Book review: Empire of the Moghul

(Published in the Business Standard, September 3, 2009)

Empire of the Moghul: Raiders from the North
Alex Rutherford
Hachette, Rs 495, 434 pages


In a classic essay on Babur, Amitav Ghosh wonders: “What made him pen this immense book [the Baburnama] and how on earth did he find the time? Between the moment when he gained his first kingdom at the age of 12 and his death 35 years later, there seems scarcely to have been a quiet day in Babur’s life. His first kingdom was the only one he didn’t have to risk his life for: he inherited it from his father, a scion of a dynasty that was far richer in aspiring rulers than in thrones.”

In the course of his life, Babur won, lost and consolidated kingdoms, struggled in his early twenties with exile; as a young emperor, battled homesickness as he reviewed his conquests in India; and courtesy his unusually candid autobiography, revealed more of himself than elaborate court records reveal of his Mughal successors. All of this makes him the instinctive choice for the ambitious historical novelist, and with a planned cycle of five novels spanning the Mughal empire in the Empire of the Moghul series, Alex Rutherford is nothing if not ambitious.

Rutherford reveals little of his identity, beyond the fact that he lives in London, but in an afterword, his passion for history comes through: “I’ve visited nearly all the places important to Babur’s story. His ancestral kingdom of Ferghana…. is still a place of apple, almond and apricot orchards, with beds of juicy melons the size of footballs. I’ve slept in [the herdsmens’] conical felt tents, eaten their root vegetables, mutton and buttered rice, which would have been so familiar to Babur, and drunk the fermented mare’s milk that warmed him.” This is an almost familiar voice, combining a journalist’s curiosity with the trained or serious amateur historian’s eye for detail, and it promises much for the series.

Raiders From the North begins with the 12-year-old Babur witnessing the death of his father, Umair-Shaikh, killed in the collapse of his dovecote as the doves flutter “in the air like snowflakes” above the royal corpse. Babur’s adolescence is a tricky period for a novelist to cover; deprived of the intense, honest and almost chatty voice that informs the pages of the Baburnama, Rutherford must fall back on invention, and he struggles just a bit as the young boy-king attempts to handle intrigue, wicked viziers and the ambitions of his uncles. But Rutherford establishes much in the first few chapters, as Babur dons his father’s sword, Alamgir, but not the armour (“still too wide for him”) and prepares to claim one kingdom and hold on to another. He sets out the young king’s ambition, his fierce allegiance to the Timurid line, the deep but strong bonds between him, his sister Khanzada, his mother and his grandmother, Esan Dawlat, descended from Genghis Khan’s line.

At sixteen, Babur had attacked, won and lost Samarkand—and lost his own kingdom, Ferghana. At nineteen, he regained Samarkand, only to lose it again to Shaibani Khan. At twenty-two, he had captured Kabul; at 29, after briefly conquering Herat and being hailed as a saviour in Bukhara, Babur once again held—and once again lost—Samarkand. This final loss obliged him to turn his attention elsewhere; the prince without a kingdom found his way to India, and by the time of his death at 47, he had defeated the Lodis, demanded the allegiance of many of the Rajputs, and was emperor of India.

To cover this territory, Rutherford must use his licence to fictionalise, allowing us to see Babur through the eyes of Wazir Khan, Baisanghar and a market boy called Baburi. Through Wazir Khan, his father’s trusted lieutenant, we see Babur as a mentor would see him; through Baisanghar, commander of Babur’s army, we see the emperor as his soldiers would see him, and through the heavily fictionalised character of Baburi, we see Babur as a man caught between the driving force of his ambition and the constant presence of disillusionment. The pace is fast, and Rutherford carries off the battle scenes with élan, while his understanding of the landscape brings Babur’s story to life. The dialogue, so often the heart and the Achilles heel of historical novels, flows well but can sometimes retreat into stilted High Speech.

But while Rutherford doesn’t—yet—have the soaring imagination and absolute precision of a George R R Martin, or the finesse and depth of a Philippa Gregory, Raiders From the North deserves its position on the Indian bestseller charts. In a country saturated and steeped in history, we have so few good popular historical novels. We could debate the use of “Moghul” over “Mughal”—“Moghul” carries the faintly imperial hangover of out-of-date colonial textbooks—and occasionally question whether the characters are richly enough drawn.

Despite these quibbles, Raiders From the North is an excellent opening shot, miles better than the average page-turner. Whoever Alex Rutherford might be, he’s set the bar high for his next four novels—and this reviewer, for one, looks forward to the rest of the quintet.

The BS column: Teenage wasteland/ What to read before you get old

(This is a longer version of this week's Speaking Volumes column, carried in the Business Standard, September 1, 2009)


Teenagers watch movies and play online games, but they don’t read any more. Today’s children aren’t interested in books. Familiar complaints, often voiced in “readers are an endangered species” arguments, but they miss two crucial points.

Most literate cultures lose readers in the teenage years. Though most teens continue to be highly connected to reading, narrative and textuality—through Twitter, social media networks, graphic novels and comics, films, and new technospeak argots, they seem to move away from books.

In India, we could hardly complain that teenagers don’t read any more, if we had so little to offer them to read. But there’s been a sharp shift over just the last few years, though, with writers like Siddharth Sharma (The Grasshopper’s Run, which blends action adventure and contemporary history), Shazia Omar (Like a Diamond in the Sky--crossover fiction) and others joining writers like fantasy veteran Samit Basu, who has considerable crossover appeal, or Paro Anand and Anshumani Rudra, whose writings increasingly appeal to teens.

