In 'The Casual Vacancy', Rowling infuses a certain sense of Slytherin realism, in Pagford, the setting of this novel, writes Revathi Siva Kumar.
The biggest strength and the weakest flaw of The Casual Vacancy is the fundamental fact that it has been authored by J K Rowling.
Brand Rowling has thus driven the book to rank among the top in the bestseller's charts, with 1,25,000 copies sold in the first week — an enviable readership for a debut 'adult' book. It captured the literary, critical circuit with the kind of highbrow reviewers' attention that is tough for a first book to dream about, let alone draw.
However, after the initial interest, it seems to be Disadvantage Rowling, with the inevitable comparison and contrasting with the Harry Potter series that every reader, adult and young, would make. To the eager reader primed for some magical Rowling ambience, if not real magic, in the muggle world, the book comes as a bit of a cold shock, with its sordid set of events that have few, if any, redeeming features.
This backdrop, of course, has driven most of the international reviews of the book so far. The New York Times has penned a scathing critique, for instance, while most other critics are mixed in their reactions. But even after getting primed by the critics, the reader cannot help gasping at this story of the mean, small world of Pagford, inspired by Rowling's own West County.
The author has mentioned that her book is Austenian in its leanings. But there is none of the gentleness of irony and tolerant, if sharp, eye of Jane Austen. Instead, the book is closer to the harsh world of William Makepeace Thackeray in its caricaturing, pessimism and wry cynicism.
What makes the reader cringe is not just the realism, but the special brand of Slytherin realism, which Rowling seems to have bent backwards to create and sustain in her hothouse Pagford. Through the local setting, she turns the spotlight on her socio-political, therefore, global world — which is dark, suspicious, and hissing with the venom of a Nagini-like character in every person.
Once you accept this Rowling reality, however, you can sit back and 'enjoy' — if that is the word — this postmodern saga of depression, negativity and abuse. Rowling calls it a tragicomedy, but surely, it is more like Fitzgerald in its heavy social satire, almost black humour. The characters are not unidimensional, but carefully crafted and explored with believable psychological moorings.
The plot involves a wide range of characters in Pagford, who take some time to become familiar due to the sheer number. The people can be loosely classified — but not slotted — into different sections according to economics and age — the rich moneybags, the conservative middle-class and the poor scum; and the smug middle-aged, the confused teenagers and the victimised children.
The intersection points of these layers make for some interesting conflict points, and when the inhabitants of the rigidly stratified societies cross their boundaries, they stand out either due to their evil intent and actions, or due to the rare gesture of courage or goodness.
There are a few bridge characters who try to help the others, such as the Parish Councillor, Barry Fairbrother, who is the closest approximation to a 'good' man in the book as you can get. However, he is killed right at the outset, and his memory overlays the book to throw the rest of the cast in sharp and sordid relief. After his death, a seat in the council becomes vacant.
The plot then revolves around two key points — after Fairbrother's death, who should become the Parish Councillor? And should the Fields, the poor local council estate, remain part of Pagford or not?
There are three candidates who stand for elections, and none of them are worthy successors, either in character or intent. As the incidents unfold through seven parts, you almost know the outcome too: harsh exposure and relentless condemnation. One of the candidates is a petty thief, another has paedophilic fantasies, while the third has had an illicit affair.
The teenaged children of the candidates go on an online drive revealing the secrets of their parents on the Parish Council online forum, ruining their campaign. The events are searing and indicting, but by the end of the book, there are one or two acts of altruism and courage that help to bring together some of the various factions, and the final scenes are somewhat reconciling, if not redeeming.
While the first death unleashes the latent hubris, overreaching ambition and petty intrigues of the Pagford residents, the last death brings them all to a flashpoint and begins to turn the tide in favour of self-introspection and inner change.
However, the overall rating would be above average. The reason for that is the brilliance of plot, tight control over the characterisation and the techniques the author has employed to make her story close to life. Hence, the paedophiles, addicts, abusers, whores, pimps, sadists and masochists in the book are examined in their motives and understood with compassion and understanding, if not affection.
Rowling's, the master of plot, characterisation and storytelling manages to keep your attention riveted and emotions engaged. The reader might feel saddened, even repulsed, by the narration, but the book definitely succeeds in enabling the reader to experience whatever she is aiming for.
