The British thinker Ronald Dworkin said that this type of arousal of sensitivity has brought mediocre books to the top of the best-selling books in the world. But in his opinion, this is a cheap way to achieve the goal and in his view, it is a serious encroachment. The New York Times in March 1989 reported that a book of "Satanic Verses" indicates one of two things: either it is ignorance applied to Islam and Muslims, or it is a deliberate slander without reason. In a statement by the Canterbury Church in England, Dr. Robert Runcie said that the inability to distinguish the truth is the only one who is afraid to see that the publication of this book may harm Muslims everywhere in the world, and he believes that harm to Muslims or any religion is harm to Christianity. A large number of Jewish judges in England, Lord Jacob Rothschild, said that this book should not have been published and that it is a deliberate act of slander. There is a difference between an attempt to discuss any religion and distorting the facts and deliberate slander. It is a short story full of vulgar and cheap expressions. It is a satire on Muslims, and at the very least, it is said that it is contemptible. Any person who reads this story is certain that it is not accidental nor the imagination of the author, but a deliberate slander. And this is not only that, but it is a racist story to the extreme degree, against Hindu religions and black people.

Wise, humane, playfully outrageous, this novel is truly a wonder. It has the ability to dilate space-time, strain our credulity, and bend genres. It is at once heart-rending and skeptical, but not cynical. The erudition is evident, yet it remains streetwise and firmly of its time.

This polyphonic novel is like a vertigo-inducing roller-coaster that just keeps growing on you. Even if, like me, magic realism isn't your favorite genre, you can't help but be drawn in by its charm. It takes you on a wild ride through different perspectives and experiences, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

I have no doubt that I will read this'un again. It is a book that demands multiple readings, each time revealing new layers and nuances. It is a testament to the power of great literature to transport us to other worlds and make us see the world around us in a new light.

This is an outstanding and at times truly amazing work of literature. In fact, it was perhaps the most difficult thing I have ever endeavored to read. I had to re-start it twice, and it took me a little over two months to complete.

It's important to note that not everyone will have the same appreciation for it, and that's perfectly okay. It's quite clear that Rushdie didn't pen this work with the intention of it being universally adored. Instead, it's the sort of book that you come to admire more than actually fall in love with or connect with on an emotional level.

If you're feeling adventurous and up for a challenge, I would highly recommend giving it a try. However, if you're not in the mood for a difficult read, you might want to steer clear.

Ultimately, the decision to read this book is a personal one, and only you can determine if it's right for you.

I'm doing my best not to think "Here goes Rushdie again." I have read every other book he ever wrote, but I never read this one before. And now, to fill the gap, I am stuck with the last unread jewel. However, it's somehow lackluster because Salman doesn't age or accumulate well. I mean, the more you read him, the more he sounds the same.

And has this ever happened to you: that you discover in a writer just a wisp of too much wit and it's wit that bores you? Yes, I'm reading on, with strange compulsive patience that some readers acquire. Maybe we think, it'll get better or it'll reach a moment when all the nonsense will have become justified.

Then, there is the miserable expository didactic style. You don't believe me? Ok, how about this: "Now, however, change had begun to feel painful; the arteries of the possible had begun to harden." Arteries of the possible?!? No, really, is that writing? Or this: "...she had no confidence at all, and every moment she spent in the world was full of panic, so she smiled and smiled and maybe once a week she locked the door and shook and felt like a husk, like an empty peanut-shell, a monkey without a nut." A monkey without a nut? Now how exactly do you imagine such a character? And is she a husk or a monkey... Or is it both?

Amendment, if you'll allow me: finally, I reached the end and must say, almost despite myself, that it is worth the effort. What happens? Various disconnected and initially confusing strands of the story come together, more or less. There is, in any case, a feeling of wholeness and an idea that seems to animate it. And it is in this "main" idea that I recognize Rushdie and realize that he has always been faithful to himself. I think he tries, here as elsewhere, to address the question of faith, but in a sense much broader than the mere religious one. What does it mean to believe something so strongly that the fiction comes to be real or reality is denied and becomes a miracle? This question matters as much to literature as it does to religion and here the two overlap. This I find to be a very powerful achievement of The Satanic Verses: to ask you when and how you believe and what the consequences of that belief may be... Or when and how you don't believe and what the consequences of that unbelief may be... So my favorite aspect of the book: the steady, intricate focus on fiction -- its reality and its delusions.

This is a truly fascinating entry into the genre of magical realism. It's quite unique because perhaps nothing truly magical occurs.

