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Londonstani
Gautam Malkanis electrifying debut, reveals a Britain that has never before been explored in the a country of young Asians and white boys (desis and goras) trying to work out a place for themselves in the shadow of the divergent cultures of their parents' generation. Set close to the Heathrow feed roads of Hounslow, Malkani shows us the lives of a gang of four young men - Hardjit the ring leader, a Sikh violent, determined his caste stay pure; Ravi, determinedly tactless, a sheep following the herd; Amit, whose brother Arun is struggling to win the approval of his mother for the Hindu girl he has chosen to marry; and Jas who tells us of his journey with these three, desperate to win their approval, desperate too for Samira, a Muslim girl.
343 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2006
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October 27, 2023
A complex book to review and rate - and if you intend to read I would suggest steering clear of many of the reviews which contain a spoiler to the twist which occurs at the very end of the book. I won't mentioned the twist again, other than to say it is polarising to readers.
The author is a journalist for the Financial Times, and his book is set where he grew up in West London, popular with middle class Indian & Pakistani families. Hounslow is the specific setting where the protagonist and narrator of the novel Jas lives. He has been recently accepted into the company of Hardjit, Amit and Ravi who live a Rudeboy lifestyle while re-sitting their A levels they all failed the year prior. They drive suped-up cars provided by their parents, they have a sideline in unlocking mobile phones, and spend most of their time preening and posing, talking themselves up and distancing themselves from their parents behaviours - typical youth I guess, within an Asian twist.
And so while a lot of the novel is the inner monologue of Jas, explaining his internal battle with connecting with his wannabe gangster mates, their unwritten rules (conveniently written in the novel as Rudeboy Rules, and numbered as the narrative rolls out), it charts fifteen months of his life. Toxic masculinity, race, religion, ethnic identity, customs and traditions are all central, as well as the subculture existing within the community are all central to the novel, as well as the young men finding their way - a different way to their parents generation, notwithstanding the cultural overbearing mother issue they all suffer from. The fact Jas has a schoolboy crush on Samira Ahmed is a major theme, as as his friends all point out - she is a Muslim, and he is not, and they make it abundantly clear he cannot go out with her... Jas must also reject his intellectual side - he is infinitely more intelligent than his friends, but in the hip-hop culture they live in, it is as uncool to be clever as it is to be sensitive.
Each of the main characters have their individual characteristics, including their language, which cleverly establishes their distinct identities. As the boys find themselves in trouble with the police, their former teacher steps in and makes them a deal. They are to meet with a former pupil - a desi-made-good who is to influence them to make more of life than their thirst for pimped up cars, designer clothes and making trouble.
Without going into more detail, this doesn't work out the way expected by Mr Ashwood, as Sanjay is certainly a high-flier in the financial world, and certainly influences the boys, but not in the way expected. There are some well curated explanations of bling-bling economics, and a VAT tax fraud central to the book are well articulated.
The twist at the end provides some reflection, and it will be up to the individual readers assessment whether this was acceptable or not. Irrespective of this, it was a pretty easy read, it was entertaining and for the large part amusing and fun. It addresses themes relevant to youth culture (albeit published in 2006, it has likely been superseded by new traits).
4 stars
The author is a journalist for the Financial Times, and his book is set where he grew up in West London, popular with middle class Indian & Pakistani families. Hounslow is the specific setting where the protagonist and narrator of the novel Jas lives. He has been recently accepted into the company of Hardjit, Amit and Ravi who live a Rudeboy lifestyle while re-sitting their A levels they all failed the year prior. They drive suped-up cars provided by their parents, they have a sideline in unlocking mobile phones, and spend most of their time preening and posing, talking themselves up and distancing themselves from their parents behaviours - typical youth I guess, within an Asian twist.
People are always trying to stick a label on our scene. That's the problem with having a fuckin scene. First we was rudeboys, then we'd be Indian niggas, then rajamuffins, then rajastanis, Brit-Asians, fuckin Indo-Brits. These days we try and use our own word for homeboy and so we just call ourselves desis, but I still remember when we were happy with the word rudeboy.Written in a mixture of dialect and slang, with remnants of txt, various Punjabi words and American slang - surprisingly, I found it pretty easy to adjust to. Even the words which are not familiar to the reader are given sufficient context to understand the meaning. Other readers have been negative about the patois, saying they needed to read and re-read to pick it up, but I didn't find this an issue.
Anyway, whatever the fuck we are, Ravi and the others are better at being it than I am. I swear I watched as much MTV-base an Juggy D videos as they have but I still can't attain the right level of rudeboy authenticity. If I could, I wouldn't be using poncey words like attain an authenticity, innit.
And so while a lot of the novel is the inner monologue of Jas, explaining his internal battle with connecting with his wannabe gangster mates, their unwritten rules (conveniently written in the novel as Rudeboy Rules, and numbered as the narrative rolls out), it charts fifteen months of his life. Toxic masculinity, race, religion, ethnic identity, customs and traditions are all central, as well as the subculture existing within the community are all central to the novel, as well as the young men finding their way - a different way to their parents generation, notwithstanding the cultural overbearing mother issue they all suffer from. The fact Jas has a schoolboy crush on Samira Ahmed is a major theme, as as his friends all point out - she is a Muslim, and he is not, and they make it abundantly clear he cannot go out with her... Jas must also reject his intellectual side - he is infinitely more intelligent than his friends, but in the hip-hop culture they live in, it is as uncool to be clever as it is to be sensitive.
Each of the main characters have their individual characteristics, including their language, which cleverly establishes their distinct identities. As the boys find themselves in trouble with the police, their former teacher steps in and makes them a deal. They are to meet with a former pupil - a desi-made-good who is to influence them to make more of life than their thirst for pimped up cars, designer clothes and making trouble.
Without going into more detail, this doesn't work out the way expected by Mr Ashwood, as Sanjay is certainly a high-flier in the financial world, and certainly influences the boys, but not in the way expected. There are some well curated explanations of bling-bling economics, and a VAT tax fraud central to the book are well articulated.
The twist at the end provides some reflection, and it will be up to the individual readers assessment whether this was acceptable or not. Irrespective of this, it was a pretty easy read, it was entertaining and for the large part amusing and fun. It addresses themes relevant to youth culture (albeit published in 2006, it has likely been superseded by new traits).
4 stars
January 26, 2009
Jas is eighteen, retaking his A-levels at the local college and hanging out as a member of Hardjit's crew, throwing off his nerdy ways to be a part of the desi (Indian, Pakistani) scene in London's desi suburb of Hounslow. Hardjit, Ravi, Amit and Jas have a racket going: they take in mobile phones and unblock them. Sometimes it's a service for family or friends who swap their phones with each other, but mostly it's so stolen mobiles can be resold.
A close call with the police after Hardjit, a Sikh, beats up Tariq, a Muslim, for going out with Sikh girls, puts the gang at the mercy of Mr Ashwood, one of their teachers from high school. Ashwood puts them in touch with a desi come good: Sanjay, with his Cambridge education, his high-flying ways and his fancy suits. But Sanjay isn't the golden boy Mr Ashwood think he is, and he isn't about to put the boys on the straight-and-narrow: no, he has better plans for them. And if he can help Jas hook up with Samira, a desi he's "not allowed" to like because she's Muslim, Jas is all for it.