The biggest strength and the weakest flaw of The Casual Vacancy is the fundamental fact that it has been authored by J K Rowling.
Brand Rowling has thus driven the book to rank among the top in the bestseller's charts, with 1,25,000 copies sold in the first week — an enviable readership for a debut 'adult' book. It captured the literary, critical circuit with the kind of highbrow reviewers' attention that is tough for a first book to dream about, let alone draw.
However, after the initial interest, it seems to be Disadvantage Rowling, with the inevitable comparison and contrasting with the Harry Potter series that every reader, adult and young, would make. To the eager reader primed for some magical Rowling ambience, if not real magic, in the muggle world, the book comes as a bit of a cold shock, with its sordid set of events that have few, if any, redeeming features.
This backdrop, of course, has driven most of the international reviews of the book so far. The New York Times has penned a scathing critique, for instance, while most other critics are mixed in their reactions. But even after getting primed by the critics, the reader cannot help gasping at this story of the mean, small world of Pagford, inspired by Rowling's own West County.
The author has mentioned that her book is Austenian in its leanings. But there is none of the gentleness of irony and tolerant, if sharp, eye of Jane Austen. Instead, the book is closer to the harsh world of William Makepeace Thackeray in its caricaturing, pessimism and wry cynicism.
What makes the reader cringe is not just the realism, but the special brand of Slytherin realism, which Rowling seems to have bent backwards to create and sustain in her hothouse Pagford. Through the local setting, she turns the spotlight on her socio-political, therefore, global world — which is dark, suspicious, and hissing with the venom of a Nagini-like character in every person.
Once you accept this Rowling reality, however, you can sit back and 'enjoy' — if that is the word — this postmodern saga of depression, negativity and abuse. Rowling calls it a tragicomedy, but surely, it is more like Fitzgerald in its heavy social satire, almost black humour. The characters are not unidimensional, but carefully crafted and explored with believable psychological moorings.
The plot involves a wide range of characters in Pagford, who take some time to become familiar due to the sheer number. The people can be loosely classified — but not slotted — into different sections according to economics and age — the rich moneybags, the conservative middle-class and the poor scum; and the smug middle-aged, the confused teenagers and the victimised children.
The intersection points of these layers make for some interesting conflict points, and when the inhabitants of the rigidly stratified societies cross their boundaries, they stand out either due to their evil intent and actions, or due to the rare gesture of courage or goodness.
There are a few bridge characters who try to help the others, such as the Parish Councillor, Barry Fairbrother, who is the closest approximation to a 'good' man in the book as you can get. However, he is killed right at the outset, and his memory overlays the book to throw the rest of the cast in sharp and sordid relief. After his death, a seat in the council becomes vacant.
The plot then revolves around two key points — after Fairbrother's death, who should become the Parish Councillor? And should the Fields, the poor local council estate, remain part of Pagford or not?
There are three candidates who stand for elections, and none of them are worthy successors, either in character or intent. As the incidents unfold through seven parts, you almost know the outcome too: harsh exposure and relentless condemnation. One of the candidates is a petty thief, another has paedophilic fantasies, while the third has had an illicit affair.
The teenaged children of the candidates go on an online drive revealing the secrets of their parents on the Parish Council online forum, ruining their campaign. The events are searing and indicting, but by the end of the book, there are one or two acts of altruism and courage that help to bring together some of the various factions, and the final scenes are somewhat reconciling, if not redeeming.
While the first death unleashes the latent hubris, overreaching ambition and petty intrigues of the Pagford residents, the last death brings them all to a flashpoint and begins to turn the tide in favour of self-introspection and inner change.
However, the overall rating would be above average. The reason for that is the brilliance of plot, tight control over the characterisation and the techniques the author has employed to make her story close to life. Hence, the paedophiles, addicts, abusers, whores, pimps, sadists and masochists in the book are examined in their motives and understood with compassion and understanding, if not affection.
Rowling's, the master of plot, characterisation and storytelling manages to keep your attention riveted and emotions engaged. The reader might feel saddened, even repulsed, by the narration, but the book definitely succeeds in enabling the reader to experience whatever she is aiming for.