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WORK TITLE: Necropolis
WORK NOTES:
PSEUDONYM(S):
BIRTHDATE: 1972
WEBSITE: http://avtarsingh.net/
CITY: Delhi
STATE:
COUNTRY: India
NATIONALITY: Indian
http://www.akashicbooks.com/author/avtar-singh/ * https://kitaab.org/2015/05/15/review-necropolis-by-avtar-singh-straddles-various-literary-worlds/ * http://scroll.in/article/688650/in-avtar-singhs-necropolis-delhis-ghosts-join-cops-and-criminals
RESEARCHER NOTES:
PERSONAL
Married; children: one son.
ADDRESS
CAREER
Writer and editor. Man’s World, Mumbai, India, editor; City Limits, Delhi, India, editor; Time Out Delhi, Delhi, editor; Indian Quarterly, Delhi, managing editor.
WRITINGS
Contributor of stories and articles to periodicals and journals, including Seminar, Biblio, Outlook, Tehelka, and GQ; contributor to anthologies.
SIDELIGHTS
Avtar Singh is an editor and writer. He has contributed stories and articles to a range of periodicals and journals, including Outlook and GQ. He has also contributed stories and essays to anthologies. Singh discussed how he deals with writer’s block in an interview with the Good Book Corner Web site. He admitted: “I wait. I don’t force it.” Noting the importance of letting the story “incubate,” Singh later explained that “if you’re engaged with a topic enough that [you] want to write about it, then you’re already squeezing your brain. There’s no point in trying to get another few RPM out of the engine. Let it do its job.”
The Beauty of These Present Things
Singh published his first novel, The Beauty of These Present Things, in 2000. In the book, publishing house editor Katie searches Mumbai for aspiring author Arjun after determining that his novel is worth publishing. The friends and acquaintances of Arjun’s whom she meets around town are clearly models for characters in his novel, drawing Katie further into his world.
In a review in India Today, Sharda Ugra commented that “the interplay of characters starts promisingly enough, well-defined etchings of people and places that soon fall into the novel’s big trap: it talks too much.” Reviewing the novel in his Book Reviews Web site, Swapnil Warang stated: “Filling 239 pages exploring just one day is amazing. [This] book is simple and free flowing; it is neither idealistic nor cynic.”
Necropolis
In 2014 Singh published the novel Necropolis. As Delhi’s deputy commissioner of police, Sajan Dayal directs his men to investigate a keffiyeh-wearing man who may be responsible for a series of crimes across the city where victims’ fingers are being cut off. Meanwhile, he becomes romantically involved with a woman who may also be involved in these crimes. Crimes ranging from the murder of an African drug dealer to the kidnapping of a three-year-old child are tenuously linked, but political considerations mean that not all cases will be pursued to final justice.
A contributor to Publishers Weekly found that “too often, the social commentary seems as forced and convenient as the supernatural elements.” Writing in Scroll.in, Deepti Kapoor opined that the novel is “florid and verbose, and not only does it go against the conventions of detective fiction, the hardboiled nature of which typically employs a spare, terse style, it also tends to irritate. Yet it does seem strangely appropriate for Delhi.” Kapoor reasoned, “All in all, it’s hard to begrudge Necropolis its faults (faults I acknowledge others may see as virtues). Structurally, with its connected episodes—which remind one of a short season of a TV drama—it’s innovative and appealing. It also defies expectations early on, exploring our fascinating, decaying and complex capital in directions interesting and unknown, long enough to keep the reader on their toes.”
Writing in the Kitaab Web site, Elen Turner remarked: “In straddling various genres, Necropolis also tries to do a great deal with its characters, and this is perhaps its weakest point. While all of the protagonists and supporting characters are believable, three-dimensional people, we do not get to know them as deeply as we might if there were fewer of them sharing the stage. This does not have to be taken as a criticism, as readers familiar with genre fiction may be more at ease with this.” In a review in ReviewingTheEvidence.com, Susan Hoover noticed that “Necropolis is written for an Indian audience. Street language and cultural nuances remain unexplained. At times the North American reader will feel confused, even lost.” However, Hoover suggested that readers familiar with life in Delhi will find the novel “great fun to read.”