I knew I'd have trouble giving this book a rating, but I had even more trouble trying to describe the plot. Which is funny, because the plot is actually very simple and straight-forward. And I'm still not sure how much I liked it.
Written not just from Jas' point of view but in his voice as well, phonetics and all, Londonstani is not a fast read. It took me two weeks of subway rides to get through it. I need to give you a taste of how it reads, how Jas sounds, so I'll pick a random quote (but not too random, because I don't want to scare you off):
Just look at Samira Ahmed. She was the reason guys round Hounslow'd bothered learnin how to spell the word Beautiful stead a just writin the word Fit inside their Valentine cards. She was beautiful like them models in make-up ads, the ones where they're so fit they don't even look like they're wearin any make-up. Unlike any a the other desi girls that'd got off the bus before her, Samira Ahmed weren't even wearin no jewellery either. That's how fit she was. I in't lyin. She made you realise how some desi princesses were lookin more an more like clowns dressed up like Christmas trees with all their bling-bling Tiffany tinsel an Mac masks. (p48)
It was really hard to type that and leave off the "g"s and all! Jas' narrative isn't so hard to read, although some more paragraph breaks would have helped, but when Amit or Ravi or, even worse, Hardjit, speaks it's even less flowing:
Amit, I don't give a fuck whether his fone's on silent or stuck up his butt n set 2 vibrate, Davinder told me 2 call him when we left da school n we b leavin da fuckin school, innit. So c'mon, u bunch a chiefs. One a u's gotta be havin his numba. (p15)
That was a mild one. When he mixes in Punjabi or whatever it gets harder. With all the swearing in this book it's hard to put it down and talk to someone without saying "fuck" all the time, or being really aggressive. It gets under your skin.
And that's the thing about this novel: it's bloody clever. The writing skill is definitely worth admiring, though it's a strain for 340 pages. I felt I owed it to Jas, though. All the characters, the entire story, felt very real. There's a great deal of tension, the threat of violence - and more, the act of violence - on every page. And Jas isn't the strongest of individuals: always insecure, trying to fit in, trying to be tough like the others but failing. He can't quite give up his "coconut" ways (black on the outside, white on the inside - a derogatory word for desi's who act "white") or his knowledge from his geeky days when he was Mr Ashwood's best student. Anyone who's ever felt even remotely left out and a bit of a loser (I think most of us have felt like that on our worst days, if only once), can relate to Jas.
Here's where I think this novel really succeeds: its in-your-face honesty, hypocrisy, racism, classism - it's impossible to duck, and it's almost ironic, how alike we all are even while we're thinking we're better. Change their skin colour, their culture, their language, and the sentiments are the same. Hardjit could have been a white thug, or a white yuppy, and he could still have been equally prejudiced and intolerant. The more you focus on all these markers between the races, the more ridiculous it all seems.
Another side-plot to the story is Amit's older brother Arun's wedding to Reena, a surgeon. Arun talks to Jas about all his "complicated family-related shit", about how Arun's mum thinks the Girl's Side aren't respecting her, complaining about the dowry because Reena's moving from her dad's balance sheet to Arun's - no matter how many times Arun points out that Reena earns more than him - all the things that Reena's family is doing wrong in observing the traditions - and Jas's Morpheus speech only makes things worse.
The more Arun defends his mum's ways, the more I realise that the woman's some fucked-up Nazi. All this talk bout sides. All this puttin people down cos they don't salute you, cos they're lower than you, cos you're too fuckin retarded to question the system. ... I don't chat bout Nazis, though, cos that'd sound a bit boffany. Stead a using Nazis, suddenly I'm fuckin Morpheus from The Matrix, tellin Arun to free his mind, fight the system, save mankind. After all, in the film, Neo compares Agent Smith to a member a the Gestapo. So I tell Arun to wake up, smell the masala tea, I say he's accepting a world that imprisons him. I argue that maybe we're meant to challenge traditions, defeat the system that allows our elders to exploit us. (p236)
It doesn't end well, but it's a no-apologies critique of the traditions that bind cultures and drive individuals to the worst extremes. That sounds a bit dramatic but it is applicable to every single culture and way of life. As I read this book, I didn't feel like a smug white person for one second. It's not about laughing at these people and their "gangsta" ways and the silly rules and traditions of Indians that make no sense in this day and age - because we're all just as bad; if anything, it made me feel sad and regretful.
There is a twist in this book at the end, which obviously I can't tell you about, but it is profound and I wish I could discuss what it made me think about. I'd be surprised if you didn't have the same thoughts though! I had hoped that after all this I would know better how to rate this book, but I don't. On the one hand, it was an unpleasant, miserable book that I struggled to get through. On the other, it's compelling, profound, and written by a true craftsman. But did I like it? I think I have my answer after all.
A close call with the police after Hardjit, a Sikh, beats up Tariq, a Muslim, for going out with Sikh girls, puts the gang at the mercy of Mr Ashwood, one of their teachers from high school. Ashwood puts them in touch with a desi come good: Sanjay, with his Cambridge education, his high-flying ways and his fancy suits. But Sanjay isn't the golden boy Mr Ashwood think he is, and he isn't about to put the boys on the straight-and-narrow: no, he has better plans for them. And if he can help Jas hook up with Samira, a desi he's "not allowed" to like because she's Muslim, Jas is all for it.
I knew I'd have trouble giving this book a rating, but I had even more trouble trying to describe the plot. Which is funny, because the plot is actually very simple and straight-forward. And I'm still not sure how much I liked it.
Written not just from Jas' point of view but in his voice as well, phonetics and all, Londonstani is not a fast read. It took me two weeks of subway rides to get through it. I need to give you a taste of how it reads, how Jas sounds, so I'll pick a random quote (but not too random, because I don't want to scare you off):
Just look at Samira Ahmed. She was the reason guys round Hounslow'd bothered learnin how to spell the word Beautiful stead a just writin the word Fit inside their Valentine cards. She was beautiful like them models in make-up ads, the ones where they're so fit they don't even look like they're wearin any make-up. Unlike any a the other desi girls that'd got off the bus before her, Samira Ahmed weren't even wearin no jewellery either. That's how fit she was. I in't lyin. She made you realise how some desi princesses were lookin more an more like clowns dressed up like Christmas trees with all their bling-bling Tiffany tinsel an Mac masks. (p48)
It was really hard to type that and leave off the "g"s and all! Jas' narrative isn't so hard to read, although some more paragraph breaks would have helped, but when Amit or Ravi or, even worse, Hardjit, speaks it's even less flowing:
Amit, I don't give a fuck whether his fone's on silent or stuck up his butt n set 2 vibrate, Davinder told me 2 call him when we left da school n we b leavin da fuckin school, innit. So c'mon, u bunch a chiefs. One a u's gotta be havin his numba. (p15)
That was a mild one. When he mixes in Punjabi or whatever it gets harder. With all the swearing in this book it's hard to put it down and talk to someone without saying "fuck" all the time, or being really aggressive. It gets under your skin.
And that's the thing about this novel: it's bloody clever. The writing skill is definitely worth admiring, though it's a strain for 340 pages. I felt I owed it to Jas, though. All the characters, the entire story, felt very real. There's a great deal of tension, the threat of violence - and more, the act of violence - on every page. And Jas isn't the strongest of individuals: always insecure, trying to fit in, trying to be tough like the others but failing. He can't quite give up his "coconut" ways (black on the outside, white on the inside - a derogatory word for desi's who act "white") or his knowledge from his geeky days when he was Mr Ashwood's best student. Anyone who's ever felt even remotely left out and a bit of a loser (I think most of us have felt like that on our worst days, if only once), can relate to Jas.
