Book Review: Ready, Steady, Go! by Deepak Mehra

Book Review: Ready, Steady, Go! By Deepak Mehra

Book: Ready, Steady, Go!

Publisher: Jaico Books

Author: Deepak Mehra

The ‘Stockdale Paradox’ refers to the observations presented by Admiral James Bond Stockdale, who was a prisoner of war for eight long years during the Vietnam War. Despite regular torture and the miserable conditions in the prison camps, Stockdale survived to tell his tale, while so many of his fellow-POW’s did not make it. The ‘Paradox’ I referred to was the Admiral’s recounting of how it was the most optimistic of soldiers who died in those camps, while the realists (or pessimists, as they may be called in this firmly happiness-obsessed world) made it. To quote Stockdale itself:

“They were the ones who said, ‘We’re going to be out by Christmas.’ And Christmas would come, and Christmas would go. Then they’d say, ‘We’re going to be out by Easter.’ And Easter would come, and Easter would go. And then Thanksgiving, and then it would be Christmas again. And they died of a broken heart.”

You'd expect James Bond to survive Vietnam, somehow.
Image credit: Wikimedia Commons

It sounds counter-intuitive. Surely the ones who held on to hope would be the ones who survived, while those who did not would lose the will to live. Conversely, as Stockdale pointed out, he was still convinced he would get out, but he did not try to deny or sugar-coat the brutality of the conditions he lived in. And this healthy dose of realism is the reason why he and others like him survived eight years in the ‘Hanoi Hilton’, as it was called, and and came out to go on to become a decorated Admiral and Vice-Presidential candidate.

But why am I writing about the Stockdale Paradox in a review of a self-help book for corporate climbers?

Well, because the modern corporation can be as much a prison of the mind as the Hanoi Hilton was for the body and souls of its unfortunate guests. Inflicting needless torture, denying nourishment and periods of isolation were how the North Vietnamese tried to break down the resolve of the soldiers who fell into their hands, and if you have spent much time in an Indian corporate, your brain might find the proliferation of pointless and illogical work and lack of tasks requiring actual creative thinking and application of mind to be not very different.

And because Ready, Steady, Go! is the Jim Stockdale of Corporate self-help books.

Self-help books

A typical corporate self-help book is page after page of relentless optimism. Cheerily the book’s cover promises to ‘empower’ you, the reader, to ‘change your career trajectory’ and ‘unleash your potential’, as though it were a dog that just needed to be let loose upon the world. This is followed by a lot of philosophical verbosity of a fluffy, light-on-substance variety, invented anecdotes that appear to have gone through a protracted hostile divorce from reality and then a series of motivational quotes by CEO’s who are at least twenty years removed in terms of careers than the readers of these books.

But this one is different

None of that for Ready, Steady, Go! Mr. Mehra’s work is grounded in realism, its tenets firmly practical, readily implementable and, as far as I can tell from my own experience in Banking, entirely valid. No ‘corporate gas’ or philosophical murmurings here. Ready, Steady, Go! is an illusion-breaker, very down-to-earth, and reads like genuine advice being given by an older, wiser professional to his juniors.

In short, they won’t teach you this in B-school. Or in corporate trainings, motivational seminars, personality development classes, spiritual meditation sessions and so on.

What’s in it?

The title is also used as the headings of the three separate sections of the book.

Ready is the first section, and deals with helpful tips for making the transition from academics to corporate life. From dress codes to the importance of maintaining a clean desk, from managing your immediate superior to minding your body language, this part of the book tries to inject a healthy dose of reality into the lives of young white-collar employees.

Steady, the second section, deals with the pointers for making a mid-level employee able to maintain his standing and continue to make forward progress up the career ladder. The importance of keeping your personal and office lives separate, of being not only working hard, but being seen to do so, of needing to always keep your game face on, is consistently emphasised here.

Go! Is the final section of the book, and tries to take the reader through the essential characteristics for rising above the mid-level and breaking into upper management. Here Mr. Mehra speaks about the importance of being known to your superiors, focussing on return on investment, creating a positive work environment, embracing the solitude that comes with being at the top of the corporate pyramid.

Decoding the Corporation

There are, in my opinion – and I have had a fairly long corporate career that was successful by most metrics to back it up – two ways to survive corporate India.

