The Satanic Verses

I've been reading Salman Rushdie's 'The Satanic Verses' for over 3 months now. It seems like an eternity. The book is amazing, however, I never thought I could read this slow and still enjoy the literature behind the fatwas and political innuendos. Salman is an amazing author, I've mentioned before that I admire him above all other reasons because in his writing I see my own and I realize that I may have an audience after all. Albeit liberal, expatriated, netherworldic souls, transmigration through life like they have no scruples, no patience, and plenty of self-doubt.

Roughly 555 large pages, its a long read, but its also dense with Steinbeck 'inner chapters' telling a pseudo-religious tale of islamism, freedom, and treachery against one's own nature. It's very much magical realism, so much so I think it takes itself more seriously than Marquez's 'Cien Anos de Soledad' or Allende's 'La Casa de los Espiritus'. The basic story is about the intersecting identities of Desiness (Indianness/South Asianess), Islam, Fundamentalism, liberal decay, cultural escapism, Diaspora, and High Tea Britiannia (aspiring to banter and gain the English mannerisms of our favorite butler in Ishiguro's 'Remains of the Day')

But its a roller coaster ride of culture, sensuality, oddity, and rejection. In some parts, quite frankly, throughout most of the book, you're essentially drowning in Rushdie's vividly portrayed sea of religious/stereotypical/Anglo-Indian cultural aphorisms and anecdotes.

I'm only on page 314. More on my progress with this 'wrestling-with-god-harrowing-tale' in the near future. Some moments in this book are as unnerving as your typical episode of Larry David's 'Curb Your Enthusiasm'. Rushdie has an uncanny knack for expressing the awkward and the unmentionable. He's also married to an extremely attractive model/cook - Padma Lakshmi