The Enchantress of
Florence was my first exposure to the work of Salman Rushdie. I quickly
became an awed fan, getting drawn into the world of the novel, and enjoying
every minute of it. I also had that feeling of being in the presence of genius,
much like I did when reading Umberto Eco. Along with that is the feeling that
I’m probably not well-read and learned enough to really latch onto all of depth
and allusion (also, much like reading Eco), but that going along for the ride
and enjoying the story for its own sake is okay, too.
This novel is dreamy and magical, stuffed with images and
stories woven through time. It takes place in India during the time of the
Mughals, and that setting is created beautifully. The stories go back and forth
from there, however, as a mysterious man from the West tells the elaborate
stories of his own origin and his connection to Emperor Akbar.
This is a historical novel starring people who actually existed
(there’s a bibliography at the end of the novel, demonstrating, once again, the
90% perspiration aspect of genius), but also a brilliant work of creativity. I
love the language which is snappy or dreamy as required. I love the scope,
which goes beyond East meets West to pretty much include the entire world. I
love the ideas and the dilemmas. I even love the idea of Akbar’s imaginary
queen.
I enjoyed this book the first time I read it, and I enjoyed
it even more this time. I’m a great fan of stories and a story about stories is
near perfection to me, especially when it has been put forward with such
brilliance and skill. If I didn’t have so many other books to re-read, I would
happily return to page one and read The
Enchantress of Florence again immediately.
A Year of Books I’ve Read Before
No comments:
Post a Comment