Tales from Firozsha Baag

Rohinton Mistry's A fine Balance is without the doubt the most depressing book I have ever read, but it was also hard not to admire the very good writing and the ability to tell the story exceptionally well.
This one, Tales from Firozaha Baag, is also very well written but also has the addition of humour as well as life events such as disappointments, fears and hopes. In a Bombay apartment block we are told 11 interconnected stories of the majority Parsee inhabitants within, how they lived, how they died and everything in-between.

It would be an understatement to say that I have enjoyed this read, and to use the old cliché, I have not been able to put it down. What I found profoundly superb was that as the 11 tales were told they got stronger and stronger and made one realise that the earlier stories had a part to play in the book as a whole. The interconnectedness of a tribe for good or for bad or for just indifference are played out by the inhabitants of the apartment block, where we get an initial death via murder through to a final start of a new life as a migrant with all the issues that go with that.
A triumph in style and substance by Rohinton Mistry and I will tuck this one away to reread.

Highly recommended.

Tales from Firozsha Baag is just that. Eleven stories, separate but interconnected and all concerning residents of Firozsha Baag, a run down middle class apartment complex in Bombay in the 80s. The residents are mostly Parsis, following the Zoroastrian religion, thus the stories involve the fire temple, prayers and practices unique to this community. It was also this authors debut publication, in 1987.

Each of the eleven chapters revolves around a person who lives on one of the three blocks, and the neighbours regularly feature so as each new character is introduced the reader sees them first from another perspective, and then their own. The stories are as varied as the characters - relationship issues, neighbour squabbles, the troubles of a lonely boy, immigrant tales, etc. The characters are well painted and interesting, and often set up a strong contrast to each other. Rustomji -the-curmudgeon, Dr Mody & Nariman Hansotia, Najami & Kashmira, Jehangir & Kersi.

Most of the eleven stories I found very good, there were a few which went on a bit long, but on the whole pretty enjoyable. There are more than likely autobiographical strains running through these stories with the author being Parsi, and also an emigrant to Canada. The final chapter makes the reader wonder all the more about character's parallels with Mistry himself.

3.5 stars rounded down.

The stories in this collection were interesting and well-written and effective and even fun sometimes, but it was the last story, “Swimming Lessons,” that really kicked the whole book up a notch. I was sitting on Sunday night with yet another so-so book for this class – good but probably not something I would ever read again or think much about – but then half-way through the final story I realized what was going on: Kersi learns to swim in Canada while his parents back home in India read and appreciate the very book of stories in the reader's hands. The book changes from a collection of linked stories held together by place and characters and theme to a collection of stories by one of those characters whose growth is hidden within and between the stories themselves.

“Don't you see, said Father, that you are confusing fiction with facts, fiction does not create facts, fiction can come from facts, it can grow out of facts by compounding, transposing, augmenting, diminishing, or altering them in any way; but you must not confuse cause and effect, you must not confuse what really happened with what the story says happened, you must not loose your grasp on reality, that way madness lies.”