The life and times of a writer

When a new fiction by Hasan Azizul Haque hits the market, it equally shakes up the literary scene in both parts of Bengal. A very few living writers, especially the breed devoted to literature and certainly not to churning out literary compositions that may sell well in the next book fair, have enjoyed such a feat. But when a collection of the same author's interviews comes out, the impact is yet to be weighed. However, given the enormous influence of his fiction and non-fiction that have over the past five decades formed a considerable body of canonical literature without ever sounding authoritative yet always encouraging later generations, it can fairly be assumed that his interviews will hold as much interest for the readers precisely because in them, as is indicated in the title, is revealed not only the workings of a great, creative mind; but also the variegated, multifarious experiences of a man's life, which are no less colourful than his stories. As overstated as the statement about Haque's canonical status may sound, its veracity is upheld by the interviewers themselves, some of whom have already secured a place in Bengali fiction such as Qayes Ahmed and Shahaduzzaman while others are promising writers; and a number of whose queries so vividly bring to light the enigmatic power of his language coupled with his unflagging commitment to a cause that has held sway over them. It is interesting to note that much like his life as well as his fiction that is set across the borders, the interviewers too come from both parts of Bengal.
The interviews invoke the image of a literary veteran, who having trodden all the paths carved in history, shares thoughts about his life with some young friends or novices. Even a cursory look at the interviewers suffices to justify the previous comments. Among others, there are Mohibul Aziz, Zakir Talukdar, Nurul Kabir, Maruf Raihan, Jafar Ahmed Rashed, Robin Ghosh, Shoumitra Deb and Shumantra Chattopadhyay. Readers on a par with contemporary literature are familiar with these names. However, the piece by Qayes Ahmed, which is not so much an interview as a write-up on Haque's fiction vis-à-vis his personality, stands far apart from others. In fact, it will not be an exaggeration to say that this piece should have been put in the beginning right after the short preface, which in that case, would have enlightened readers about how intensely an aspiring young writer have felt about the creation of one from a preceding decade and how dearly he has waited to meet with him. With his erudite language, Qayes has aptly revealed the person behind Haque's creations.
Edited by Hayat Mamud, who is a lifelong friend of the author and an eminent literary critic, the more than 300-page book offers a total of 25 interviews, all of which have got published beforehand either in newspapers or little magazines. The interviews bring out Haque's childhood memories in a rugged West Bengal village, his migration to the pristine greenery of East Bengal after the partition in 1947, his education and stints in leftist politics, and last but not least the social impetus that has shaped his literary as well as political visions. However, his views being profuse with reflections on literature in particular and history in general, constitute the most significant part for readers attuned to political, theoretical and intellectual thoughts. In this regard, it should be mentioned that he retired as a professor of philosophy at Rajshahi University.
Most entertaining is his polemic against the stalwarts of 'art for art's sake', especially against Buddhadev Bose, who was the staunchest follower of the school. Haque's diatribe is based on the palpable role that this school plays in masking down-to-earth realities with the sole aim of turning literature into a commodity for consumption thereby eliminating its artistic value.
In spite of his Marxist inclination while interpreting the dehumanising effect of capitalism, marginalisation of literature, and the power of media in controlling our perceptions; his views about the creative process of writing fiction are illuminating and challenge all rules or norms prescribed by any school of criticism. In some of the interviews, he has compared a writer's imagination with a dark room wherein is condensed his/her childhood, repressed memories and frustrations. When a fiction or a poem for that matter, spawns from that all-inclusive dark room, he stresses, there is no way that one can assume full control over what goes on in between the first and last lines; and any effort to stifle this process has to be done at the expense of the spontaneity of imagination, turning art into a pallid account. Equally interesting are his views about contemporary Bengali literature, his fellow or younger authors, and his admiration of Russian literature.
However, not all of the interviews are as commendable. Take for example the one taken by Ahmad Mustafa Kamal where he instead of eliciting the interviewee's views, seems to have imposed his own biased perception of literature on Haque in the form of judgement, not questions. He does not take long to refer to the classical concept of 'universal realities' as opposed to 'historical realities'. Utilizing this notion as a 'touchstone' apparatus, he would have us believe that most of Haque's short stories like 'Atyaja O Ekti Karabi Gachh' are articulation of universal suffering of human beings and are hence divested of all historical realities. His overarching penchant for 'art for art's sake' also becomes obvious. Nothing wrong to have a predilection over one of many schools of literary thought. However, it is seriously wrong to nullify other schools on the pretext that one's own belief is an absolute truth. Even this can be tolerated when done in criticism. But when this is done on the part of an interviewer and when the interviewee is Hasan Azizul Haque, this is completely unacceptable. In one of Kamal's deliberations (as is stated earlier that he does not ask questions so much as he gives his own opinion) on a short story titled 'Trishna', he complains with authority that the ending of the story gives the message all away and should have been more laconic and suggestive. Palpably, here the tilt is towards modernity. But the question remains whether a fledgling interviewer such as him is entitled to imposing such biased judgements on an author as influential as Haque who, Kamal should know, after exploring all the different schools has made a conscious choice. Kamal should also know that it is not by means of his subject that Haque has become what he is today, quite the opposite, it is by means of his 'literariness', unsurpassable suggestiveness of his language and other narrative techniques that altogether have secured him his permanent position in Bengali literature, and deciphering which seems to be well beyond Kamal's reach.
Ittadi deserves thanks for publishing this book because side by side the growing body of criticism on Haque's work, it will also serve as an essential publication to understand his fiction and non-fiction.

Rifat Munim is in the editorial section of The Daily Star.