Friday, August 24, 2007

The Booker, a return to H and a Poster: in celebration of the Hundredth!

Ladies and laddies, it gives me goose bumps and suchlike bordering-on-obscene pleasure to announce that our very own [us being his one-post-pimp] Mr. Indra Sinha has been longlisted for the Booker Bleeding Prize! Woo. I could've been his mother right now. Or agent. Or nanny. Honestly, I feel all billowy-nostriled and choky-proud.


Mr. Sinha with Holly - 1999.

Such is my pleasure at this felicitous occasion that I’ve been making proud announcements across the breadth of my vastly limited social sphere.

Yesterday as mum was watching cricket and pa was forwarding bawdy jokes to family and friends to let them know we’re all well and able, among other things, to appreciate putrid internet humour, I burst upon this gentle familial scene with my breathless news.

H: “Indra Sinha’s been long listed for the Booker Prize!”

Ma raised an eyebrow. Should I know more about this Indra boy?

Pa put on his pissy-face. “Who’s this Indra chap?”

A legend to begin with, parents.
Oh sorry. Rephrase: A fifty plus, married man with several children and a dog, living at a reasonably safe distance in the south of France, who happens to be a writer.

Somewhere, deep in my head, I truly believe that my discovery of this star is intimately linked with the Booker Prize longlist in the Larger Scheme of Things.

It is with such idolatrous affection as only a fledgling poseur pimp can feel for a stalwart Madame running for Entertainer of the Year, and much skippety-twirly-go-round delight in my heart, I share with you, beloved readers, a most fortuitous coincidence – our own little cause for celebration at Shout – our 100th post, TA DA!

On this occasion, brimming as I am with goodwill spurred by Mr. Sinha’s success and my prolificity, I’ve also decided to be gracious about a certain tag that the lovely Pinay in Barnsley has clipped to my tail. Arse.

So it goes:

I must give you a glimpse of H. Preferably with a photograph or forty, and the correct spelling of my name, because David Airey says:

”Putting a face to the name of someone you haven’t met helps recognition and adds a more personal feel to your conversations.”

Given that I’m so anal about protecting my anonymity, obviously Mr. Airey and I do not share similar views on blogging and its effect on our social lives, making this tag a serious challenge to my staying-gracious-power. I mean, really, who asked me to go and stick my fingers in my nose and say, “Thank you very much, I’ll do it”?

But then again, I do like Madonna [of Barnsley.]

So.

I thought hard. I wandered up all sorts of dusty galis, seeking to scavenge off bits of myself, wondering what to put here in a little self-pimping carnival – should I write you bits from my diaries as I grew… But my head leapt up at me before I could complete the thought. Shuddersomeshite noh! I’d rather be slow roasted on a skewer. Next I wondered if I should I treat to you a little biopic of how H transformed from a villainous looking child to a blimpy teenager and leave it there, for you to imagine the now-in-full-bloom scat-creature? Boooooooooring. After which my head threw up another sparkler – Should I write you a little fable?

Thankfully, I didn’t have time to respond to this last one.

For as I was contemplating all of this, I happened not to feel the ground shift, I happened not to see the sky curl up and I happened not to hear the beasts panic. What I did feel perhaps, and I can’t ever be sure, is the little oval heat of a soft kiss on my brow.

You can imagine the shock I received when I looked up to see that everything had turned around. My world. My head. My toes.

The pixel of my dreams had changed. Irrevocably.

So that’s why, in celebration, my dollies, here’s a magnificent poster that might tell you a bit about H, if you’re sharp. It’s been created by U, who is the photographer and designer of this piece of trash-art. He thought I was potty to suggest this Campbell soup, H-imprinted, self-adoring artwork. But you’d know why, right?


H. by U.

Yay! For returning to myself.
Yay! For Indra Sinha and his “scabrously funny” book that I hope will achieve more than what Sunil ever imagined.
Yay! For a spanking fresh start.


23 comments:

houseband00 said...

I like the Warhol-sh execution, H. =)

You're ravishing as ever! =)

pricky said...

Oh man!!!!!!!!!
Uh UMMM
you made a century...
raise your bat...

Pinay in Barnsley said...

H sweetheart,

You are a sweetheart (if I haven't made that clear the first time around).

Thank you for regaling us with: over/under exposed, purple, orange, green, red versions of your lovely self.

I just knew you'd come up with something ingenious like that!

And Yay to all of the above...

*blowing kisses your way*

B Ditty said...

this blog was definitely worth the wait (for some reason I feared I would write defiantly there). I wish I could change colors.

