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Arts
Friday, March 13, 2015 — 5
BOOK REVIEW
Poignant, political
‘Civilizations’
Mohsin Hamid’s
new collection of
essays offers cultural
critique
By KARL WILLIAMS
For The Daily
Pakistani novelist and essayist
Mohsin Hamid’s (“The Reluctant
Fundamentalist,” “How to Get
Filthy Rich in Rising Asia”)
newest
book
“Discontent and
Its Civilizations:
Dispatches
from
Lahore,
New York, and
London”
is
a
collection
of
essays
written
over
the
last
15
years.
Referencing
Sigmund Freud’s
seminal
work,
“Civilization and
Its Discontents,”
Hamid’s book concerns itself
with the various moral, political
and aesthetic problems in post-
9/11, globalized society.
Although
originally
from
Pakistan,
Hamid
has
been
frequently displaced: he has lived
invariably in New York, London
and
Lahore.
Displacement
features heavily in his essays;
displacement is a primary feature
of the “brutal phenomenon”
called
globalization,
which
“brings us mass displacement,
wars,
terrorism,
unchecked
financial capitalism, inequality,
xenophobia, climate change.”
Home
has
become
an
increasingly problematic notion
and
increasingly
difficult
to
define.
Hamid
himself
declares that he has “always
felt (himself) a half-outsider.”
However, Hamid notes that
cultural
delineations
have
become illusory as that brutal
phenomenon
has
grown
in
compass:
“Yet
what
are
these
civilizations, these notions of
Muslim-ness,
Western-ness,
European-ness, American-ness,
that attempt to describe where,
and with whom, we belong? They
are illusions: arbitrarily drawn
constructions
with
porous,
brittle and overlapping borders.”
This theme permeates each
of the essays in the book and
provides
Hamid’s
greatest
insights. In moments like these,
Hamid’s voice reaches a pitch
where its power soars. There is
profundity without grandiosity,
bravery without imprudence.
Pakistan, both its political
aspects and its personal impacts
on the individual, is the subject
of about half of the essays in
the book. As both a Pakistani
and a Muslim, Hamid is at his
best when analyzing his birth-
country and his religion. Hamid
fiercely
combats
the
inane
representations
of
Muslims
that are frequently perpetuated
in the West: “There are more
than a billion variations of lived
belief among people who define
themselves as Muslim — one
for each human being.” He
emphasizes that religion isn’t a
collective experience; it is reified
by the individual. He denounces
Islamophobia, and declares it
as illogical and repugnant as
racism.
Islamophobia
denies
hybridity, variation and agency
among every one who considers
themselves a Muslim. It abstracts
the individual from their own
humanity and homogenizes them
into a whole, thereby erasing
what makes them human. The
logic of Islamophobia doesn’t
make sense, “For individuals
are undeniably real. Groups, on
the other hand, are assertions of
opinion.”
In the titular essay, Hamid
elucidates
the
mythological
and
utilitarian
qualities
of
civilization: “They (civilizations)
allow us to deny our common
humanity, to allocate power,
resources and rights in ways
repugnantly
discriminatory.”
The notion of civilizations as
disparate, dichotomized entities
allows phenomena like slavery,
genocide and colonialism to
occur. It allows the innocent
deaths of hundreds of Pakistani
civilians at the hands of U.S.
drones with barely a quiver of
anger in the West while the vapid
words of a pop star can cause
eruptions of mass outrage. It is
the conceptions of difference
that create conflict, not inherent
human difference. Hamid fights
for humanitarian ideals in his
essays, and he does so with prose
that is utterly persuasive and
with a voice that seems to carry
the truth.
While Hamid plays the role
of political dissident frequently
throughout his collection, he
also plays a multitude of other
roles: student, aesthete, father,
moviegoer, etc. The collection
does not always hold the severity
and gravity of his political essays.
There are lighthearted stories
here too, such as one where he
makes Toni Morrison pasta or
another where his first child is
born. His views on life and art
are interesting as well, although
undoubtedly not as fascinating as
his political commentary.
Not
only
does
he
dispel
political myths, but he tears down
the edifice of an infamous literary
myth: the Great American Novel.
Propelled by the question of the
Great American Novel written by
a women, Hamid finds that the
categorization of literature into
neat boxes opposes literature’s
purpose. Hamid writes, “It’s
a mistake to ask literature
to reinforce such structures.
Literature tends to crack them.