One is to become a cultist – to actually believe you are doing something significant, that every situation you face is a life-and-death one, and to do what it takes to rise up in the cult. If that means sacrificing others –or yourself - at the altar of corporate greed, you will do it, fully believing that what you do is holy and just. Unfortunately, like most cultists, only the one’s at the very top actually get anything out of it, and they are jealous of their privileges.

The other is to become a cynic, detaching your personal opinions - even your innate sensibilities – from your workplace, wearing a slick mask for the ten or twelve hours you spend in the workplace, and allowing it to come off when you get home, hopefully in time to retain your sanity.

Ready, Steady, Go! has the potential to be an invaluable tool for those of us in the second category. It is crisply written – each point gets not more than three to five pages – and clearly expressed. Anecdotes appear to be realistic and as I have said before, the author has avoided coming across as a empty talker.

Some of the suggestions in the book will appear trivial – waking up on time, organising your calendar, embracing being ‘boring’ – but far too many people seem ignorant of them.

Perhaps a weakness of the book could be it’s orientation towards the non-creative industries; the inherent biases towards outward appearances in firms operating in advertising and media-related industries would make Ready, Steady, Go! rather out-of-place over there. 

Would recommend this for every irrationally exuberant youngster who is embarking on corporate life.

The Author

Deepak Mehra is a banker of long standing, having worked with Commercial bank of Dubai and Credit Suisse among others, in a long career. This makes him uniquely able to understand the realities of working in financial services, which is one of the dominant sectors in the world today.

Links

Available here on Amazon 

Book Review: Dombey and Son, by Charles Dickens

Book Review, Dombey and Son, by Charles Dickens

I often go through moments of tremendous self-doubt. Now this is pretty normal in a writer, you’d say, and rightly too. But I have them as a reader too. I look at a book, at the cover (or, on my erstwhile Kindle, at the title) and wonder if I can read it. Will the intellectual effort be too much for a mind that has, of late, read only modern fiction. You know, the kind of stuff that can be read while waiting for someone, between TV shows and just before work.

So I was rather apprehensive about reading something of the size of Charles Dickens’ Dombey and Son. I had read it before, many years ago, while I was in college, and the size of books did not intimidate me, and neither did the name of the author. In fact, I had loved Dickens, his easy ability to play on a reader’s emotions, to take prose to such poetic heights, to paint characters who could be caricatures and yet utterly real at the same time.

Nonetheless, I couldn’t have attempted Dombey and Son without considerable encouragement from a friend who assured me I could still read it, despite my declining faculties.

Review for the people who don’t read ‘Classics’ or only read what does not challenge their faculties.

I have somehow managed to get through the ordeal. I can therefore give you the review, which is very easy to do and goes as below:

“Dombey and Son is an out-dated book covering an out-dated issue (that of the preference for male progeny), full of preachy sentimentality, two-dimensional characters, ridiculous co-incidences, unnecessary digressions and difficult writing.”

Review for the rest of you

If you’re still around, you probably know what’s coming next.

I believe some books are meant to be savoured for what they are. Some issues, at least the one that this book emphasizes, are never out-dated (ask India’s missing millions of girls who die in the womb or soon after birth) and some two-dimensional characters have more personality than real live people who have none.

As for difficult writing, those who find a book like this difficult and can manage to read the bullshit that is published in Business magazines or regulatory guidelines should seriously think about the use their faculties are being put to.

Just as you don’t gulp down a fine wine, or scarf a five-course meal…

(resuming after lunch)

or complain about too much sugar in a gulab jamun,

(resuming after dessert)

a book by Dickens has to be enjoyed for what it is.

So let’s get to the out-dated, preachy, sentimental, two-dimensional &c &c review of the book, shall we?

Dombey and Son.

It’s the name of a firm. Common enough name, I think. We still have them – the family name followed by & Son or & Sons. Perhaps we never gave a thought to it growing up. Perhaps the patriarchy is so thoroughly ingrained in us that it never crossed our minds to ask “Why only the sons?”

Dombey and Son asked that question in 1846.

The plot revolves around the family firm and its employees – Mr. Dombey, proprietor, Paul Dombey, his son, Jim Carker, Manager, Walter Gay, junior clerk, Florence Dombey, daughter of the first-mentioned, and Edith, her beloved ‘mamma’.

