Someone else has said it quite beautifully in another review- this book is an attempt at Heart Of Darkness but set in India. Just because something or somewhere is a different place to where you were raised, it doesn’t mean it’s a ~scary~ place. Just means you’re a bit of a twat for making it appear as such. I got nothing for you. This book would’ve gotten an absolutely incredible rating from me, if it hadn’t been marred by the racism and the reasonably twattish main character.

With that said, this is a ballsy horror novel. The grotesque descriptions and storyline were punchy, I won’t deny, and they left me squirming in my seat. I love it when horror is gratuitous, and boy, does this deliver. The baby, the body, and the poet all stood out to me as incredibly horrific tales, and I got really into that. I love a good gross tale, and this took me there. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great story, but the acrid tang of xenophobia it leaves is distasteful at best.

Not sure how to fully convey what the reading experience of this book is. Engrossingly bad is accurate but a little general. Man goes to Calcutta and has a dreadful time potentially mirroring authors own unpleasantness in Calcutta and potentially entire book is an exercise of working through said unpleasantness -a little dismissive. Reader discovers the horror genre is not for him but begrudgingly admits he woke up in the middle of the night and finished the whole book strategically ignoring all grumbling complaints gets a little closer.

Ok then this is not a good book but you do want to finish it even if the whole thing is a bit unsavoury and if you met the author at a dinner party it would be awkward.

Man goes to India with family to retrieve manuscripts, India repulsed, hood winks and roundly horrifies him, he goes nuts seeks solace back in the west from deep unknowable eastern evil.

Perhaps best captured by not really worth your time but if it is the only book available in some resort and you have read everything else then by all means give it a go.

Does for India what Heart Of Darkness did for Africa; uses it as a setting for a tale of unease and terror that could have been set anywhere, really, except that using a third-world setting plays to the western gallery's delicate sensibilities.

This is a superbly structured and masterfully woven horror novel; it's also a fucking travesty of the real nature of Kali and her various manifestations. He's taken a unique female power-divinity, something with no parallel in any other living religion, and reduced her to a 'bitch goddess' of evil.

And I wish that westerners would do a little homework. Nobody spells their name Jayaprakesh. Jayaprakash, sure. Jaiprakash, even. Not Jayaprakesh. Thanks very much kindly. For all the play Simmons makes of Indians mangling English he certainly doesn't hesitate to mangle Indian names.

Oh, it also grated on me that all the chapters have an epigram taken from an Indian writer except the one chapter that lets in a note of hope and therefore has to return to the light of western civilization with a quote from W.B. Yeats.

Despite all that, a 3-star rating; it really is a very good horror novel. But it does convince me more than ever that writers tread on uncertain ground when they venture outside their own cultural contexts.

Lomila sam se da li da joj dam 4 ili 5 zvezdica, ali ako uporedim sa drugim knjigama istog ili sličnog žanra pada odluka da ga zaokružim na peticu.

Iskrena da budem ne znam šta da kažem o samoj knjizi osim da mi je ostavila toliko jak utisak da se malo naježim kad pomislim na nju. Kroz čitav roman se proteže jedna toliko sveobuhvatna atmosfera neke memle i zagušljivosti dok pratimo sama dešavanja da sam izgubila i ono malo želje što sam imala da posetim Indiju (dodajte na to novu informaciju koju sam saznala a to je da je preko 50% ljudi u svetu koji su oboleli od lepre i zavedeni su u sistem upravo u ovoj zemlji, a možete onda zamisliti šta je sa onima koji nisu zavedeni kao oboleli).
I taj neki neobjašnjivi utisak nedovršenosti, a opet sa druge strane savršenog kraja formira konstantni osećaj koji bih najbolje opisala kao strah pomešan sa gadjenjem.

