What We're Reading

Sacred Games

Author: Vikram Chandra
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
$27.95 Cloth (916 p.)
ISBN: 9780061130359
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Reviewed by Sarah Buck, Continuations Bibliographer

I picked up this book for its uniqueness: an Indian gangster novel. This book could have been something campy, but it's far from that. It is instead a work of writing that in places penetrates the soul. Only two characters need to be mentioned in this review: Ganesh Gaitonde and Sartaj Singh. The sudden death of Ganesh (the gang leader) is the center of the story, and Sartaj is the police officer working on his case. This is not a fast-paced action novel. It does, however, contain descriptions of cinematic scope, much like that of a well directed Hindi film.

There is a glossary at the end of the book, but it does not include most of the Hindi words peppered throughout the book. I was lucky, though, because I sat next to a man from Punjab while I read. Rather than balancing the 3.4 pound book on my knees to flip to the back to learn the meaning of a word that might not even be there, all I had to do was turn to my friend and say, "what's a chappal?" But even my Punjabi friend didn't know all the Hindi terms in the book. One day I opened Sacred Games in the waiting room of a car dealership, and an Indian stranger was delighted to hear me ask the definitions of cardinal swear-words.

The author switches between a narrative voice and the first person voice of Ganesh Gaitonde. I have a problem with this intrusive voice of Ganesh Gaitonde: he sounds an awful lot like the narrator. He's lyrical in his descriptions (just the same way the narrative voice is), and though it's very pleasant to read, it breaks the verisimilitude of the book.

This is a book driven by characters. In the beginning, Sartaj Singh's lonely character is real and likeable. Ganesh is vibrant and there's nothing stereotypical about him; he's not a tough-guy gangster. He's more like a kind and intelligent businessman. His plans, his investments, and his decisions and their outcomes are fascinating. He is the one orchestrating the games.

Here are some of my favorite samples of Chandra's writing from the book:

. . . an insult can live inside a man for a long time, burrowing like a tiny pin-headed worm and getting thicker and longer until it is wrapped through his gut and squeezing and squeezing (111).

But custom floats between men and women, it hides in the stomachs of children and escapes and expands and vanishes in every breath, you cannot kill it, you cannot hold it, you can only suffer it (247).