Ayesha's followers meet their demise. Gibreel loses his sanity. Rushdie employs this hazy approach to unearth the ugliness within the belief in magic and the decay of blind faith. It is a religious text, yet not one that promotes superstition.

But then again: does it matter if Ayesha's followers drown or not, as long as they firmly believed they didn't? So, is it magical after all? It all boils down to faith.

"Satanic Verses" delves into the themes of faith, Islam, and Muslims residing in England. While I have some knowledge about certain aspects of this, none of it directly pertains to my life, thus it doesn't resonate with me on a personal level. In contrast, "Infinite Jest" is centered around bored, messed-up white kids, which truly speaks to me. This might be the reason why "Jest" is one of my favorite books and "Verses" isn't. Both are massive, complex, post-modern, and surreal epics. I firmly believe that both deserve love and require a dedicated readership.

Perhaps none of what transpires in "Verses" or "Jest" actually occurs. These books are like cousins.

"Verses" is indeed an achievement. It accomplishes what it sets out to do, which is to summarize the birth of Islam (in a rather irreverent/blasphemous manner) and then bring it up to the present day in England. This is no small feat and it is a magnificent accomplishment. I hold it in high regard.

If you're seeking some information on Islam, I can recommend "After the Prophet: The Epic Story of the Shia-Sunni Split in Islam" by Lesley Hazleton, which is incredibly engaging, and "No god but God: The Origins, Evolution, and Future of Islam" by Reza Aslan, a liberal argument for Islam that also encompasses its origin.

"Satanic Verses" is cool. It may not be the book for me, but for those it is intended for, I wager it could be like "Infinite Jest." I understand what it's attempting to do and it does it proficiently. I'm glad I took the time to read it.

Dear intelligent friends, in my opinion, two stars were even too many for this book.

Unfortunately, with the subject of this book being ridiculed by Khomeini and a group of Arab-worshipping and ignorant Iranians, only and only the people of my land suffered losses.

Yes, dear ones, by sentencing and sanctioning the killing of "Salman Rushdie," they caused this unknown man and novelist to gain worldwide fame and receive the title of "Sir" from the United Kingdom... Yes, with this decree, Salman Rushdie made millions of dollars from the sales of this very book in their blessed accounts... The money of my land was spent on thousands and thousands of sheets of paper, so that, for example, "Death to England" and "Death to Salman Rushdie" could be written on them. In the meantime, what crime have the people of England committed!! It is not clear.

Tons and kilos of ink were spent on writing these slogans and sending greetings to Muhammad.

In the meantime, who suffered losses??... Islam? Arab-worshipping? England? Salman Rushdie? ... No... only and only the simple and oppressed people of my land suffered losses and damages, and of course, due to their own ignorance, they are also worthy of being tortured, and a group of innocent and intelligent poets and writers also suffered blows.

Dear precious friends, in India, Bangladesh, and Islamabad, in protests against "Salman Rushdie," several people were killed and injured. Most of them had not even read this book, a book that was perhaps the weakest work of this Indian-origin writer.

In Turkey, nearly 40 intellectuals were burned in the fire of the anger of these Arab-worshipping people.

A young, ignorant, and stupid Lebanese man named "Mustafa Mahmoud Mazeh" in London, with the intention of killing Salman Rushdie, blew himself up while making a bomb in a hotel and his body was wiped off the face of the earth, but from the side of Iran, he received the title of "martyr."

In Japan, "Hywotushi Igarashi," the translator of this book, was chopped up with a knife.

All this killing, crime, and a $4 million bounty for the killing of the author of a weak fictional book.

Dear ones, this novel is written in the style of realism and is the story of the lives of two Indians who, after a terrorist incident, escaped unharmed and went to England... Tragedy and comedy are also the highlights of the story... Yes... it is the story of the lives of people who, in the hope of a better world, flee from their country, people who neither have the ability to escape to a modern humanity nor want to live in a traditional world.

In order to gain a new identity, they endure a life full of hardships in Britain.

In the fictional city of "Jahilia," there are twelve Russian women living in the "House of Love," and the names of these twelve people, according to the author, are also the names of the women of Muhammad, the Prophet of Islam, and there are also some allusions to Khomeini and the life of Muhammad, but only a small part of this book refers to the Prophet of the Arabs, that is, Muhammad.

Of course, in my opinion, it was a very weak book.

I suggest that you do not spend your valuable time reading this book.

Be victorious and be Iranian.

The controversial and conversation-stirring world of Salman Rushdie's "The Satanic Verses" has been a hot topic since its publication, stirring up emotions and debates. So, what’s all the fuss about?