Literature is where we free
ourselves.” The Great American
Novel is an impossibility because
literature destroys the artifice
that creates ideas like American-
ness
or
European-ness.
Literature doesn’t create the
borders of exclusion; it destroys
them.
Hamid’s collection of essays
displays a trenchant skill at
cultural
analysis.
He
writes
with a pen that cuts through
the illusory and exclusionary
demarcations of culture. He
advocates for the individual and
the humanitarian. Hamid is a
brave and acute writer, and these
essays are ample evidence.
He tears down
the edifice
of the Great
American Novel.
Discontent
and Its
Civilizations:
Dispatches
from Lehore,
New York,
and London
Mohsin Hamid
Riverhead Books
February 24, 2015
The importance of
realism in film
FILM NOTEBOOK
By BENJAMIN ROSENSTOCK
Daily Arts Writer
As cinema evolves, movies
seem to increasingly aim for
realism. In 2014 alone, we’ve
seen “Wild,” a movie that guides
the
audience
through
every
grueling
moment
of
Cheryl
Strayed’s 1000-mile journey. For
every
breakneck
blockbuster
like
“Edge
of
Tomorrow,”
there’s a slower-paced movie
like “Happy Christmas,” which
uses Joe Swanberg’s signature
improvised dialogue. Even the
sci-fi flick “Coherence” aims for
naturalism — director James
Ward Byrkit let his actors play
off each other without a script,
and some of their frightened
reactions are legitimate. Still, the
film that most people recognize
as an accurate depiction of
reality is Richard Linklater’s
“Boyhood.”
“Boyhood”
is
such
an
important
film
because
it
eschews plot almost entirely in
favor of the day-to-day. In a time
when filmmakers are pushing
the boundaries of what film can
do, the most experimental thing
to do, ironically, is portray life
realistically. There’s one 2014
film that does this even more
than “Boyhood,” though: “The
Strange Little Cat.”
Directed, written and edited
by
Swiss
filmmaker
Ramon
Zürcher, “The Strange Little
Cat” tells the story of one day
in a cramped Berlin apartment.
Starting in the morning and
ending in the evening, the movie
is
essentially
plotless;
over
the course of the afternoon,
extended
family
members
arrive and join in what seems
to be a casual family dinner
party. There’s Mother (Jenny
Schily,
“Sleeping
Sickness”),
who spends most of the movie
staring into space, suggesting
some sort of inner turmoil that
never gets explained. There’s
Simon (newcomer Luk Pfaff)
and Karin (Anjorka Strechel,
“My Friend from Faro”), the two
visiting older siblings, and Clara
(Mia Kasalo, “Die Kinder meiner
Tochter”), a little girl who
screams whenever the coffee
grinder turns on.
Many viewers might be bored
by the movie, considering there’s
pretty much no conflict. Luckily,
at 72 minutes, it feels pretty
tight and short, and in that short
amount of time, the film is able
to do some really fascinating
things.
“The Strange Little Cat” isn’t
interested in the passage of time
and change like “Boyhood” is,
but it’s intrigued by finding the
mystery and oddity in mundane
moments. Mother tells a story
about a man in a movie theater
whose foot rested on hers without
his knowledge. Karin tells a story
about flicking pieces of orange
peel, which always land with
the white side facing up. These
are simple, ordinary things that
happen, but the way the stories
are articulated, there’s a sense of
strangeness, of otherworldliness.
It sounds pretentious to say that a
movie explores the beauty in the
mundaneness of everyday life,
but that’s really what this does.
Rather
than
switching
between characters during a
dialogue, Zürcher usually keeps
the camera focused on one
person: the listener, more often
than not. It feels psychologically
probing,
and
the
characters
become incredibly intimate to us
just because we’re seeing them
in an unusual position. Modern
cinema
has
shortened
our
attention spans and allowed our
eyes to dart between all the faces
in the room in any given scene, so
it’s refreshing to see the camera
remain on one person for a long
period of time.
There’s one character in the
film, Jonas (newcomer Leon
Alan Beiersdorf), a young cousin
who stands in doorways and
just observes everything else
going on with a blank look on
his face. As undeveloped as the
character is, I felt a kinship with
him as I watched the long shots
of his unchanging expression.
It
reminded
me
of
every
Thanksgiving — the moments
when I’d lean against the wall
and watch my family hurrying
around the house in the early
afternoon,
preparing
dinner,
sometimes stopping to socialize,
conversations peppered with big
guffaws or small chuckles. No
other film in recent memory has
captured watching and listening
as well as “The Strange Little
Cat.”
