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Archive for February, 2010
The City and The City and The City #2 – Chennai
February 28th, 2010 | 
Author: 
Jayne, the Chennai Live FM presenter interviewing China Mieville and Mark Billingham, is asking, "first three words you think of when I say Chennai". China: Lovely smell, humid. Mark: Quieter than Delhi.
Me: Fantastic power shower. Better then sleep, the plumbing in the Taj hotel belts out hot water from two shower heads so hard you forget you've just arrived and are running on caffeine. Sadly Denise Mina will not arrive in time for the day's programme after a storm and horrendous delays in Dubai en route. But the show must go on and first order of the day is a recorded interview at Chennai Live. Mieville and Billingham have hit it off immediately and the hour crackles with the energy of a burgeoning double act. There is talk of werewolves and vampires, and the Twilight series, aka "Pretty Sparkly Vampire Boy". The protocols of genre fiction come up several times during the day and will form the framework for the discussion in the evening at Landmark: listen to some audio from this here tomorrow.
There is a time for a quick visit to the Spencer shopping mall where I linger for a while to see the climax of a press-ups competition which promises its winner 65% off selected items. I am offered pimple cream and essential oils in the chemist before I'm allowed to pay for my razors and shaving foam, then it's off to the beautifully refurbished British Council centre where China and Mark do some press interviews for the Hindu and The Times of India.
Mark: Literary fiction is always measured by its very best. Genre fiction is always measured by its very worst. It's not a fair fight.
China: From constraints comes creation…
Early evening and we're with writer Shreekumar Varma for an event at the Landmark bookstore, which ends with a rush of questions and a scrum for signed books. Asha and Rajani from the British Council in Chennai then take us out for idli and dosa and vada, all pancakey variations on a delicious theme. I'm warm and full and the promise of sleep edges out the chance to see the beach.
Next stop: Bangalore
Posted in 
Photos from Chennai
Mark Billingham and China Mieville in the Chennai Live radio studio
…on to the British Council offices for newspaper interviews…
…a quick breather…
and a tour of the newly refurbished British Council Chennai centre with Communications Manager, Rajani Rajan
…then The Thrill of The Unknown aka Masters of The Unknown at the Landmark Bookstore
…and a mad rush afterwards for book signings
And all made possible by the three British Council Chennai goddesses Rajani Rajan, Asha Balaji, V Bhuvaneswari
The City and The City and The City #1
to a dazed stillness before the chaos of wind;
in the small rain something fierce stirs
the river's grim, single-minded currents, furrowed
by history's keel, trawled by the spinning sleepers
fallen to its revolving arms
Mark Billingham – From The Dead
Mark Billingham, who begins his Lit Sutra India tour today, has very kindly sent us a message from India – and an excerpt from his new novel, From The Dead:
Rob Lewis’ blog – The Girl at Lahore Gate
It didn't hit me until I was nearing the end of my stay. It was something, in retrospect, which I had been as worried about as food poisoning or diarrhea or Delhi-belly. It was in Old Delhi where I caught it, just outside the Lahore Gate of the Red Fort, where the flag of independent India had been raised for the first time. I had already walked the unbelievably claustrophobic streets of Chandi Chowk and its narrow alleyways, and I had thought if it was going to get me anywhere, it would be there. But it didn't, and I guess I let my guard down. I was waiting to be picked up by my private driver just next to the subway on Netaji Subhash Marg and a young girl came up to me in colourful but ragged clothes holding a baby boy in her arms. She said nothing. She just stood there. And I gave her money, slightly more than is customary. Certainly not enough to financially affect me in any way, I can tell you that, but more than would be expected. And she smiled, and told me she spoke Italian, German, Spanish and Chinese, as well as Hindi. It was an acknowledgement that this was what she did for sustenance. Almost certainly she was a professional beggar and possibly one that was pimped. This knowledge, which I accepted in retrospect, was not a truth that made me feel any better.
Lit Sutra visits the Forbidden Planet
The Lit Sutra visit to India this week of China Mieville, Mark Billingham, Denise Mina and Andy Diggle has been featured on the blog site of Forbidden Planet, the largest cult megastore in the UK (and a favourite haunt of mine as a student in London back in the day). Lit Sutra welcomes visitors from the Forbidden Planet!
Jake Arnott – Fleeting Glances, Kolkata & Chandigarh
Jake Arnott
My first time in Kolkata and I have a deranged sense of nostalgia: the air of faded grandeur in the old city, the ghost of my great grandmother, an Anglo-Indian who married a harbour official here in 1897. Passing as white, passing by. The colonial splendour of Calcutta University, the post-colonial splendour of the bright young students of its English department. Walking around the massive book market with Debanjan Chakrabarti from the British Council who was a student here. We go to the Coffee House and he orders mutton sandwiches for old times sake. He shares his memories and his mutton sandwiches and I tell him of my forgotten family history. He takes me to the last place in Kolkata that serves Anglo-Indian specialties. I have Kobiraji Cutlet, sort of chicken schnitzel with mustard sauce.
China Mieville – Kraken
China Mieville, who begins his Lit Sutra tour at the end of this week, has kindly given us an exclusive excerpt from the beginning of "Kraken", his new novel, out this May:
"The sea is full of saints. You know that? You know that: you’re a big boy.
The sea’s full of saints and it’s been full of saints for years. Since longer than anything. Saints were there before there were even gods. They were waiting for them, and they’re still there now.
Saints eat fish and shellfish. Some of them catch jellyfish and some of them eat rubbish. Some saints eat anything they can find. They hide under rocks; they turn themselves inside out; they spit up spirals. There’s nothing saints don’t do.
Make this shape with your hands. Like that. Move your fingers. There, you made a saint. Look out, here comes another one! Now they’re fighting! Yours won.
There aren’t any big corkscrew saints any more, but there are still ones like sacks and ones like coils, and ones like robes with flapping sleeves. What’s your favourite saint? I’ll tell you mine. But wait a minute, first, do you know what it is makes them all saints? They’re all a holy family, they’re all cousins. Of each other, and of… you know what else they’re cousins of?
That’s right. Of gods.
Alright now. Who was it made you? You know what to say. Who made you?"
Rob Lewis’ blog: The Shatabdi Express
Melvin Burgess’ blog: Last Day in India
Wednesday 18th February – Kolkata. Last day in India.
There have been two bomb blasts in India since I've been here – 3 days, kinda explains why the cricket team are reluctant to come here – and much hair tearing about relations with "Pak,", which is popularly held to blame for the whole thing. I'm told I have to arrive two hours before my internal flight to Delhi, which is turned into over three by my hosts wanting to make sure everything is all right. As in the UK, this leaves me hanging around for hours and hours with nothing to do I finally get into Delhi at ten, and off to the Shangri la Hotel and a bed as big as a swimming pool. But no one to go diving in it with..
Next morning, Arnab's little yellow pills have worked and I've finally had a good night's sleep, but I'm still tired. I lounge around all morning before setting out on a day of tourism. I have three free days here, according to my schedule – free all day Tuesday (today), one event in the evening on Wednesday and then I leave on Thursday at 3am for Vilnius. From sun to snow. As you can imagine, my packing was murder.