I'm awarding this four stars as I recognize the significance of what this book conveys.

Although Rushdie engages in the "oh look how poorly they treat women, they must be bad!" routine while having nearly a dozen girlfriends in the refrigerator and a couple of personas whose tough character definitions are completely overshadowed by their (male) lover's plot lines, the importance of the book still stands.

It's a balance between my significance as an individual and my significance as an idea, something that men worldwide could learn from. Intersectionality doesn't undermine critical thinking skills; solipsism does. And when it comes to gynephobia or any other ideological oppression, solipsism is fatal.

The main reason I believe this book is worth reading is that while Rushdie does fall into authorial/political pitfalls regarding women, he does so while deconstructing the very power structures that give rise to those pitfalls.

It's not about a feel-good stagnancy of "I did my best and no one should criticize me," nor a philosophical descent into nonentity that pretends privilege doesn't exist, but a real examination of the compromises we make within the societal boundaries of good and evil.

This angry and messy perspective is particularly crucial when considering the book, its history, and my identity as an atheist woman who grew up in the aftermath of 9/11.

I have my own issues due to my identity, but I'll never be considered a terrorist.

I'm aware that people died for the sake of this book, and I know that people died due to my country's fixation on security and the military-industrial complex as a direct result of Islamophobia.

I also know how easy it would be to use one to excuse the other.

Just like when Rushdie writes about current events in Ferguson twenty-six years before in a fictional form and then comments on how the martyr of his particular story had a history of abusing women that doesn't receive coverage for the sake of solidarity.

What's important here is the lack of confidence in the "right" answer to all this and how Rushdie handles the choice in a way that the good and bad of each are clearly visible and constantly evolving.

Much like Murakami, I found myself questioning my own beliefs not because of how the characters I identified with suffered, but because of the author's genuine interest in questioning the lines of good and evil and what that means for our attempt to live.

Both of them have problems with writing female characters, but the "worth reading" quality is high enough to deserve a pass.

If I can do it, so can you. Personal offense doesn't impress me when lives are at stake, and that applies to any and all lives.

I give up. It's too much magical realism for me. I know that if I made the effort to overcome the barrier of fantasy, I would find extremely interesting and well-crafted ideas here. However, after trying to return to the book more than 5 or 6 times over the course of a year, it never held my attention. No matter how far I advanced, everything made me feel bored, causing me to lose all my ability to concentrate.

On the other hand, if with "Midnight's Children" I had knowledge about the relationship between India and England, here I lack knowledge about the Quran to be able to reach many of the metaphors and symbolisms. It seems that without this in-depth understanding, a significant part of the book's essence is lost on me. I respect the work that has gone into creating this novel, but unfortunately, it just doesn't resonate with me on a personal level. Maybe in the future, with more knowledge and a different mindset, I will be able to appreciate it better.

For all the hype it received, I was truly disappointed with this book. In fact, "pretty disappointed" is an understatement. This experience vividly reminded me of my failed attempt to read Thomas Pynchon's "V." I have now come to the conclusion that idiosyncratic wording and arrangements are a major turn-off, and that's precisely what I encountered in "The Satanic Verses." The book itself is also highly confusing as there are two or three story lines intertwined.

Basically, it's a story about two Indian-born characters. One is an expatriate, and the other is a famous Indian Cinema star. Throughout the book, we follow the misadventures of these two as they undergo a series of strange, dream-like transformations after the bombing of a plane they were traveling in.

These story lines make use of allusions to an apocryphal legend (or history?) regarding a series of verses allegedly recited by the Muslim prophet Muhammad. These verses were said to have been recited to gain the support of locals who were still reluctant to submit to Allah. By reciting these verses that espoused three goddesses worshiped by the villagers, the hope was that the Muslims could win their support and secure new converts. However, since such reverence for other deities goes against the beliefs of Muslims, these recitations are considered blasphemous. In the end, Muhammad retracts these verses after it is determined that Satan led him astray. These events are thinly disguised in the book by changing the names of historical figures and places. For example, Mecca is renamed Jahilia, and the prophet is renamed Mahound. Interestingly, Jahilia and Mahound are considered pejoratives towards Muslims, signifying the author's not-so-subtle irreverence or disdain for Islam. I found myself less than impressed as this seemed more and more like a polemic.

Gibreel, the Indian actor, is transformed into an angel, seemingly representing his ethereal nature and aloof existence. Unlike Saladin, the Indian expatriate, he never openly renounces his Indian heritage. Therefore, he is portrayed as a cloven-hoofed beast. Eventually, they return to their normal states, but the why and how remain unclear to me. Add in an uninteresting love triangle (or triangles) and another storyline involving a butterfly-clad prophetess, and you have a slightly overindulgent novel. I can only推测 that these were merely dreams by Gibreel in his increasingly deteriorating mental state, which is hinted at.

