Interview with the author appeared in Reader's Digest:
Another Strange And Sublime Address

Author Amit Chaudhuri speaks to Reader’s Digest about his latest book, history, music and his attitude towards the teaching of creative writing.

By Sukhada Tatke

In Sojourn, Amit Chaudhuri’s latest novel, an Indian academic arrives in Berlin as a visiting professor. With time, he merges with the city, loses his sense of self, flits between the past and present, creating a haunting reading experience. The author speaks to Reader’s Digest about his book, history, music and his attitude towards the teaching of creative writing.


ST: Do cities like Berlin, where history weighs heavily, lead to disorientation, as felt by Sojourn’s protagonist?

AC: The state of absorption is what is of primary value and importance to me. What I was playing with was the idea that the narrator goes to Berlin and becomes absorbed in a lot of what he’s seeing. The absorption causes a kind of wavering in the distinctions he would ordinarily—among them, between being an Indian and being a European. So, absorption becomes a form of surrender. [In] those unlikely moments, where he is recognizing places, as if he belonged there … he begins to become so much part of [Berlin’s] history, which he has forgotten, that he begins to lose himself. He begins to lose that sense of who he is.

ST: But how important was the city of Berlin to the story of Sojourn?

AC: I’ve written about cities all my life. I am now investigating [in this novel] a paradoxical history, which is not sufficiently defined by the historical definitions we are conscious of, and by which we define ourselves. Those have to be put aside in such an encounter. So, it’s not a question about thinking about Berlin first or my character first: I’m looking at a moment of historical change that’s long been present for me. I began to write A Strange and Sublime Address in 1986, and by then I would have sensed that a particular world, the world of modernity, was already passing. By the time the book was published in 1991, we had emerged into this new world, the Berlin Wall had just fallen and economic deregulation had taken place. So, this is a kind of moment in which to recollect what happened to us, to me, through this story about the city.

ST: You write that “when freedom is the only reality, you are no longer free”. So, when are you really free?

AC: One is only free in those secret moments of escape, of incompleteness, of failure. When everything becomes homogenized as free, everything is perfected in a sense, and then one is no longer free. If one has no escape from what somebody proclaims to be freedom, then freedom becomes a form of madness. Anything which has no alternative to it, no escape from it, is a kind of oppressive psychological condition. Freedom always consists of alternatives within a system. The system itself cannot be free. There always have to be moments of fissures and breakdowns in the system, from which freedom arises. Once pleasures and alternatives are taken away, one is no longer free, even if the system calls it freedom.

ST: You’ve said that you have an aversion to completeness and perfectness. So does that mean you have a fondness for incompleteness or imperfectness?

AC: I prefer incompleteness and unfinishedness. One of the traditions of cherishing incompleteness is the kind of worldview that, in the arts, we call modernism. In modernism, the ambitions of the European Renaissance—to produce finished objects and also reproductions of finished objects, or in paintings to create the illusion that it’s giving us reality—were rejected in favour of giving us more imperfect, unfinished portrayals in which the process is not kept out of view. We see it also in some in some branches of romanticism, in paintings and in poetry—the love of, say, ruins. It reveals that life lies in the process, the process of making or the process of decay. The process of decay is very akin to the process of making, in that it’s not finished yet. Tagore (who contrasts srishti or ‘creation’ with nirman or ‘construction’ in the 1880s), and, later, Lawrence and Tanizaki speak about this with activity. The finished object, for me, is a kind of dead object.

ST: As a creative writing teacher, what do you teach your students?

AC: I share with them whatever thoughts I might have about this problem we call writing … I do not censor them. The focus of creating writing workshops has taken attention away from the fact that ideas of craft, ideas of writing are all first historically contingent and they arise at a certain point of time, in a particular manifestation, as embodiments of the way we think of writing at any point of time. So, there are no universals when it comes to ‘craft’, for instance. There is no universal rule about overwriting or precision or what a wrong or unnecessary adjective is. This leads us to a great conundrum, and to the mysteries of writing, which we must confront at some point as writers, and teachers of writing.

We also need to look beyond this idea of producing a work which reads well and is publishable. We need to look at questions to do with writing that underlie our decisions—what we take pleasure in, what we don’t take pleasure in, our differences with other writers.

