‘One Bright Summer Morning’ is one of James Hadley Chase’s best books I think. This prolific and wonderful story teller had his books marred by skimpy babes on the rather lurid covers. One reason why your hand extended to pick them up; one reason why you hesitated to hold them aloft while reading them as a teen.
Yet, his books have been the most captivating, delving deep into criminal minds, their impulses and of course, mostly always they got their just desserts. But the story telling and the plots were without exception masterly and Chase is an un-anointed classic story teller about the darker side.
Last week at my friendly neighbourhood bookshop, ‘Words and Worths’ I stumbled upon these books with lurid covers, with production values akin to pirated versions that you see on pavement vendor’s shelves and uneven, uneasy fonts/production values.
Curiosity got the better of me (the same curiosity that helped me discover and buy Ashok Banker’s ‘Ten Dead Admen’/’The Iron Bra’ and ‘Murder & Champagne’ as a set of three for a sum of Rs.50 many years ago), especially since the author of these obviously crime novels with was Dr. L. Prakash, the doctor who is counting his time behind bars in a pornography case. Below his name is the blurb “India’s Most Prolific Author” attributed to Outlook.
The back covers are very candid. They carry his photograph as well as a brief profile and his life imprisonment and the fact that he ‘scribbles away’ his novels in Puzhal Prison. And his publisher? – Banana Books based in Triplicane.
Curiosity won. The books were expensive, for their kind of quality, close to about Rs.200 each. I fell into ‘Tangled Web’ a narrative about a new kid in town, the murder of a starlet and a whodunit that echoed a ‘Chasey’ feel. Curiously, the language was clumsy, but the plot and narrative held together in a strange atmosphere of suspense. Words were used wrongly in contexts; crème substituted cream in one place and automotive substituted automobile. But in our very Indian way, one understood the substitutions and went on with it. The plot stood the test of suspense and held on to the very end. You even kind of empathized with the hero, who actually is not very likeable; hoping he would get out of his entanglement. All very evocative (mind you nowhere near the class or the mindgames that Chase novels depict) but somewhere, I should say reminiscent.
I have just begun his next ‘Maybach Maiden’(yes, that is the title) which unsurprisingly is about a Gutka/Paan Masala tycoon who gifts his daughter a Maybach – rings a bell?
The point of this blog actually, is that all this made me curious about James Hadley Chase. Now Dr. Prakash’s understanding of crime and criminals in his novels one supposes, were enhanced by his time in prison. Making you wonder if Chase himself had a brush with the law? Or was he ever in law enforcement? How else could he figure out a Riff and a Chita or a Helga Rolfe?
I googled – he seemed to have been a very reclusive writer. One interesting fact I found is that some part of his young life he spent in Calcutta.
Now only his books with the dated babes on the cover stand out. Btw, invariably the babes are the only sex that the books see. Chase’s novels invariably are clinically criminal.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Tomorrow is another day
Faith makes no connections
My good friend and designer is lucky in his BSNL connection. I keep telling him that. He speaks of his broadband, its speed and the fact that it has so far, not let him down. I keep reiterating that he is lucky and now I know – he is lucky.
Now most of us, for sheer value of getting some reaction if not service for money’s worth, do prefer to engage with the private sector. So it is that my broadband and the mobile connections of various family members are from private operators. While I am not saying that their service is fantastic, a combination of low expectations and the fact that some amount of threat (“I will go to consumer court.”) or coaxing (“Please, please… er… that’s begging) can get some reaction out of them.
Try that with the EB/BSNL/etc and you will know what I mean. So it is better to give them a wide berth or so one thought. But of late, my private operator’s undersea cables, poor guy, is giving him problems, and of late has been a good three weeks. One working day saw the internet down, another saw it slow, and so on and so forth. Not a good thing, since our life’s revenues these days are driven on the net, and in hindsight, perhaps an alternate source of internet would be good as standby, was the thought that drove my next move. I mailed back a BSNL franchise who had sent me a mass marketing mail (after deep thought, of course – for one knows that service or what I call reaction, cannot be that bad, can it, esp. since the marketing blitz that one sees with the svelte Deepika on TV and newspapers).
