JULY 6, 2017 // 3
SCRATCHPAD
By ERICK BENGEL
FOR COAST WEEKEND
I fi nally got around to
reading “The Mountain Shad-
ow,” Gregory David Roberts’
long-promised sequel to his
gorgeous 2003 debut novel,
“Shantaram.”
And, I regret to report, the
book is so bad it almost makes
me question my judgment of
its predecessor. Indeed, it’s
hard to accept that these books
came from the same author.
My copy of “Shantaram”
— a gift from a good friend
with good taste — sat in a
box for six years. I had my
reasons: The book is big (933
pages), the type small, and
the opening passages hint at
coast
a preachy self-help exercise
masquerading as literature
— the sort of trendy twaddle
that spiritual-but-not-religious
readers use to add inches to
their New Age collection.
Even knowing it was the
semi-autobiographical story
of a Melbourne man, Lin,
who had committed a series
of armed robberies to feed
his heroin habit and, after
escaping from prison, lives as
a fugitive in Bombay didn’t
compel me to dig it out.
But I was wrong to wait.
“Shantaram” is an elegant,
full-bodied epic that has
earned its cult status — a book
you need to read if only to
witness its audacity.
Set in the 1980s, the story
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COAST WEEKEND EDITOR
ERICK BENGEL
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PHOTO BY COLIN MURPHEY
10
takes us from Indian slums
and prisons, to the inner
sanctum of Bombay’s mafi a,
to the mountains of Afghan-
istan during the war with the
Soviets. It is a gritty, glorious
meditation on co-existing
communities and cultures, of
pure evil and self-transcending
love. You savor it slowly and
mindfully, the way you savor
a long banquet, because it is so
rich and fulfi lling.
Now comes “The Moun-
tain Shadow,” released in
2015. It is exactly the book I
feared the fi rst one would be: a
pretentious slog, bloated with
shallow Eastern-sounding
aphorisms and heavy-handed
symbolism (not to mention a
white man’s well-meaning but
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‘The Mountain Shadow’ a disappointing sequel
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condescending views of wom-
en and the Third World).
The story centers on Lin’s
growing unease with his role
in Bombay’s crime syndicate.
Because he’s still running
from the law, Lin can’t make a
clean escape.
With that dilemma unable
to quickly resolve itself,
Roberts allows the supporting
characters’ subplots to spin
the wheels, giving us nearly
900 pages of relationship
drama and repetitive street
violence, while our hero
fondles his knives, talks to his
motorcycle, and utters gems
of wisdom such as: “Women
have a psychic witchy
spooky talking-to-the-dead
way of knowing everything
you think.”
Worst of all, our favorite
characters — including Didier,
the fi ercely loyal comrade
and openly gay killer; and
Karla, the hauntingly beautiful
pragmatist who knows she’s
the smartest person in the
room — have been reduced to
shuffl ing on and offstage, like
the cast of “Friends,” to offer
Lin overwritten wisecracks
and pseudo-philosophical
advice.
“The Mountain Shadow”
is the second installment in a
planned tetralogy (a prequel
and fi nale are allegedly on the
way). But devotees of Book 1
would be better off imagining
their own “Shantaram” spin-
offs. “The Mountain Shadow”
is a book begging to be over-
shadowed by fanfi ction.
I was recently in a local
bookstore and pulled a slick
new edition of “Shantaram”
from the shelf. The bookseller
saw me thumbing through the
pages. That’s a good book, he
said.
It is, I replied. Then I told
him I was halfway through
“The Mountain Shadow,” and
it’s just awful. He concurred
— and, in fact, had given up
on the sequel.
He allowed “Shantaram”
to stand alone. I wish Roberts
had done the same.
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editor’s refl ections on arts and
culture. CW