Lastly, because creative writing workshops have become a service industry all over the world, we believe that the centre of our attention is what is happening in the workshop—the writing done by others in the workshop, and primarily the writing that has been done by me, the workshop participant. But we actually pursue writing because we are interested in writing—not just our own writing, but writing itself. And literature as a discipline, criticism as a discipline, was to a great extent formed by writers. That is because the matter of writing was a life-and-death matter to them. Not their own writing, but writing. There is an amnesia about this now.

ST: You are an accomplished Hindustani classical singer. Which do you most identify with—writer or musician?

AC: Music imposes a sort of continuity and routine. One is consciously tied to that particular routine of being a musician, of trying to keep up with its demands, which, for me, has been a matter of more than 40 years. I’ve compared it to sports, but unlike sports, it’s a lifelong activity. As for that question of which one I identify myself with … I will say neither. Of course, I feel anxiety about what I write, and what I publish, and writing also involves pride and self-knowledge. Without that self-belief, I wouldn’t be doing what I was doing. But, there is no self-conscious identity in me as a writer or musician. I just happen to be doing these things.

ST: You have often spoken about the fallacy of the West as a beacon of freedom and liberal thought and secularism. Could you please elaborate?

AC: I think ‘the West’ is a bogus term. I think ‘White’ is a bogus term. What is this extraordinary identity created by a misreading of skin pigmentation? These are such bogus categories because they have no real history, and they allow us to continue to think lazily about history. ‘The West’ as a category made a huge comeback after 9/11, and after globalization. 9/11 legitimized the rise of the West, and it’s a blithe, self-referential term for a club that certain people belong to. Its not a question of being European—you can be Western only as long as you are part of Western Europe or the USA, but not Russia or Poland.

So, it’s a numinous value, quasi-mystical and transcendental. And as a category, it is an insult to secular histories of other parts of the world, which are far stronger and more complex and robust than this version of secularism (which becomes synonymous with something called ‘Western values’) we see now.

Chaudhuri's novella had a ominous vibe to it, a sense of unease, that brought to mind Kafka and The Unconsoled by Kazuo Ishiguro as it has that confusing atmosphere and european setting.

I really tried to like this. I enjoy a meandering stroll through life. I do. But there has to be a little something else, and sadly this didn’t have that.
An unnamed narrator travels through Berlin, he’s a professor brought in to do some talks. He notices all the details of all his surroundings and the people he meets, and comments on it all. That’s it, that’s the book.
There is definitely potential and the writing was good, but this just wasn’t for me.

This short, quiet meditative book describes the meanderings through Berlin of an Indian professor who has been invited to the city to give a series of lectures. His wanderings are random and aimless and he doesn’t seem to really know what he is doing there. And I don’t either. I found this a frustratingly inconsequential novel. I kept expecting some sort of conclusion, some sort of revelation even, whilst the unnamed narrator meditates on the contemporary city and its history, but the book ultimately goes nowhere. There are some nice observations on modern life, and the narrator is good at noticing everyday detail that might otherwise go unnoticed, but I felt no connection with either him or his musings. There’s no plot, no storyline and I felt as disoriented as the narrator. Not one for me.

At the end of the day this is a story about a visiting professor who goes around Berlin eating different food!
I am sure there is more to it than that but unfortunately I am not intellectual enough to figure out what that is, and so the rating is more of a reflection on me than the book!

So there are books that grip you. There are books that drive you to distraction. There are books that make you laugh. There are characters that you want to make your friend, your mother, your lover ……

And then there are quiet books. Books that demand little of you. Short books that take you on a little meander through the pages. Sojourn is a beautiful little book which enables you to sojourn awhile with the author & take a trip around Berlin.

This is not a book of plot. It’s a ramble. A walk amongst streets, looking, listening & taking in the everyday. We are aboard a nameless narrator as he travels adrift amongst those streets.

A visiting professor. The places he encounters. The people he sees. He demands little. This book will demand little of you except an enjoyment of Chaudhri’s prose.

If you want a break from your pacy or your racey reads then pull up a chair, grab a coffee & let these beautiful words wash over you for an hour or so. Then get back at it 😊

The narrator of this novella is a visiting professor in Berlin. It’s a pleasant mysterious read as he meets people and explores, observing the history, different culture (I googled German toilets!), the different types of people particularly others that are displaced. He seems to get less sure of himself as it moves along and the writing becomes dreamier.

An unnamed man arrives in Berlin as a visiting professor. It is a place fused with Western history and cultural fracture lines. He moves along its streets and pavements; through its department stores, museums and restaurants. He befriends Faqrul, an enigmatic exiled poet, and Birgit, a woman with whom he shares the vagaries of attraction. He tries to understand his white-haired cleaner. Berlin is a riddle—he becomes lost not only in the city but in its legacy.