I'm still left wondering how these story lines connect to one another. Perhaps that's why it took me over two months to finish this book. I felt compelled to complete it only out of a sense of duty to finish what I started, and I was relieved when I finally did. That's not exactly a good sign.

I had to allocate the entire night to contemplate how I would rate this book. Truly, I had a great fondness for it, yet I also found it rather perplexing. Indeed, I am aware that it is a work of magical realism, and the confusion is par for the course.

Now, regarding that section where I describe the book. Well, truth be told, I'm not entirely certain what transpired within its pages. Two individuals plummet from a plane that detonates due to a terrorist bomb. Miraculously, they survive, and throughout the novel, they assume the traits of an angel and a devil. Or do they? I believed they did. Or perhaps I did at one point. And then I began to wonder. And then I thought so once more. But...

The story also delves into India, exploring what it means to be a Muslim in India, what it means to be an Indian in England, and the complex race relations in England. This last aspect proved to be quite challenging for me because all of these race relations issues are still very much present in our contemporary society, despite the fact that this book was published 30 years ago.

What ultimately swayed me to award five stars is the fact that this is a book that will remain firmly lodged in my mind for a very long time. It is one that will compel me to ponder and ruminate over the years, and I believe that in the end, it provides me with additional insights into what it is like to be someone other than a nearly 40-year-old white American female.

It's always an intriguing experience to revisit a book read years ago and obtain a distinct perspective.

I first perused this during my final year of high school, and at that time, it completely blew my mind. I don't believe I ceased talking about it for months.

A few months ago, I returned to the book. While I still regard it as great, and perhaps I grasped a lot more of the references, it isn't as astonishing to me as it was over ten years ago.

Rushdie's style is at times fluid and lyrical, yet then he'll introduce all kinds of references to pop culture or some obscure Indian films that completely elude me and occasionally even create a large, scarcely digestible lump in the narrative.

Nevertheless, when this book is good, it's truly poignant, tragic, and sometimes filled with mirth.

I never much cared for the term "magic realism," but I suppose it can be applied to this novel. I do think it probably suits Midnight's Children better, though, as parts of The Satanic Verses are outright, unashamed fantasy (albeit fairly allegorical, of course) and quite excellent at that.

The premise of the book is that an Indian movie star and an expatriate Indian voice artist residing in London encounter each other on a plane that gets hijacked and explodes. For some reason, they survive their fall to earth but transform into angelic beings in the process.

Gibreel, the flamboyant, pompous film star, strolls around with a large, glowing halo (even if you can't always see it) and seems incapable of doing any wrong, except perhaps to his sometime lover, the mountain-climber Aleluia Cone. In contrast, Saladin Chamcha appears like a goat-man, emits a horrible smell, and until more than halfway through the book, can only communicate in animal noises.

In 2012, I better understand what Rushdie was attempting to achieve with this parable, whereas in 1999, I simply thought it was a crazy and awesome story, although I did adequately grasp the moral implications.

Salman has a great deal to say about prestige, what it means to be an outcast, what it means to have a country, or to be an alien in a country that you truly desire to be your own. Sometimes he's rather subtle about this, but at other times, the heavy hand of symbolism causes a slight flinch.

In between the chapters narrating the story of Gibreel and Saladin are historical tales traversing approximately three separate narratives. Much of this pertains to the birth of Islam or pilgrims on the Haj, and these might be my favorite sections of the book.

Rushdie endows the setting of ancient Jahilia with a strange, distant sort of life and portrays the dealings, political machinations, and religious fervor with a significant amount of subtlety. It is, I think, these chapters that landed Rushdie in so much trouble, as they do indeed seem quite blasphemous and depict the prophet Mohammad as a bit of a huckster and a charlatan.

I relish a healthy dose of irreverent mockery, and this book does deliver on that count. It's also interesting to observe how these "side narratives" ultimately intertwine with the main story in a certain way and address similar themes in different manners.

I think this brings me finally to the greatest strength of the book: It's not just a simple, unambiguous tale that you can distill to a single statement or fragment of moral. There are numerous, numerous layers, and many things that Rushdie wishes to bring to the fore. Some of his messages even seem slightly contradictory, and yet that's part of the pleasure of the experience.

This book will have you pondering and posing questions about your perceptions of the world around you, the home you inhabit, and the people with whom you share it.