A contributor reviewing the novel in Dawn said that “while its leisurely pace may not be to everyone’s taste, the novel leaves no doubt that Singh is both knowledgeable and passionate about his subject matter.” The same critic concluded, “All in all, if you like your crime fiction fast-paced and focused, then Necropolis isn’t for you, but if you’re a fan of descriptive, literary writing and aren’t likely to be disappointed by unsatisfying mysteries, then you will probably enjoy this book.” Reviewing the novel in the Hindustan Times, Divya Dubey opined that “characters such as Dayal, Kapoor, and Smita are well drawn. Singh also brings several recent real-life issues in Delhi to the fore, the effort amply facilitated by his journalistic background.” However, Dubey noted that “the different cases lack substance, depth and intensity crucial for an interesting piece of fiction; the plots are sketchy, the climaxes flop. Overall,” the novel “elicits a lukewarm response from the reader.”
BIOCRIT
PERIODICALS
Hindustan Times, December 20, 2014, Divya Dubey, review of Necropolis.
India Today, August 21, 2000, Sharda Ugra, review of The Beauty of These Present Things.
Publishers Weekly, April 11, 2016, review of Necropolis, p. 40.
ONLINE
Avtar Singh Home Page, http://avtarsingh.net (February 22, 2017).
Book Reviews, http://swapnil-bookreviews.blogspot.com/ (February 14, 2011), Swapnil Warang, review of The Beauty of These Present Things.
Dawn, http://www.dawn.com/ (November 22, 2015), review of Necropolis.
Good Book Corner, https://thegoodbookcorner.com/ (October 4, 2014), author interview.
Kitaab, https://kitaab.org/ (May 15, 2015), Elen Turner, review of Necropolis.
ReviewingTheEvidence.com, http://www.reviewingtheevidence.com/ (May 1, 2016), review of Necropolis.
Scroll.in, http://scroll.in/ (November 8, 2014), Deepti Kapoor, review of Necropolis.
Avtar Singh
Avtar Singh
AVTAR SINGH is the author of The Beauty of These Present Things. He has worked as a magazine editor in Mumbai and Delhi. He lives in Delhi with his wife, son, and singing dog. Necropolis is his latest novel.
ABOUT ME
Necropolis is Avtar Singh’s second novel. His first, set in Mumbai, is The Beauty of These Present Things (Penguin India 2000). He has worked as a magazine editor in Mumbai, with Man’s World, and in Delhi, with City Limits (Outlook Group). He was Editor of Time Out Delhi, and is currently Managing Editor of The Indian Quarterly.
He has written for Seminar, Biblio, Outlook, Tehelka, GQ, among other publications. His short story “Pakeezah” features in Mumbai Noir (Akashic Books/HarperCollins Publishers India 2012). His essay “Charan Chalo Marag Gobind” is collected in Pilgrim’s India: An Anthology (ed: Arundhathi Subramaniam, Penguin/Ananda 2011). His essay “Telor Belado” is in Chillies and Porridge: Writing Food (ed: Mita Kapur, HarperCollins Publishers India 2015).
He was educated in India and the USA, and has lived in Mumbai, Goa and Delhi.
He lives in Delhi with his wife, son and singing dog.
Interview with Avtar Singh
Avtar singhAvtar Singh is the managing editor of The Indian Quarterly. His new novel, Necropolis is available from HarperCollins. He lives in New Delhi with his wife, son and singing dog.
What does it mean to be a writer?
AS: That’s a big question. I don’t particularly believe in the writer’s mission, per se. Some people (mostly self-important “authors” and other creative types) have given themselves extra weight, in that they’re performing a socially important, perhaps a societally important task. Some writers do: but not all. Not even most, in my estimation. I don’t know if that’s your question.However, what it means to me, is simple. It gives me something to do, to look forward to. I have a very complete life outside of writing; a loving family, a good job. Things I love in the world, like friends, travel, sports. But writing completes the circle, for me. It is an intrinsic part of my life, and always has been.
2. What do you do when you are looking for inspiration, or facing a writer’s block?
AS: I wait. I don’t force it. I walk around, go outside, take a walk, swim or play another sport. One of the best things I ever heard from a college professor was to let things “incubate”. If you’re engaged with a topic enough that want to write about it, then you’re already squeezing your brain. There’s no point in trying to get another few RPM out of the engine. Let it do its job.
3. Did you take any classes for your writing?
AS: Not one.
4. Name one celebrity you want as your book fan!
AS: If Amitav Ghosh were to enjoy my book, I’d be chuffed. And Arsene Wenger.:)
5. Your regular working/writing day?
AS: No such thing. I write in the time that’s available to me between being an editor, a husband and a father, an involved son.
6. A quote you swear by
AS: “Sache marag chaldeyaan, ustat kare jahaan” translated as “walk the Path of Truth which exalts us throughout the world”.
7. What is the worst criticism you were given? And the best compliment ?
AS: A review for my first book (I forget where; I must have blocked it out:)) stated that my future books would be worth avoiding as well.:) Hopefully that isn’t the case. Best compliment? I really don’t know.