Here's where I think this novel really succeeds: its in-your-face honesty, hypocrisy, racism, classism - it's impossible to duck, and it's almost ironic, how alike we all are even while we're thinking we're better. Change their skin colour, their culture, their language, and the sentiments are the same. Hardjit could have been a white thug, or a white yuppy, and he could still have been equally prejudiced and intolerant. The more you focus on all these markers between the races, the more ridiculous it all seems.
Another side-plot to the story is Amit's older brother Arun's wedding to Reena, a surgeon. Arun talks to Jas about all his "complicated family-related shit", about how Arun's mum thinks the Girl's Side aren't respecting her, complaining about the dowry because Reena's moving from her dad's balance sheet to Arun's - no matter how many times Arun points out that Reena earns more than him - all the things that Reena's family is doing wrong in observing the traditions - and Jas's Morpheus speech only makes things worse.
The more Arun defends his mum's ways, the more I realise that the woman's some fucked-up Nazi. All this talk bout sides. All this puttin people down cos they don't salute you, cos they're lower than you, cos you're too fuckin retarded to question the system. ... I don't chat bout Nazis, though, cos that'd sound a bit boffany. Stead a using Nazis, suddenly I'm fuckin Morpheus from The Matrix, tellin Arun to free his mind, fight the system, save mankind. After all, in the film, Neo compares Agent Smith to a member a the Gestapo. So I tell Arun to wake up, smell the masala tea, I say he's accepting a world that imprisons him. I argue that maybe we're meant to challenge traditions, defeat the system that allows our elders to exploit us. (p236)
It doesn't end well, but it's a no-apologies critique of the traditions that bind cultures and drive individuals to the worst extremes. That sounds a bit dramatic but it is applicable to every single culture and way of life. As I read this book, I didn't feel like a smug white person for one second. It's not about laughing at these people and their "gangsta" ways and the silly rules and traditions of Indians that make no sense in this day and age - because we're all just as bad; if anything, it made me feel sad and regretful.
There is a twist in this book at the end, which obviously I can't tell you about, but it is profound and I wish I could discuss what it made me think about. I'd be surprised if you didn't have the same thoughts though! I had hoped that after all this I would know better how to rate this book, but I don't. On the one hand, it was an unpleasant, miserable book that I struggled to get through. On the other, it's compelling, profound, and written by a true craftsman. But did I like it? I think I have my answer after all.
January 24, 2008
Hmmm. Just finished the book and I'm pretty sure I don't like the ending, but I'm not 100% sure. Is it a lazy trick or is it an intriguing way to challenge authenticity? I mean, I thought the whole middle-class-rudebwoy-desi-male-angst thing was semi-interesting, althought I get tired of the insecure-male-identity-leads-to-misogynistic-expression-of-guarded-love-or-affection-for-woman-or-bitch vein of writing because, frankly, I'm a woman and I get it and I think it's stupid. I mean, constipated male emotions, not the writing.
From watching his interviews, I know that one of the "themes" of the book is to challenge authenticity and perception. That's obvious, considering the amount of time these big-house-living, beemer driving, versace wearing desi rudeboys spend posin their masculinity and shit, and glinting their communal tensions, and quoting Ice Cube and 50 Cent (an area that could be talked about more), and talking about sex. But I feel that the ending was so strange because then so much of the story becomes a proxy for white shame and a discussion of white identity. And then the narrative elides the very impact that a white body would have on the "authenticity" of narratives of the brown characters in the first place. I mean, would Jas(on) really be ushered into Arun's family beatdown? Which makes it seem that his whiteness doesn't matter. OR does his marginality give him access? Then, his whiteness does matter.
That is, if it's whiteness we're talking about. But who really knows? Which then kind of makes his point about authenticity relevant, in that the obsessing reader might end up wondering what the race of the narrator is so that we can readjust all the associations that we made with signifiers throughout the book. In any case, there are interesting questions to ask about what Jas(on), as a narrative observer to this particular desi community would be privy to, accepted into, allowed to see. And if he'd really get it.
The other question is, even if we are questioning these so-called signifiers, or are inferring meaning into shit that isn't really in the text, what does it prove? Does it prove that as readers we're all dumb and racist? Or does it mean that there's a value to those signifiers in the first place, depending on who's reading it, that lose meaning when the entire narrative is pulled out from under you. Shady, innit?
BTW, unlike other reviewers, I loved the language in the book 'cause I actually had to read the first chapters out loud (and alone!) in Madonna's fake brit accent to get it at first. It takes you away from dominant cultural modes of middle-class language and writing (even if it is grounded in middle class desi boys posin...), and it changes your experience as a reader. I think the debates on the net over the language of the book are really telling of the biases of reading audiences, and how readers think stories should be represented. And there were some fuckin brilliant scenes with desi families, and pots being thrown, and moms goin crazy, and dad's being passive, and children feeling unheard, and all feeling unappreciated, that I think he hit dead-on. Loved reading his dialogue.
Damn, because of that ending now I gotta to read this whole book all over again.
From watching his interviews, I know that one of the "themes" of the book is to challenge authenticity and perception. That's obvious, considering the amount of time these big-house-living, beemer driving, versace wearing desi rudeboys spend posin their masculinity and shit, and glinting their communal tensions, and quoting Ice Cube and 50 Cent (an area that could be talked about more), and talking about sex. But I feel that the ending was so strange because then so much of the story becomes a proxy for white shame and a discussion of white identity. And then the narrative elides the very impact that a white body would have on the "authenticity" of narratives of the brown characters in the first place. I mean, would Jas(on) really be ushered into Arun's family beatdown? Which makes it seem that his whiteness doesn't matter. OR does his marginality give him access? Then, his whiteness does matter.
That is, if it's whiteness we're talking about. But who really knows? Which then kind of makes his point about authenticity relevant, in that the obsessing reader might end up wondering what the race of the narrator is so that we can readjust all the associations that we made with signifiers throughout the book. In any case, there are interesting questions to ask about what Jas(on), as a narrative observer to this particular desi community would be privy to, accepted into, allowed to see. And if he'd really get it.
The other question is, even if we are questioning these so-called signifiers, or are inferring meaning into shit that isn't really in the text, what does it prove? Does it prove that as readers we're all dumb and racist? Or does it mean that there's a value to those signifiers in the first place, depending on who's reading it, that lose meaning when the entire narrative is pulled out from under you. Shady, innit?
BTW, unlike other reviewers, I loved the language in the book 'cause I actually had to read the first chapters out loud (and alone!) in Madonna's fake brit accent to get it at first. It takes you away from dominant cultural modes of middle-class language and writing (even if it is grounded in middle class desi boys posin...), and it changes your experience as a reader. I think the debates on the net over the language of the book are really telling of the biases of reading audiences, and how readers think stories should be represented. And there were some fuckin brilliant scenes with desi families, and pots being thrown, and moms goin crazy, and dad's being passive, and children feeling unheard, and all feeling unappreciated, that I think he hit dead-on. Loved reading his dialogue.
