Fury

Rating:
Summary: His worst, which could be almost any other author's best
Review: Rushdie's other novels have always been long, flowing novel-poems which swept me away with their richness and speed. Fury, while good, read more like every other modern novel. By choosing to keep it as a mystery rather than going on a long journey throughout the entire lives of the characters, he lost the mythic feel that always attracted me to his writing. It moved both more slowly and more lightly than his previous works - it lost that quick marvelous seriousness that he's always had in such abundance.

It was a good book, sure, a great book even. I enjoyed reading it, and it swept me away into the story. I'm glad to own it and loan it and reread it eventually, I'm sure. But when it comes down to it, Fury is a book written by a man; his other stories were written by a god.

Rating:
Summary: Very well written, but lacking bite.
Review: This is the first novel by Rushdie that I have read, though I am sure it will not be the last. Having never read Rushdie, I was first very impressed with his skill with the written word. His plays on words, his ability to make sentences dance easily justify his reputation as one of the great living authors of in the English language; yet I feel there is something lacking in Fury.

The novel paints a very good collection of sympathetic and interesting characters. The protagonist and his dolls and his mid-life/existential/marital crisis. The young, precocious, and unbelievably gorgeous woman who teases him into a great burst of creativity. Masterfully done. But it is the setting of Fury that ultimately makes it a questionable read. Set in New York City in the summer of 2000, Rushdie smothers the narrative with pop-culture references from that season to an amazing degree. References to Hillary Clinton and Mayor Giuliani, to the movies Chicken Run and Gladiator, to an aside about the 'I Love You' computer virus that I had all but forgotten about. Imagine how over peoples heads this read will be in fifteen years time. Which is a shame because if it was tweaked in certain degrees I do believe it could last the test of time like most great literature.

But then there goes Rushdie dipping into the realm of Tom Clancy when the novel sways from the tale of a lost middle-aged man to a military revolution on a small island nation in the Pacific. I let the narrative take me along with that one, thinking perhaps it is literary allegory and I should take something from it because this is high modern literature, but somehow I feel it was way over the top for a story that was doing so well as an intimate portrait of a few very interesting characters.

Rating:
Summary: Not as fanciful as his others, but very timely
Review: As others have written, this is not as robust a book as some of Rushdie's other novels, but I was very moved by the intimacy you felt with this book. It was equally as vivid a capture of its charachters and their internal dilemas. Perhaps even better. It's also a particularly eerie book to read post-September 11th.

All in all, I really appreciated Fury. It was dark and sad, but not just for its own sake.

Rating:
Summary: Should I stay or sould I go...
Review: Somewhat autobiographical, somewhat boring, somewhat exciting, somewhat sad, somewhat funny, somewhat intelectual, somewhat modern, somwhat all, this book has it all... or, should I say, this book whould have all if it wasn't for few bad choices that Rushdie made when writing.
What we have here is a standard Rushidean protagonist, fleeing intelectual whose origins are place well within India...it really does not matter does he flees from himself or from any kind of oppresion, what is imporatant is that he fled and dnow he tries to find himself in new life... what is not standard 'Rushidean' is development of motive the main character has... I sat for hours trying to think what lacks in this book, and how to name it and I finally found it... It lacks courage... It is like Rushdie was afraid to write it, when reading, you get the feeling of invoulntarines of writers actions, you get the feeling that every page is written in agony, and it kinda repulses the reader... though intelectualy provoking whith many of the references of modern world, authors and the ancient ones, this books lacks the most important thing that book should have... it doesen't have the writers heart...

Rating:
Summary: Contrived and disappointing
Review: I was excited to pick up Fury, having read other books by Rushdie and also based on the premise of the book. I was so disappointed, I almost didn't finish it, and I bet I could have guessed the ending had I cared enough to try. I felt like I was being hit over the head with all of the obvious analogies and, since the book is entitled "Fury," there's really no need to keep referring to the fury within, the Furies, fury of the city, fury of lust/passion/pain. We get it! And yes, we all know that America in the 21st century is a vast wasteland--move on and get to the point of the story. Assuming there is one.

