Since I read a review for Monica Ali's new book
Alentejo Blue, I've been intent on reading it and its acclaimed predecessor,
Brick Lane. My intention is as of yet unfulfilled, but it does remain. As you'll have read though,
Brick Lane is to become a film. The contention for me usually resolves around whether a book should actually be made into a film, but not for the residents of Brick Lane, who feel the book presents a stereotypical view of Bangladeshi immigrants. After threats of violence - from a fringe, it must be said - the production company decided make the film elsewhere. We've managed to
unearth what the residents are angry about, without spoiling the book for ourselves.
Monica uses words like 'illiterate' that reflect us in a bad light. Not only that, the plot is based on infidelity and has shown a Muslim woman having an extra-marital affair.
The fatwa on Salman Rushdie's head; the murder of Theo Van Gogh; the alienation of and threats to Ayann Hirsti Ali; the violence over Danish cartoons; the cancellation of the play Behzti;
the rescission of
Maqbool Fida Husain’s London exhibition: this isn't the first incident of Muslim and Sikh outrage. It isn't the worst either, but with talk of porspective book-burning, it seems that in fighting against stereotyping, some European Muslims are just fuelling another - at best that of the cantankerous, oversensitive intimidator, at worst that of the impetuous madcap, ready to resort to violence at the first sign of depreciation -
even if he only knows of the sign. If I were a Sikh or Muslim immigrant, I know which stereotype I'd prefer.
The outrage over Brick Lane advances not a stereotype, but also a very real truth. That when controversy abounds regarding literature, film or art, the offending piece becomes more bankable. I, for example, plan to shove
Brick Lane further up the reading list.