Sealed off in his own solitude, and as his visiting professorship passes, the narrator awaits transformation and meaning. Ultimately, he starts to understand that the less sure he becomes of his place in the moment, the more he knows his way.

It’s evocative details and impeccable research make for a delightful reading experience.

Nice short piece of work to read, not sure I entirely grasped the concept or plot but I did enjoy reading about Berlin and the characters observations.

Amit Chaudhuri’s latest offering (and my first to read of his) has a premise that jumped out to me: a visiting professor has taken up a temporary post, in a city new to him, at a Berlin university (based on the location and another clue I’m inclined to think it’s the Freie Universität but there’s no explicit mention).

There isn’t a whole lot in way of plot or character-development; rather the novel feels somewhat similar to Outline by Rachel Cusk and Whereabouts by Jhumpa Lahiri in that we get more insight into the lives of two of our unnamed narrator’s friends than we do into the unnamed narrator himself. In general, I don’t love this trend in literary fiction but I don’t hate it either. I think in the case of Sojourn, the character I was most fond of, Farqal, and with whom I felt the narrator and novel could go in most interesting directions with, was not present for as long as I’d hoped and it felt under-explored.

Sojourn is, like its narrator‘s university placement, brief. Coming in at under the 150 page mark, this was a quick and enjoyable read.

I would also say that Sojourn reminded me a little of Intimacies by Katie Kitamura in respect of that it pays quite close attention to geographical details of Berlin - we come to know a lot of the U3 in particular. I’m not sure this will appeal to every reader but I personally like geographical details when it comes to fiction set in places I’ve lived.

I wanted to read it as it talks about Berlin. It was a sort of diary, flush of consciouness, moments and places.
Some characters and their story.
I would define it as "rarefied". There's no plot but it was fascinating.
Recommended.
Many thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for this ARC, all opinions are mine

This neat little book by esteemed author Chaudhuri could be read in one sitting. It’s neither plot driven nor character driven (unless you count Berlin as a character) but it’s very much an in-the-moment, observational novel. It reminded me of Whereabouts by Jhumpa Lahiri but Chaudhuri has also been compared to Proust, if that’s your thing.

An unnamed professor takes up a guest post at a university in Berlin and settles into city life, befriending a Bangladeshi man and a German woman. As he navigates life in a new city, he observes the idiosyncrasies of German life (notably, the shelf shitter toilets 😂 (nb he doesn’t call them this - it’s what myself and friends used to call them when I lived in Germany in my 20s).

A nice bit of nostalgia for me, with cute references to Peek & Cloppenburg, and familiar U-Bahn stations and street names. I can’t help but think this might be pretty dull for most readers. Reading it is a little like watching a quiet documentary, there’s a meditative quality to it.

Go for it if you’ve ever lived in Germany and/or you’re a fan of Proust or quiet arty documentaries in literary format. Just don’t expect anything to happen and you won’t be disappointed. 3/5 ⭐️

*Sojourn will be published on 25 August 2022. I read an advance copy courtesy of the publisher @faberbooks via @netgalley (many thanks). As always, this is an honest review.*

Short, compact and well-written, Chaudhuri's character is an excellent study of the flaneur trope in literature.

Sojourn follows an unnamed narrator, an exiled Bangladeshi poet and a woman whom the narrator shares an attraction. The book was an easy, short read, following the narrator meandering through Berlin. In terms of plot, not much happens, but despite this, it still made an interesting read - the characters weren’t particularly well fleshed out but Berlin itself was wrote really well.

Sojourn by Amit Chaudhuri is a quietly contemplative novel about an academic living abroad and the connections he makes with people. I will now look for more from this author as I really enjoyed his writing.

An unnamed man arrives in Berlin. He befriends an Iraqi poet, he is attracted to a woman, he walks the streets of Berlin. If this sounds rather abstract in terms of plot, that is because it is. Chaudhuri's man is a flâneur, observing German society, trying to understand it. That he does not reach any conclusions about society or himself by the end of this brief work is a point in of itself. There are no answers, only ways of being.

If you have admired Chaudhuri's work in the past, then there is a lot to treasure here. If you like plot, this will frustrate you. If you like to go on random walks and meander through thoughts on society, culture, love and life then this is a lovely way to spend 40 minutes of your day.

Thank you to the publishers and Netgalley for the ARC.