I was anticipating that it would be severe and arid. However, to my astonishment, it is quite the contrary.

Contrary to the widespread perception, it is not truly an assault on Islam (although certain portions of it might prove offensive to extremely devout Muslims).

Rather, it is more of a novel that delves into human nature, exploring themes such as love, hate, forgiveness, evil, good, and identity, among others.

I discovered that it is a highly enjoyable book, filled with remarkable events that left me in a state of profound thought upon completing my reading.

The story takes the reader on a journey through the complex and often contradictory aspects of the human psyche, presenting a nuanced and thought-provoking exploration of what it means to be human.

It challenges our preconceived notions and forces us to confront the darker sides of ourselves, while also offering hope and the possibility of redemption.

Overall, I would highly recommend this book to anyone looking for a engaging and intellectually stimulating read.

A near perfect novel.

I truly loved the writing. It was so captivating and engaging that it held my attention from start to finish.

I also adored the characters. They were vividly drawn and full of depth, each with their own unique personalities and stories.

What really impressed me was how Rushdie was able to master the concepts of heaven and hell, saint and sinner, heaven and earth in this dreamlike exploration of what it means to be an immigrant, an angel, a saint, and a sinner. His ability to blend these different elements together seamlessly was truly remarkable.

At times, he writes like a post-modern satirist cum Pynchon, using humor and irony to make his points. Then, suddenly, he melts into his best post-colonial Achebe, delving deep into the themes of race, identity, and colonialism. And then, off again he goes on his magical realist, literary carpet à la Gabriel García Márquez, creating a world that is both fantastical and believable.

Rushdie's writing is like a mountain that you don't climb down, but rather fly off. It takes you on a journey that is both thrilling and thought-provoking, leaving you with a sense of wonder and admiration.

I have been making a consistent effort to read this book day in and day out, yet I just cannot seem to get fully immersed in it. When it was first published, I gave it a try, but then I set it aside, thinking I would come back to it another day. Many years later, I made another attempt. This time, I hope it will be my penultimate effort.

The writing of this book is truly well done. It is eloquent and highly impressive. However, aside from the quality of the writing, there is nothing else that is gripping me to the extent that I feel compelled to put aside everything else and just curl up with this book. The subject matter simply does not have enough of a hold on me to mesmerize me completely.

Despite my current lack of engagement, I am determined to give it another try later. Maybe with a fresh perspective and a different state of mind, I will finally be able to discover the hidden gems within this book and truly appreciate it for what it has to offer.

Pretty sure this is part of the rarefied pantheon of books joining the likes of Infinite Jest and A Brief History of Time as one of the most bought, least finished books of all time.

It starts out strong with an almost singsong, Indian lilt and cadence as Gibreel and Saladin hurtle to earth - interestingly nonplussed by the whole affair. The initial part is captivating, drawing the reader in with its unique style.

But then its dream sequences and odd digressions left me scratching my head - I just couldn't get my footing. The story seemed to veer off in unexpected directions, making it difficult to follow.

Rushdie clearly is an accomplished writer. Open the book to any page and the writing often dazzles. He's working here, juggling ideas and poking at concepts. His prose is rich and full of imagery.

Maybe it's my own expectations coming into the book - wondering what could be so damning as to warrant a fatwa against his life. But it never really gelled and for all the furor it engendered all it managed to elicit from me was mild indifference. I just couldn't connect with the story or the characters on a deeper level.

If it wasn't part of a book club read I doubt if I would have finished it. It was a struggle to get through, and in the end, I was left with a sense of dissatisfaction.

For eight days, we engaged in a fierce wrestling match. "The Satanic Verses" and I were locked in a heaving struggle.

At times, it almost managed to escape as I chased it uphill, my straining hand tightly holding onto its heel as it wriggled. Then, I myself would seek respite from the battle, only to be pulled back in when I clutched for the out-of-bounds. But finally, we finished the struggle, and both of us were better for it.

"The Satanic Verses" is, I suspect, one of the most unread best-sellers. It is indeed a cantankerous beast, with sections that one must slog through. However, overall, I think its reputation for being impenetrable is somewhat undeserved.

The novel delves into the themes of migration, intermingling, hybridization of people, and religion. It opens with two Indian actors with British ties and sensibilities falling from a plane blown up by terrorists over England. One, Gabreel Farishta, seemingly arrives on Earth as the archangel Gabreel (or its avatar), wearing a golden halo. The other, Saladin Chamcha, transforms into a horned, hoofed devil. The two attempt to come to terms with their (temporarily) changed forms and cope with the struggles of life, their pasts, and their relationships, both romantic and familial. Gabreel experiences dreams in which he appears to be the angel he seems to be. This includes Rushdie's recreation/alteration of the prophet Muhammad's (here Mahound) supposed divine revelations, the Satanic verses of the title, and whether Mahound himself has altered these verses.