Sometimes it seems like we
always think of life in such broad
terms. When we watch our movies
or TV and read our books, we look
for commentary on big, important
concepts like love, hate, God, war,
success and failure. It makes sense
that we’d want a movie to give us
a new perspective on something
important, but too often, that
makes us forget everything else.
Things like a stranger’s foot or the
white side of an orange peel may
seem inconsequential, but they
become important through the
sheer amount of space and time
they take up in our lives.
I think that’s why I loved
“Boyhood,” and why I love “The
Strange Little Cat.” These films
seek to illuminate the parts of life
that we never bother exploring
because we’re always concerned
with bigger things. Sometimes,
though, we need to just pause and
take everything in.
MUSIC NOTEBOOK
Background music?
By CLAIRE WOOD
For The Daily
Oftentimes, music sits in the
background. It plays, and we lis-
ten — but not really.
Sometimes, that’s where it
belongs. While it may not seem in
the background (frat grooves tend
toward the rambunctious side), 2
a.m. party tunes certainly don’t
take the forefront of our minds.
Take Ke$ha, for instance. The
only discernible impact of her
2012 release “Timber” is a mys-
teriously intense desire to jump
up and down repeatedly. Jason
Derulo contemplates how women
“fit all that in them jeans,” and
the Spice Girls announce that
they “really really wanna zig a zig
aaah.” What is zig-a-zigging, any-
way? No clue, but the beat is fun
and the melody is catchy, so we
dance.
Don’t get me wrong — I love
the latest pop. And it’s no secret
that college life is stressful. With
packed schedules, tough academ-
ics and social lives, sometimes the
only thing we want is to “Wiggle,
Wiggle, Wiggle.” The Top 40 has
flashy percussion and singable
lines, and it’s just what we need.
That’s what it’s there for: enter-
tainment.
And then, out of nowhere, some
songs hit you square on.
The first time I heard Mackl-
emore’s 2012 single “Same Love,”
I was pulling into an H.E.B. park-
ing lot.
“America the brave still fears
what we don’t know.”
I’m stuck — transfixed. I sit in
my car, pulled between the paint-
ed yellow lines, listening. Mackl-
emore has caught me off guard.
It’s a simple sentence, yet the
potency is overwhelming. There
is a beautiful juxtaposition to the
work — gentle piano, soft drum,
mellow vocals against scathing
words. “Have you read the You-
Tube comments lately?” Mackl-
emore asks. “The holy water that
you soak in has been poisoned,”
he warns. “Press play, don’t press
pause,” he commands. His words
sting with truth.
“Same Love” criticizes public
social norms and questions the
righteousness of our morals. The
lyrics impress on us to act. Mackl-
emore doesn’t zig-a-zig with the
Spice Girls or question female
curvature with Mr. Derulo. He
sends us a message.
Two years later, Hozier shocks
pop culture with his 2014 release
“Take Me to Church.” The sound
is as enticing as any chart-climb-
ing hit; the lyrics, however, define
it as more. “Every Sunday’s get-
ting more bleak / a fresh poison
each week,” Hozier sings. We
hardly recognize the bitterness
beneath the rhyming parallel-
ism. “I’ll worship like a dog at the
shrine of your lies” — and we hear
it again: a sharp religious criti-
cism masked by a groovy beat and
strong vocals. Low piano backs
accusations of “poisonous” cor-
ruption. Denunciation of reli-
gious deceit spills over tapping
percussion.
It is this meaningful quality that
makes “Same Love” and “Take Me
to Church” more than background
music. They are not meant for late
night dances or for the bar on the
corner. These songs stop small
talk. They make you hush your
friends and turn up the volume.
They make you sit extra long in the
grocery store parking lot because
Macklemore is speaking, and you
certainly aren’t about to leave.
Macklemore and Hozier are
not alone. Artists across the world
challenge us with their works.
Nina Simone requested freedom
in 1967, wishing to “break all the
chains holding me.” John Len-
non called for a new world in 1971,
directing us to “Imagine all the
people, living life in peace.” It’s the
difference between Carly Rae Jep-
son’s “Call Me Maybe” and a call to
action. Some songs sing — not to
make you jump up and squeal, but
to make you stand up and speak.
COLUMBIA RECORDS
So an Irishman walks into a bar ...