8. Where do you see yourself in 10 years?
AS: Still writing, definitely. Successful as a writer? Sure. But I’m not really a careerist as a writer. Indians can’t afford to be. The number of Indian-born authors who can make a living purely as authors is minuscule. I dream of literary success (which writer doesn’t?), but it doesn’t define my vision of the future. To keep writing is more important than to be successful at it. I think success is a by-product of the process. The process is the thing to focus on, because that, at least, is within your control.
9. What writing advice do you have for other aspiring authors?
AS: See above.:)
10.What next?
AS: More books. I think you noticed that this book (Necropolis) ends on a note that encourages sequels. I don’t have one planned, but certainly there’s more to be told about Smita and Kapoor, and Razia and the DCP.
Necropolis
Publishers Weekly. 263.15 (Apr. 11, 2016): p40.
Copyright: COPYRIGHT 2016 PWxyz, LLC
http://www.publishersweekly.com/
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Necropolis
Avtar Singh. Akashic, $15.95 trade paper (288p) ISBN 978-1-61775-380-0
Someone is cutting off victims' fingers in New Delhi and vampires and lycans are suspects in this ambitious mix of detection and the supernatural from Singh (The Beauty of These Present Things). Deputy Commissioner of Police Sajan Dayal and his colleagues pursue a kaffiyeh-wearing man who may be responsible for the crimes. Razia, an ageless woman with whom Dayal becomes sexually intimate, may also be involved. Meanwhile, the DCP and his team investigate various cases, including the death of an African drug dealer and the kidnapping of a three-year-old. The crimes may all be interconnected--or not. Singh explores the treatment of women, racism, and poverty in contemporary India, but if he is raising the salient points to reflect issues of corruption and the imperial class struggle, he needs a sturdier framework. Too often, the social commentary seems as forced and convenient as the supernatural elements. (June)
In Avtar Singh’s 'Necropolis', Delhi’s ghosts join cops and criminals
Five connected criminal investigations are knitted into what feels like two novels, one overwrought and supernatural, another earthy and procedural, which can’t be separated.
Deepti Kapoor
Published Nov 08, 2014.
In Avtar Singh’s 'Necropolis', Delhi’s ghosts join cops and criminals
Baza News
For a novel so enamoured of Delhi’s past, the concerns of Avtar Singh’s Necropolis are strikingly contemporary. Indeed, the five initially distinct but increasingly connected criminal investigations, conducted by the soulful, Ghalib-quoting DCP Sajan Dayal, often read like a who’s who of the city’s criminal zeitgeist, as seen in a Times of India news report.
Gang-rape, violence against our North Eastern citizens, racism and corruption on every level all feature prominently, alongside an unhealthy roster of gangsters, vulgar new money builders, kidnapped kids, African drug dealers, sinister ministers, prostitutes, and encounter specialists. Throughout the pages, the reader’s mind filters these stories through their real-life counterparts, cases we have known, and to that extent they’re given a certain power, amplified through our own private comprehension of their horrors.
Even during the description of an unrelated violent incident, the subtle echo of one of Delhi’s dreadful events floats before us:
The lights are still on, the men still asleep or pretending to be, on their common pavement and on their individual cycle rickshaws, a scant few yards away. Somewhat further and higher, the middle-class dwellers of Lajpat Nagar slumber on, their fans and coolers and air-conditioners perhaps more of an alibi.
But surely he screams.
Echo of reality
To my mind – and that of another blind-tested with the page – the passage invokes the Aarushi Talwar murder, the specific detail of an air-conditioner hum ensuring unbroken sleep while violence is committed creating a particularly unnerving impression.
Unnerving in and of itself, but also on account of the fact that the impression arrives shortly after another, far more fantastical one has already been given, of vampires and werewolves, fetishistic finger choppers, mysterious, sexy, possibly immortal clubbers, and the aforementioned DCP who, as is frequently the case with these kinds of men, intuits his way around a crime scene.
In light of all this, it feels as if Necropolis is two novels, one overwrought and supernatural, another earthy and procedural (though it’s not as if they could ever be pulled apart, the two sides need one another to survive). Still, the success by which they synthesise depends entirely on one’s own inclination toward fantasy, generosity, suspension of disbelief, and finally to one’s identification with the pivotal protagonist, DCP Dayal.
In an introduction that echoes the Matthew McConaughey character’s behaviour at the beginning of last year’s HBO series True Detective, Dayal makes “a fetish out of reconstructing the sequence of events” and, unlike his colleagues, who merely observed the syringe and the urine stain, Dayal “caressed as if with love the syringe, almost bent to sniff at the ground”.
