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Doab Dil
Why was the appreciation of gardens considered a symbol of Victorian aristocracy? Why do the Japanese find it easy to power-nap in public spaces? Why did Charles Baudelaire ascribe Samuel Taylor Coleridge's restless nocturnal wanderings to a pathological dread of returning home? Why is a tense Gurgaon CEO hitting anxiety-laden golf balls into the night? Why was an obscure ninth-century Arab scholar's library confiscated? And what do any of these mean for the average person immersed in the 'daily decathlon' of life?
Employing a philosopher's mind and an artist's eye, Banerjee takes us to still places in a moving world, the place where two rivers (do ab) meet and forests write themselves into history.
Employing a philosopher's mind and an artist's eye, Banerjee takes us to still places in a moving world, the place where two rivers (do ab) meet and forests write themselves into history.
186 pages, Hardcover
Published January 1, 2019
3 people are currently reading
103 people want to read
About the author
Sarnath Banerjee
10 books54 followersSarnath Banerjee (born 1972) is an Indian graphic novelist, artist, and film maker and a co-founder of the comics publishing house, Phantomville.
(from Wikipedia)
(from Wikipedia)
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Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews
April 6, 2019
‘“Doab Dil brings together drawings and text like two converging rivers,” claims the book’s introductory remark. It informs us, in a poetic, dreamy style, that “The fertile tract of land lying between two confluent rivers is called a doab (Persian do ab, two rivers).”
This promising preface is backed by the graphic novel’s jacket—a lone woman perched at the edge of a rock stares into the blue-white skies, cup of tea in hand, hills rolling by, fields in bloom, a river winding through. It is enough to evoke strong emotions, of an era gone by, of a memory from a distant hillock that still lingers in the mind.
Turning the page over, we spy a man who carries a house on his shoulders. On the next page, an ordinary office-goer morphs into a pot-bellied superhero. After all these whimsical creations whet our appetite, we begin to ask, so, what is this mingling of drawings and text that the writer talks of? The amalgamation is, at times, a beautiful spectacle to unravel. In other pages, while the art is spectacular, the text falters. Or is irrelevant, leaving readers flummoxed.
At the very beginning, author Sarnath Banerjee explains that this work is a product of the non-fiction texts he read over time. Eleven books are listed, ranging from a biography of Thomas Browne and a history of popular culture in the sixteenth century to Walter Benjamin and Rebecca Solnit. There is barely a thread connecting them. The author intends to bring them all together, in a mélange that could have been highly entertaining and riveting, but ends up being a pale shadow of all the books that he draws from.
Divided into 11 chapters, the writer flits between subjects and associations with a practiced, if clumsy, tread. There is much thought spent on gardens and their benefits; changing landscapes; histories and nocturnal activities; libraries and truths. The dichotomy of history and truth, a need to maintain objective balance, yet express pride in one’s identity is carefully explored.
There are also anecdotes and incidents concerning a handful of exciting personalities—Darwin and Mendel, Kitagawa Utamaro and Werner Herzog. There are men and men, an overwhelming abundance of men read, quoted and described. And as if to compensate, there are plenty of women in the illustrations, leading and working, reading and sunbathing.
There are certainly interesting nuggets that would be hard to come by otherwise. We learn of Caroline Wyburgh, arrested in London under the Contagious Diseases Act for walking unescorted: “If the arrested woman refused to undergo medical punishment, which was painful and humiliating and a punishment in itself, she would be put in prison. Strolling, wandering, roaming, straying meant different things for men and women. It had been implied that women walk not to see, but to be seen.”
We read of Søren Kierkegaard’s peculiar habit of pacing the streets. He “literally walked his way to his best ideas. The Danish philosopher often wrote his iconic essays as fast as his hand could move, which was only possible because he put all his thoughts into final form while walking. By and by, he left the streets of Copenhagen and resorted to walking in his spacious living room.”
