The Obliterary Journal(Part I) by Blaft is a welcome
addition to the little less ordinary publishing house’ well,
convention-obliterating repertoire. I have been a fan of Blaft books since I
laid my hands on the then-revolutionary Tamil Pulp Fiction Anthology Part I.
Those were the days of Quick Gun Murugan, bad books and free-flowing alcohol,
not in any necessary order, and Blaft was the new kid in town, the proverbial
ray of hope that would transform the world as we know it. As fate would have
it, alcohol started damaging kidneys(of no particular gender, religion or political
belief), Quick Gun disappeared from theaters before you could say Mind It!, and
Blaft, among other things, released a smaller version of Tamil Pulp Fiction
hiding beneath rows of emo-blood-sucking-teen vampires and
self-consciously-conscious-IT-type-urban-indian-fellows.
Alcohol sales dropped
but the flame of revolution did keep burning, thanks to landmark books from
Blaft that shook translated fiction and its abusive cousins to no end – Zero
Degree, Where are you going, you monkeys!, Insects are like you and me except
some of them have wings, Ibne Safi Series, Surender Mohan Pathak’s 65 Lakh
Robbery and Day Light Robbery. I was away from Blaft books after I left the
Ibne Safi series midway and never could pick up again somehow. You know, just
like that.
Now, The Obliterary Journal brings back happier times, in
lush color and youthful fountains. It fits in perfectly with these
graphic-friendly times. Excerpts and one-shots, “art projects”, Rajini-friendly
autodrivers, depressing old-age home residents, forgotten aliens all enthuse
and abuse your sensory perception of the world in this oddly-graphic novel.
I flipped through some pages faster than others, and it had
nothing to do with my racial prejudices or contempt of growing old. Loved the
urban satire by Amruta Patil, an old Bengali detective pulp, and dystopian
science fiction-weird mythology smatterings. Again, nothing to do with my apolitical leanings.
Pick up this book, you must, for sake of your kidneys. No, seriously, in pure unbiased recommendation, TOJ is made for your shelf, put it between a vintage Thomas Hardy and MAD.
Interview at NH7
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| Mug Shot - This is what you get for plugging Blaft books |
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