Some of his subordinates see him as “borderline creepy”, but to the reader, who knows better and has seen this kind of anti-hero before, Dayal is marked out as essentially special, less a part of the police force many regard as criminal themselves and more a maverick investigator in tune with the intangible, poetic elements of the universe. It doesn’t hurt that he’s handsome.
Anyway, without giving the game away, DCP Dayal investigates this series of crimes, helped along the way by the rough-edged but loyal Kapoor, a typical North Indian cop who has people everywhere and knows how to hand out a beating, and the fresh-faced cyber-crimes officer, Smita Dhingra, seconded to his unity, representing the New India, the New Feminism, and the online savvy world. Essentially it means Dayal gets to have his hunches and make his connections while Kapoor handles the lowlife and does the grunt work and Dhingra helps him navigate the highlife while making sure he’s still down with the kids.
Oh, and did I mention the mysterious Razia, aka the Colonel, aka the Vampire? The love interest, antagonist and mystery, who, it is implied (an implication that Dayal seems to accept without batting an eyelid) is hundreds of years old, as old as Delhi itself.
This might sound like a spoiler, but since it’s already written on the blurb of the book, it’s not. And because it’s written on the blurb of the book it gives an impression of the subsequent pages that doesn’t quite tally with the whole picture, with disproportionate weight handed to one of the two sides, the supernatural one, which is by far the least interesting.
Writer's tics
In fact, upon learning I was going to read about vampires, werewolves and a centuries-old love interest, I feared the worse. I feared Twilight set in Delhi (I acknowledge that for some this may not be a fear at all). Thankfully this didn’t quite come to pass. In what is a gratefully received and smart move, Razia does not remain centrestage, and when, as a consequence of this, the novel shifts into its police procedural aspects to get inside the city – a city Singh clearly knows very well – it really is quite good.
Before we go any further though, we need to talk about a major sticking point, which is the language. It’s established early on that the language of this world is heavy. Which means to object to something as simple as passing through a gate is to “demur”, while someone’s appearance is their “visage” and naïve, posturing kids are “dilettantes of delinquency”. It’s a world in which the “hysterical city”, as it observes a mini crime-wave, is “nearing spontaneous infarction”.
It’s florid and verbose, and not only does it go against the conventions of detective fiction, the hardboiled nature of which typically employs a spare, terse style, it also tends to irritate. Yet it does seem strangely appropriate for Delhi. In fact, it reminds me of the kind of “at your service” manner of an old school city restaurant, where the maître d' has swallowed a dictionary and is keen to regurgitate it for one’s approval. It’s a cartoonish tone all told, one more suitable to satire and comedy – say, something like Thackeray’s Vanity Fair or Toole’s A Confederacy of Dunces – where the characters’ pomposities are repeatedly pricked by the knowing narrator. In the case of Necropolis, it sits ill at ease, and often becomes unintentionally funny.
Another issue is the editing. Writers’ tics, which an editor should be alert to, are persistently present. I lost count of the number of times that eyebrows were raised by almost every character. It must have been more than 20 or 30; equally I lost count of the number of times the trio of investigators “chuckled” rather than laughed, a distinct choice of word that has a connotation unsuited to the material or the setting; I also lost count of the number of times a discussion with conflicting viewpoints was resolved with a joke that led to the aforementioned chuckling breaking out. There are instances too, where a distinctive word is repeated within pages – “desultorily”, for example – and sometimes within the same page. It’s sloppy and should have been caught.
I dwell on these not to be pedantic but because they get in the way of the reading experience, pulling the attentive reader out of the world that’s being created, and, in the case of Necropolis, get in the way of what does, once the whole vampire/werewolf/Razia angle settles down, in fact end up being a engaging, entertaining and fast-paced read.
Gripping passages
To the novel’s credit, as it continues it often forgets to be self-consciously wordy or literary, and when this happens, there are passages of real suspense and narrative economy. A set-piece near a dhaba during Delhi’s biting winter fog is genuinely gripping and superbly executed, as is a surprising sequence in Delhi’s forested ridge (with a prelude of questionable sexual tension), while a couple of the stories in their entirety, the second and third specifically, are thoroughly engaging, mostly because they deal with the city in the detail of its dreadful reality, rather than drifting into the (albeit structurally necessary) supernatural conspiracies that are ultimately used to bind the piece together.
