~ How to Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia, by Mohsin Hamid ~
I am left curiously pleased and yet discontented by Mohsin Hamid’s third novel. Hamid seems to have come to fame as a result of his 2nd novel. The Reluctant Fundamentalist, which is written in the same edgy way as this latest one, but in truth, I do prefer Moth Smoke, his debut novel. There was something incredibly searching about Moth Smoke, searingly honest, wrenchingly candid. It discussed the overwhelmingly important issue of class in Pakistani communities, discussing too associated issues of power and privilege and dispossession. It came across as very much a contemporary of Kamila Shamsie’s Kartography – also set in a Pakistani community and exploring those same themes, of class above all, privilege, class chasms, home and diaspora – but Moth Smoke had a very masculine take, a rugged complement to the elegant, whimsical, lyrical Kartography.
Both those novels charmed me, but How to Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia – intentionally I am very sure – deliberately set out to disconcert rather than charm. The most significant relationship in the book is actually that between the author and the reader, which is made over and explicit, unlike most novels. Yes, many novels have omniscient narrators that directly address the readers occasionally, such as Charlotte Bronte’s memorable, “Reader, I married him.” We readers are used to asides, where the author suddenly takes over from the omniscient narrator, and talks to us directly. And we are trained to trust this voice, to regard it not just as reliable, but practically infallible.
However, this novel goes much further in utilizing this literary device: this novel in entirety is an address to the reader AND to the protagonist. The double address (exploiting the singular and plural ‘you’ and using ambiguity to slide seamlessly from one to the other) is an extremely clever derivation of the original literary device of direct address. It has the curious outcome of simultaneously seeming to invite intimacy and yet holding not just the reader at a distance from the author, but also detaching the reader from attachment to the characters.
In a sense, a review should provide a synopsis of the plot, the story line. And this plot is straightforward enough[SPOILER ALERT!] – village boy moves to city, falls in love, gets an education, starts his own business, learns how to wheel and deal in corruption, becomes ‘filthy’ rich, marries (not the original lover though!), has a son, expands business, estranged from wife and divorced, falls ill, is defrauded, reunited with lover in old age, dies. Believe me when I tell you however, the plot is the least significant aspect of the novel. This is a novel about style, and tone, and concepts, and social satire and comment. The characters are rendered abstractions, never even named, mere puppets, performing for your and my benefit in that we may have an illustration of the truths the author/omniscient narrator is persuasively telling us. But the novel never for a moment slips into righteousness or takes itself too seriously – it has a continuous undercurrent of self-mockery, even as it sets out to subvert expectation and pull the rug out from under our feet.
It may be a mildly disconcerting experience to have the rug pulled from under one’s feet, but it is also an amusing one. Would I read it again? Yes, possibly. Would I buy the next Hamid book? Yes, most likely. But do I wish he would write more in the Moth Smoke style and tone? Yes, definitely.
How to get filthy rich in rising Asia, by Mohsin Hamid. Penguin, 2013.
Recent Comments