Radnja? Pa hajmo reći da je premisa ovog romana odlazak jednog običnog čoveka, pesnika i novinara, u Kalkutu kako bi pokupio navodno novi rukopis čuvenog pesnika Dasa koji je nestao pre nekih 7-8 godina i odavno se smatra mrtvim. Naš protagonista sa sobom vodi svoju ženu, koja je takodje poreklom iz Indije, i njihovu ćerku od svega godinu dana. Medjutim, već po sletanju obavija ih moć zemlje u koju su sleteli, ustajao i težak vazduh i čudni ljudi koji ne žele da otkriju sve informacije koje imaju. I sveprisutan osećaj da su oči jedne boginje uvek uperene u njihov potiljak.

Knjigu sam čitala iz više navrata što po avionima, raznim prevozima, u pustinji, po hotelima i svom sopstvenom kauču i svaki put kad bih nastavila da je čitam osećala sam kako ponovo upadam u taj njen ponor i vrebanje, dok je uvek tu negde u danima kada nisam čitala kuckala u podsvesti čekajući da je završim.

This is one of the most auspicious debuts of any author. Simmons' style was pretty much developed from this first novel published in 1985. He continues to be the best horror writer alive when he wants to write horror. However the really horrific thing about Song of Kali is Simmons' devastating descriptions of Calcutta. Go into this novel with little or no information about it in order to get its best impact.

4/5. Song of Kali is a well-written, highly unsettling horror novel, but its portrayal of Indian culture is questionable, as is its length.

I'll start with the good. Dan Simmons is a very good writer. Take away character, take away plot. On a purely technical level, he is very good. Every paragraph is overflowing with imagery and moody atmosphere. Every line sets up a question that is given a detailed and direct visual response in your head. Song of Kali features many creepy, unsettling scenes which are only possible because of how competent Dan Simmons is. Thankfully, he's also good at plot and characterization.

The players in the Song of Kali never felt conspicuous to me. There was never an instance of overtly bad dialogue or contradictions between motivation and action. The characters were completely seamless. This is the same with the plot, at least until the end. The standout character here is actually Calcutta, where the novel takes place. I've never been to Calcutta, but what Dan Simmons writes as Calcutta feels organic and alive. You can feel the city's moods and see how it reacts to certain events. Part of this lies in the first person narration, which is something I liked but ties in with an aspect that I am not sure about.

Song of Kali features Robert Luczak, an American poet, going to Calcutta in search of a famous Indian poet, along with his recent purported works. Robert is the narrator, and the events in the story are given through the lens of his perception. And he's slightly racist, in the sense that he clearly sees his own culture as superior. He's mean to the people and rude in his descriptions of them. He sarcastically and dryly comments on every negative thing he sees, and likely exaggerates it. I think this aspect is okay, because it is somewhat tied into Bobby's arc, and its shown that he is a very flawed person with hypocritical sensibilities.

In the middle of the story, there is a lengthy debate on Indian culture and how its brutal aspects arose. I thought this discussion was mostly fair, with the Caste system rightfully being criticized, but everything else either being shared with every single nation, or being a symptom of late industrializing and wealth-building. Outside of this, though, is where I think it goes too far. Calcutta is portrayed as a city where every single person is morally bankrupt. Only like two people are okay, the rest are completely self-absorbed, aggressive, and morbidly-obsessed.

I don't think I can just write this off as fantasy bullcrap, because of the above parts I mentioned, and how much painstaking research Dan Simmons clearly did for this book. This is supposed to portray a Calcutta that is as close to reality as possible within a cosmic horror/fantasy book. I'm not comfortable calling this racist, but nor am I willing to completely excuse it. It does tie in with the plot, but I think that those plot elements were written in response to this scathing portrayal. I'm not usually one to bring attention to this kind of stuff, and I think it says something that I can't just ignore it.

For a more minor point, the plot does run a bit too long. The last hour of reading felt a bit aimless and meandering. Meaningful resolutions to character arcs happen here, and those were nice, which is why this isn't a terrible problem for me. The rest of the ending material wasn't bad, per se, but it could have been cleaned up and told in a more streamlined way.

One of the coolest points about this novel is that it leaves some of its mysteries unanswered. I won't mention which ones, but this is brought up in the book, how Bobby doesn't know why certain things happened. I think this is excellent. Bobby gets caught up in a game of deceit and power with cosmic stakes, he's nothing more than a piece on a board, and pieces don't understand the full game. This novel made you feel manipulated, it made you feel like you were caught up in something you never could have understood.

