![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHjSxe2VBj3GJmpNoJ7ar4LSA3WgU0kVdKLNd8eZW9ELwAoL2GOI5JLlhMF5fA_KM8AMXk3L7rEO8s4bvfm54-ptRYaHG3Vw5qrAElJ7_w9FQxZbEHEZyq_6oTDKk4Sis0FKp3d9P0U85b/s320/Namitha+on+bed+Stills04.jpg)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgummdfE_zaafwOUvSISjeST58IBChRcweJ1POl8GeOXKoMSS9rzbJkdlah9XnceyTzTzr74uSTDXUkAJouEgv6RckCeOTVOk5iOHd6EU7rkgPFZTIC5wS4qvHZRwZ8FHcR-FNHZECbFaxN/s320/Namitha+on+bed+Stills06.jpg)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBaH1Bhd838DHfGgSHh2iGrbHraW0OEt7CMlsVtAeWRdG2tSil7VQ53wdxQjQ0k-IjDd4hkOhMhmYvaUtKOxBL-5Whnzbp4hqDb1wUeIeYv-Tpr-Ki0sOd2OxBMRGPU1fYRjcIM4eIPuxJ/s320/Namitha+on+bed+Stills07.jpg)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5J1KRnrMfJgGc5Ykk_nlclIfeGjFS6UcgEssjEO7K-uQE-geqC5sON43Mp2JWDwVGcDlmjK6RXc44gQLj3B-q3kXjD6HxKzTq4XtF0ELOaOxfamjceeIjB4iC8a6kU1ZX0W5bfCKkqNu1/s320/Namitha+on+bed+Stills03.jpg)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV0UGSzRRocyvXYhwkNlaWBMst6jJP3pLMiRotqApyGCIGaiwFXR3ElALQ5uuv3Bjg2tiNKUwudvzA7BZ__Z_ykDwsr8tIn6EbZ45dMnKi4MMbzehSgNZD-ATJ9daior9uwxSj4nkUKfnq/s320/Namitha+on+bed+Stills02.jpg)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQZpwdzbbVNBQoAoOSJLPFItGLfBF14JzgsMt0xtSFPiPloj3w6aKADqtzqLENVCRh4KDkRIeaa4ZCevN5cAs_C9MLulEbFOIKpO11Zab1DFcnYd7p8kcyLR9xDpNVG8JNamVDare7MPDy/s320/Namitha+on+bed+Stills01.jpg)
One translated book I recently had to add to the 2008 translation database is Zero Degree by Charu Nivedita (translated from the Tamil by Pritham K. Chakravarthy and Rakesh Khanna), which was published by Blaft Publications earlier this year.
I have to admit that until reading Rakesh Khanna’s comment on an earlier post, I had never heard of Blaft, but I really like their mission statement:
Blaft Publications is a new independent publishing house based in Chennai, India. Our releases so far include an anthology of Tamil pulp fiction, a translation of an experimental Tamil novel, a book of drawings, and a book of English short stories.
However, in the future, Blaft has much wider goals. We are planning to eventually branch out into translations of fiction from other regional languages of South Asia, English fiction, comic books, graphic novels, children’s books, non-fiction, textbooks, how-to-manuals, encyclopedias, and kitchen appliances.
All of their titles are available in America, but apparently only through Amazon.com, which is unfortunate. After reading the first half of Zero Degree, I’m pretty sure there are a number of booksellers out there who would be into this book—it’s the first Tamil title I’ve encountered that includes a dedication to Kathy Acker and a reference to the Oulipo. . . . Rather than summarize the book—I plan on writing a full review in the near future—I thought I’d share the translator’s introduction:
We would like to let Zero Degree speak for itself, after taking just a moment to disavow our personal support for any political agenda that this book or its characters may have, and also to point out two idiosyncratic difficulties the book posed for the translator.
First, in keeping with the numerological theme of Zero Degree, the only numbers expressed in either words or symbols are numerologically equivalent to nine (with the exception of two chapters). This Oulipian ban includes the very common Tamil word Ã¥¼, one, used very much like the English one (“one day”, “one of them”, etc.). The way Charu Nivedita works around this constraint in Tamil is a notable feature of the original text. However, Tamil has some better substitutes for this word than English does. For instance, there are two pronouns each for he and she: Üõ¡/Üõoe [Ed. Note: I can’t figure out how to get the script to appear correctly online—sorry about that.] (roughly “that man”/“that woman”) and Þõ¡/Þõoe (“this man”/“this woman”). The lack of single-word English equivalents sometimes results in less graceful constructions than Tamil makes possible. We have done our best to make these sentences easily readable without using the forbidden numbers.