Gabreel also has modern visions; he supposedly inspires a village to make a pilgrimage to Mecca, believing that the Arabian Sea will part for them as they cross it.

When Rushdie first delves into the story of Mahound, the novel temporarily hits a brick wall that I was tempted not to climb over. It is slow and disorienting at first. However, our second visit to this vision, later in the book, is much more engaging. And the stories of Ayesha and her village's modern pilgrimage are alternately ponderous and incredibly beautiful (butterflies follow them, lighting on Ayesha like a blanket).

I expected to be baffled at times about exactly what was happening. In reality, I wasn't; my comprehension problems mainly dealt with what Rushdie was trying to achieve. Although I see the interconnectedness of the past and present visions and the story of Gabreel and Saladin (who slowly plots revenge on Gabreel after they are separated following their miraculous fall to Earth), I was occasionally confused about how Rushdie wanted us to relate them to each other. What, overall, is Rushdie trying to convey?

I truly believe that Rushdie (and this novel in particular) would benefit greatly from end notes. Just as with old classics, we might not understand archaic words or objects in modern times. Similarly, the non-Indian (or Britain-ized Indian) probably doesn't have a good understanding of Indian words or, particularly for me, Islam. Annotated edition, anyone?

It's difficult to separate "The Satanic Verses" from the fatwa declared on its author, which put him in fear for his life for many years. This undoubtedly contributed to its readership (or those who bought it out of curiosity and soon gave up on reading it altogether). I don't claim to know much about Islam or Muhammad, but calling for someone's death because of a few small scenes in a novel seems, er, a bit extreme.

"The Satanic Verses" is a sprawling and voluminous work. I don't think it's great as a whole. A paring down and a sharper focus would have been beneficial. However, Rushdie is an excellent writer; that's what carried the day for me. If I missed some of the nuances of how everything tied together, I still delighted in Rushdie's use of language, and there are several moving scenes. A section late in the book at the deathbed of a character is truly lovely.

Would I recommend the book to others? Maybe. But not if: this is your first Rushdie (try "Midnight's Children" instead); you prefer a linear, easily comprehensible plot; you get frustrated when the plot doesn't go where you want it to; you have to understand everything; you are impatient. Otherwise, if you're adventurous, give it a try.

The author of this article decided to write a novel based on the idea of the stream of consciousness, and its main protagonist was Hitler. In it, the author presented Hitler as a just ruler and a great personality who did everything for his country and sacrificed himself in its service. The author denied Hitler's actions of expelling the Jews and the Holocaust, and also denied his attempt to dominate the Aryan race. The author made the Nazi idea a noble idea that deserves to rule the world.

Would the author have received protection from human rights organizations? Would he have enjoyed the right to political asylum and protection from those who would persecute him?

And would Western civilization values and freedom of expression accept this?

This proposed question is a response to everything that a person who claims liberalism and freedom of expression might defend.

Of course, there is a huge difference between a bloody Nazi dictator like Hitler and the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), the Prophet of guidance and mercy who brought mercy to the world.

It is important to note that any attempt to glorify or justify Hitler and his Nazi ideology is completely unacceptable and goes against the principles of humanity, justice, and morality. Hitler's actions led to the deaths of millions of people and brought great灾难 and destruction to the world. We should always remember the lessons of history and坚决 oppose any form of extremism and dictatorship.

This story is a double disgrace. It is a disgrace to Western civilization that produced and embraced this farce. It is also a disgrace for our scholars who were content with slander and abuse and none of them cared to explain the elements of decline in the story in a theoretical, formal, and conceptual way.

I only found a response from the great Ahmed Deedat who touched on the structure of the story and said that it was plagiarized from another literary work.

But I did not find any scholar touch on the ideological aspect and the story of the cranes that Rashidi influenced in the story.

And which he tried to prove its authenticity to use it to refute the prophecy of our master Muhammad peace be upon him.

All of them were content with slander and abuse and we did not present a logical response to the West.

What kind of idea are you? This question reverberates throughout the pages of this novel, serving as a crucial link between the author and his work. It's like a Waterloo moment, a windbreaker that gives rise to questions about the material's purpose. It offers us a glimpse into why the author chose to name it "Satanic Verses," revealing all its diabolical implications and the motives behind its disrespect for Islam and the Prophet. So, what kind of idea is this? In turn, what kind of idea are we? People are often said to be the sum of their ideas and beliefs. But what exactly makes up our sum? What are we made of?