If you read this and balked at my critique about India's portrayal, but thought everything else sounded interesting, read Song of Kali. You won't be disappointed. If you understood my criticism, but still think it might worth be reading, I'd say still read it. Its a great book even with that stuff in it. Otherwise, give Song of Kali a pass. Its not the best book of this kind, and apparently not even Dan Simmons's best.

Although this novel is classified as horror, the nature of that horror is somewhat ambiguous. There are hints of supernatural horror and there is the presence of violent criminality but, in some ways, it is the Indian city of Calcutta (Kolkata in modern spelling) itself that is the true horror portrayed in this book. This is due to its densely overpopulated environment, its shocking levels of deprivation, its gulfs of inequality, and its poor sanitation – all of it worsened by the monsoon season, during which time the story is set. The protagonist, Robert Luczak’s, introduction to Calcutta was at night:

‘The marshy fields of darkness that had bordered the highway gave way suddenly to a jumble of shacks that came right up to the shoulder of the road. [...] Seemingly without transition we were out of the country and winding through narrow, rain-filled streets that twisted past blocks of derelict high-rises, miles of tin-roofed slums, and endless vistas of decaying, blackened storefronts.’ (p. 26)

‘It began to rain again. The sudden downpour beat at the metal of the bus like fists from the dark sky. Only the driver’s side of the windshield had a wiper, and it moved sluggishly against the curtain of water that soon put a veil between the city and us.’ (p. 28)

In the daytime, Luczak found the city to be ‘impressive’, if a little ‘intimidating’:

‘The scene was almost comical in its mad intensity. Pedestrians, flotillas of bicycles, oriental-looking rickshaws, automobiles, flatbed trucks adorned with swastikas, countless motorbikes, and creaking bullock carts all vied for our narrow lane of torn-up pavement. Cattle wandered freely, blocking traffic, poking their heads into shops, and wading through heaps of raw garbage which were stacked on curbs or piled in the center of the street. At one point the refuse lay knee-deep for three blocks, lining the street like a dike. Human beings also waded through it, competing with the cattle and crows for edible bits.

Farther on, schoolgirls in prim white blouses and blue skirts crossed the street in single file while a brown-belted policeman held up traffic for them. [...]The sweet smell of incense and sewage came in through the open window of the car. [...] And everywhere was the unceasing movement of brown-skinned humanity – an almost tidal flow of jostling, white- and tan-garbed population which seemed to make the very air heavy with its moist exhalations.’ (p. 35)

The plot is interesting enough – a literary journalist in America (Luczak) is given an assignment by his editor to travel to India with his Indian wife and their young daughter so that he can interview a poet who had apparently resurfaced after disappearing in 1969. What appears to be a straightforward task (coupled with visiting in-laws in India) turns out to be an increasingly mysterious and dangerous undertaking that appears to involve him with cultists of the Hindu goddess, Kali. The ever-present environment recedes into the background to some degree as the tension builds and the protagonist’s situation becomes more strange and desperate.

Set in 1977, the story was written in the early 1980s when there was no World Wide Web or mobile phones – the Telex was still being used to send long-distance messages (p. 30) – and the humble typewriter was still de rigeur for journalists. Today, an interview would most likely be conducted over an email exchange or a video chat, leaving no opportunity for a story like Song of Kali, which hinges on a clash of cultures in an environment alien to the protagonist, to unfold.