Damn, because of that ending now I gotta to read this whole book all over again.
March 23, 2007
Also could be called "How an Interesting Book about Youth Counter Culture Became a Cheesy Thriller." I don't have the typical complaints about "Londonstani" - I'm actually okay with the "rudeboy" slang, I think the novel would not be nearly as convincing if Malkani wrote it in proper english. In fact I give him credit that he did his research (I once went to a reading by him and he definitely does not talk in rudeboy.) and had the patience and endurance to write most of his novel in slang. Also, once you get the rhythm of it you won't even need to use the glossary in the back too much.
No, I don't mind the langauge at all - in fact even though the end of this book seriously disappointed me, I'll still give it four stars. Reason being, 80% of this book is really GOOD. Intriguing and for real and a interesting social commentary for certain. The other 20%? Turns into a lurid thriller with a twist for the sake of a twist. Oh, Gautam - how I wish you would have stopped before you lost your (completely engrossed to that point) reader - I would have gladly given you 5 stars.
No, I don't mind the langauge at all - in fact even though the end of this book seriously disappointed me, I'll still give it four stars. Reason being, 80% of this book is really GOOD. Intriguing and for real and a interesting social commentary for certain. The other 20%? Turns into a lurid thriller with a twist for the sake of a twist. Oh, Gautam - how I wish you would have stopped before you lost your (completely engrossed to that point) reader - I would have gladly given you 5 stars.
July 17, 2023
I wasn't sure about this when I first started reading it. (The book cover caught my attention) Once I'd got to grips with the dialogue and got my own Londonstani urban dictionary together I really started to get into it. Books about "growing up" always appeal to me - I'm still working on the process myself. So, I share that with Jas our narrator/"hero". Jas is desperate to be accepted by his bruders and sleep with the droolingly fit Samira. The two wants are not compatible..Read on..
The book is very funny and touching. The reader has a lot of fun (well, I did anyway!)drifting in and out of gangland and the various cultures surrounding it. The twist in the tail was totally unexpected. I sniffed at first and then concluded it was brilliant.
The book is very funny and touching. The reader has a lot of fun (well, I did anyway!)drifting in and out of gangland and the various cultures surrounding it. The twist in the tail was totally unexpected. I sniffed at first and then concluded it was brilliant.
August 30, 2016
I thought I had a grip on this. In many ways, a startling book. Loved, loved, the narrative !!
But the end???? Eh????? Did I misunderstand the whole farking book?????????
But the end???? Eh????? Did I misunderstand the whole farking book?????????
January 15, 2019
A story about young men doing typical bad boy things while still living with their parents. The characters act like they are in a remake of West Side Story with a Bhangra Soundtrack.
Don't be put off by the extensive use of slang. There is a lot of witty writing within all that colorful language.
Don't be put off by the extensive use of slang. There is a lot of witty writing within all that colorful language.
January 4, 2019
This debut novel by financial journalist Malkani is well worth reading and deserves much respect for its brilliant recreation of a particular form of urban patois. Set in Hounslow, in West London (adjacent to Heathrow Airport), it revolves around four South Asian teenagers who style themselves as hard rudeboys. Or rather, three rudeboys, and one new hanger-on who narrates the tale. The story more or less concern the antics of the foursome as they cruise around the hood, posing in their flash cars (actually belonging to their parents), acting tough while skiving off from studying for examination retakes. Eventually, a cell phone scam they run brings them into contact with a wealthy playboy from their hood, who brings them in on a much more profitable scam, and in touch with the high life.
All of this is fairly interesting, but mainly a backdrop for a larger (and often quite funny) exploration of immigrant assimilation, cultural authenticity, racism, class, and youth culture. A good portion of the book involves how these British born and bred teens negotiate their identities. On the street they are self-styled hoods, while at home they are obedient, deferential children. In contrast to their immigrant parents who kept a low profile in order to assimilate, these boys demonstrate their unwillingness to assimilate by maintaining a high profile. Similarly, they blend a variety of South Asian cultural attitudes and styles with that of American and British black culture. This is all teased out in the interactions of the boys, as well as a subplot involving the arranged marriage of one of the boys' older brothers, and another subplot involving a sexy Muslim girl. The material could easily become didactic or dry in the wrong hands, but in Malkani's rendering, it comes alive through the freshest, fizziest dialogue since Trainspotting. And like that book, the combination of Punjabi, Black, British, and Text Message slang might intimidate some readers (especially older ones) at first, after about ten pages, most will be comfortable with it rhythms.
What keeps the book from being truly excellent is the problem of what the narrator is doing hanging out with the other three. He's clearly been a bit of a nerd or non-entity his whole life, and just why these status-obsessed rudeboys would more or less adopt him is never satisfactorily explained. While it does make sense that you would have an outsider or newcomer narrate this story so that they can explain everything that's self-evident to the other main characters and present an opposing viewpoint, the dissonance between him and the others never goes away. There's also a "gotcha" twist at the end that adds nothing and only raises further questions of plausibility. Nonetheless, the book is an entertaining and thought-provoking fictional look at a particular subculture that anyone with an interest in modern Britain should check out.
All of this is fairly interesting, but mainly a backdrop for a larger (and often quite funny) exploration of immigrant assimilation, cultural authenticity, racism, class, and youth culture. A good portion of the book involves how these British born and bred teens negotiate their identities. On the street they are self-styled hoods, while at home they are obedient, deferential children. In contrast to their immigrant parents who kept a low profile in order to assimilate, these boys demonstrate their unwillingness to assimilate by maintaining a high profile. Similarly, they blend a variety of South Asian cultural attitudes and styles with that of American and British black culture. This is all teased out in the interactions of the boys, as well as a subplot involving the arranged marriage of one of the boys' older brothers, and another subplot involving a sexy Muslim girl. The material could easily become didactic or dry in the wrong hands, but in Malkani's rendering, it comes alive through the freshest, fizziest dialogue since Trainspotting. And like that book, the combination of Punjabi, Black, British, and Text Message slang might intimidate some readers (especially older ones) at first, after about ten pages, most will be comfortable with it rhythms.
What keeps the book from being truly excellent is the problem of what the narrator is doing hanging out with the other three. He's clearly been a bit of a nerd or non-entity his whole life, and just why these status-obsessed rudeboys would more or less adopt him is never satisfactorily explained. While it does make sense that you would have an outsider or newcomer narrate this story so that they can explain everything that's self-evident to the other main characters and present an opposing viewpoint, the dissonance between him and the others never goes away. There's also a "gotcha" twist at the end that adds nothing and only raises further questions of plausibility. Nonetheless, the book is an entertaining and thought-provoking fictional look at a particular subculture that anyone with an interest in modern Britain should check out.
December 21, 2020
Londonstani was certainly not like anything I’ve ever read and I laughed at all the injections of Punjabi slang and swear words thrown it. Understanding that and also where it is set (literally went to the schools and parks and rode on the buses mentioned) it was easy for me to adjust to the style of prose which Malkani kept up very well for the entire 340 pages. It had a very Clockwork Orange feel to it.