Hyde said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Hyde said...

Very imaginative. I now leave the rest to my imagination to conjure up your real self. Don't, even for a moment, believe that I am not capable of it. Ha!

But there is nothing to fear. When you first visited my blog, you saw how I look like. :-D

Prude said...

:) Kudos!

Damn woman ur gorgeous!!!

H said...

Thank you dear HB! will let U know. But you really must try to lay your hands on Animal’s People. I’d like to read your review.

Pricky, thank you dear boy. I couldn’t ever have imagined then that I’d get past even 50.

Aww, M, the pleasure was all mine [my, aren’t I polishing up my manners lately!] And I know you’ll love Animal’s People.

Ben, sweetie, somehow defiantly fits equally well.

Hyde, did I? how? When? But I shall certainly let U know what you thought of his artwork :-)

Prude, aww man, I knew you’d like my acid green complexion ;-)

Girls and Boys, I sound like a dodgy hustler, but realllllllly, please do read the book. Whatever I’ve gathered from the reviews [the book is out of stock at all the shops I’ve been to], it’s a fan-bloody-tastic read. And please do visit their site.

Lizza said...

But that collage is just marvelous! Well done, U...and I love that pose. You look contemplative, engrossed, and just so enchanting.

What I did feel perhaps, and I can’t ever be sure, is the little oval heat of a soft kiss on my brow. *Sigh*

Congrats on the post 100, and cheers to Indra Sinh.

Witness Street said...

Yay indeed! Congratulations on the hundredth post! And what way to celebrate it, eh? You've more than enough reason to be proud and patriotic.

But when will we have a Filipino in that short list?

Cheers!!! (I love the pose.)

H said...

Liz, how is it that you’re always ever the only one who notices? You make it worthwhile. Thank you.

Also, thank you on behalf of U. Though I suspect he’d rather he had better inspiration for his creativity.


Migs, thanks. Y’know, you made me think about it. I’ve never liked to think of myself as a ‘patriotic’ person – not in the supercilious maligned nationalistic sense of the word. So I did actually try to make sense of why I feel so excited about Mr. Sinha’s achievement.

To begin with he’s an expat, as seem to be many successful [internationally] writers of Indian origin. I’m not sure why, in a country as large and populous as ours we aren’t able produce writers of the calibre that one is able to appreciate on International forums. I think it has everything to do with the ‘mainstream-ised’ western perspective and how it’s become ingrained in our systems of judgement. However I am also aware that it is a far more complex idea than this glittering generality that I’ve excreted here suggests.

What I do truly appreciate is that he’s used his gift to give back to what he comes from, or perhaps, to be a little more accurate, what he derives a part of his identity from. He has, after all, spent most of his life in another part of the world – a part of the world that is probably responsible for the enhancement of his gift.

pRicky said...

you know since we are on the topic of H... (and when are we not TONGUE AND CHEEK WHICH YOU SHALL HAVE TO EXCUSE AS I AM TOO YOUNG TO DIE)
I have a photo which I took several months ago highlighting the H's completing the street...
Right here...
http://www.flickr.com/photo_zoom.gne?id=481616094&size=l

H said...

Aww. Pricky! that's a fantastic pic. I love the H detail! Thank you.

Hyde said...

Perhaps you forget the profile pic I use for my blog. Barring a few minor details (like tan and actual size of the sideburns), I look a lot like that guy.

I know this is grammatically incorrect, but who is U?

H said...

U's the artist.

Hmmm. Charming pic, child. Good job with the sideburns. very X-men.

Hyde said...

I know. :-D Like someone said, hideously dashing it is.

NanNan said...

Wow--- Speechless---- An H by any other name......

H said...

...is as malodorous? ;-)

HUGS. So GOOD to see you back NanNAN!

Non-Sensei said...

oh my...
:-)

H said...

Yep. I lead an eventful life, don't i?

Non-Sensei said...

oh, i didnt really read the post properly. in case you thought that was what i was referring to...

H said...

Now I'm truly disappointed. :-(

H said...

correction: IS is British, now living in the south of France with his family. A part of his identity is rooted in India. His father was [is?] Indian. IS left India when he was 17. All his books so far have references to India - either they're directly about India or refer to aspects of it. [Cybergysies, though not about India in any way talks about some of his experiences in India.]

His next book however has nothing to do with India. And he'd rather not be called an Indian writer. Not because he doesn't feel/ or want to be linked with the country, but because it is a limiting description. it's like say he's a male writer. unnecessary.

ok enough.