Serious men /

INDIA, we are reminded ad infinitum, is a land of contradictions. Immense wealth rubs shoulders with unimaginable poverty; soaring modernity with crude tradition; the world's largest democracy with its most stifling caste system. To the list you can add Arvind Acharya and Ayyan Mani, the hero and antihero (you decide which is which) of Manu Joseph's smart and funny first novel, "Serious Men." Arvind is a legendary astrophysicist, a perennial Nobel candidate banned from the Vatican for having whispered something naughty in the pope's ear. He lords over the faculty at the Institute of Theory and Research in Mumbai like a cantankerous octogenarian enduring a horde of particularly ungrateful grandchildren. The man's idea of sentimentality is using his wife's name as his e-mail password. Ayyan is Arvind's personal assistant at the institute, a wily sweeper's son of the untouchable caste with an affinity for mischief equaled only by his aptitude for it. He eavesdrops on all of Arvind's conversations, subverts every order he's given and posts, each morning at the institute's entrance, a "Thought for the Day" that's often absurdly fraudulent. ("Rebirth is the most foolish mathematical concept ever." - Isaac Newton.) I know what you're thinking here. The pompous Brahmin and the streetwise Dalit: buddy-cop via Bollywood? Don't worry. These Serious Men may be clichés, but they're thoughtfully realized, interestingly conflicted and surprisingly sympathetic clichés. For one thing, each has a higher purpose. Ayyan's aspirations revolve around his son, Adi, a geeky child (even by Indian standards) afflicted with a hearing aid, a mother who only wants him to seem normal and a father who will go to tremendous lengths to have him seem anything but. Through a little subterfuge and some low-grade electronics, Ayyan eventually has the faculty at the institute, the local press and a good part of the nation believing that the boy is an unsurpassable prodigy (again, even by Indian standards). This "little game" is a risky business in which to involve a child, but it has to be better than life as usual in the Worli chawls, a slum built by the colonial powers as housing for textile workers in which each family is consigned to a room the size of a modest shipping container. The oppressive no-way-outness of the chawls makes Dharavi, the across-town setting of the film "Slumdog Millionaire," seem in comparison a paradise of opportunity. As for Arvind, he has a mortal enemy of the same scope as his own ego: Big Bang theory, which he considers a Western plot. "The Vatican wanted a beginning," he thinks, "and the Big Bang provided one." Arvind has his own theory: "If the goal of the universe were to manufacture life, as he secretly believed, then the universe was a giant device ... to make minuscule pieces of life here and there." He is convinced that some of these pieces can be found floating in the upper atmosphere and plans to send a great balloon into orbit to collect them, to prove that life on earth came not from the primordial soup but from the cosmos. In his quest he faces two hurdles: his envious minions and Oparna Goshmaulik, a shapely astrobiologist with the mother of all daddy complexes. In the end, naturally, our odd couple become mutually dependent - Arvind needs Ayyan's wiliness to resurrect his career; Ayyan needs Arvind to bring the Adi con to its pinnacle - and in the end they develop a modicum of respect for each other. Ayyan's is expressed internally, after the boss is disgraced and the underlings take over the asylum, in this wise turn of phrase: "And Ayyan felt the impoverishment of serving a lesser regime." For a man whose workday ends with a return to the Worli chawls, it simply will not do. Tobin Harshaw, an editor for The Times's Op-Ed page, writes a weekly column, The Thread, at nytimes.com/opinion.

This ambitious debut cleverly weaves diverging plots of love, knowledge, class, and ambition. Low-caste Ayyan Mani works as an assistant to the director of the Institute of Theory and Research, where he carefully observes the interactions of the institute's scientists. At night he returns to his small Mumbai tenement apartment, which he shares with his anxious wife and ten-year-old son Adi. Yearning for a better life for his family, Ayyan begins to spin a series of fabricated tales about his handicapped son, stories that slowly propel a series of life-changing events. Meanwhile, Ayyan's hard-nosed genius boss, Arvind Acharya, is fixated on his theory of alien existence, and puts his professional reputation on the line. Arvind's credibility is further complicated by the arrival of the institute's first female researcher, a young woman who is attractive and manipulative. As Arvind's professional ambitions give way to personal desire, Ayyan's carefully constructed fictions begin to arouse suspicion. Joseph's finely portrayed characters exude wit and warmth in this engaging and introspective tale.--Strauss, Leah Copyright 2010 Booklist

Joseph, an editor of magazines in India, sets up in his debut a subtly wicked satire of subterfuge and ambition that bounces between the Mumbai tenement where low-caste Ayyan Mani lives, and the esteemed research institute where he labors as the assistant of top researcher Arvind Acharya. Forever spiteful toward his privileged superiors, Ayyan is deviously mischievous and pulls off a stunt that ends with his half-deaf (but otherwise ordinary) son being proclaimed in the local news as a boy genius. Meanwhile, Arvind is obsessed with proving his theory that extraterrestrial microbes are raining down on Earth from the upper atmosphere. While his theory is promising, an affair with a seductive astrobiologist threatens to cost him his life's work. Naturally, the conniving Ayyan is involved there as well. While Ayyan's inspired smalltime villainy drives the narrative and provides more than its share of humor, it's occasionally undermined by overheated prose and uneven pacing that spirals into a panicked blitz near the end. Overall, though, this is a sharp, au courant satire, like a more mannered White Tiger. (Aug.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

In this first novel by Manu, deputy editor of the Indian magazine Open, Ayyan Mani, a Dalit living with his family in a chawl housing unit in Mumbai, is limited by position and caste but not by ambition, wit, or nerve. Ayyan is personal assistant to the formidable director of the Institute, Arvind Acharya, one of many Brahmin scientists working to protect and promote their personal research interests. This humorous novel intertwines Ayyan's and Arvind's stories. Ayyan is constantly scheming, whether finding creative new ways to promote the idea that his son Adi is a genius or fabricating subversive quotations for the Institute's "Thought for the Day" board, while Arvind, well connected and respected as a brilliant scientific mind, becomes entangled with the only female scientist working at the institute. As the story unfolds, the reader is treated to a highly entertaining glimpse into both men's minds. Verdict A smart and touching addition to the growing group of works by young, Indian-born authors writing in English, this novel would be a nice choice for readers trying an Indian author for the first time. Similar authors to consider include Kiran Desai and Thrity Umrigar.-Shaunna Hunter, Hampden-Sydney Coll. Lib., VA (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.