Still, of these conspiracies there’s also something worthy of note. The overarching theme, if one takes the vampire to be metaphor, is of an ancient, dynastic and paternalistic group, intimately connected with the history of Delhi, gradually turning corrupt, losing touch with the reality and need of the city, and being threatened by a new wave of vigilante cum activist, starting off as a guerilla, cult movement with a single charismatic leader, before potentially rising into ascendency. Sound vaguely familiar?
All in all, it’s hard to begrudge Necropolis its faults (faults I acknowledge other may see as virtues). Structurally, with its connected episodes – which remind one of a short season of a TV drama – it’s innovative and appealing. It also defies expectations early on, exploring our fascinating, decaying and complex capital in directions interesting and unknown, long enough to keep the reader on their toes.
Deepti Kapoor is the author of A Bad Character.
Review: ‘Necropolis’ by Avtar Singh straddles various literary worlds
May 15, 2015 by Zafar Anjum 1 Comment
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By Elen Turner
Necropolis by Avtar Singh, New Delhi: Harper Collins, 2014. 268 pages.
necropolisAvtar Singh’s Necropolis is very different from a lot of English-language fiction currently emerging from India, a major strength of the novel. Part detective fiction, part literary, and incorporating much history and vampire imagery, Necropolis straddles various literary worlds.
Taking it as a mystery/crime thriller, it would be best not to give away too much of the plot in this review, as it is this that pulls the reader along. It opens with a murder—one in a string of murders—suspected to have been carried out by Delhi’s youth gangs. DCP Dayal and officers Kapoor and Smita Dhingra are on the case, and the novel follows their search for the killers. Further crimes occur, parallel or connected to the opening murder, including the killing of an African immigrant, the rape of a woman from the north-east of India and the kidnapping of a young boy from a wealthy family.
Each of these cases raises serious social problems in India—and in Delhi more specifically—which is where Necropolis becomes more than ‘just’ a crime story. The often-under-acknowledged racism of urban Indian society comes through in the treatment of the African immigrant and north-eastern migrant woman. Especially astute is Singh’s class commentary on Delhi society. Yet his critique is wry and often amusing, lighter in tone—although certainly not in substance—than much social commentary that occurs in contemporary Indian literature. One of the suspects of one of the crimes is what could be called nouveau riche, possessing plenty of money and trying very hard to be tasteful, but without a family pedigree, will never be considered the elite of this city of old money. Smita meets his wife:
“a pleasant-faced woman dressed incongruously in designer sweats, the maker’s name spelt out on her capacious backside. […] She looked like what she probably was, a nice middle-class woman with a comfortable education and a young child and another or two or three probably on the way. Twenty years ago, twenty kilometres away, she’d be sitting in a courtyward with her sari over her head. But she’s here now, thought Smita. With sequins on her ass.”
Avtar Singh
Avtar Singh
In straddling various genres, Necropolis also tries to do a great deal with its characters, and this is perhaps its weakest point. While all of the protagonists and supporting characters are believable, three-dimensional people, we do not get to know them as deeply as we might if there were fewer of them sharing the stage. This does not have to be taken as a criticism, as readers familiar with genre fiction may be more at ease with this. However, for a work of literary fiction the spread of characters—particularly in what is not an especially long novel—may be unsatisfying.
Singh creates atmosphere expertly, however. The novel’s sense of noir doesn’t end with the title. The tone of the interactions between characters is quiet yet hides dramatic undertones that exude mystery in both their imagery and their content. The impression is created that much of the action is happening on a dark, foggy (although most of it is not). Much is divulged through dialogue—plot, a sense of place—but it is carefully-crafted and natural conversation. Smita and the DCP are discussing Mehrauli, an ancient part of the city now on its outskirts, filled with crumbling ruins, and the scene of one of the crimes:
“‘It was the capital of the Rajpur kingdom that preceded the Sultanate of Delhi. When the first Sultans came, it became their capital as well. That’s why the Qutb Minar is here.’
Smita nodded, her face turned towards the DCP’s as it darkened and lightened between the glows of the streetlamps that illuminated their passage into Mehrauli.
‘Its accoutrements are all urban. It has all the markings of an imperial capital. A Jama Masjid for the people. A reservoir to provide water in bad times. A place for kings to have their graves. Step-wells for their courtiers. Homes for their merchants and their wives and slaves. This was the heart of Delhi before the rest of the world knew there was such a thing.’”
Other reviews of this novel have pointed out the title’s similarity to Jeet Thayil’s Narcopolis, suggesting that—or perhaps even accusing—Singh is somehow trying to ride upon Thayil’s shirttails of success. The novels are, however, extremely different in genre, content, style and substance, and the only worthwhile connection that should be made is that Necropolis is as strongly situated in Delhi as Narcopolis was in Bombay, and can be enjoyed as one among many portraits of a city that is as beautiful and it is sinister.