What I liked most about this book is its rich, yet economical, prose and its wry humour. Examples of this style of writing include:

‘Somewhere closeby [sic], a toilet flushed explosively’. (p. 31)

‘Suddenly a white-smocked retainer appeared from the shadows and distributed chipped cups heavy with sugar, clotted buffalo milk, and a little tea.’ (p. 36)

‘Her voice was as high and shrill as a saw moving on metal. The irritable, nasal tones clashed with her dignified appearance.’ (p. 37)

‘He was tall and skinny, wearing dirty brown trousers and a white shirt that looked gray and grimy in the green fluorescent lighting. His face was relatively young – late twenties, perhaps – and clean-shaven, but his black hair stood out in great electric tufts and his dark, piercing eyes gave an impression of such intensity that it bordered on a sense of restrained violence. His eyebrows were dark brush strokes that almost met above a falcon’s predatory beak.’ (p. 22)

Literary names are occasionally dropped (e.g. Joyce Carol Oates and  Rabindranath Tagore on pp. 2-3) while Luczak ponders his inability to convince his wife, Amrita, to take an interest in ‘the trashy Stephen King novels’ he liked bringing with him to the beach (p. 52). I wonder if King subsequently took a similar swipe at Simmons’ work in one of his own books?

I found some observations about Calcutta in the 1970s to be interesting, such as how cow dung was gathered and then kneaded into patties to be used as fuel for fires, both to cremate the dead and to cook food (pp. 95, 193), and that gold bracelets worn by young girls dressed in rags would later be used as their dowry (p. 141). There is an interesting discussion of contrasting Indian and Western views of poverty, politics and the caste system between Amrita, Luczak and his formal literary contact in India, Michael Leonard Chatterjee, a well-to-do member of the Bengali Writers’ Union, on pp. 129-40.

As this was set in the ’70s, a few things reminded me of my childhood. Luczak and his family flew to India on a BOAC (British Overseas Airways Corporation) flight (p. 20), a little anachronistically since the company was renamed British Airways in 1974. Having flown on some BOAC flights myself as a young child, I was reminded of my membership of the BOAC Junior Jet Club. Here's a picture of my club badge:

n  n

When Luczak notices for the first time somebody tapping a cigarette against a cigarette case (pp. 249-50), it reminded me of my father’s habit of doing this on cigarette packs (and occasionally his own cigarette case) as I was growing up. Luczak’s childhood recollection of his parents’ set of n  Compton’s Pictured Encyclopedian and its pages with translucent overlays showing the various parts and functions of the human body is similar to the n  Worldbook Encyclopedian set my own parents got in the late ’70s with its similar overlays of the human body!

Overall, the book was an enjoyable read as much because of its prose as for the compelling and, at times, bizarre narrative. As horror, I thought it was relatively mild, much of it being suggestive rather than actual and I was a little disappointed at that. However, I very much liked the story related by a young Indian man to Luczak (over the space of three chapters) about his own experiences with the Kali cultists, as it contained a significant amount of horror in its own right and hinted strongly at the supernatural. This would’ve been entertaining to read as a short story in its own right! If the horror is a bit weak, the quality of the prose makes this still a worthwhile read. I look forward to reading more of Simmons’ work in the future.

Book finished on 1 Nov. 2013; review posted 13 Oct. 2014!

I read this because my brother said he'd heard, from many people over time, that this was just about the scariest book ever written. I'm happy to say that the rumors of its scariness have been greatly exaggerated.

I think it's utter dreck, and probably dross as well. I have a hard time understanding why this won the World Fantasy Award (which I'm completely unfamiliar with, shame on me) when its competition that year included ANY other books, two of which I did read, and which I remember enjoying much more than this (The Vampire Lestat, The Damnation Game).

Almost from the get go I saw this book as White-Westerner goes to Brown-People Country and gets horrified by everything. And so it went for the ENTIRE length of the book. Everyone who was not white is unpleasant? Yup! (Unless they were the wife or the sexy vixen of a non-character who the White Westerner can ogle). Brown people compared to animals? Yup! Monkey, toad, rabbit... Terribly narrow rendering of an entire city, culture, and religion? Yup! Flip open to any page and you'll have an example. When pretty much every non-western character is dehumanized into repulsive or otherworldly caricatures, you'd have to be willfully naive to say "it's just a setting, it could be anywhere!"