Are you a preconceived idea? When does the bias of the material end and when does the bias of the reader begin? If you're a Christian or a Muslim, the title of this novel might have made you pause, even if only for a moment. Or perhaps it drove you away completely. I assure you, this novel is not satanic in any devilish sense. Now, I pose the question: Do we truly approach a book with an open mind, or do we immediately judge books based on their titles? Do we read without bias or do we hinder fairness? Do we aim to learn or do we aim to protect our existing knowledge? These questions are crucial when discussing controversial reading materials. It dawned on me during an article review in one of my classes. My groupmates and I were discussing the bias of an article about the Gaza affair. My groupmates interpreted the article in favor of Israel, while I, on the other hand, saw it as a bit sympathetic towards the Palestinians. I realized then that when it comes to issues we have prior knowledge of, people tend to see what they want to see. Justifying one's stance takes priority over absorbing new information. This selective perception, which blinds us to any parity in the material, is a greater source of misunderstanding than the biased material itself. Of course, there will always be certain biases in all the materials we read, but the bias of the mind is like a sieve through which comprehension passes. It only lets in biases that it supports, greatly affecting one's understanding and shaping it into the mold one wants to see. The bias of a material will be evident to an open mind, but the bias of a reader can affect even the most unbiased material. A good example is the reading of the Bible. The Bible is the foundation of Christianity, and everything that Christians believe in comes from that book. But as Isaac Asimov once said, "Properly read, the Bible is the most potent force for atheism ever conceived." This just goes to show that one's biases are the hands that mold one's reading experience. People's understanding is based on certain assumptions and axioms derived from previous knowledge, but this principle can also be taken to an extreme. This "learned" mindset, which has become second nature to us, is a significant hindrance to critical thinking and knowledge acquisition. Even the most gifted minds are plagued by this problem, and I believe it takes years of practice to be able to read something without any inclinations.

So, before you read this novel, I beg you to make a conscious effort to be open-minded and at least try to suppress the inevitable biases that you will have. A full cup will spill all that is poured into it; be an empty cup. Only then can one truly learn to appreciate this novel.

Salman Rushdie's novel is a multi-layered magical tale with numerous possible implications. Its many facets, like a dice that can roll to many different sides, may have different meanings or might converge on one main point. It's difficult to precisely pinpoint the central theme of the novel. The author suggests that it's about migration and the problems that immigrants face, which is most evident during Chamcha's early metamorphism. The concept of "nationalism" and the betrayal of one's country are thereby explored. But then, Mahound's, the Butterfly Girl's, and the Immam's respective storylines attempt to bring perspective to blind faith. Baal's tale warns against trying to be someone else. The Old Woman's and Rehka Merchant's respective accounts tell us not to devote our purpose to another person. The terrorist's example hints at the mockery in self-sacrifice. Farishta's bizarre experiences advise us not to be fooled by destiny or purpose. Alleluia's case conveys that uprightness is not always rewarded. The whole "immigrant mob" incident showcases that the mob mentality is not always right. There are many possible ideas present, and one can choose which to focus on, which to ignore, and which to accept. Which idea are you?

For me, the main idea of this novel is learning to understand that one must create one's own ideas. If you notice, all the facets and interwoven tales are delved into problems when the characters place their lives, their ideas about nationalism, faith, someone they want to be like, someone they love, on political beliefs, on destiny, on goodwill, on what everybody does. We are so busy with these worldviews that we then overlook the question, "What are my own ideas?" "Who am I apart from these things that are not of my own making?"

"WHAT KIND OF AN IDEA ARE YOU?" "Are you the kind that compromises, does deals, accommodates itself to society, aims to find a niche, to survive; or are you the cussed, bloody-minded, ramrod-backed type of damnfool notion that would rather break than sway with the breeze? – The kind that will almost certainly, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, be smashed to bits; but, the hundredth time, will change the world." It might be a bit of a cliché, but one can't avoid the reality of what this says. Are your ideas truly your own, or were they implanted there by society? Creativity, originality, uniqueness – these things are being suppressed by a society that demands conformity and a sense of belongingness. What kind of idea will you be?