The plot was very straightforward and the characters (filled with way too much testosterone it was sometimes annoying reading another dead teenage boy joke) were extreme in their own way: Jas is relatable to anyone who’s felt outcast or uncool, Hardjit/Harjit was butchering his own religion and culture and becoming prejudiced and intolerant in his desperate attempt to instate his values, Sanjay injecting the idea about Desi subculture expressing itself through hyper-materialism and consumerism. Though extremes, all were interesting and important in helping see very different stances of young South Asians questioning their religions or cultures traditions and tackling the hypocrisy of class, race and caste. The most poignant example lies in Arun’s story for that.
The division and violence between ethnic groups (from my own time at school when this was actually published and now) and considering how each different generation of immigrants crafts its own values or version of Britishness is always a challenging topic to consider and come to any concrete conclusions on. On the whole, even though extreme and deliberately comical, the novel felt very thoughtful and authentic. The novel doesn’t even cover a two year span but can’t help but wonder how they would have all turned out as adults…
The plot was very straightforward and the characters (filled with way too much testosterone it was sometimes annoying reading another dead teenage boy joke) were extreme in their own way: Jas is relatable to anyone who’s felt outcast or uncool, Hardjit/Harjit was butchering his own religion and culture and becoming prejudiced and intolerant in his desperate attempt to instate his values, Sanjay injecting the idea about Desi subculture expressing itself through hyper-materialism and consumerism. Though extremes, all were interesting and important in helping see very different stances of young South Asians questioning their religions or cultures traditions and tackling the hypocrisy of class, race and caste. The most poignant example lies in Arun’s story for that.
The division and violence between ethnic groups (from my own time at school when this was actually published and now) and considering how each different generation of immigrants crafts its own values or version of Britishness is always a challenging topic to consider and come to any concrete conclusions on. On the whole, even though extreme and deliberately comical, the novel felt very thoughtful and authentic. The novel doesn’t even cover a two year span but can’t help but wonder how they would have all turned out as adults…
May 4, 2015
this was sometimes a hard read. especially at first the language influenced my opinion of the book, which is on the whole rather interesting. i think, though, that it could have been shorter, especially in the middle part, and sometimes the main character's monologues get to me, they're too long.
i suppose one of the problem is also that - obviously, due to the "rudeboy" topic, there's waaay to much testosterone in this book for me, topic-wise and also in the way people and things are described, so sometimes that put me off reading too and that's why it took me more than my average week to read it.
i suppose one of the problem is also that - obviously, due to the "rudeboy" topic, there's waaay to much testosterone in this book for me, topic-wise and also in the way people and things are described, so sometimes that put me off reading too and that's why it took me more than my average week to read it.
February 17, 2015
4 κάγκουρες προσπαθούν να ξεφύγουν από τη μιζέρια των άνετων οικονομικά συντηρητικών οικογενειών τους, Ινδοί των προαστίων του Λονδίνου, χωρίς να ξεφύγουν ούτε τόσο δα από τη μικροαστίλα τους. Απ΄ό,τι γνωρίζω η (πρωτότυπη) αγγλική έκδοση είναι αρκετά δύσκολη στην ανάγνωση λόγω των ιδιωματισμών που χρησιμοποιούν τα rudeboys. H ελληνική έκδοση διαβάζεται εύκολα κι είναι αρκετά ενδιαφέρουσα. Υποθέτω ότι οι 4 χαρακτήρες είναι τόσο αντιπαθητικοί λόγω ειρωνικής διάθεσης του συγγραφέα. Μισογύνηδες, άξεστοι και βλάχοι και πάνω απ΄ολα καλαρινογαμπροί. Το τέλος λιγότερο καλογραμμένο αλλά αρκετά πρωτότυπο, δεν το περιμενα.
October 15, 2015
Before the pages of Bond-villain-like exposition and especially the insultingly stupid twist I would have given it three stars just for being an enjoyable light read in a YA style. But when an ending invalidates everything you've read over the past 300 pages it takes a strong will not to fling the damned thing across the room.
June 19, 2018
Really not sure about that ending, and parts of it dragged for no real reason, but on the whole I enjoyed myself (especially for second-hand novel picked up on a whim). The toxic masculinity was wearying, and I still don't know in what sense Malkani may be termed a comic writer, but his sense of pace and character interaction kept me reading.
January 28, 2010
Although normally I hate dialect- I love London slang... innit? This book was great. Fun and exciting. I enjoyed learning all about Desi culture while traveling through India!
April 24, 2020
Loved every minute of it
July 4, 2018
I read it all the way through and never seemed to get invested in the story. Not one I would personally recommend.
February 21, 2021
There is a big, big plot twist in this. A new perspective on London is appreciated.
December 24, 2024
Follows a group of young Asians in West London, who are trying to navigate school, love, their families and making money somewhat illegally and their trials and tribulations along the way.
April 28, 2019
Londonstani is is another in a long line of books about one of literature’s favourite topics; teenage angst and the problems of ‘fitting in’, making friends and finding your place in a changing society. Oh and of course there’s a ‘boy meets girl – boy loses girl’ line running through as well. It’s just this one’s a bit different because it’s set in the multi-cultural environs of Hounslow – an area of suburban London that's highly dependent on Heathrow airport and rather more ‘middle-class’ than the protagonists of this story would ever want to admit.
This book sat on my shelf for a long time but once I got started, I was soon hooked. On page one I was horrified and ready to put it to one side, appalled by the violence, racism and intensely irritating language and seeing it as a 21st Century 'Clockwork Orange'. Thirty to forty pages later I was starting to get to know the protagonist and growing more interested – seeing parallels with books like 'Catcher in the Rye' and 'The Outsider' and forcing myself to go beyond the annoying writing style. Halfway through I was gunning for the ‘hero’ to succeed in his various ventures and on the final page when a most unexpected twist kicked in, I was so surprised I nearly dropped the book in the bath. If you can get past the initial nastiness and violence and learn to turn a blind eye to some of the bad language, this is a book that’s well worth the effort, that will challenge your preconceptions about multi-cultural Britain and give you a few good giggles along the way.
The Characters
Life in Hounslow’s not easy for Jas who doesn’t find it easy to fit in. He’s not got a lot going for him with his unpronounceable surname, his stammer and his slight stature all of which mark him out as a bit of a ‘gimp’. He’s trying much too hard to fit in with his gang, a little like a fourth musketeer. The leader of the gang is Hardjit (well actually it’s Harjit but he’s into martial arts and insists that everyone call him Hardjit because he’s such a big tough guy). The other two are Ravi and Amit who are both foul-mouthed and constantly boasting of their improbable sexual prowess (one claims to be so manly that if he slept with a girl he’d be sure to get her pregnant with twins and they’d both be boys – showing a remarkable lack of insight into biological processes and reflecting some very traditional ideas about what makes a real man).
Together this gang are hanging out, getting into fights, trying to keep their families happy and avoid getting on the wrong side of the ‘aunties’, beating up white guys for ‘disrespecting’ them and earning a few bob running a mobile phone scam. Oh and in between all that, they’ve got to re-sit their A-levels because they all failed the first time around and their lives won’t be going anywhere other than baggage handling at Heathrow or working in their dads’ shops unless they can get into a good college.