This week, four publishing insiders share their views on the young adult writing scene in India: Thomas Abraham, Managing Director, Hachette India; Sayoni Basu, Publishing Director, Scholastic India; Anita Roy, Commissioning Editor, Zubaan Books; and Sudeshna Shome Ghosh, Editorial Director, Puffin Books.

Is there a growing demand for young adult fiction?

Sayoni Basu (Scholastic): There’s a very definite age group between the Enid Blytons, Nancy Drew and the Sidney Sheldons! To an extent, the classics fill that gap, but that gets quite boring. Young adults—roughly between the ages of 14-18, have their own interests and issues--first love, growing up, career choices--which few children's or adult novels deal with. So they’re looking for reading that’s greater in complexity and ideas than a children's book--but that’s still not quite about marriage or jobs or suchlike.


Sudeshna Shome Ghosh (Puffin): Young readers want books that are written for them and that feature their thinking; Puffin is actively looking to commission original fiction for this segment.

Anita Roy (Zubaan): There is undoubtedly both a need and a demand for YA Fiction - you only have to look at the sales for this sector to know that it's healthy and growing. The growth has been a relatively recent phenomenon - previously you just had "adult" and "children's" literature: the huge commercial success of writers like J.K. Rowling, Philip Pullman and Stephanie Jordan has been due, in no small measure, to the fact that their series have been read by adults as well as kids. They have pioneered the term "cross-over fiction." If you're a pessimist, you might put this down to the fact that adults are less inclined to read serious, grown-up, 'high' literature in the modern day, and see this as a kind of 'dumbing down' of literary tastes. If you're an optimist, you could see this - as I'm more inclined to do - as the fact that really good writers are telling really gripping stories which appeal to readers regardless of their age.


Thomas Abraham (Hachette): We’re seeing a huge sales spurt in this category, but that’s fuelled by one or two series—Stephenie Meyers’ Twilight series, the House of Night series. These are huge phenomena worldwide, but the rest of the category is as dead as it always was. We have a whole imprint that caters to YA with top notch writers in it like Jordan and Scott Card, but these don’t sell at all. So one is faced with the old problem that once teenagers cross the 15+ threshold (with rare exceptions), we seem to lose them where leisure reading is concerned (to parties, internet, hangouts, TV?). A lot come back when they are early 20s mainly for non-fiction that ‘must be read’ (read career advancement reading which will include some trade reading too that will stand them in good stead in interviews), but this at one level is the biggest demographic challenge being faced today by the Indian trade publishing industry. Children’s writing is seeing a sort of resurgence, but unless we have initiatives to get the teen segment reading for pleasure, this whole young populace that we’re rolling out in economic surveys (50% of India is below the age of 30 etc) will be a non-reading population even if it is a literate one.

What does this age group want to read? And what challenges do Indian writers face?

Sayoni: Parents are still uncomfortable with the idea that their children might be interested in knowing about sex or relationships. I find it quite interesting that some school teachers have no problems with Mills and Boon but do with Judy Bloom. I think the 12 to 18 year-old has any many diverse interests as an adult. So a similar range of genres, and perhaps themes and treatments that are more relevant to their lives. Also stories which relate to their lives or stories with protagonists of a similar age group.

Sudeshna: We’re looking at books that are based on the reality around us today—relationships, friends, peer issues--or at highly popular fantasy adventure books. Suchitra Krishnamoorthi’s Swapnalok Society series, for instance, are set in a residential society in Mumbai and follow the trials of a group of children 12 years and over. Faces in the Water by Ranjit Lal, set in modern Delhi, offers a surreal take on female infanticide.

Anita: Basically, good writing. Sounds simplistic, but it's the only answer I can really come up with. Stories which capture the imagination, and don't talk down to the reader; strong characters, gripping plots, books which reflect young lives and are not afraid to tackle difficult subjects. There has been much hand-wringing in the West about the very dark and difficult books which feature on today's YA lists - The chair of judges and the Guardian's children's books editor Julia Eccleshare says of this year's Guardian Children's Book Prize: "This longlist shows there is absolutely no subject which children's authors aren't willing to tackle... there is nothing which is not capable of being dealt with in a children's book."
Indian writers, I feel, too often hamper their own creativity by deciding what 'can' and 'can't' be written about for children. And publishers, too, prejudge what will get past the "gatekeepers" - librarians, teachers, parents - which can lead to erring on the side of the 'safe'. I see signs that in the next few years, however, we'll see more and more writers and publishers taking risks - and those leading to a healthy crop of Indian books for young adults which challenge, delight, disturb, entertain and provoke. The field is wide open right now, and the next few years are going to be exciting!

Thomas: Vampire and paranormal romance fiction has obviously sunk its teeth in! Abroad, this category offers perspectives on growing up and discussions on major political and social themes. We have, for instance, Arjun Rao’s Third Best coming out, a gritty, almost hard boiled look at life within a residential school that we will market to teens. Unfortunately, the top teen bestsellers would probably still be the guides to SAT, and IIT-JEE etc. Leisure reading needs to catch up.

Recommendations, aside from books already mentioned: Ranjit Lal: The Battle for Number 19, Paro Anand’s Weed and No Guns at My Son’s Funeral, Kavita Daswani: A Girl Named Indie, Michaela Clarke: The City of Jewels, Siddhartha Sarma: The Grasshopper’s Run, Subhadra Sen Gupta: Double Click, Arun Krishnan: The Loudest Firecracker (disclaimer--this was commissioned and published by Tranquebar, my former publishing house) and the works of writers like Samit Basu, Payal Dhar, Sarnath Banerji, Amruta Patil.