Rating:
Summary: A postmodern New York Tale
Review: I thouroughly enjoyed this book and was shocked by the often low opinion of this work by Rushdie. However, it is clear that Rushdie identifies with some of the characters.

Rating:
Summary: A woman scorned
Review: Fury is my second foray into Rushdie....and what a delightful foray it was. In a scant novel, Rushdie has managed to convey a complete disdain for American Pop Culture; a writer-protagonist who lives for the backstory, while suppressing his own; a quasi-paranoia of the Furies of Greek Mythology fame (one of the original 'woman scorned' figures); and so much more.

Malik Solanka, professor, husband, father, and creater of the icon figure of 'Little Brain', who shot from off-time BBC kiddie show to cult figure and pop phenomenon in no time, has taken his considerable wealth, his fear of bringing harm to his wife and child (after finding himself standing over them with a knife while they slept), and his restlessness and fled home for New York City. While immersing himself in 21st century over-indulgence, Solanka says goodbye to Little Brain, as he loses creative control over her development. Drowning his sorrows and fears in alcohol, Solanka fears that he is the elusive 'Concrete Killer' at large in New York, who has murdered three socialite girls. His blackouts becoming more frequent, his actions unaccounted for, Solanka seeks to alienate himself from the world and remain in as much isolation and anonymity as possible.

But the fame of being Little Brain's creator follows him and brings him into a dangerous affair with Mila Milo, a fanatical admirer of Brain and Solanka himself. Bordering on obsession, Mila's interest in Solanka grows, as does his self-doubt, and his certainty that he has brought down an ancient wrath upon himself that will plague him for the rest of his life.

Through his friend Jack, Solanka meets and is enamored of a woman beautiful enough to stop traffic, Neela....who comes to him in need of a confidante to reveal that she thinks Jack may have some tie to the Concrete Killer.

Solanka is a fascinating protagonist, due to his loss of memories during his drinking binges; his supposed mid-life crisis; his meticulous attention to backstory detail (again, as he buries his own backstory in his subconscious) and his ever-growing 'fury' at the world around him. Though the novel takes some very 'soap opera-esque' twists and turns, in today's world, some of the best-selling authors around are those who create the quick gratification thrillers that offer exactly the same kind of plot twists. But Rushdie does it with style and plausability.

Other reviews have stated that this is not a great Rushdie offering, but I disagree with the notion that being so 'Pop American' this is an excellent starting point to give Rushdie a try, as it is so accessible to anyone familiar with American culture. His writing style, wit, and use of irony are top-notch.

Rating:
Summary: More like 3.5 stars, but worth reading
Review: Knowing Rushdie's rep, I figured I'd give it a whirl, since it sounded interesting and promised to bring alive my favorite city. Well, it did to an extent--Rushdie's ruminations on what it means to be American and alive in the 21st Century are often right on target, and usually interesting. His portrait of Malik Solanka, ex-professor, famous dollmaker and generally screwed-up guy is also very rich--he was written very well, and I thoroughly enjoyed watching him interact with his environment.

With that said, this book has its definite faults. For one thing: The beginning of the book is kind've a set-up, in which Rushdie is really sketching out Solanka and his environment, and this was really my favorite part. However, one gets the impression it's going to be a setup for a dynamic, gripping story that packs an emotional punch.

In the end, it does pack this punch, but there are sections--large sections--that just drag. Partially, this is due to Rushdie's tendencies towards wordplay and referencing cultural icons from Wall Street to Mount Olympus. At times it's interesting to read the stuff this guy can reel off; other times, I began to wonder if he was trying a little too hard to impress readers. While it is a bit gratuitous, his cultural referencing is always fiercely intelligent, at least.

I was a touch disappointed when I saw the direction he was taking things (perhaps after the first hundred pges my expectations were too high). There were a couple times when I lost interest in a big way, but kept reading, and I'm pretty much glad I did. There are some big flaws in this work, but by the end of the book all things become a bit clearer, both in Solanka's behavior and Rushdie's ideas, and my appreciation grew. All in all, I thought it was interesting enough to read, although it might take some work at times. Remember, this book is more of a "think piece" rather than a driving narrative. I'd recommend it to people who would appreciate that type of writing, as it's not for everybody.