"Society was orchestrated by what she called ‘grand narratives’: history, economics, ethics. In India, the development of a corrupt and closed state apparatus had ‘excluded the masses of the people from the ethical project’. As a result, they sought ethical satisfactions in the oldest of the grand narratives, that is, religious faith. But these narratives are being manipulated by the theocracy and various political elements in an entirely retrogressive way." "We can’t deny the ubiquity of faith. If we write in such a way as to pre-judge such belief as in some way deluded or false, then are we not guilty of elitism, of imposing our world-view on the masses?" Worldviews, social constructs, axioms – these are just as important as one's individuality. For one must consider that one's self-interest does not give one the right to trample on another. "Let our aim be a way of life not diametrically opposed to, but better than that of the mob. Otherwise we shall repel and alienate the very people whose reform we should desire." I understand that Salman Rushdie was disrespectful to Islam and to Muhammad, but should he have been? That's not for me to say. It was his choice, and I refuse to cast another stone when I am merely an observer. But who are we to say that he deserves to die for his unbelief? It's one thing to ask for an apology, and quite another to take a life altogether. Why should a review be deleted when it says bad things about an author? Free expression is commendable, but one must also remember the repercussions. Acts are carried out in the name of ideas. Be careful what ideas you clash with and what ideas you embody, for unlike an idea which can change, the associated action cannot be undone. The Fatwa placed on Rushdie's head speaks to the truth about how conforming the world demands us to be, and how the actuality of ideas cannot be reversed. But sometimes, just sometimes, the realization that stems from one person's ideas can change the world for the better. Will the possibility of criticism deter your idea?

What kind of idea are you? Be your own kind of idea, think critically, question everything, don't be a passive receiver, be open-minded, be creative, unique, but also learn to respect ideas that are not your own.

The story is really exciting. Intrusion is an essential feature in the story. The mixture between Islamic and Hindu cultures of the heroes is clear. Also, the idea of reincarnation appears in many paragraphs, on the real and fictional levels.

The parts that tell the story of the Prophet Muhammad will anger any moderate Muslim. There are many fabricated events, and the shocking parts do not stop at the story of the famous pigeons only. There are many actions that the companions take, which are exaggerated from events that occurred in the biography or completely fabricated.

Sometimes I notice that the translator deletes some sentences, out of a desire for abbreviation. Nevertheless, Salman Rushdie is a talented writer with new visions. Of course, when the novel was published.

I loved Midnight’s Children and Shame, but this one, The Satanic Verses, was an exercise in exasperation. I should have left it alone instead of being intrigued by its fearsome reputation as a book that kills people. There are three main reasons why I strongly disliked this book.

THE TIRESOME STRUCTURE

Most of this book seems to be a meticulous account of the dreams or visions of mostly one character. And he has dreams within dreams. The real-world plot progresses very slowly, like a slow bicycle race, with the back stories of different people and the dreams jumping around as dreams do. This whole cumbersome, multi-layered affair seems to be going nowhere for many pages.

THE UNFUNNY COMIC VOICE

The narrator's cajoling, supercilious, sneering, mocking, silly, and constantly quipping voice is exhausting and finally aggravating. Here's an example of him wittering on about angels: "The human condition, but what of the angelic? Halfway between Allahgod and homosap, did they ever doubt? They did: challenging God’s will one day muttering beneath the Throne, daring to ask forbidden things: antiquestions. Is it right that. Could it not be argued. Freedom, the old antiquest. He calmed them down, naturally, employing management skills a la god. Flattered them: you will be the instruments of my will on earth, of the salvationdamnation of man, all the usual etcetera. And hey presto, end of protest, on with the haloes, back to work. Angels are easily pacified, turn them into instruments and they’ll play your harpy tune." This passage also raises the question of who exactly is talking here. Is the narrator actually The Devil, as is implied early on?

THE EARLY HISTORY OF ISLAM ACCORDING TO SALMAN RUSHDIE

A significant portion of this book is taken up with a detailed sequence of dream-narratives that become a comic-ironic history of the life of a religious leader who is never called Mohammed but referred to as either The Prophet or as Mahound, an insulting medieval name for Mohammed. We get the twisty tale of how Mahound got rid of the polytheism of the city of Jahilia and how Islam, here called Submission, became accepted. However, this detailed account is highly offensive to Muslims. For example, there's a chapter about Mahound making a deal with the city boss to accept three of the female local gods as angels in return for the city accepting him as The Prophet. Then there's the notorious section where the sex workers in the largest brothel in Jahilia pretend to be the wives of Mahound. This is the section that earned Rushdie the famous fatwa, but it's not the only part that might be considered blasphemous. The scribe Salman (same name as the author) gets the job of writing down Mahound's words and starts to change them surreptitiously.

SOMETHING OF A MISCALCULATION

As an atheistic liberal, I have no desire to get anyone mad at Rushdie again. But there's no doubt he was playing with the most sensitive ideas about Islam here. He may have thought his complex post-modern metanarrative would be outside the purview of the Muslim world, but he was catastrophically mistaken. The intricate re-telling of the early history of Islam is deadly boring for a non-religious reader, as it's hard to tell what's a caricature, an ironical comment, or a plain historical fact. Reading The Satanic Verses becomes an exercise in frustration. Salman Rushdie is one of our greatest authors, but in this book, he was barking up the wrong tree.

