So much is talked about "The Guide" not least the highly touted (at least here in India, as far as I am aware) film adaptation that the actual novel by one of India's most gifted, deceptively congenial and perceptive storytellers does get overshadowed in the glare of its cinematic counterpart. I will try here to restore the novel to its deserved status as one of the definitive works of Indian literature in the post-colonial period - a novel that stands above works by his other peers because of how Narayan's simplicity serves as a perfect foil for intricate moral complexity with such seemingly effortless skill and how he makes us believe in his characters, even the most unscrupulous of them, something that even reputed expatriates like Rushdie and his numerous imitators cannot do with all their fancy trickery.
At heart, then, "The Guide" is an exceptionally simple, even unspectacular story. The titular "guide" is Raju, a native of Malgudi, the beloved humdrum South Indian town that has served as the milieu of Narayan's other, equally indelible stories and novels. Born and brought up on the fringes of a burgeoning railway line, thus linking his destiny forever to the clanging and chugging of trains, Raju grows up from being a shopkeeper on the platform to a know-it-all, smart-mouthed, quick-witted resident of the town who escorts every new traveller around to all the local and popular attractions and thus earns his main living. One day, before he can realise what is happening, he falls in love.
Or rather, a love bordering on an unhealthy carnal obsession that would only lead him to his own damnation and doom, a denouement that Narayan hints only subliminally at throughout the two-fold narrative unfolding at its own leisurely, mesmerising pace. We are told, for instance, that Raju has been disgraced by this very obsession and now, out of prison and without anywhere else to go, he finds unlikely refuge in another humdrum South Indian town on the other bank of the river, only to find himself confronted suddenly with a strange chance at wiping the slate clean, a suicidal shot at that thing that has eluded him thus - redemption. But we are then compelled, deceptively, by the writer to listen to Raju bare his heart out, to follow him back in his reminiscences and to think and reflect on what he did and what led him only deeper into an abyss of sin and deceit, never to judge him for his actions or deeds but only to believe in what he confesses to us through his own first-person narrative.
The detailing, as always with Narayan, is a marvel and I leave it to the uninitiated to dig all those finely, immaculately tailored touches on their own, that is if they are not already compelled by the elegant, almost flowing but always agile and amusing prose. What has always been observed truly of Narayan - that his mastery of characterisation and nuance always remind the reader that despite the fine but never pretentious usage of English language, the story and its people are always unmistakably Indian and thus even more believable - is to be found here in spades and there is always something plausible about how Raju, despite his lack of scruples, yearns to rise above his own bare beginnings and is then drunk on the fame and wealth that his sleight of hand brings to him.
There is something undeniably real and believable about how Rosie, the neglected wife and eager closet artist, yearns for her own moment in the sun, to hone her own artistry and devotion to her art to finesse and yet retain her independence of thought and action. And similarly, the other characters populating this intimate little ensemble of many lives, aspirations, dreams and passions, are all sketched with so much conviction that even people do good and bad things in "The Guide", the reader is unable to separate the "good" from the "bad" in any easy, throwaway style.
Even with its simplicity and linearity, "The Guide" can be difficult to sum up in just a single statement or conclusion. It feels almost miraculous just how unpredictable the narrative is and this is once again due to how beautifully and organically does Narayan refrain from interfering in the natural flow of events, actions, thoughts and motives. We trust our characters to take along the story, to tie up the threads in the end and yet Narayan never fails to orchestrate them elegantly, unhurriedly on their predestined paths, so much that even as this is a moral parable at heart, there is so much excitement, even romance crammed between the pages, as if something as wondrous as the highest form of art is being revealed to an audience or the love of a woman, for her feminine grace and charm, is leading a taciturn man to lose his way for once and for all.
But then, "The Guide", as so much of Narayan, is all about the wonder of the most minor miracles. As evidenced in its climax, a scene both heartbreaking and hopeful, both poignant and realistic. It is a fitting end to a novel which portrays life in all its glory and despair, with both its disappointments and its equally astonishing capacity to surprise, to amuse and to enlighten. It is without a shred of doubt one of the most beautiful novels that one will ever read, as beautiful, mesmerising, melancholic and miraculous as life can be.
PS (and Spoiler Alert): Mr. Michael Gorra's introduction to the novel in this edition is best to be avoided at all costs if one is to savour the pleasures of the novel firsthand and in all their bejewelled beauty. Not only does it reveal too much of the plot and the characters' intentions and leave precious little to the imagination (never a very good thing in a foreword or an introduction) but it also commits the cardinal sin (in my opinion, that is) of comparing the novel with "The End Of The Affair" and then declaring that Mr. Greene was insisting on faith in that novel's climax which Mr. Narayan does not do in the end of his novel. I don't find any merit in this comparison. Mr. Greene's novel ends on an equally ambiguous note and rather leaves the reader wondering as if a character has really become a saint or whether Maurice Bendrix, the narrator and atheistic protagonist, is now in the throes of his envy and hatred for the seemingly all-powerful entity who has taken away the only woman he ever loved. Mr. Narayan's book too ends with a note of ambiguity - but it is clear that Raju has achieved what he did not deserve for so long - redemption. Mr. Gorra is clearly very worried about Mr. Greene's religious views and perhaps that is why he mentions that rather unnecessary point when he could easily have equated "The Guide" with "A Burnt-Out Case" - after all, both Raju and Querry are closer in vein as two spiritual losers seeking some salvation in a new initiative and trying to move ahead even as the past catches on with them.
Apologies for that last bit of self-indulgence, though. But I thought this was a thing that nagged me when reading this edition.