The theme is also of pride – the pride of Paul Dombey in the firm that bears his name, a pride that leads him to desire a male heir and neglect his daughter.

'His father's name, Mrs Dombey, and his grandfather's! I wish his grandfather were alive this day! There is some inconvenience in the necessity of writing Junior,' said Mr Dombey, making a fictitious autograph on his knee; 'but it is merely of a private and personal complexion. It doesn't enter into the correspondence of the House. Its signature remains the same.' And again he said 'Dombey and Son,' in exactly the same tone as before. 

Dombey, Father and Son

Of the pride of Jim Carker, who feeds his master’s hubris just as he feels every word that comes from the mouth of his master to be a slight to himself and plots a slow but exacting revenge.

Jim Carker and Edith

And lastly, the pride of Edith Granger, in whose breast that vice battles with a deep self-hatred, Edith whose only redeeming feature, her love for Florence, is also used against her and adds to the repugnance she has for herself, and eventually hurtles to a fall that the readers can see from afar, though the form it takes, is another matter.

It’s the younger Paul, Walter and Florence, bereft of that vice, who are the moral compass of the story, along with assorted other members of the absolutely stellar supporting cast that is such a Dickensian staple.

And stellar the cast certainly is!

There are characters like Captain Cuttle, gruff, unsophisticated and true, Old Sol Gills, a scientific man, black-eyed Susan Nipper, faithful to the end, silly Mr. Toots, gossiping Mr. Perch, Mrs. Skewton (also known as Cleopatra), the penniless dowager clinging to her youth, Mrs. MacStinger the landlady from hell, Alice the ‘handsome gal’, defiant to the last, and her mother, Good Mrs. Brown, a woman bereft of all dignity, Rob the Grinder, that poor cove, Major Joey B, hey, Josh, JB, always on the verge of choking to death…well, I could go on, there’s the Skettles, the Toodles, the Blimbers, Mrs. Pipchin, Miss Tox, Harriet and John Carker, Mrs Chick, Towlinson, the Game Chicken...but suffice to say that, each named character has a personality and a distinct character, even if he or she only has three lines in the entire 800-page story.

Mrs MacStinger gets her man

So, yes, if the characters are two-dimensional, let it be added that it’s one dimension more than most authors who have come after him, let alone before, have managed to give theirs. Here we have, in Toots the moneyed dimwit, the blueprint for the characters Wodehouse would immortalise, in Jim Carker the classic toady who hates his boss, a character so real that we see him everyday in office, in Good Mrs. Brown the tragic story of a beggar woman who first exploits, and then laments, her beautiful child.

I do wonder how many of us can yet appreciate that sort of thing any more. I wonder if I will continue to do so myself. The artistry required to create such a range of people, give them all a story, a description, a reason to behave as they do, a distinct persona for each one, to manage them, to have them be where he needs them to be and, by being themselves, move the story along, must be of a high order indeed. But if we are slaves to quick-fix romances, simplified mythology and shock-value mystery, these nuances may escape us, and the loss is probably our own.

The plot is intricate, as it should be. Published as a serial from 1846 to 1848, the story is linear, as was the norm back then, with a few time jumps.

Since I generally follow a “no spoilers” policy for books that deserve to be read, I’ll summarize the book in a series of complex sentences:

Dombey and Son tells of Mr. Dombey’s hopes in his son, his neglect of his daughter, her patience, his pride, his disappointment;

Of Jim Carker’s plotting, his past, his perfidy, his fraternal resentment and his revenge;

Of Florence, her unrequited love for her father, her disappointment, her sorrow for her brother, her innocent faith in Walter, her unfortunately requited love for her ‘mamma’ Edith and her path to happiness,

She trembled, and her eyes were dim. His figure seemed to grow in height and bulk before her as he paced the room: now it was all blurred and indistinct; now clear again, and plain; and now she seemed to think that this had happened, just the same, a multitude of years ago. She yearned towards him, and yet shrunk from his approach. Unnatural emotion in a child, innocent of wrong! Unnatural the hand that had directed the sharp plough, which furrowed up her gentle nature for the sowing of its seeds!

Of Edith, her pride, her loathing for herself and all the world, the love for Florence that only poisons her life instead of redeeming it, her self-destructive behaviour and her eventual ruin.