The mention of bibliotherapy, too, is a soothing salve to book lovers—the fact that the word was “acknowledged in Dorland’s illustrated Medical Dictionary as early as 1941, and it is defined as ‘the employment of books and the reading of them in the treatment of nervous diseases.’” There are also philosophical observations, bizarre mini-stories and exaggerated emotions flung randomly into this page and that.
The book at times turns so haphazard and eccentric that it can leave trivia aficionados feeling dissatisfied and philosophy lovers cheated. The only true pleasure, then, comes from the pictures. It is certainly an aesthetic book, a pleasure to flip through and ruminate over. The pictures are brilliant—literally. They radiate colour and are lustrous, standing out from Banerjee’s earlier, paler illustrations. It is perhaps the colouring by Sudeep Chaudhari that leaves a warm glow on all these pages.
Dark woods remind us of Walden before we see his name on the page while Darwin and Mendel feed peas to exquisitely detailed birds as brilliant pink flowers bloom outside. Tiny leprechaun-like heads hang eerily from a lush green tree while a celebrated Japanese chef unclogs his fish-and-chips dinner from a newspaper wrapping. There is a lot of attention paid to textures and patterns, shades and pigments. There are very few of the panelled graphic comics we have come to expect, and some pages have little else except a comprehensive work of art.
One of the most interesting experiments in this graphic book is ‘The Daily Decathlon’, a series of convoluted, painful postures us humans master merely to go through work and daily life. It has a mixture of humour, irony and pathos that will stick in our minds as we prepare for one more mind-numbing day of work and mundane household chores. This chapter has no words, a format best suited to its mockery of human life.
Other chapters sometimes display a deep attachment between the text and picture, and the art is far more powerful than the words. At special moments, when you allow yourself to be lost in the author’s vision, the pages take you back to the unadulterated, priceless satisfaction of being a child, flipping through a picture book, matching story to picture.
And yet, the book suffers the fate of trying too hard, turning pretentious, haughty and ambitious when simplicity and artlessness really behooves it. It is, thankfully, never inaccessible, but it veers too close for comfort to narcissism and self-indulgence. From the very beginning, it lacks direction. There is loveliness, yes, and a far-off purpose, but it routinely languishes into oblivion. For example, the chapter on ‘Insomnia’ is a hotchpotch of third-hand experiences and surrealism.
There is a definite disjoint, an undeniable apathy and cutting off between texts on the same topic. What is truth, and what is fiction, and is the made-up paragraph necessary at all in a work such as this?
Originally published here: http://kathmandupost.ekantipur.com/ne...
This promising preface is backed by the graphic novel’s jacket—a lone woman perched at the edge of a rock stares into the blue-white skies, cup of tea in hand, hills rolling by, fields in bloom, a river winding through. It is enough to evoke strong emotions, of an era gone by, of a memory from a distant hillock that still lingers in the mind.
Turning the page over, we spy a man who carries a house on his shoulders. On the next page, an ordinary office-goer morphs into a pot-bellied superhero. After all these whimsical creations whet our appetite, we begin to ask, so, what is this mingling of drawings and text that the writer talks of? The amalgamation is, at times, a beautiful spectacle to unravel. In other pages, while the art is spectacular, the text falters. Or is irrelevant, leaving readers flummoxed.
At the very beginning, author Sarnath Banerjee explains that this work is a product of the non-fiction texts he read over time. Eleven books are listed, ranging from a biography of Thomas Browne and a history of popular culture in the sixteenth century to Walter Benjamin and Rebecca Solnit. There is barely a thread connecting them. The author intends to bring them all together, in a mélange that could have been highly entertaining and riveting, but ends up being a pale shadow of all the books that he draws from.
Divided into 11 chapters, the writer flits between subjects and associations with a practiced, if clumsy, tread. There is much thought spent on gardens and their benefits; changing landscapes; histories and nocturnal activities; libraries and truths. The dichotomy of history and truth, a need to maintain objective balance, yet express pride in one’s identity is carefully explored.
