Joseph Anton

Time off from memoir-revising, I've been stretching my mind to absorb Joseph Anton, Salman Rushdie's big fat memoir, ostensibly about his years living under the Fatwah, the order to exterminate him, issued by the Islamist fanatic leader of Iran, the Ayatollah Khomeni.  It's about far more than the time Rushdie lived a shadowy existence in safe houses under an assumed name he chose himself, Joseph Anton, the first names of two favourite writers, Conrad and Checkov.  This is such a splendid memoir that I'm discouraged and encouraged. I'm discouraged because my own efforts are so shallow and inadequate in comparison. And I'm encouraged because I can see ways in which Rushdie's memoir can be a template for my own feeble attempt to record and learn lessons from my life.   Salman Rushdie has written a profound book not just about that long interlude in the half-world of constant fear, police protection that he never completely trusted, and shunning centre stage which to such a supreme egotist was a real punishment. It's about the whole of his life, his stormy relationship with his father and a succession of wives and lovers, his interactions with literary agents, publishers, other writers, public intellectuals, the often exotic places he visited. And of course it's about himself, manifestly his favourite subject. It's probably self-serving because of this, but most memoirs probably are I suppose.  It's written in the third person, which is an interesting literary technique. One lesson I take away from my reading of this fascinating book, is that my own memoir can be longer, more discursive, more introspective, more seeking deeper truths than I've made it so far.  It follows that instead of just a few months more of work, I probably have a few more years.  So be it. It will keep me off the streets and provide many more hours, weeks, months of entertainment than I'd begun to expect. The advantage of this is the greater time that will elapse before I finish the work and have to begin asking myself the troublesome question, "Now what?"