Kitaab’s Assistant Managing Editor Elen Turner is a Western New York-based editor and writer. She has a PhD from the Australian National University; her thesis looked at the contemporary Indian feminist publishing industry. Literature from South Asia is her specific area of interest, and she works for Kathmandu-based Himal Southasian magazine.
NECROPOLIS: A NEW DELHI CRIME NOVEL
by Avtar Singh
Akashic Books, June 2016
288 pages
$15.95
ISBN: 1617753807
Buy in the UK | Buy in Canada
NECROPOLIS: A New Delhi Crime Novel by Avtar Singh is an intriguing mix of history, myth and the realities of contemporary New Delhi. The lead characters include Deputy Commissioner of Police Sajan Dayal and his clever but brutish sidekick Kapoor. The DCP and Kapoor soon include Smita Dhingra, a young woman who works in cyber-crime, in their trio.
The body of a young man with myriad tattoos and piercings is found with a necklace of human fingers around his neck. And there is a gang war going on in town between werewolves and vampires. Add to this the appearance of Razia, who seems to have lived for centuries and soon becomes the love interest of the DCP.
As the trio of detectives attempts to solve this crime and a number of subsequent ones, they are hindered by the corruption of the city and state governments, while the gangs, ghosts and finger collectors muddy the waters.
The DCP is a historian of Delhi, both old and New. He and his crew negotiate around the famous Mughal tombs, the seedy suburbs and what Dayal calls”… a giant Necropolis. Entire developments raised on what used to be graveyards.” This is a pretty grim city, dark as any noir setting.
Necropolis is written for an Indian audience. Street language and cultural nuances remain unexplained. At times the North American reader will feel confused, even lost. The dialogue is often witty, the ironies amusing but hard to really understand. But if the reader does his/her research (thank heaven for Wikipedia), most of the story will come clear.
There is a reward for all the work. The ending brings the history, myth and politics together for an astonishing and satisfying ending. And for those who know New Delhi, even a bit, this will be great fun to read.
§ Susan Hoover is a playwright, independent producer and retired college English teacher. She lives in Nova Scotia.
Reviewed by Susan Hoover, May 2016
REVIEW: Delhi after dark
SAMEEN AMER — PUBLISHED Nov 22, 2015 07:20am
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Illustration by Abro
Illustration by Abro
Necropolis
By Avtar Singh
Necropolis
By Avtar Singh
Illustration by Abro
Illustration by Abro
Necropolis
By Avtar Singh
Necropolis
By Avtar Singh
GANGS of pretend vampires and werewolves roam the streets of Delhi as three cops find themselves pursuing a series of cases in Avtar Singh’s Necropolis, a crime drama that interweaves a supernatural thread into its peculiar yarn. In a literal instance of “digital crime”, an attacker terrorises the city by collecting fingers from a number of unwilling donors. His victims are “drawn from the ranks of the peripherally urban — rickshaw-wallahs, casual labourers and the like”. The perpetrator incapacitates his prey with a blow to the head delivered from behind, and then administers an injection to ensure the mark doesn’t regain consciousness, removes a finger, and bandages the hand to minimise the blood loss. Deputy commissioner of police, Sajan Dayal, a lawman “noted for his perspicacity in matters criminal”, heads the task force set up to deal with the matter. Assisting him is his immediate subordinate, “a slow-moving Punjabi” named Kapoor who is a legend in the Delhi police, and smart, idealistic young cyber crime officer Smita Dhingra.
Even though the novel commences with the discovery of the body of a young man, the thread is far from resolved. The same night that the body is recovered from a wooded area next to an old village in Delhi, the elusive Razia disappears without a trace. Known as the Colonel because of her vaguely military outfits, she is a prominent presence in the city’s nightlife, yet no photos exist of her; she may even be hundreds of years old and is suspected by some of being a vampire.
As the would-be vampires and lycans battle each other across the city, Dayal and his cohorts try to track down a specific member of the former group, a young man wearing a keffiyeh. Along the way, other cases — like the rape of a young woman, the murder of a West African drug dealer, and the kidnapping of a child — demand their attention, the resolution of these crimes often complicated by political pressures. As its criminal underbelly is exposed, the setting starts to seem more reminiscent of Batman’s Gotham than India’s capital. It’s a dark, decadent environ, rife with vice and corruption, with a bevy of bad guys causing trouble and shady characters mysteriously appearing whenever they see fit.