Secondly, many sections of the book are written entirely without punctuation, or using only periods. This reminds the Tamil reader of an ancient style of writing, before Western punctuation marks were adopted into the script. However, in English, omitting punctuation, besides being confusing, would fail to give this effect. Therefore, we have inserted punctuation marks in many chapters, except where it seemed important to the meaning of the text to leave them out.
Zero Degree was first published in Chennai in 1998. It is the author’s second novel, and features many of the same characters that appeared in his first, Existentialism and Fancy Banyan. It did well enough for a second and third edition, and was also translated into Malayalam by Balasubramaniam and P. M. Girish. In Kerala, the book generated a great deal of . . .
who’s that prankster
that plucked the stars out of the sky
and then scattered them here on Earth?
These are my favourite words in Charu Nivedita’s book, Zero Degree. His book speaks more poetry than prose. It was first published in Chennai in 1998, and later translated into Malayalam by Balasubramanian and P.M. Girish.
Fortunately, I know how to read Tamil and had the privilege of exploring this culture through words. What about the rest of the world? Don’t all readers need a choice of cultures to know about? The problem is that the works are not translated into other languages, making it available to everyone. BLAFT enters the picture, picks up a book (quite by chance) – revolutionary in Tamil writing, and now sweeping a wave in English (translated fiction).
Who are the translators?
Pritham K. Chakravarthy (PKC) is a theatre artist, storyteller, activist, freelance scholar, and translator based in Chennai. Her recent translations include The Blaft Anthology of Tamil Pulp Fiction, also available from Blaft Publications.
Rakesh Khanna (RK) was born in
Why did Blaft choose to start with translations?
RK: The overall idea is that literature and art from
Who is Charu Nivedita?
Charu Nivedita is from a family of postmodern Tamil writers, which includes Konangi, Swadesa Mitran, and so on. He grew up in rural Tamilnadu, and spent many years working in
PKC: We were at a lawyer’s office, when on his table was a ten rupee novel, with the back cover advertisement for Zero Degree, another ten rupee novel. Then, Rakesh and I got talking about Charu Nivedita. We tried out a basic translation and then figured we wanted work with it.
RK: Zero Degree is so surprising. It shocked me that such a book would be successful here. It shows how out of touch people are with what’s going on in the regional languages.
So, to which genre does Zero Degree belong? Charu sounds scattered, abstract, but the compulsive name dropping of Latin American intellectuals makes him seem pretentious? He even seems to love denying his whole work as a bunch of random notes and writings.
RK: “Transgressive fiction” describes it (this is a genre of characters that feel confined by society and use abstract, unusual, illicit ways to break free). Muniyandi, one of the protagonists, with all his phone sex antics and caste-riot inciting, is a transgressor. The whole work is a transgressing against a literature establishment. For all the pretentious aspects of Zero Degree, I think he shows some humility about his own life. For all the name-dropping and hyper intellectualism, he makes fun of himself.
PKC: Charu uses a lot of gimmicks throughout his book. This beauty has a nice non-linear storytelling pattern. There is a constant challenge to the reader, making the reader to be an ‘I’ and crochet one straight story.
Is it just his love for Kathy Acker? Does Charu walk the same plank that Kathy Acker walks?
PKC: In some sense, yes, and in many, no. I am not saying men cannot be the bold feminist, like Kathy Acker. There are enough instances in Zero Degree that makes it clear Charu’s views on female sexuality (Aarti, Avanthika, Brihanalai, etc.) Fuckrunissa was the only positive woman.
What was your experience working with this book?
RK: It was a lot of fun, like a roller coaster. It took us from grossed out horror parts, where we got sick in our stomachs, and to some really tedious part; we always knew that we were about to go over some crazy drop.
PKC: Weird, challenging, and had fun finding out mistakes. Translating poetry is tiresome.
Thus by treacherous sex
Shakti’s powers were stolen
Creation, Protection, Destruction
The three men divided
the chores amongst themselves
tired, they returned
to ask Shakti,
“Where’s my chapathi?”
Everyone should read this book for its crazy drops, unexpected images, beautiful poetry, poignant moments, grossed out horror, and the persistent attempt to probe the psychic wounds of humanity. It is a startling publication of South Indian fiction. Don’t forget to get yourself a copy.
Charu Nivedita’s new novel is transgressive, non-linear and engaging
KALA KRISHNAN RAMESH
CHARU NIVEDITA’S Zero Degree is difficult in the most interesting way: it appears to be teasing, confusing, pretending, mimicking, and sometimes even misleading, till you see the audacious design that makes this book one of the most interesting deliberations on the business of writing. The writer leaves clues hinting that this story is about literature and how the author relates to material: “There’s been a mistake. The chapters have become shuffled. I might have had some ulterior motive. Perhaps my hatred for Muniyandi and my love for Misra are responsible; perhaps I’ve subconsciously moved Misra ahead and shoved Muniyandi to the background”; “To understand my writing, forget my life. My life is separate and my writing is separate”; “Is this really a novel, or merely a bunch of notes thrown together into a book?”