Rating:
Summary: So many clues, so little to find
Review: As I read the book, yes, I picked up on a lot (I think) of the clues, the double-triple meanings, the silly initials that match up with important characters and places later, the idea of puppets and puppeteers and dolls. But I still felt like I was wading through this book, slowly, with gritted teeth, waiting for it all to mean something. Waiting to care.

This book is beneath Rushdie, who usually snaps me in his jaws and keeps me captive until I can breathlessly finish the book. I am not the same for days after a Rushdie book.

But all in all, this book is about Rushdie showing off. It feels like a complicated puzzle with interesting bits and pieces, but really, when all is said and done, I didn't care to see the finished picture, if there was one. I didn't believe Malik and Neela were in love. (Why would Neela love him? What did he love about her besides her beauty?) I didn't believe in the Neela effect. I didn't believe that Little Brain was a roaring pop success. I didn't believe that some kids from the city and a man rotting with anger and loneliness and selfishness would come up with a second instant roaring pop success. I didn't like the fact that characters were introduced and then dropped.

I almost stopped reading when Rushdie brought all three of Solanka's women into his bedroom in the middle of the night to confront him. How contrived, how daytime soap.

But this is Rushdie. And even his bad novels, I keep reading.

Rating:
Summary: Been Better
Review: Not the literary juggernaut of Midnight's Children or The Satanic Verses, Fury is snapshot of pre-9/11 America; one that seems to be slowly resurfacing. Reading less like the epic literature we've come to expect from Rushdie, Fury comes off more like a liberal rant that often employs litanies'read laundry lists'of everything wrong with the sub-human, dumbed-down, superficial reality that our protagonist, Malik Solanka, sees as America.

Without much effort, one can find a half-dozen tantrums. And while they might serve as very observant commentary, after the first couple, they get in the way and don't do a whole lot to further the story. And speaking of story, yes there's one tucked in there for good measure and it goes something like this.

Our hyper-educated hero, Malik Solanka is searching. Twice misplaced, from India to England to America, he is also misplaced from his wife, Eleanor, and young son, Asmaan'who surfaces as a sympathetic polar opposite of Solanka, but ultimately serves to anchor Solanka.

In back story, we learn of "Little Brain". LB is a doll created by Solanka. LB, in inception, traveled extensively, holding highbrow conversations with some of history's greatest minds. As LB gained popularity, she morphed into a dumbed-down, big production, moneymaker the likes of which the world had never seen. In short, she became everything Solanka never intended.

Along the way to reaching equilibrium with his intellect and his perceptions, Solanka meets Mila Milo, a fast-talking young lady fan of LB and Solanka. The two grow close through a mutual appreciation as Solanka finds the childlike innocence he misses in Asmaan, and Mila Milo finds her father figure. Before too long, the innocence gives way to a suppressed desire and the two lose themselves in their roles and a physical relationship ensues.

Halfway through the book, Solanka'encouraged by Milo'begins writing a sci-fi story for the Web. He enjoys a certain amount of success and fulfillment from the project. Rushdie could have spared us the snippets of the story as they seem obtrusive whenever present.

During the online endeavor, Solanka develops another relationship with his dead buddy's old lady. She's described as very sexy, but at this point in the book she had become periphery to the story. In fact, her renewed importance in the story seems to take the whole book in a peripheral direction, one that was not substantially developed enough in the beginning of the book to warrant the direction change.

But hey, it's Rushdie and it's a short book so I figured I'd stick it out.

Toward the end, the story becomes a little, well furious. As characters we've met throughout the book resurface to confront Solanka all at once, the effect is dizzying, but not in the good way that Pynchon can make you dizzy. Rushdie is a better writer than this.

While I won't give away the end, I will say that it seems like this book could have used a few more chapters of relative plot development. Tipping the scales at 259 pages, there was certainly room. Was I disappointed? Yes. But when the name Salman Rushdie is on the cover, you expect a certain level of proficiency, as he has set the bar quite high. Is it better than most contemporary fare? Certainly'but I'm a literature snob, so you can have some salt with that answer. If you haven't checked out Rushdie before, though, you may want to start somewhere else.