There is, however, disconnect between the novel’s style and content. The book finds itself battling its literary and detective sensibilities and ultimately satisfies neither. The attention wanders from the story to Delhi’s history and surroundings instead of focusing on the mystery at hand. Long-winded descriptions of the city’s past and present are peppered throughout the text, which make the narrative’s progress slow and uneven, draining the tale of much-needed intensity. Add to that the heavy prose and wordy style of writing and the book becomes a chore to read. After a while, both the style and substance start to feel repetitive.
But while its leisurely pace may not be to everyone’s taste, the novel leaves no doubt that Singh is both knowledgeable and passionate about his subject matter, and if you’d like to read about an enigmatic metropolis as it changes through the seasons, then it is this very element of the novel that you will find the most fascinating. The author also raises several social issues, with each tragedy highlighting a prevalent problem; even though the book doesn’t explore these issues in depth, it still leaves you with much to ponder.
The characters of the investigators are conventional but well crafted, although they are not as engaging as one would have hoped. Nor is there much reason to be invested in their stories. There isn’t much emotional depth to the proceedings, and it’s hard, for instance, to be interested in the drama surrounding Razia’s connection and relationship with Dayal or indeed her fate, even if what she ultimately represents is intrinsic to the story.
All in all, if you like your crime fiction fast-paced and focused, then Necropolis isn’t for you, but if you’re a fan of descriptive, literary writing and aren’t likely to be disappointed by unsatisfying mysteries, then you will probably enjoy this book.
Necropolis
(THRILER)
By Avtar Singh
Harper Collins, India
ISBN 978-9351363101
256pp.
Delhi exposed in Avtar Singh's Necropolis
The first thing that strikes the reader about Avtar Singh's novel, Necropolis, is its title - an instant reminder of Jeet Thayil's Narcopolis. The attempt at similitude is hard to miss.
BOOKS Updated: Dec 20, 2014 11:50 IST
Divya Dubey
Divya Dubey
Hindustan Times
Avtar Singh
Avtar-Singh-s-Necropolis-published-by-Harper-Collins-India-Available-for-Rs-499-PP-268
The first thing that strikes the reader about Avtar Singh's novel, Necropolis, is its title - an instant reminder of Jeet Thayil's Narcopolis. The attempt at similitude is hard to miss. Thayil's 'polis' is the city of Bombay 'which obliterated its own history by changing its name and surgically altering its face' and 'is the hero or heroine of this story'. In Singh's novel, it is Delhi and its criminal underbelly that takes centre stage.
'This city…,' says DCP Sajan Dayal, 'It's a giant necropolis. Entire developments raised on what used to be graveyards. Old villages gone, fields buried, their soil used for cement.' But implications of a graveyard-city go further: 'Djinns are still invoked in Firoz Shah Kotla... There are shops in Dariba that have been empty for generations because the jewellers believed they're cursed.' However, having raised the reader's expectations through the title, characteristic atmospherics and the introduction of a bewildering Angulimaal in a classic old-Delhi setting, Singh's narrative falls short of meeting them.
In the first chapter the dead body of a twenty-year-old man is discovered next to an old village in Delhi. There is a 'necklace of fingers' around his neck. Two gangs of youngsters at war - the Vampires and the Lycans (inspired by Bram Stoker and, more recently, Stephanie Meyer) - form the backdrop of the action, using social networking sites, the streets and metro stations for their battleground. Their leader - a young man in a kaffiyeh appears mysteriously at the site every time a crime is committed.
DCP Dayal is at the helm of the case, along with his junior colleague, Kapoor, and the smart young IPS officer, Smita Dhingra. Juxtaposed against Smita is the enigmatic and elusive Razia - a femme fatale figure who wields power over the DCP as much as over 'Delhi's own Angulimaal' whose nemesis she proves to be. Her home is almost a historical monument, being hundreds of years old; her ancestors are said to have been traitors to the cause of the 1857 revolt, and she herself appears and disappears at will - sometimes a clubber, sometimes a socialite, sometimes a minister's adjunct, occasionally an admirer of Ghalib's poetry. Except that she fails to create the same impact as Fowler's Sarah Woodruff or Capote's Holly Golightly. Rather, she comes across as a two-dimensional character lacking psychological and emotional depth.
http://i.imgur.com/TjK6Xof.jpg
Dariba Kalan in New Delhi. There are shops here that have been vacant for years because the jewellers believe they are cursed. (HT file photo)
Characters such as Dayal, Kapoor and Smita are well drawn. Singh also brings several recent real-life issues in Delhi to the fore, the effort amply facilitated by his journalistic background. For instance, the various cases the three police officers investigate include, besides a psycho collecting human digits, a rape case (the question of north-eastern women living in the capital), the murder of an African drug dealer and his girlfriend (matters of racism), and the kidnapping of a three-year-old from an extremely affluent family (intimidation or perhaps a political gambit). Singh's engagement with these issues though, remains surface-level.