There are also anecdotes and incidents concerning a handful of exciting personalities—Darwin and Mendel, Kitagawa Utamaro and Werner Herzog. There are men and men, an overwhelming abundance of men read, quoted and described. And as if to compensate, there are plenty of women in the illustrations, leading and working, reading and sunbathing.
There are certainly interesting nuggets that would be hard to come by otherwise. We learn of Caroline Wyburgh, arrested in London under the Contagious Diseases Act for walking unescorted: “If the arrested woman refused to undergo medical punishment, which was painful and humiliating and a punishment in itself, she would be put in prison. Strolling, wandering, roaming, straying meant different things for men and women. It had been implied that women walk not to see, but to be seen.”
We read of Søren Kierkegaard’s peculiar habit of pacing the streets. He “literally walked his way to his best ideas. The Danish philosopher often wrote his iconic essays as fast as his hand could move, which was only possible because he put all his thoughts into final form while walking. By and by, he left the streets of Copenhagen and resorted to walking in his spacious living room.”
The mention of bibliotherapy, too, is a soothing salve to book lovers—the fact that the word was “acknowledged in Dorland’s illustrated Medical Dictionary as early as 1941, and it is defined as ‘the employment of books and the reading of them in the treatment of nervous diseases.’” There are also philosophical observations, bizarre mini-stories and exaggerated emotions flung randomly into this page and that.
The book at times turns so haphazard and eccentric that it can leave trivia aficionados feeling dissatisfied and philosophy lovers cheated. The only true pleasure, then, comes from the pictures. It is certainly an aesthetic book, a pleasure to flip through and ruminate over. The pictures are brilliant—literally. They radiate colour and are lustrous, standing out from Banerjee’s earlier, paler illustrations. It is perhaps the colouring by Sudeep Chaudhari that leaves a warm glow on all these pages.
Dark woods remind us of Walden before we see his name on the page while Darwin and Mendel feed peas to exquisitely detailed birds as brilliant pink flowers bloom outside. Tiny leprechaun-like heads hang eerily from a lush green tree while a celebrated Japanese chef unclogs his fish-and-chips dinner from a newspaper wrapping. There is a lot of attention paid to textures and patterns, shades and pigments. There are very few of the panelled graphic comics we have come to expect, and some pages have little else except a comprehensive work of art.
One of the most interesting experiments in this graphic book is ‘The Daily Decathlon’, a series of convoluted, painful postures us humans master merely to go through work and daily life. It has a mixture of humour, irony and pathos that will stick in our minds as we prepare for one more mind-numbing day of work and mundane household chores. This chapter has no words, a format best suited to its mockery of human life.
Other chapters sometimes display a deep attachment between the text and picture, and the art is far more powerful than the words. At special moments, when you allow yourself to be lost in the author’s vision, the pages take you back to the unadulterated, priceless satisfaction of being a child, flipping through a picture book, matching story to picture.
And yet, the book suffers the fate of trying too hard, turning pretentious, haughty and ambitious when simplicity and artlessness really behooves it. It is, thankfully, never inaccessible, but it veers too close for comfort to narcissism and self-indulgence. From the very beginning, it lacks direction. There is loveliness, yes, and a far-off purpose, but it routinely languishes into oblivion. For example, the chapter on ‘Insomnia’ is a hotchpotch of third-hand experiences and surrealism.
There is a definite disjoint, an undeniable apathy and cutting off between texts on the same topic. What is truth, and what is fiction, and is the made-up paragraph necessary at all in a work such as this?
Originally published here: http://kathmandupost.ekantipur.com/ne...
September 23, 2022
Some good frames, combined with quotes from non-fiction books.
Overall the art was decent, original, detailed and neat.
Too abstract for my taste. There is no continuity whatsoever.
Overall the art was decent, original, detailed and neat.