While a couple of "scary" or "creepy" things happen in the book, none of it really ties together very well. While other readers mention the dread or conspiracy they felt permeated the book, all I saw was this bumbling main character acting like how the perfect dunder-headed horror victim should in order for the story to fulfill its purpose. Nothing really makes sense story-wise unless you see it as a narrative necessity in order for the book to be a horror book. The main character's turning point into madness is a wet dream he has about the goddess Kali. Thereafter he's sorta kinda in thrall to her but only to explain his being a jerk to his wife (nevermind that he's a jerk in general). I never got the sense that anything supernatural happened to him, only that he was disturbed so much by this different culture that it made him crazy (like another reviewer points out, similar to Heart of Darkness, which has it's own history of being a literary touchstone of racism and xenophobia).

This book, just, no! Whoever thinks they're getting a cultural lesson about India, please, stop. Whoever thinks this is a good horror book, either I'm not so easily scared or... I don't even know how to finish that sentence. If you're scared by third world countries, brown people, or clumsily vague supernatural conspiracy theories then this is your kind of horror.

I have to admit I was truly horrified by this book, but not in the way it intended.

Not as expected. Fooled by the "the most horrific book ever" reviews..

"Преди Калкута участвах в демонстрации против атомното оръжие. Сега сънувам ядрени облаци във вид на огромни гъби, издигнали се над града. Виждам сгради, разтопили се на езера от стъкло. Виждам павирани улици, които текат като реки от лава, и истински реки, кипнали сред валма пара. Виждам очертанията на хора, които подскачат като подпалени насекоми, като гнусни богомолки, които цвърчат и се пръскат върху нажеженочервения фон на окончателната погибел.
Градът е Калкута. Сънищата не са неприятни."
Много добра книга, сигурно най-добрата на Симънс. Ужасяващ микс между реалните бедност, смрад, мизерия и мръсотия на Калкута и мистерията на един култ към богинята на смъртта. Написана е страшно реалистично, кара те да живееш с главния герой, да мислиш, чувстваш, виждаш и надушваш с него. Описанието на Калкута, а и от там на цяла Индия с кастовите си системи, обшествени служби за събиране на трупове, религиозни култове - пъстра, шумна, мръсна, жестока, кървава.
Главният герой отива до Калкута с жена си(индийка)и дъщеря си(все още бебе), за да вземе интервю от някакъв загинал поет, който се оказва жив и здрав. Тръгвайки по дирите му Лучак се забърква с култ към богинята Кали, който може би е съживил поета. И после нещата се сгомнясват, а след това много се сгомнясват.
Симънс много хитро успява да остави решението, дали проявленията на Кали са реалност или добра човешка машинация, изцяло на читателя, като същевременно твърдо заявява своята позиция за първото.
Книгата се чете на един дъх, оставяйки те накрая потресен и с обновена вяра в злото в хората. От задължителните е.

n  " I think that there are black holes in reality. Black holes in the human spirit. And actual places where, because of density or misery or sheer human perversity, the fabric of things comes apart and that black core in us swallows all the rest."n

4.5⭐'s

n  Initial Thoughts n

After finishing a read-through of all of Robert McCammon's work I was at a loose end for something to do. I know, why not start a read-through of one of my other favourite authors...Mr Dan Simmons. After reading Summer of Night, The Terror and Hyperion I was a massive fan of this guy. To tell you the truth Hyperion on its own would have made me a die hard supporter. Without doubt one of the best books I've ever read. If you can handle hard sci-fi then definitely give it a go. And even if you can't give it a go. But back to the script with his debut novel ...Song of Kali.

It just so happens that, with this being the month of October, I was after a spooky read and this one definitely fits the bill. Despite winning 1985's World Fantasy Award for best novel it is well regarded as a grisly horror tale. Just what Doctor Shipman ordered.

We're, my expectations high going in? After bloody winning such a prestigious award with your debut book? Just who do you think you are Mr Simmons, that's outrageous. The answer was yes!

n  The Story n

We begin following the protagonist, Robert Luczak's, journey to Calcutta in India to obtain a manuscript and get to the bottom of a mystery concerning Bengali Poet M. Das. Rumoured to be dead for just over a decade, he has recently resurfaced with a new body of work. And the magazine that Luczak works for is just dying to get the inside scoop. What could possibly go wrong?