The writing in Zero Degree appears to be asserting that even in a post-structuralist world, where aesthetic and formal parameters are elastic, style, form and content can still be shocking. Its subject matter is not unfamiliar, neither are its many styles or its use of language, but when it comes together, the reader is both surprised and shocked. Zero Degree insists on the importance of style even where it is an admission of dishonourable intentions.
ZERO DEGREE |
Zero Degree’s “mad patchwork” takes the reader on a wildly curving, frequently detouring story made of phone sex, torture, love poetry, numerology, mythology, and what appears to be a decidedly Latin American thoughtscape, and interestingly, in this journey, the reader is both guided traveler and adventurer.
The book is a virtuoso performance by a writer doing voices he loves and hates, including Latin American, Sangam Tamil, meta-textual, magazinese, establishment Tamil, etc. While he dons these many hats, in a postmodernist gesture he also lets us know that he is enchanted and not ‘influenced’ by any of them, by ostentatiously annotating each hat-wearing moment.
The author’s audacity — about content, form and language — is totally charming; the fact that in ‘real’ life, he appears to be as unpredictable, as difficult to locate in a hierarchy of Tamil writers, and is bathed in a glow of speculation, controversy and love-hate makes it all the more intriguing.
The translation by Pritham K Chakravarthy and Rakesh Khanna transcreates what one imagines to be the sting and slap and sharp tenderness of the original, without letting go of the necessary quantity of non-Tamilness. Malavika PC’s cover captures a sense of the intricate madness of the journey inside.
Zero Degree is, without doubt, an unusual experience in reading; unlike most books, it challenges — and inspires — the reader to create a structure from the apparent mayhem of form and content. Or, in the author’s words, “Please, go ahead and search for meaning in the host of words scattered in these pages.”
Zero Degree
By Charu Nivedita
Translated by Pritham K Chakravarthy & Rakesh Khanna Blaft Publications
Pages: 232
Price: Rs 315
This book can be compared to a scream. A good, full-throated one for which you would ordinarily need the falling cliffs. And to say that Zero Degree cannot be brought home would be, ironically, a compliment to the author Charu Nivedita and its translators Pritham K Chakravarthy and Rakesh Khanna.
Charu writes about politics within the family, more accurately sexual politics within the family. Since he has done a good job of revealing the uncertainty and violence within families and contemporary personal relationships, it would indeed be a bad idea to bring it home. But for all those feel stifled within a family and a meaningless routine, please read it on your way to work.
Hide it in the deep recesses of your clothes cupboard or in the general chaos of your office desk, if you will, but read it. You should read it for the thoughts that ordinarily get edited out or words that get buried in symbols.
Zero Degree falls within the genre of trangressive fiction, in which authors try to break out of their societal confines by discussing taboo subjects. Anne Soukhanov, in The Atlantic Monthly (1996) described it as “A literary genre that graphically explores such topics as incest and other aberrant sexual practices, mutilation, the sprouting of sexual organs in various places on the human body, urban violence and violence against women, drug use, and highly dysfunctional family relationships, and that is based on the premise that knowledge is to be found at the edge of experience and that the body is the site for gaining knowledge.” Other popular authors in this genre could be Chuck Palanhiuk and Charles Bukowski.
Charu’s bo
ok, written originally in Tamil a decade ago, follows no linear narrative and the protagonist of the book is the insanity that confronts you every day. The narrative is so chaotic that it is a relief. And occasionally there is humour.
The first chapter is one of my favourites for its keen observations, pathos and good-humoured acceptance. In it the author addresses his readers, both ‘normal’ and ‘deviant’. There are chapters that layer personal battles with larger political ones; the sudden change in perspective can give you vertigo. There is a chapter that is a questionnaire, which includes subversive questions that ridicule the author, critics and readers, and then it asks you questions that serve no logical purpose.
There are letters and phone conversations and pages that imitate palm-leaf manuscripts. There are chapters and sentences the author refuses to complete. There is a poem on the primordial and powerful Shakthi who was forced to give away her powers to three men. After using her powers of creation, protection and destruction, they return tired and ask her … Well, I shall leave the sentence hanging too.
Occasionally the author drops names of Latin American writers and high-brow philosophers. Perhaps it is to assure the reader that he is not being taken for a ride. That the well-read, literate author is taking the reader on a well-planned tour. Zero Degree takes you apart and allows you to rearrange yourself as you please.
—ashasmenon@gmail.com
Courtesy : The New Ind press