Too abstract for my taste. There is no continuity whatsoever.
January 1, 2021
The artwork is beautiful. The content is an eclectic collection certainly, but what it still needs is a string to hold it all together.
December 11, 2019
A unique experience of the human persona and paraphernalia through a soothing mixture of art and literature.
Bannerjee tries to go through very simple emotions but not explicitly, as I have come to notice that it's the simplest ones that are most easily lost. Instead he tries to subtly hide them which only makes their discovery delightful, obvious and powerful.
Highly recommended.
Bannerjee tries to go through very simple emotions but not explicitly, as I have come to notice that it's the simplest ones that are most easily lost. Instead he tries to subtly hide them which only makes their discovery delightful, obvious and powerful.
Highly recommended.
January 7, 2023
The perfect read to kickstart the new year. Excited to read more of Banerjee’s work!
September 10, 2019
Sarnath's Banerjee's books are always about restless spirits trying to find the reason for their living;trying to escape to a higher plane of existence. Doab Dil is deeply contemplative like all his work;it forces you to reflect upon your own purpose in life and what you have done towards achieving it. Doab Dil has more text than his earlier books.His illustrations always speak for themselves,but the text here is an added bonus.The moment you finish reading the book you feel disappointed, yearning for more.But then that's the mark of a good book.
Some day Sarnath's books will be considered in the league of Jonathan Livingstone Seagull, which critics had dissed initially as "something so banal that kids will see through it".For his fans, Sarnath is already there.
Some day Sarnath's books will be considered in the league of Jonathan Livingstone Seagull, which critics had dissed initially as "something so banal that kids will see through it".For his fans, Sarnath is already there.
January 7, 2021
Book #2 this year - Doab Dil, a graphic novel by Sarnath Banerjee. This is a non-fiction book that is a random compilation of wisdom/information the author came across while reading non-fiction books. For example, the first few pages are about Gardening & landscaping, two topics I have very little interest in. While the artwork in Doab Dil is worth treasuring, the text accompanying them are pretty forgettable. Banerjee jumps from one topic to another very abruptly, leaving the reader dazed & unsatisfied. Like there is just one page on why the Japanese can fall asleep comfortably in public places. As a reader I had more expectations from the book as far as content is concerned, but I liked the artwork.
February 5, 2023
Bought this because it came packed in a plastic wrap and didn't have a way of knowing what it is about. It's like a diary where the author has penned down random thoughts and verses he liked along with illustrations to go with. Sarnath Banerjee's art isn't something I would buy a book just for, goes well with his stories but this one has no story. I'm writing this review so that anyone tempted to buy this knows exactly what they are getting into.
May 27, 2023
Some noteworthy excerpts from towards the end of the beautifully illustrated book among many others:
"The soldiers (Indians in WW I), mostly illiterate, never left behind contemplative war memories... silence is the Indian soldier's most enduring trait."
"History is a living dynamic subject. Every theory of the past has to be seen along with a theory that disputes it."
"The soldiers (Indians in WW I), mostly illiterate, never left behind contemplative war memories... silence is the Indian soldier's most enduring trait."
"History is a living dynamic subject. Every theory of the past has to be seen along with a theory that disputes it."
February 9, 2020
A book that turns its lens on many different eras, interests, cultures, ways. You get to see the world in snippets and you discover something new in each page.
Magnificent. Contemplative. Straddling fiction and nonfiction. What a beauty in terms of words, images, and choice of subjects.
Magnificent. Contemplative. Straddling fiction and nonfiction. What a beauty in terms of words, images, and choice of subjects.
September 5, 2025
Good grqphics, as expected. However, very abstract with nothing flowing, almost as if it’s a synopsis of author’s reading of non-fiction to date (and do I care about it?) but little of its interpretation or anything about it.
April 21, 2021
Filled with colourful and impressive illustrations, this book was literally fantastic.
December 7, 2023
Corridor and Doab Dil both are wonderful
Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews