Djinn Patrol on the Purple Line

I picked this one up on the day of its release because The New York Times Review of Book was glowing over it and because Ian McEwan among others was singing its praises. That was a kind of experiment for me since I’m not usually an early adopter. I wanted to see if I shared that reaction right out of the gate. I’m sorry for that hype because, while there is a lot I admire here, I don’t think it rises to the level of your typical McEwan. It’s a striking book with a look at world most of us never see. I admire it for giving voice to protagonists who have some dignity, and I enjoy its setting. But, I think it blinks at the end and undermines some of its strong premise in the way it presents multiple narrators to limited effect. Our main characters here are all children in the slums of India. A couple are so poor that they live in the railway station stealing and getting by on their wits. Our central character, Jai, is somewhat better off; his parents care for him, and he has the relative luxury of going to school and watching TV. In fact, Jai watches so much TV that, when first one and then another of the children in his neighborhood go missing, he determines he will find them like the detectives he knows from his shows. He recruits a pair of his friends, wins the friendship of a stray dog, and tries to piece the larger clues together. Jai’s voice and perspective are, for me, the star of what’s happening here. This is postcolonial in both its perspective and its early structure. The climax of the first part of this comes when Jai and his young friends steal a little money and take the newly built (in part by his father) purple line of the city’s rail system. It feels a lot like Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time in the way our protagonist ventures on a great adventure that is also the everyday stuff of others’ commute. That postcolonial reworking is effective as a structural ploy – a refiguring of Western culture in something of the classic example of the way steel drums came from reworked surplus and supplies – and the boys’ adventure is powerful. It’s also powerful in the way we see the world through the eyes of characters who are shaped by forces so out of their control. As an Indian in a nation that has much of its economy shaped by powers abroad (at least one character takes classes with an aspiration to work for an American call center), as a lower-class resident of a community that the area wealthy routinely threaten to tear down, and above all as a child, Jai can never forget his powerlessness. Anappara’s greatest success here is in refusing to see these children as acted upon. They have agency, and they really do conceive of themselves as detectives with the power to solve this crime. All that said, [SPOILER ALERT:] I think this loses some of its edge when, at the end, we learn that instead of inchoate, international powers that cost this community its children, there is a real serial killer. Jai even has a hand in uncovering him when, though the corrupt police try to stop him, he is among the first to storm into the house where they find the incriminating evidence. I find that move a betrayal of the larger sense of the people of this community as victimized by a global economy indifferent to the price the poorest of the world have to pay. Further [SPOILER ALERT:]. I’m also frustrated by the seemingly gratuitous plot twist that Jai’s sister, angry that her father has struck her, decides to run away in the midst of the childnapping crisis. As a result, she seems to be another victim, one never recovered or accounted for, and the price her parents pay is extreme. The action simply doesn’t feel authentic to me. Before her decision, she seems to have the same pluck as Jai. After, she seems sullen and unnecessarily cruel. On balance, I do see a lot to appreciate. It’s good to hear so striking a voice and to be brought to a world of such poverty. It’s not McEwan, though, and I don’t think it’s even extraordinary by the standards of current releases. Again, maybe I’d be more inclined toward it if I didn’t walk in expecting a masterpiece.

Anappara has created a rich world by telling the story though the eyes of the nine year old Jai. The readers are wonderful, especially Indira Varma who has one of the most excellent voices I have ever heard. The story is heartbreaking but told with humour and much respect for the rich human tapestry. The basti of this large Indian city comes alive with it’s inhabitants. Most worthwhile.

Anaparra lures you into the basti slum with her confident, young protagonist who dreams big even in such a poor place. However his spunk can only hold reality at bay for so long. I hope this book reaches the hearts of those with the power to change the statistics. I certainly won\’t forget the stories in it.

The New York Times described this book as a page turner. For me, it was anything but. It’s a brilliant portrait of the under class. I needed time to reflect and absorb this story so was happy to put this lovely book down as long as needed… to breathe.

The story is engaging, at times the writing is beautiful. The story is also very sad, and depicts poverty, income gap, police corruption, and dysfunctional government at its worst. I got the feeling that the depiction is real (and the author was a journalist in India and interviewed such children, so she wrote about something she knows about). But, other than a handful of uses of bad language (the f-word), it felt a lot like a well-written novel for teens (and maybe these days you can put the f-word in books for teens; I don’t know). True, it is told from the perspective of a child, but therefore the serious plot itself is trivialized into a juvenile adventure. The tension between Hindus and Muslims depicted also seemed simplified, as if for kids – it is all that the kids themselves might understand, but then aim the book to kids. A non-fiction book like Behind the Beautiful Forevers by Katherine Boo gives a more adult presentation of the situation. I’m also reminded of City of Joy, a novel, but also more complex than Djinn Patrol. The title of Djinn Patrol is also odd – the kids only ride the Purple Line one time, so someone must have decided it sounds catchy, but it’s odd. One could say that this is a story about missing slum children and the attempts of some other slum children to solve the mystery since the police don’t care. I did find it engrossing, I did cry at times, I was touched. The problems of the slums in India are not news to me. I recommend it, but it is not a 5-star book. The performance was good, but not amazing. I think Indira Varma’s was the best performance. At the outset, I found the narration very pleasant to listen to, but the last few hours seemed too monotonous. Not exactly monotonic, but the same rhythm, the same rising and falling of the voice over and over.

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