There’s plenty of contempt knocking around – for the ‘coconuts’ (assimilating Asians who are brown on the outside but white in the middle), for Muslims that dare to disrespect Hindu and Sikh girls (disrespect, in this case, means going out with, flirting with or even god-forbid, having a relationship), and of course the same applies if a Sikh or Hindu guy has the hots for a Muslim girl. Trying to balance the demands of gang and family produces some hilarious encounters such as when one of the boys has been sent to the pharmacy to get products for his mum and finds the girl he fancies on the checkout. Faced with the indignity of a basket full of sanitary towels, laxatives and lipstick he chucks in a box of ‘extra-large’ condoms to impress only to get cornered by an ‘auntie’ at the check-out who’s off to blab about his purchases to his mum.
There’s a supporting cast of characters that add colour to the story. Amit’s brother Arun is driving Jas crazy moaning about his forthcoming marriage to his childhood sweetheart and struggling to keep his mother happy when she’s convinced that the bride’s family aren’t showing enough respect. When Jas tells him to ‘be a man’ the consequences are shocking. There’s Mr Ashwood the history teacher who steps in to stop the boys being arrested and sets the condition that they have to spend time with a good role-model ex-pupil Sanjay. On the surface Sanjay’s the Asian-boy made good with his Cambridge degree and his big job in the city, but is there more to Sanjay and his plush apartment, Porsche, and ‘access all areas’ nightclub and restaurant scene than meets the eye? And when Jas is polished up by Sanjay to make an approach to the (Muslim) girl of his dreams, can the course of such a star-crossed love ever have any prospect for success?
So is it any good?
Oh yes, it’s a cracker. If you can fight through the language and see through the smokescreen of offensive behaviour, there’s a gem of a good read tucked inside this book. With regards to the language I undoubtedly need to expand a bit. If you hate ‘text-speak’ you’ll be irritated to frustration by the way the boys talk. If you hate swearing, you’ll not get beyond the first page.
Here’s the opening line of the first chapter with the expletives toned down just a bit by me.
“Serve him right he got his muthaf***in' face f***’d, shudn’t b callin me a Paki, innit”
Oh boy! How do you deal with an opener like that? Especially when it’s followed by a violent assault dished out by a protagonist concerned with not getting blood on his expensive branded trainers? If you hate bad language, just give up now and scratch Londonstani off your book list. Don’t even try to take it any further – there’s so much swearing you’ll not be able to ignore it. But if you can cope with the foul mouths of the boys, you’ll probably learn a ton of new swear words in multiple languages.
It’s actually very clever the way Malkani has created a complex set of rules for how each boy uses his fusion language and he’s gone on the record that he drove his publishers crazy with his insistence that they comply with his strict rules on which boys could say which phrases and use words in different ways.
The book is a result of a thesis Malkani worked on as an undergraduate at Cambridge. It took him many years to realise that publishing a dry academic treatise on the life of modern multi-ethnic youth and their assimilation issues was never going to get him on the shelves of WH Smith's.
Race is a key issue. When Mr Ashwood is accused by Hardjit of being racist, he’s quick to point out that it’s not him who’s judging people by their race and neither is it the boys’ parents, most of whom have spent their lives aiming to fit in and get along with their neighbours. The boys are creating their own rules and boundaries that nobody else is imposing on them. Unlike black youths with their US-influenced role models of gangsta-rappers, pimps and drive-by shooters, how do you find your identity when your role models from your own background are nice boys who go to college, work hard and become dentists, lawyers and doctors? How can you be a hard man or a ‘rudeboy’ – the term they have oddly adopted despite its black Caribbean origins – when you’ve got nobody to set the rules and the benchmarks?
If you can read this with an open mind, see the humour and warmth that’s undoubtedly present, recognise the eternal issues of being an outsider and take time to examine the issues that it raises, then this book will deliver in bucket-loads. My opinions flew from one extreme to the other. In the first 50 pages the review would have been damning but by the time I made it to the end, I’d done a 180 degree turn around. And on the day I finished it, I spent hours re-examining all that had gone before in the light of the final twist. It’s clever beyond anything I had reason to expect and I can’t recommend it highly enough, although with the caveat that the violence and bad language won’t be to everyone’s taste. You have, as they say, been warned.
This book sat on my shelf for a long time but once I got started, I was soon hooked. On page one I was horrified and ready to put it to one side, appalled by the violence, racism and intensely irritating language and seeing it as a 21st Century 'Clockwork Orange'. Thirty to forty pages later I was starting to get to know the protagonist and growing more interested – seeing parallels with books like 'Catcher in the Rye' and 'The Outsider' and forcing myself to go beyond the annoying writing style. Halfway through I was gunning for the ‘hero’ to succeed in his various ventures and on the final page when a most unexpected twist kicked in, I was so surprised I nearly dropped the book in the bath. If you can get past the initial nastiness and violence and learn to turn a blind eye to some of the bad language, this is a book that’s well worth the effort, that will challenge your preconceptions about multi-cultural Britain and give you a few good giggles along the way.
The Characters
Life in Hounslow’s not easy for Jas who doesn’t find it easy to fit in. He’s not got a lot going for him with his unpronounceable surname, his stammer and his slight stature all of which mark him out as a bit of a ‘gimp’. He’s trying much too hard to fit in with his gang, a little like a fourth musketeer. The leader of the gang is Hardjit (well actually it’s Harjit but he’s into martial arts and insists that everyone call him Hardjit because he’s such a big tough guy). The other two are Ravi and Amit who are both foul-mouthed and constantly boasting of their improbable sexual prowess (one claims to be so manly that if he slept with a girl he’d be sure to get her pregnant with twins and they’d both be boys – showing a remarkable lack of insight into biological processes and reflecting some very traditional ideas about what makes a real man).
Together this gang are hanging out, getting into fights, trying to keep their families happy and avoid getting on the wrong side of the ‘aunties’, beating up white guys for ‘disrespecting’ them and earning a few bob running a mobile phone scam. Oh and in between all that, they’ve got to re-sit their A-levels because they all failed the first time around and their lives won’t be going anywhere other than baggage handling at Heathrow or working in their dads’ shops unless they can get into a good college.
There’s plenty of contempt knocking around – for the ‘coconuts’ (assimilating Asians who are brown on the outside but white in the middle), for Muslims that dare to disrespect Hindu and Sikh girls (disrespect, in this case, means going out with, flirting with or even god-forbid, having a relationship), and of course the same applies if a Sikh or Hindu guy has the hots for a Muslim girl. Trying to balance the demands of gang and family produces some hilarious encounters such as when one of the boys has been sent to the pharmacy to get products for his mum and finds the girl he fancies on the checkout. Faced with the indignity of a basket full of sanitary towels, laxatives and lipstick he chucks in a box of ‘extra-large’ condoms to impress only to get cornered by an ‘auntie’ at the check-out who’s off to blab about his purchases to his mum.
There’s a supporting cast of characters that add colour to the story. Amit’s brother Arun is driving Jas crazy moaning about his forthcoming marriage to his childhood sweetheart and struggling to keep his mother happy when she’s convinced that the bride’s family aren’t showing enough respect. When Jas tells him to ‘be a man’ the consequences are shocking. There’s Mr Ashwood the history teacher who steps in to stop the boys being arrested and sets the condition that they have to spend time with a good role-model ex-pupil Sanjay. On the surface Sanjay’s the Asian-boy made good with his Cambridge degree and his big job in the city, but is there more to Sanjay and his plush apartment, Porsche, and ‘access all areas’ nightclub and restaurant scene than meets the eye? And when Jas is polished up by Sanjay to make an approach to the (Muslim) girl of his dreams, can the course of such a star-crossed love ever have any prospect for success?