So reacting to the marketing mail of the BSNL franchisee in T. Nagar, I mailed – they came after two weeks after a little bout of reminder calls. No big deal, since we are used to begging for service anyway (the fact that we pay for such favours has nothing to do with it). After my gentle reminders, a gent called saying he needed two passport photos and two documents, one verifying that I was indeed who I claimed to be and the second, that I lived where I claimed to live. Since all this ID verification has now become part of our existence, I had the stuff ready when he arrived and proceeded to fill up one of the boxed forms that are now the norm.
Once that was done, he gave me the particulars and then… hold your breath… asked for cash. I said crossed cheque or no deal. This confused the gent a bit who made a flurry of calls and then decided that he wanted my money after all, no problem if the bank got it straight. He alertly reminded me that I will not get my object of desire until my money is in the franchisee’s bank. Whatever, I said, but tell me how it goes and deliver my USB modem and post paid connection.
About three days later, checking my online resources thanks to good ol’ SBI, hurrah! I discovered that the franchisee had got his monies, but as usual, his memory was a bit weak. So I made my gentle reminder call and the person in charge, of course was not available, until my voice got a bit sharper, and then of course he was there apparently and he came on the line.
I explained and he was kind – if the money has come in, the USB should be with me that very evening. No issues I said equally kindly, but time, we all know does get a bit elastic and it was the next day evening that the thing actually made its tired way to my home. How exciting. They gave me what looked like a DVD case with a nice blue background and a pretty Deepika Padukone surfing on some laptop wearing a net or crocheted top. Pretty cool.
It’s all done and ready, said the chap who delivered. The seal in the box was broken and the modem loaded with the SIM - we check it before we give it to you, said he. After verifying my identity(my driver’s license this time), it was time for the big logon!
The modem looked sleek and I was keen to do a Deepika. (Do remember it’s thanks to BSNL that she delivered some baby in the back of boondocks in some advert, so it felt all very positive.) Besides, the top of the box said in nice bold letters – BSNL 3G, a generation ahead. I plugged in the USB and feeling all generation ahead, installed it. Very efficient. All things done, I pressed ‘connect’.
This was the beginning of a long series of disappointments. While the thing behaved very positively saying ‘port opening’ and then ‘authenticating’ and then… dial in failed. Being completely a citizen of my country and of course, therefore, not unused to working my fingers off for every facility that I pay for, I tried and tried. Then, I turned the box over to look for a helpline number. Na da.
Never mind. I had my local BSNL number and the trusty chappie answered, giving me the helpline number. Helpline said that my SIM had not been registered and gave me some steps to do (don’t want to bore you now, if this, like a formulaic Bollywood hit hasn’t bored you already), and asked me to try a couple of hours later.
Na da.
Another call.
Chappie says, your SIM is not registered.
I say I have BSNL receipt.
He says na da. So he says where buy?
Franchisee.
Oh, they can’t sell you post paid.
But they did and I have Bharat Sanchar Nigam receipt no so so.
I don’t want your receipt number, go to nearest BSNL.
Check your system.
Ask your franchisee.
All the above conversation is in Tamil.
He is determined not to let go of the fact that it is not his duty.
Of course, I am the customer and it is my duty to give up.
I duly do so.
Then he switches to English and says,
Anything else ma’am.
Now I get a bit sarcastic. What else would I want I ask him.
It doesn’t register with the parrot.
He says in well modulated English,
Thank you for your call madam,
Have a nice time.
I laugh out aloud but he is impervious. Happy with a job done, he disconnects.
Oh well.
Tomorrow is another day.
Scarlett was so right.
My good friend and designer is lucky in his BSNL connection. I keep telling him that. He speaks of his broadband, its speed and the fact that it has so far, not let him down. I keep reiterating that he is lucky and now I know – he is lucky.
Now most of us, for sheer value of getting some reaction if not service for money’s worth, do prefer to engage with the private sector. So it is that my broadband and the mobile connections of various family members are from private operators. While I am not saying that their service is fantastic, a combination of low expectations and the fact that some amount of threat (“I will go to consumer court.”) or coaxing (“Please, please… er… that’s begging) can get some reaction out of them.