From the moment Luczak sets foot in Calcutta something is just not quite right.
Everyone he encounters behaves strangely, and the closer he gets to the truth the darker and stranger things become. The fact that he decided to bring his wife and six month-old child in tow certainly doesn't help matters. Dark forces appear to be at play and Robert and his family are set for a hellish time in the days to come as events begin to spiral out of control.



n  The Writing n

I knew from my previous encounters with Simmons that the guy can flat out write. He has a smooth but highly literate style that evokes the imagination. Don't believe me then check out Hyperion. But it was impressive to see his level of control at this early stage in his career as he effectively managed the prose and narrative to build the suspense and tension that is contained within these pages. I guess there's a good reason it won that World Fantasy Award!

A big positive in Song of Kali is the atmosphere and mounting sense of dread. Its intelligently done and there's some genuinely shocking scenes that had me feeling like the walls were closing in around me.

There's minimal supernatural elements in this one and Simmons had me questioning reality. Either way, the horror in this one is real and I soon felt like I was in the middle of a nightmare. Regardless of whether it was fantastical in its nature or the result of trauma and hardcore drugs, there was a number of pages I had to read twice they were so intense.

But any review of this book would be incomplete without a mention of how the author paints the landscape of 1970's Calcutta, which is a character in itself. Simmons spent a few days there to research the place and it shows in his vivid descriptions. He's certainly not there to portray a beautiful picture of India, this is a horror novel after all, and I was fully immersed in the evil underbelly of this important city. Its bleak and nasty and fits the tone of the story perfectly. I'm pretty sure he hasn't endeared himself to the Indian tourist board.



n  The Characters n

The character development in Song of Kali is good without taking centre stage. Each one is very realistic, with the help of effective dialogue, with a good bit of depth. This definitely helped to add a sense of realism to the narrative that was essential to what Simmons was trying to achieve.

Robert Luckas was certainly interesting choice for chief protagonist as he is far from perfect. Rash, naive and at times pretty arrogant, events are often clouded and misinterpreted as we get everything from his point of view. Certainly an unreliable narrator if ever there was, he very often makes things worse by not getting a grip. But having a main character I didn't necessarily agree with or like was a fascinating experience, especially when the nasty stuff started.

My favourite character in this one was Luckas' guide Krishna who was an intriguing character. Ruff around the edges and mysterious, it was a real clash of cultures between these two and I was certainly invested in finding out his true intentions.

n   "'Are we all illusions? Brief shadows thrown on a white wall for the shallow amusement of bored gods? Is this all?"n

n  Final Thoughts n

Song of Kali took me by surprise. And it shouldn't as I know how talented an author Dan Simmons is. This is old school horror written by an author with real literary talent. What a debut!

I can't go without talking about the ending. Don't worry, I'm not going to spoil things, other than saying it left me in a state of complete shock. Compelling in it's bleakness. Be prepared that's all I'll say.

I'd go so far as to say this is the most frightening book I've read from Simmons. Terrific horror and a must read for any fan of the genre. A perfect gateway into his work. I was even tempted to give this one five stars. But then I remembered The Terror and Hyperion, which are better by some way. But that's how this guy sets the bar. Still 4.5 stars rounded up to five is not to be sniffed at and technically I did give it five. So sue me!

And thanks for reading...cheers!

n   "A man cannot fully live unless he has died at least once. "n

-Incómoda, molesta, agobiante, extraña.-

Género. Mmm… Novela, dejémoslo en eso por aquello de los spoilers...

Lo que nos cuenta. En el libro La canción de Kali (publicación original: Song of Kali, 1985) Robert Luczak es enviado a Calcuta por Harper´s Magazine para entrevistar a M. Das, un famoso poeta bengalí que se suponía muerto unos años atrás. El nuevo poema que han obtenido de Das tiene unas derivas muy distintas a los trabajos que lo hicieron famoso y hay dudas tanto de que esté vivo como de que haya sido él quien firma el poema. Robert viaja a acompañado de su mujer Amrita, de origen hindú, y su hija de pocos meses, Victoria. En Calcuta las cosas se complican y, poco a poco, Robert se ve inmerso en una situación muy inquietante.

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