An expression of scorn was habitual to the proud face, and seemed inseparable from it; but the contempt with which it received any appeal to admiration, respect, or consideration on the ground of his riches, no matter how slight or ordinary in itself, was a new and different expression, unequalled in intensity by any other of which it was capable. Whether Mr Dombey, wrapped in his own greatness, was at all aware of this, or no, there had not been wanting opportunities already for his complete enlightenment; and at that moment it might have been effected by the one glance of the dark eye that lighted on him, after it had rapidly and scornfully surveyed the theme of his self-glorification. He might have read in that one glance that nothing that his wealth could do, though it were increased ten thousand fold, could win him for its own sake, one look of softened recognition from the defiant woman, linked to him, but arrayed with her whole soul against him.

Edith Granger, Mr Dombey and Jim Carker

And that’s really only a part of it, because you read Dickens for much more than just plot. There are passages in this book so exquisite that they made me turn the pages back and read the lines again, speechless with admiration. There are lines that evoke such pathos that even person who is less of a sentimental fool than me might shed a secret tear.

Here, writing about a train journey with such dexterity that you feel you’re in a train at that moment, there, of a character’s emotions with such tenderness that you laugh and cry with him or her, Dickens makes not only Victorian scenes, but a Victorian sensibility permeate the reader’s consciousness, if we receive the writing with an open mind. Much is made of the advent of the railroad here, of the changes it brings in the landscape, in the lifestyles of people and then, in that memorable Chapter where Rob the Grinder loses his position, of the terror that the passing of the hot, metallic, coal-fuelled monster brings to those who live within the radius of the railway line (as, incidentally, I do).

I’m reproducing a passage here that I hope will illustrate what I’m trying to say about the use of language

QUOTE

Away, with a shriek, and a roar, and a rattle, from the town, burrowing among the dwellings of men and making the streets hum, flashing out into the meadows for a moment, mining in through the damp earth, booming on in darkness and heavy air, bursting out again into the sunny day so bright and wide; away, with a shriek, and a roar, and a rattle, through the fields, through the woods, through the corn, through the hay, through the chalk, through the mould, through the clay, through the rock, among objects close at hand and almost in the grasp, ever flying from the traveller, and a deceitful distance ever moving slowly within him: like as in the track of the remorseless monster, Death!

UNQUOTE

In the end, I’d say it’s a book that deserves to be read. Not for it’s message (though who can say it’s not still a relevant one), and not for it’s occasional digressions where the author tries to moralise (much can be forgiven to a writer who, even when slipping into a normative style, manages to retain his literary merit). But for being a BOOK, with a cohesive story, well-realised characters, for appealing to what’s best in the reader and giving pure literary pleasure along the way.

So that’s Dombey and Son, then. More old-fashioned than out-dated, more tender than sentimental, with a varied cast of memorable characters, with twists and turns that make you wonder as much as shake your head, written in language that should stimulate the artist in all of us.

If you still want to, you can buy it here

Captain Cuttle and 'Heart's Delight'.

Book Review: The Name of the Rose, by Umberto Eco

Book Review: The Name of the Rose, by Umberto Eco

Umberto Eco, who passed away earlier this year, wrote a number of notable works, but his lasting fame in the English-speaking world rests on Il Nome Della Rosa, translated by William Weaver and made into a movie starring Sean Connery and Christian Slater.

I have seen the movie in bits and pieces, and intend to see it properly soon, but had taken on the novel during my travels in North India, finishing the book on the day I spent at Macleodgunj, visiting the Tibetan Buddhist monastery there.

Plot

The book begins in what was the present time when it was written, viz. the late seventies, with the narrator claiming to find a lost manuscript dictated by ‘Adso of Melk’, a fourteenth-century Benedictine monk. The rest of the book is a narration of Adso in the first person.

Adso is the younger son of a wealthy Italian, a young ‘novice’ under the guidance of a monk named William of Baskerville, from Northern England (a hat-tip to Conan Doyle) and that they are on a journey to get away from the military strife in Melk at the time, as well as on a mission that is made clear to us later on.