Try that with the EB/BSNL/etc and you will know what I mean. So it is better to give them a wide berth or so one thought. But of late, my private operator’s undersea cables, poor guy, is giving him problems, and of late has been a good three weeks. One working day saw the internet down, another saw it slow, and so on and so forth. Not a good thing, since our life’s revenues these days are driven on the net, and in hindsight, perhaps an alternate source of internet would be good as standby, was the thought that drove my next move. I mailed back a BSNL franchise who had sent me a mass marketing mail (after deep thought, of course – for one knows that service or what I call reaction, cannot be that bad, can it, esp. since the marketing blitz that one sees with the svelte Deepika on TV and newspapers).
So reacting to the marketing mail of the BSNL franchisee in T. Nagar, I mailed – they came after two weeks after a little bout of reminder calls. No big deal, since we are used to begging for service anyway (the fact that we pay for such favours has nothing to do with it). After my gentle reminders, a gent called saying he needed two passport photos and two documents, one verifying that I was indeed who I claimed to be and the second, that I lived where I claimed to live. Since all this ID verification has now become part of our existence, I had the stuff ready when he arrived and proceeded to fill up one of the boxed forms that are now the norm.
Once that was done, he gave me the particulars and then… hold your breath… asked for cash. I said crossed cheque or no deal. This confused the gent a bit who made a flurry of calls and then decided that he wanted my money after all, no problem if the bank got it straight. He alertly reminded me that I will not get my object of desire until my money is in the franchisee’s bank. Whatever, I said, but tell me how it goes and deliver my USB modem and post paid connection.
About three days later, checking my online resources thanks to good ol’ SBI, hurrah! I discovered that the franchisee had got his monies, but as usual, his memory was a bit weak. So I made my gentle reminder call and the person in charge, of course was not available, until my voice got a bit sharper, and then of course he was there apparently and he came on the line.
I explained and he was kind – if the money has come in, the USB should be with me that very evening. No issues I said equally kindly, but time, we all know does get a bit elastic and it was the next day evening that the thing actually made its tired way to my home. How exciting. They gave me what looked like a DVD case with a nice blue background and a pretty Deepika Padukone surfing on some laptop wearing a net or crocheted top. Pretty cool.
It’s all done and ready, said the chap who delivered. The seal in the box was broken and the modem loaded with the SIM - we check it before we give it to you, said he. After verifying my identity(my driver’s license this time), it was time for the big logon!
The modem looked sleek and I was keen to do a Deepika. (Do remember it’s thanks to BSNL that she delivered some baby in the back of boondocks in some advert, so it felt all very positive.) Besides, the top of the box said in nice bold letters – BSNL 3G, a generation ahead. I plugged in the USB and feeling all generation ahead, installed it. Very efficient. All things done, I pressed ‘connect’.
This was the beginning of a long series of disappointments. While the thing behaved very positively saying ‘port opening’ and then ‘authenticating’ and then… dial in failed. Being completely a citizen of my country and of course, therefore, not unused to working my fingers off for every facility that I pay for, I tried and tried. Then, I turned the box over to look for a helpline number. Na da.
Never mind. I had my local BSNL number and the trusty chappie answered, giving me the helpline number. Helpline said that my SIM had not been registered and gave me some steps to do (don’t want to bore you now, if this, like a formulaic Bollywood hit hasn’t bored you already), and asked me to try a couple of hours later.
Na da.
Another call.
Chappie says, your SIM is not registered.
I say I have BSNL receipt.
He says na da. So he says where buy?
Franchisee.
Oh, they can’t sell you post paid.
But they did and I have Bharat Sanchar Nigam receipt no so so.
I don’t want your receipt number, go to nearest BSNL.
Check your system.
Ask your franchisee.
All the above conversation is in Tamil.
He is determined not to let go of the fact that it is not his duty.
Of course, I am the customer and it is my duty to give up.
I duly do so.
Then he switches to English and says,
Anything else ma’am.
Now I get a bit sarcastic. What else would I want I ask him.
It doesn’t register with the parrot.
He says in well modulated English,
Thank you for your call madam,
Have a nice time.
I laugh out aloud but he is impervious. Happy with a job done, he disconnects.
Oh well.
Tomorrow is another day.
Scarlett was so right.
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