So is it any good?
Oh yes, it’s a cracker. If you can fight through the language and see through the smokescreen of offensive behaviour, there’s a gem of a good read tucked inside this book. With regards to the language I undoubtedly need to expand a bit. If you hate ‘text-speak’ you’ll be irritated to frustration by the way the boys talk. If you hate swearing, you’ll not get beyond the first page.
Here’s the opening line of the first chapter with the expletives toned down just a bit by me.
“Serve him right he got his muthaf***in' face f***’d, shudn’t b callin me a Paki, innit”
Oh boy! How do you deal with an opener like that? Especially when it’s followed by a violent assault dished out by a protagonist concerned with not getting blood on his expensive branded trainers? If you hate bad language, just give up now and scratch Londonstani off your book list. Don’t even try to take it any further – there’s so much swearing you’ll not be able to ignore it. But if you can cope with the foul mouths of the boys, you’ll probably learn a ton of new swear words in multiple languages.
It’s actually very clever the way Malkani has created a complex set of rules for how each boy uses his fusion language and he’s gone on the record that he drove his publishers crazy with his insistence that they comply with his strict rules on which boys could say which phrases and use words in different ways.
The book is a result of a thesis Malkani worked on as an undergraduate at Cambridge. It took him many years to realise that publishing a dry academic treatise on the life of modern multi-ethnic youth and their assimilation issues was never going to get him on the shelves of WH Smith's.
Race is a key issue. When Mr Ashwood is accused by Hardjit of being racist, he’s quick to point out that it’s not him who’s judging people by their race and neither is it the boys’ parents, most of whom have spent their lives aiming to fit in and get along with their neighbours. The boys are creating their own rules and boundaries that nobody else is imposing on them. Unlike black youths with their US-influenced role models of gangsta-rappers, pimps and drive-by shooters, how do you find your identity when your role models from your own background are nice boys who go to college, work hard and become dentists, lawyers and doctors? How can you be a hard man or a ‘rudeboy’ – the term they have oddly adopted despite its black Caribbean origins – when you’ve got nobody to set the rules and the benchmarks?
If you can read this with an open mind, see the humour and warmth that’s undoubtedly present, recognise the eternal issues of being an outsider and take time to examine the issues that it raises, then this book will deliver in bucket-loads. My opinions flew from one extreme to the other. In the first 50 pages the review would have been damning but by the time I made it to the end, I’d done a 180 degree turn around. And on the day I finished it, I spent hours re-examining all that had gone before in the light of the final twist. It’s clever beyond anything I had reason to expect and I can’t recommend it highly enough, although with the caveat that the violence and bad language won’t be to everyone’s taste. You have, as they say, been warned.
April 25, 2009
Somewhat entertaining but, for the most part, unsatisfying—failing to be the exploration of multicultural identity heralded by its publishers.
The first pages made me fear I was embarking upon a pale imitation of Clockwork Orange—in which, rather than being immersed into a futuristic dystopia through a fully-imagined lexicon, I would glance along the surface of a London youth subculture through an often-awkward imitation of teen-speak. Even such a weak comparison to Burgess is inadequate, however. This book frequently avoids so much of the depth that it could have drawn out of the situations it sets up. The traces of introspection that hover in the first parts of the book, gradually diminish over the course of the narrative, the book morphing into a dialogue-heavy feverish unfurling of the plot in the second half. This disintegration of narrative potential culminates in the book's final pages, in which many plot revelations, arrive in plodding monologues. The biggest revelation of them all, however, although thoroughly surprising, is (to me at least) a final reminder of this book's lost potential.
But maybe the fault lies with the publisher (who set up my expectations that this book would do something it never intended to). Londonstani is entertaining. And despite some heavy-handed irony, clumsy plotting, and hollow dialogue, the set-pieces Londonstani extracts from the rudeboy 'desi' can often be funny and engaging. innit.
The first pages made me fear I was embarking upon a pale imitation of Clockwork Orange—in which, rather than being immersed into a futuristic dystopia through a fully-imagined lexicon, I would glance along the surface of a London youth subculture through an often-awkward imitation of teen-speak. Even such a weak comparison to Burgess is inadequate, however. This book frequently avoids so much of the depth that it could have drawn out of the situations it sets up. The traces of introspection that hover in the first parts of the book, gradually diminish over the course of the narrative, the book morphing into a dialogue-heavy feverish unfurling of the plot in the second half. This disintegration of narrative potential culminates in the book's final pages, in which many plot revelations, arrive in plodding monologues. The biggest revelation of them all, however, although thoroughly surprising, is (to me at least) a final reminder of this book's lost potential.
But maybe the fault lies with the publisher (who set up my expectations that this book would do something it never intended to). Londonstani is entertaining. And despite some heavy-handed irony, clumsy plotting, and hollow dialogue, the set-pieces Londonstani extracts from the rudeboy 'desi' can often be funny and engaging. innit.
August 13, 2008
Ok so the ending was a bit tacked on but it made me think back alot to his relationship with his parents and how they related to him. I loved the slang - have a ton of British cousins so it was like hanging with the family. He does go a bit too heavy on sexualizing every woman he saw but it worked well with the intense aggression and frustration and mixed up with the pace of the language it was very Clockwork Orangish. I liked how the new rudeboy persona Jas was trying to grow into would fade now and then to show his poncey book reading side, and the socioeonomic theories the characters in the book would soapbox about. This book was utterly comical, I started reading it with low expectations but by the end I couldn't put it down. I also liked how it described Hindu traditions and what not - I don't know the last time I read a novel that described the "sister tax" and seriously, its so nice to read something accurate and not condescending/overly scholastic about Hinduism in everyday life. Other Indian Grown Up in the West authors seem to put a weepy spin on growing up in the UK or US and having an Indian identity. I liked how this presented a fresh, energized take on being IndoWest - funny to think of 98% of the book in one light and then that last 2% with the twist turning the whole thing in on itself. Identity? What can be said about identity in light of that?
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 23, 2009
This book had so much potential, but I feel the ending cheated and ruined how skillfully the rest of the book was written.
The language and dialogue is so engrossing. It feels like a London/Desi version of a Tarantino or Guy Ritchie film. Malkani goes far beyond rudebwoy banter and addresses very real cultural & generational issues facing the Desi community. The character Jas seems to be the ideal voice to confront these issues as a young Desi male beginning his journey into adulthood. HOWEVER, all the character development and all the cultural commentary becomes completely pointless due to a plot twist that is way out of left-field. I am not sure if the intention was to have a Usual Suspects-like ending, but it left me utterly confused and deflated. I did not understand the choice whatsoever. All the tension, all the build up unraveled so sloppily and unimaginatively it felt like some Hollywood hack did a re-write on the ending of an amazingly well-crafted screenplay.
I am obviously bitter about this book, but only because I was so impressed with everything except the last 3 pages. I hope to see more from Malkani and will definitely give him another chance. I just hope in future books he finds a way to make his endings more meaningful to do justice to the foundation he has built.