While they manage to capture rapists and hunt down murderers, the kidnapping case is forced to close before the architect of the crime has been caught. It upsets the idealist in Smita, but the two senior policemen acknowledge that one of the restraining factors of being in their job is that there are certain crimes the corridors of power would rather not have them solve.
It is interesting that this novel has appeared amongst a slew of 'Delhi books' this year, including Rana Dasgupta's Capital. A cross between genre fiction and a literary work, this novel, however, does complete justice to neither. The different cases lack substance, depth and intensity crucial for an interesting piece of fiction; the plots are sketchy, the climaxes flop.
Overall, it elicits a lukewarm response from the reader.
The author is the publisher of the Earthen Lamp Journal.
Chaos chronicle
Yet another 'great Bombay novel' that oscillates between cleverness and banality.
Sharda Ugra
August 21, 2000 | UPDATED 16:20 IST
A +A -
The Beauty of These Present Things
By Avtar Singh
Penguin
Price: Rs 250
One of the most endearing qualities of the great city of Bombay is its ability to absorb and accept oddballs. Whether they be home-grown eccentrics who busy themselves burning away bits of the city's fabric or changing its name (to Mumbai), or those who arrive in huge numbers from all over India, dreaming of making it big or merely making a living.
This capacity to absorb and accept should by default also extend to the literary mini-genre spawned by the city: the Bombay novel. It is perhaps the only reasonable response to Avtar Singh's debut, The Beauty of These Present Things. The book describes the passage of a single day in the lives of an aspiring writer who sells real estate and a book editor from Delhi who tries to reach and know him through his acquaintances and scraps of his short stories.
Singh shows flashes of powerful prose, but the book is unfortunately peppered with tiresome banalites ("I get out of the cab in a sweaty mess. But it's okay. I'm cool") and what can only most kindly be called tedious guy-talk. His main protagonist, Arjun, an angst-ridden 27-year-old wannabe writer, is as interesting or memorable as angst-ridden 27-year-old wannabe writers can be.
There are rambling monologues about the meaning of life and passing rants about the crowds, the poor, the slums, the pollution and the trains. Arjun takes a passing swipe at the Big Indian Novelists, the authors of "The Romancers or the Necromancers" and "The Blue Bedlinen", and even makes a few self-referential statements about "Avtar, the only other writer we hang out with". It's all too clever by half.
Where Singh does better is with Katie Menezes, the book editor, and her encounters with Arjun's friends. The interplay of characters starts promisingly enough, well-defined etchings of people and places that soon fall into the novel's big trap: it talks too much.
Every character, situation and conversation is not played out as overplayed. Loudly. To the point where flavour gives way to flatulence. But could it all be a ploy to shadow Bombay itself, the city where nothing is subtle and everything is "in-yer-face"? It's a wiseass book but not quite that wiseass.
Monday, February 14, 2011
The Beauty of These Present Things
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BOOK REVIEW “THE BEAUTY OF THESE PRESENT THINGS”
Author: Avtar Singh
Genre: Fiction
Language: English
Pages: 239
Cost: 250 Rs.
Publisher: Penguin Books
First Published: 2000
The Beauty of These Present Things is a first novel from Avtar Singh. Novel is portrayal of young aspiring writer’s life in contemporary Mumbai. The book is sarcasm which is enduring quality of aspiring Indian youngsters.
An editor in a publishing firm Katie try to track down aspiring young writer Arjun because she has some time in her hand on her visit to Mumbai. Arjun had sent her some short stories and she sensed promise in him so she decides to meet him. In the process of tracking down Arjun she meets some people who are Arjun’s friends or he knows them. And she surprised to know that Arjun had used all these people as characters in the short stories he sent her. His stories were based on these people lives and characters weren’t fictional but real and interacting with her. So she $is increasingly drawn into Arjun’s world. She finds him more and more interesting, and eager to meet him. Meanwhile, Arjun, unaware that Katie is looking for him, pursues his daily routine. As usual he is working as a real-estate agent.
This is the story of just one day —19 May 1999. Filling 239 pages exploring just one day is amazing. Book is simple and free flowing; it is neither idealistic nor cynic. If I have to rate this book I will give it 6 out of 10.