"... I am a writer of histories... Where will I put the story that Baudolino told me?" [Niketas]This is how Umberto Eco finishes his novel "Baudolino"--just by admitting that "I am that someone (of course, a great liar than Baudolino) who has now told you the great story of Baudolino, which, in turn, is a great lie". Thus he joyfully laughs at himself, and once again reinforces his concept of a novel. For, I remember him saying in "The Name of the Rose" that he (or the narrator in that story) was writing it, claiming to be based on a true historical event but without assuming the narration to be historically true, to enjoy the sheer pleasure of writing. But, at the same time, both his stories named above are very beautiful, investigating on the deep nature of human beings--their love, deception, hatred, jealousy, lust for mysteries etc. And in every aspect these novels are more than imaginative: they are brilliantly intellectual. And this is why I love his novels. I believe that this philosopher-cum-medievalist-cum-semiotician-cum-novelist has written five novels, and I, having finished "Baudolino" this week, am already feeling an internal urge to read all his other works.
"Nowhere. The story is all his. And anyway, are you sure it is true?" [Paphnutius]
"No. Everything I know I have learned from him, as from him I learned that he was a liar." [Niketas]
...
"It was a beautiful story. Too bad no one will find out about it." [Niketas]
"You surely don't believe you're the only writer of stories in this world. Sooner or later, someone -- a great liar than Baudolino -- will tell it." [Paphnutius]
"Baudolino" is the story of Baudolino, who lived in twelfth century as an adoptive son of the emperor Frederic, and his mysterious ventures. Specially, he ventures deep into Asia, probably into India, to find a lost Christian kingdom of "Prester John". Baudolino is an intelligent, learned, widely read man, who easily learn any language--a skill that helps him wander into the unknown places. His most celebrated talent is the ability to tell lies so convincingly. Maybe, Umberto Eco means that he was a great story teller. Anyway, the novel is written as is told by Baudolino to Niketas. While reading, like "The Name of the Rose", I was thrown into an unknown medieval world. In this novel also, again as in "The Name of the Rose", the main character (Baudolino) walks through a lost, ancient, underground cemetery, where dead bodies of monks are kept. That was a beautiful moment of the novel.
This weekend, I also finished another novel from another exceptional novelist, which I was reading in parallel with "Baudolino". It was "Snow" by Orhan Pamuk. Unlike "Baudolino", which takes place in twelfth century, in the medieval Christian world and Asia (or India?), "Snow" is set in Kars, a remote city in Turky, in the modern times (90's), in the modern Muslim world. The story is based on the headscarf issue in Turky, and, more than that, it talks about IDENTITY. Yes, a conflict of identity between the Western and Muslim worlds. The perspective of radical Islam is portrayed well. I, being from India, can see the point, and, after reading the novel, have started doubting my own identity as an Indian. To what extend am I really Indian, or Malayalee, for that matter, vis-a-vis am I influenced by Western thought? I don't know. As always, I find an excuse for my ignorance: I am not so intelligent to answer this (any) question.
In "Snow", the author starts narrating the story of his poet friend, Ka, who ventured to Kars to meet the woman of his dreams, Ipek, and to propose her. He is then caught in the political and social issues in Kars. Finally, the author, Orhan, himself becomes a part of the story and talks to us as a character in the story. This was very beautiful. Furthermore, to my surprise, and to provoke me to remember my own opinion on Eco's concept of a novel, a character, Fazil, in "Snow" tells the author, Orhan:
"If you write a book set in Kars and put me in it, I'd like to tell your readers not to believe anything you say about me, anything you say about any of us. No one could understand us from so far away."To this, the author replies:
"But no one believes everything they read in a novel."My question: does the author imply that the entire novel was a lie that he created out of his imagination to say something that he wanted to say (of love, deception, jealousy, identity, Western vs Islamic)?
Lately, I have started coveting to become a man, a BIG liar, who can imagine a lot, who has a repletion of words in his consciousness, and to write great stories.... My god (though I am an agnosticist in theory and atheist in practice, to tell a lie), if I were to become so!!!