The language and dialogue is so engrossing. It feels like a London/Desi version of a Tarantino or Guy Ritchie film. Malkani goes far beyond rudebwoy banter and addresses very real cultural & generational issues facing the Desi community. The character Jas seems to be the ideal voice to confront these issues as a young Desi male beginning his journey into adulthood. HOWEVER, all the character development and all the cultural commentary becomes completely pointless due to a plot twist that is way out of left-field. I am not sure if the intention was to have a Usual Suspects-like ending, but it left me utterly confused and deflated. I did not understand the choice whatsoever. All the tension, all the build up unraveled so sloppily and unimaginatively it felt like some Hollywood hack did a re-write on the ending of an amazingly well-crafted screenplay.
I am obviously bitter about this book, but only because I was so impressed with everything except the last 3 pages. I hope to see more from Malkani and will definitely give him another chance. I just hope in future books he finds a way to make his endings more meaningful to do justice to the foundation he has built.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 4, 2013
Just finished it, so this may be too much of a gut reaction. We'll see if my thoughts change once I've sat with it for a while. This book frustrated me. It took me a while to wade through the style of writing and start focusing on the story itself. The written text probably added to the authenticity of the experience, but it was a bit much at times. I also had some very visceral reactions to the graphic hard-core male language that seemed a bit gratuitous at times, but again, maybe added some authenticity. And then you reach the point when all these thoughts about authenticity must be reconsidered ... How much of the story is Jas' perception vs. an authentic representation of the world that he describes? And I wanted to think Jas had a means to escape the world he chose for himself though he felt compelled to be a part of it...but then I find out ** and I just got angry at his choices, wondering what drives him to being a part of this world in the first place... I think it was very much a distraction from thinking about the greater message of the story...or maybe this was the greater message...
April 17, 2012
Set among the ‘rudeboys’ of London’s Asian community, this might look like a tough read – it’s written entirely in phonetic gangster-speak (notably the word ‘of’ is rendered as ‘a’ throughout) and there are some long, dense paragraphs to negotiate. It’s worth it though. The colloquial style reminded me of two of my favourite books, ‘Trainspotting’ and ‘Vernon God Little’. It immerses the reader in the sights and sounds of the characters’ pseudo-gangland world. It felt like putting on a pair of spectacles and seeing directly through the eyes of the narrator, Jas, and yet skilful writing ensured there were gaps around the edges of the lenses through which it was possible to glimpse his life before he got involved with his new, tough-guy mates.
I loved the humour – lots of acute observations, in-depth discussions on such matters as what constitutes a ‘ho’ as well as shedloads of ‘Complicated Family-Related Shit’. But it has its serious side as well, and I will remember it as a book that likes to spring surprises, ultimately challenging the reader’s assumptions. A great read, or as the rudeboys might have it: ‘Safe piece a writin, innit’.
I loved the humour – lots of acute observations, in-depth discussions on such matters as what constitutes a ‘ho’ as well as shedloads of ‘Complicated Family-Related Shit’. But it has its serious side as well, and I will remember it as a book that likes to spring surprises, ultimately challenging the reader’s assumptions. A great read, or as the rudeboys might have it: ‘Safe piece a writin, innit’.
September 10, 2019
Oh my. Testosterone overload, but that's exactly what the author wanted us to witness, innit?
I found this book quite effective on the topic of pretense, because this is not -as I first thought- about the violence and rage of an economically marginalized youth. This is not La Haine. These are middle-class kids emulating a macho attitude that seems to be de rigueur these days, and not just in the UK.
Toughness and desiness are cool, at least on the street, which is why I think the final twist does not detract from the rest of the story but, on the other hand, adds a new layer to it. I even found the language and style pretty fitting, you get used to it after the first couple of pages.
The author was a bit more heavy handed with his exposé of bling-bling economics, but again I found it a very relevant topic to write about. The Bondesque turn the story took is what I didn't really care for. I found it a bit too far-fetched, which is why my rating isn't higher.
I picked this book because I enjoy reading and learning about what I call the "immigrant experience", and Londonstani didn't disappoint.
I found this book quite effective on the topic of pretense, because this is not -as I first thought- about the violence and rage of an economically marginalized youth. This is not La Haine. These are middle-class kids emulating a macho attitude that seems to be de rigueur these days, and not just in the UK.
Toughness and desiness are cool, at least on the street, which is why I think the final twist does not detract from the rest of the story but, on the other hand, adds a new layer to it. I even found the language and style pretty fitting, you get used to it after the first couple of pages.
The author was a bit more heavy handed with his exposé of bling-bling economics, but again I found it a very relevant topic to write about. The Bondesque turn the story took is what I didn't really care for. I found it a bit too far-fetched, which is why my rating isn't higher.
I picked this book because I enjoy reading and learning about what I call the "immigrant experience", and Londonstani didn't disappoint.
March 18, 2011
I would probably file this book alongside stuff like Boyracers by Alan Bissett and Graffiti My Soul by Niven Govinden, but ultimately it doesn't work as well. I mostly liked it, but soon realised it was something to pass the time rather than something I could get invested in, plus once in a while I was kind of like, okay, this bit is going on too long and is a bit teen-angsty. But then at the very end this nugget of information was revealed that changes the whole damn thing, and there was nothing there to even hint at it beforehand and it's something that every single character in the novel is aware of, so it's just, like, oh, this was intentionally kept from the reader and I found it annoying rather than clever. I mean, I guess maybe it would be interesting to read the book a second time now knowing this bit, except I didn't feel like it so I left it on an Air Sweden flight from Erbil to Stockholm and maybe someone else will pick it up and appreciate it more than I ultimately did.
December 22, 2007
The only thing this book had going for it was the description of the cultures, subcultures, and acculturation struggles of the South Asian/Desi community in London. The language took some getting used to, and the "glossary" was terribly incomplete and seemed to peter out completely by the middle of the book. In a few years, the slang will be as obscure as Beowulf, so if you're going to read it, read it now. The characters weren't all that interesting and certainly weren't sympathetic, the plot was thin, and the twist at the end was kind of ridiculous. I thought of going back and re-reading it to check for internal consistency (I swear, there must have been dozens of times that Jas said something about himself that didn't fit with the ending), but I didn't enjoy it enough the first time to try for a second.
October 19, 2011
I thought this was complete rubbish. Five minutes into the book I already hated the arrogant bunch of thugs that are supposed to be our beloved heroes. If I don't like or connect to the characters I rarely get far in the book and this was one of those cases. Personally I was hoping that some other thugs would come up and beat the living daylights out of them and put some fun in the book!
Following what the hell they were talking about was a challenge in itself and when you have to keep re-reading the same dialogue over and over to make sense of it then realise there IS no sense to it, well there doesn't seem much point in ploughing through it. Swearing in books never bothers me but I do get bored with pointless swearing for the sake of it because you can't think up interesting dialogue and plot instead. One of the worst books I've picked up by a country mile!
Following what the hell they were talking about was a challenge in itself and when you have to keep re-reading the same dialogue over and over to make sense of it then realise there IS no sense to it, well there doesn't seem much point in ploughing through it. Swearing in books never bothers me but I do get bored with pointless swearing for the sake of it because you can't think up interesting dialogue and plot instead. One of the worst books I've picked up by a country mile!
December 10, 2008
the ending was awful! what was could have been a great exploration of working class, sikh gangsta masculinities ended in an annoying plot twist that i found incredibly distracting. also got pretty exhausted 1/2 way through with all the posturing...
July 17, 2007
The ending ruined the entire book for me. It was worse than The Village, even.
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