As they approach the monastery where the bulk of the action takes place, Brother William shows his skills of deduction by finding the Abbot’s missing horse. After reaching there, they are informed of the recent mysterious death of a young novice, Adelmo and the Abbot requests Brother William, as a former Inquisitor, to investigate it. This is side-by-side with the real purpose of the visit, which is to be a part of negotiations between a team of monks led by Michael of Cesna and a delegation from the Pope, led by the terrible Bernardo Gui, an Inquisitor whose very name strikes terror in the hearts of those who hear it.

Always cooler than you, even as a 14th century monk

As the days pass, more and more monks are killed, and the ideological disputes grow more and more intense. The Franciscans and Minorites are factions who believe that virtue lies in poverty, since the Christ lived in poverty himself, a position that the Vatican seems to consider dangerous to their own authority, given the tremendous wealth of the Church at the time. Another dispute arises over the nature and importance of humour, with one faction claiming that as the Bible does not record Christ ever having smiled or laughed, ‘Comedy’ is a sinful art and practice. Even the common habit of those who illustrated books (this was before the printing press came into being, so all books were hand-written and illustrated, a skill that was virtually the monopoly of monasteries) to insert absurd drawings in the margins to arouse the interest of the readers is considered sinful.

The bulk of the investigation centres around the monastery’s library, a labyrinthine structure where entry is forbidden but which houses a book so dangerous that it seems to be the key to the killings. As they find a secret entrance and exit, Adso and William find answers that only lead to more questions. On one of their nocturnal expeditions, Adso encounters a gorgeous peasant girl from the neighbouring village, and his reaction to her as well as Brother William’s later explanation of the nature of sexual attraction is another important part of the doctrinal differences that must have existed at the time, as well as the tragic underpinning of the suffering of the common folk in the ideological battles of the ‘great’ and ‘pure’ men of the Church.

As the body count piles up, and the attempts of Adso and William to solve the mystery are met with clues that lead nowhere, the papal delegation arrives and the action accelerates to a shocking and ultimately, bitter end. For all their cleverness and investigative success, William and Adso’s triumph is ultimately a failure, and they soon separate, never to meet again.

We are left with Adso’s final reflections on that episode in his life, and the beautiful, poignant last line:

Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus

(Oh beautiful rose of the past, now disappeared, we hold only your name)

Valentina Vargas as 'the girl'.

Characters

The Name of the Rose gives us an abundance of characters, with often-complicated names, but each acquires a personality and leaves an impression. William and Adso are a sort of medieval Holmes and Watson, but the Chief of the Monastery, Abo, a noble’s bastard elevated beyond his capabilities, Severinus a herbalist who shares William’s intellectual curiosity, Malachi the librarian, a stooge who believes in denying knowledge to seekers, Berengar his assistant, who abuses his position to obtain favours from those who want access to books, Jorge the elderly, blind monk who keeps preaching about the oncoming Apocalypse, even Salvatore the hideous former criminal who acts as a procurer of sexual favours from the village girls for corrupt monks, are all characters who should remain with the reader for a long time.

The little things

The Name of the Rose is not an easy book to read. Peppered with biblical references, stories from the medieval history of the pre-Luther Church and in the last days of the Eastern Roman Empire, it is a treasure-trove of information and insight into the life of the era. At the same time, the generous use of Latin phrases without translation can be jarring, as well as the throwbacks and detailing of doctrinal differences between factions of the Church, which may not be of the same interest to all readers.

Conclusion

For a certain type of reader, The Name of the Rose would be very rewarding indeed. If you love mystery with a dash of history, and can open-mindedly look at the motivations and flaws of people of the times then you ought to enjoy this novel. While I speak from the translation, it appears that Eco’s use of language is deft and cheeky, the way adjectives are used is the work of a master, and when Adso (as narrator) describes the peasant girl entirely with references to Biblical and religious monuments – and still manages to convey his deep physical arousal – you know you are in the hands of someone who knows what words are and what they can do.

Eco’s postscript gives a hint as to the meaning of the title through this poem by seventeenth-century Mexican poet, Juana Ines De la Cruz

Red rose growing in the meadow,

you vaunt yourself bravely

bathed in crimson and carmine:

a rich and fragrant show.

But no: Being fair,

You will be unhappy soon

But does he mean the forbidden book, now lost forever? The innocence of his own youth? Or the beautiful peasant girl, his rose, whose name he never knew? That is for the reader to guess, if he picks up the book.

Available here

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