For this Live Review, I am reading The Devil is a Black Dog. The author faced with the choice of writing fact or fiction, decides against both. Instead, ‘…he combines fact and fiction to create a profoundly true portrait of humanity…’ There is another book which would be placed right next to this one if bookstores were perfect, Bullets and Bylines by Shyam Bhatia. It is written by a journalist (Same as Sandor’s) and is set in Kabul, Delhi and beyond (Sandor writes from Middle east and beyond). Both are similar but Shyam Bhatia sits himself at non-fiction and Sandor, fiction. And none I would recommend more than the other. I guess what might help you decide is that one peeks into history and the other into life.
Till Chapter 5 (The Devil Is a Black Dog) 6/11/20
I have always thought war is set in dry wastelands with smoke rising from the horizon. And gunshots would ring your ears as men run around with guns. Well, I guess I was wrong. Sandor’s world is not sucked to its bone. Instead it is dripping with fresh blood. People are dead, but they are not lying around as sacks, instead you feel like life hasn’t really left them and it sitting right, there struggling to find its way out.
He sets his stories/reality under blood colored moonlight, the water he drinks is cold and dark green, the hills are red with caves looking like gaping mouth of corpses (with actual corpses inside them). Dogs have mated with jackals and drink blood out of thirst. It is a perfect recipe for a book of horror, except it is someone’s reality. I guess it was easier for me to imagine war as a lifeless fixture. But this book has changed that, telling me that people go on to lengths to survive and that is scary. I guess the chapter ‘Professional Killer’ describes this best. A crow who doesn’t want to die, instead of running away from its assassin, it ‘looked right at me, its eyes black as buttons’ and ‘hobbles our way, dragging its limp wings behind, the wound in its neck dripping blood don the feathers of its breast’
Now I am going back to the book. And since it the weekend, I might finish it sooner than I thought. But type in what are your thoughts in the comments below.
Till Chapter 10 (Registration) 8/11/20
I am not going to quote anything this time. Even though many, many words and phrases are still ringing in my head. I can probably rid myself of it, if I spill it here. But I am not sure if I am ready to see it manifest anywhere outside the book. Because that would be releasing the monster from the book, I am happy I can lock it in by closing the book itself. Nevertheless, for those who still haven’t picked up the book, or waiting for it to get delivered, do not let this act as a warning. Infact, it seems to be all the more reason to read it. Also, cross my last statement that I would recommend the book Bullets and Bylines under the same breath, because I will not. This is better, juicer, bloodier and oddly applicable to our mindless lives. If there wasn’t so much blood, this could easily place itself in some nook of a self-help bookshelf.
In the chapter ‘The First’, I couldn’t help but sigh as I read that the weather is scorching hot. Maybe I had been seeing the colors too vividly and death too lively. But as I went along, thankfully I am not wrong. Because it seems that the heat is feeding the story rather than shriveling it up. Sort of like boiling rice grains if you will.
Back in Class 12, I wanted to be a journalist. It was less about playing a role in the society, helping people, etc. and more about getting out of Bhubaneswar and have your name appear in small, unnoticeable letters on the newspaper. But if asked, I always claimed otherwise. The author doesn’t claim any of that. Instead he and his counterparts are explicit about not giving shit. Everything but that. He is worried about his video game when a newly hired editor, sensitive about a woman’s death asks him for advice. And another photojournalist, Marosh, screams bullshit at the quote ‘No Picture is Worth a Life’. And as the chapter progresses, you see him act exactly so. He chooses clicking the picture, over saving the life of the woman and the child. It is not odd since it has been already established how little value human life has during a war. You can only sympathize with Marosh, even if you feel like whining about it.
The reason I came to halt after Chapter 10, is because how annoyingly Chapter 11, End of the World is written. It feels like I am being whisked around in his world with his hand tight around my elbow. 'You were up in the hills...', 'you will swallow...', 'you knock at headquarters...', etc. I guess he caught his reader lazing around on the bed and occasionally gasping, squirming, teething and digging his nail into the pillow, and now he wants you to JOIN HIM. And I am not sure about that. But I guess it is fair he demands this from us.
So, see you soon, after the ride. If some empathy falls out of my pocket sitting behind him, let me know.
Till the End (12.11.20)
I tried reading Chapter 11, really tried. At different hours of the day, mornings, afternoons and even nights. But I couldn't finish it. My phone strangely sent twice as many notifications during this chapter. There are books written in first, second and third person. This is another version, not sure what to call it. I would prefer to be a spectator to be honest, especially in his world of war and blood. So thank you, next.
It seems our protagonist instead of warming up, he turns colder. We know for one that he is quite shabby when making a killing, like when he shot the crow. And now the same happens to the people he runs over. He coldly turns his back to Marwan and Rania. Both die with tortured hopes given by him. The most painful to watch was his attempt to turn his back to Bootsi i.e. probably a symbol for his relationship with his dad. The Vet turns him away, so he abandons the dog at some random place and when he returns, he shoots an axe on it's head. Even that doesn't work.
In the Chapter 'The Desert is Cold in the Morning' we peek into his life, and I guess the making of this book. His literary editor rejects one of his short story since he inaccurately claims deserts are not cold in the morning. It is probably the point where his book pivoted from non-fiction to fiction. Frankly I hope most of the stories are false, even if they gave enough fodder for this amazing book.
Finally like every good book, a ray of hope falls upon him. But in this case a sliver, thread like. Him meeting Sanders. For the first time our protagonist knows his ailment, that he is dead. The reasons splattered all across the book, but Sanders puts out the conclusion. With this, there is hope for both of them as they finally decide to date. And then, keeping up with the momentum of the book, she too dies. But probably saving him and not putting him out of sleep like the other deaths.
I cannot believe the reason I bought this book is because it was on sale at the bookstore. Buy 5 for 555, and I was one short and was basically forced into buying this. If you are not from Bhubaneswar, buy it straight from the publisher, because oddly it is more expensive on Amazon (last I checked).
Anyway, if it isn't clear, in a 'Live Review' we review a book as we read it. This is enjoyed best if you are reading along with us. Comment below what do you want us to read next, together.
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