Same here! I remember trying to stick with Mumbai for about a week before I finally gave in and started saying Bombay, like everyone else. And I’ve kept to that ever since.
In all these memory stories you manage to create a familiarity with alienation. I think that for me is perhaps the most recognizable feature of your writing style.
Thank you! That’s exactly how the kind of surrealism I appreciate tends to be written. Or magical realism, if one prefers to call it that. Like when Knausgård, in The Morning Star, has a swarm of crabs crawling across a road. So many in the end that it can hardly be considered plausible, but by then you’re caught in the story.
I liked the one with the childhood friend you don't remember, and also the bus ride. I'd probably be the friend on the other side, remembering all the small details.
"A few years later, she gives birth to my children, the journey folded into all the other dreams we don’t remember. But I can’t forget, because I opened my eyes in the dark."
Thank you! Perhaps the bus ride wasn’t all that exotic to you, as an Indian citizen. But in my memory, it has taken on a dark and intimidating quality. A very distinct feeling.
And I'm happy for you. As for me, I would much prefer being the observant one ...
Yeah, the bus ride wasn't "exotic", but I used to travel by rickety buses far more as a kid than I do now, and it was kind of nostalgic to remember that time. It did have a quality of its own... Sort of like solitude among a sea of people with the breeze hitting my face.
I enjoyed these Jorgen. We hear so much now of gaslighting but I think most of us have had a similar experience with parents telling us memory. Being convinced of what we were, our first gaslighting. The bus story. I felt part of the ride. There is such a fine edge between danger and innocence, safety.
The last one I read as a remembrance of life at one’s last moments. I’m not sure I interpreted that correctly. Going to read through again. Thanks for your writing!
I described another Substacker’s writing the other day as more big bang than full circle. The last story might be a glimpse of that kind of storytelling. A letting-go kind of writing.
Thank you Billy for the compliments, the support, and for sharing that phrase: parenting gaslighting. Extremely useful (says a father of two).
I started reading your first story, but I stopped midway.
I'm going to print them out - thanks to my university PC and printer. They must be savored on paper.
I can’t imagine a finer compliment. Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the reading.
These pieces are captivating, Jorgen. I love the intro, how it prepares us for the intimate strangeness of what unfolds.
Thank you, Rick! The introduction took years to figure out, and just a few minutes to put into words.
I thought it was funny how everybody I met in India still calls it Bombay.
https://slate.com/news-and-politics/2006/07/how-bombay-became-mumbai.html
Same here! I remember trying to stick with Mumbai for about a week before I finally gave in and started saying Bombay, like everyone else. And I’ve kept to that ever since.
In all these memory stories you manage to create a familiarity with alienation. I think that for me is perhaps the most recognizable feature of your writing style.
Thank you! That’s exactly how the kind of surrealism I appreciate tends to be written. Or magical realism, if one prefers to call it that. Like when Knausgård, in The Morning Star, has a swarm of crabs crawling across a road. So many in the end that it can hardly be considered plausible, but by then you’re caught in the story.
So comprehensive and beautifully worded. Your words have a soothing effect, while taking you in the worlds you're describing. Beautiful!
"Your words have a soothing effect". I couldn't imagine a greater compliment. Many thanks!
I liked the one with the childhood friend you don't remember, and also the bus ride. I'd probably be the friend on the other side, remembering all the small details.
"A few years later, she gives birth to my children, the journey folded into all the other dreams we don’t remember. But I can’t forget, because I opened my eyes in the dark."
Great sentence.
Thank you! Perhaps the bus ride wasn’t all that exotic to you, as an Indian citizen. But in my memory, it has taken on a dark and intimidating quality. A very distinct feeling.
And I'm happy for you. As for me, I would much prefer being the observant one ...
Yeah, the bus ride wasn't "exotic", but I used to travel by rickety buses far more as a kid than I do now, and it was kind of nostalgic to remember that time. It did have a quality of its own... Sort of like solitude among a sea of people with the breeze hitting my face.
I enjoyed these Jorgen. We hear so much now of gaslighting but I think most of us have had a similar experience with parents telling us memory. Being convinced of what we were, our first gaslighting. The bus story. I felt part of the ride. There is such a fine edge between danger and innocence, safety.
The last one I read as a remembrance of life at one’s last moments. I’m not sure I interpreted that correctly. Going to read through again. Thanks for your writing!
I described another Substacker’s writing the other day as more big bang than full circle. The last story might be a glimpse of that kind of storytelling. A letting-go kind of writing.
Thank you Billy for the compliments, the support, and for sharing that phrase: parenting gaslighting. Extremely useful (says a father of two).