Charming none other than Robert de Niro’s illegitimate taxi driver son Pavel. Tellingly the transforming magic potion is no simple ‘Alice in Wonderland’s’ ‘Eat Me’. Instead in a world straddled with big brands, it is very appropriately, an Oreo cookie. This cookie when crumbled doesn’t make Isabella a predictable princess; instead it transforms her into a glass and concrete swanky super store on Madison Avenue.

Another story follows the fortunes of Riad, a modern day mariner, who like his ancient ancestor is also marooned at sea - and this time it’s not wind that’s the villain but matters of custom and immigration.

An albatross emerges from his throat flying to Istanbul, to his Bangladeshi sweetheart who organises a rescue mission.

Structurally the stories are somewhat thinly threaded to each other and even less so to the travelers who tell them. Unlike Chaucer’s pilgrims who are described in great detail, these commuters remain largely undefined except in indistinct glimpses like ‘a large middle aged man with remarkable crevasses across his face (the plague survivor?), ‘the Japanese man’ (the doll fetishist?) or ‘the backpacker girl’.

Yet their stories seem to come from the same world - a curiously dialectic space driven as much by possibility as by privation, its motivations sometimes magical and other times merely mercenary.

In fashioning this and in creating its protagonists, modern day versions of age old archetypes, Dasgupta gives us a powerful vision of both - the cloned rich industrialist’s daughter Sapna as modern Rapunzel, rich inventor and map reader Klaus as Blue beard, Riad as Sindbad, Katya as Karna and Isabella as Cinderella are strangely memorable, and the multiple resonances of their stories make them curiously haunting