This is so magnificent that I must read it again soon.

It is truly a remarkable piece of work that has left a profound impression on me.

The words seem to dance on the page, captivating my attention from the very first sentence.

The author's use of language is masterful, painting vivid images and evoking strong emotions.

I find myself completely immersed in the story, unable to put it down.

As I reach the end, I am left with a sense of longing and a desire to experience it all over again.

It is rare to come across something so great that it demands a second reading.

This article is definitely one of those treasures that I will cherish and revisit often.

I'd never had any interest in reading this book.

But I have now bought a copy.

It's back at the top of the best seller lists. Murderous thugs who try to suppress books, get exactly the opposite of what they want.

AND VERY nearly 3 months after starting... I have finished! This is a long book, but more importantly it's a very complicated, densely written book. It meanders through many different tales and points of view, places, and two rather distinct main time periods. Along with that, there are the backstories of many of the characters who get wrapped up in the story of the two main protagonists.

This is an example of the sort of dense literary prose we see page after page:

\\"It all boiled down to love, reflected Saladin Chamcha in his den: love, the refractory bird of Meilhac and Halévy's libretto for Carmen -- one of the prize specimens, this, in the Allegorical Aviary he'd assembled in lighter days, and which included among its winged metaphors the Sweet (of youth), the Yellow (more lucky than me), Khayyám-- FitzGerald's adjectiveless Bird of Time (which has but a little way to fly, and lo! is on the Wing), and the Obscene; this last from a letter written by Henry James, Sr, to his sons. . . \\"Every man who has reached even his intellectual teens begins to suspect that life is no farce; that it is not genteel comedy even; that it flowers and fructifies on the contrary out of the profoundest tragic depths of the essential dearth in which its subject's roots are plunged. The natural inheritance of everyone who is capable of spiritual life is an unsubdued forest where the wolf howls and the obscene bird of night chatters.\\"

And this, some of the quality of observation - here a character contemplates a topic that many authors have had a crack at, the \\"we are legion\\" concept:

“O, the dissociations of which the human mind is capable, marvelled Saladin gloomily. O, the conflicting selves jostling and joggling within these bags of skin. No wonder we are unable to remain focused on anything for very long; no wonder we invent remote-control channel-hopping devices. If we turned these instruments upon ourselves we’d discover more channels than a cable or satellite mogul ever dreamed of.”

So, in this rambling exploration that maintains from the start a significant element of the absurdist/surreal whilst offering very real looks at a wide variety of lives, Rushdie continually blurs the lines between dreams, delusions, and reality. It's never clear what can be believed - we know the whole thing is fiction, but the fictions within that framework are shifting and won't be pinned down.

The author covers a great many themes that are all woven together into a loose garment that will probably fit any theory you happen to have. We're presented with issues of religion (mainly Hindu and Muslim), of identity (mainly Indian and British), of diasporas, integration, intolerance, tolerance, faith, friendship, relationships, family... it goes on.

The book is of course famous for the wrath it provoked among some Muslims. Certainly the narrative is uncompromising, sometimes mocking, sometimes vicious, mercilessly following any seam of weakness. I'm not sufficiently educated in the history of the Muslim faith to comment with even a crumb of authority. But certainly the Christian faith emerged from a muddy historical process with inconveniences pared away to present a cleaner more organised statement to the future. Rushdie implies something similar for the Muslim faith. I can see why it could be painful reading for the devout.

This of course, does not justify a violent response.

I can't summarise the book well. It's too large and sprawling for that.

It starts with two men falling from an exploding aircraft and improbably (impossibly) surviving. We follow the pair on their journey from there, with flashbacks, dreams, histories, as their new lives spiral around each other, some how opposites, some how each a mirror of the other.

What is the book ABOUT? What was the main message the author tried to impart? I don't know.

For most of the book I was engaged almost entirely through intellectual curiosity and morbid fascination. I didn't particularly like the characters, I wasn't emotionally bound to them. It's not that kind of book.

But towards the end the reunion of one character with a dying parent did hit me hard, and proved that if Rushdie wants to pull on your emotional strings, he knows how to do it.

I'm glad I read the book. I won't be plunging into another of Rushdie's works any time soon. I just don't have the reading time/energy - my next read will be an SFF romp of some kind where my brain can relax and I can be entertained.

Give the book a shot. I hope the renewed interest is some comfort to Mr Rushdie as he recovers from the recent terrorist attack on him.

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