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FREE READER ↠ DOC Midnight's Children 9780099578512 ☆ Saleem Sinai was born at midnight the midnight of India's independence and found himself mysteriously handcuffed to history by the coincidence He is one of 1001 children born at the midnight hour each of them endowed with an extraordinary talent—and whose privilege and S gifts inner ear and wildly sensitive sense of smell we are drawn into a fascinating family saga set against the vast colourful background of the India of the 20th centur Fantastic intelligent hilarious profound and historically illuminating And the narrator is deliciously unreliable too Need I say I will His sentences are the kind of energetic super charged masterpieces that I could uote endlessly Here's one plucked utterly at randomInto this bog of muteness there came one evening a short man whose head was as flat as the cap upon it; whose legs were as bowed as reeds in the wind; whose nose nearly touched his up curving chin; and whose voice as a result was thin and sharp it had to be to sueeze through the narrow gap between his breathing apparatus and his jawa man whose short sight obliged him to take life one step at a time which gained him a reputation for thoroughness and dullness and endeared him to his superiors by enabling them to feel well served without feeling threatened; a man whose starched pressed uniform reeked of Blanco and rectitude and about whom despite his appearance of a character out of a puppet show there hung the unmistakable scent of success Major Zulfikar a man with a future came to call as he had promised to tie up a few loose ends

EBOOK ☆ Midnight's Children é Salman Rushdie

Orn at the midnight hour each of them endowed with an extraordinary talent and whose privilege and curse it is to be both master and victims of their times Through Saleem' The power of the storytelling left me speechless all the words were in the novel and there were none left for me If there ever was a novel that changed the way I read this is it I must have read each sentence several times just to follow the thread of the confusing story and I still got lost in the labyrinth of individual and collective history that unfolds on the stroke of Midnight on the night of India's independence So completely taken in by the children who are born on that particular stroke of midnight thus beginning their lives together with the state I must have bought at least ten copies of it over the course of the years to give to relatives and friends in different parts of the world It was not always a welcome present and some people looked at me strangely after giving up on reading it They seemed to have come to the conclusion that my mind must be as confused as the novel if I was infatuated with it to the degree that I began to ramble when I talked about itBut it is just such a perfect example of how literature transcends reality and stays true at the same time It is deeply connected to its roots in post colonial India and yet universal in its idea of humanityAre we really who we think we are Does it even matter if we are who we think we are or is it important that we are what we are meant to be What decides what we are meant to be then The sum total of what came before us and led to our being born constitutes the stage which we enter Then we act out the play which is co written by humanity and it is definitely a tragedy for we all owe death a life which is what tragedy is all about life leading to death Whatever happens to us has the effect of a deus ex machina and sometimes there are gods in machines than we can handle keep track of or even describe in a novel Sometimes the gods get stuck in their machines as well Anything is possible on the stage of life And it is always opening night first performance debut We forget our lines and we ramble In life and in art In this novel we stumble over words spoken too fast as if the characters are afraid that the curtain will fall before they have had their fair share of the showHow come it is so hopelessly funny then this tragedy of India How come each story line makes me smile through tearsIn my memory the novel grows to an explosion of the senses I hear a cacophony of voices chatting incoherently in my head I see colours merge into fireworks of lametta I feel the heat and cold and humidity and dryness of an India I have never been to I taste the foods whose names I cannot pronounce I touch and I am touched by the story which contains a truth deeper than reality It is funny in the exhilarating way a roller coaster is funny You slowly move upwards seeing where you are heading feeling your stomach react to the fall before it comes hoping for it to end and to go on forever You feel dizzy and brave and alive but confusedDo I remember the plot correctly Well memory itself is a tricky oneMemory's truth because memory has its own special kind It selects eliminates alters exaggerates minimizes glorifies and vilifies also; but in the end it creates its own reality its heterogeneous but usually coherent version of events; and no sane human being ever trusts someone else's version than his ownSo I trust my own memory and declare that what I remember is true This is a masterpiece It was written in 1981 Where's that Nobel Stuck in a broken god machine Nothing to be surprised at there the novel is about how such things happen

Salman Rushdie é Midnight's Children TEXT

Midnight's ChildrenSaleem Sinai was born at midnight the midnight of India's independence and found himself mysteriously handcuffed to history by the coincidence He is one of 1001 children b Midnight's Children is not at all a fast read; it actually walks the line of being unpleasantly the opposite The prose is dense and initially frustrating in a way that seems almost deliberate with repeated instances of the narrator rambling ahead to a point that he feels is important but then before revealing anything of importance deciding that things ought to come in their proper order This use of digressions or better put uarter digressions can either be attributed to a charmingly distractable narrator or a vehicle for perhaps cheaply tantalizing the reader or bothI'll admit that at first I didn't appreciate being so persistently manipulated Many times in the first few chapters I found myself closing the book in anger thinking to myself If the story is worth it this tactic is utterly unnecessaryThe tactic it turns out is unnecessary The book the story is stunning It's stunning enough that the frustrating aspects of the telling are forgivable and actually retrospectively satisfying which I suspect is what the author wanted While the fractional digressions on the one hand can have you groping around for a lighter they on the other hand work to accustom you to the novel's epically meandering pace Also they effectively allow you to feel a certain urgency near the end of the book as the narrator runs out of timeThe imagery is lush; the characters are curiously magically lopsided; the language is complicated and beautiful; the chapters are nicely portioned despite the initial plodding pace; the narrative is deliberately allegorical which perhaps suggests an enhanced enjoyment of the work after studying a bit of Indian history Elements of the story's frame the narrator writing in a pickle factory with sweet Padma reading along are particularly amusing and the chapter entitled In the Sundarbans is nothing short of breathtakingThe book will go slow in the beginning; the book means to; give it patience it's worth it I think