Customer Reviews: Read 11 more reviews...
 If elephants weep, it may be because of this book... November 17, 2006
2 out of 2 found this review helpful
Let me say first of all that I'm really fond of elephants, India and travel writing, separately or together, and quite frankly this book is an affront to all three. It's one of the worst books I've read recently, both for style as well as content.
Mr. Hall's narrative suffers from "Dr. Watson Syndrome." No matter how trivial or well-known a piece of information is ("Yes, elephants can swim"), he responds with the stunned equivalent of "Holmes, you astound me!" Upon catching sight of the rogue elephant and seeing a broken chain still on one of its legs, he is absolutely stumped for any explanation at all until his companion tells him the animal obviously used to be captive. ("Holmes...!)
On the other hand, he swallows whole the most blatant bunk: "I can turn myself into a tiger (for 800 rupees)!" "Sure, there's an elephant graveyard! I'll take you there right now!" "Yes, I saw the elephant run away from my house carrying a whole case of my Scotch!" In one passage, Mr. Hall reports that the footprint of the rogue elephant, measured right in front of him, is over four feet in diameter! That would make the poor animal about the size of a Seismosaurus! (Perhaps he misunderstood his informant, who might have been referring to length of stride.) I got the distinct impression, though, that many of his companions on this journey were having some fun with him at his expense, as when a mahout encouraged him to come climb aboard a kneeling trained elephant. During the process, the elephant mysteriously stands up, leaving the author dangling from its side with both hands painfully snarled in the rope harness. I suspect the mahout -and possibly the elephant - worked that one out beforehand. And I don't blame them.
I say that because Mr. Hall's "gee whiz" style is not the only problem here. For the most part, he shows contempt for most of the Indians he meets. "Plump Punjabi aunties with flabby midriffs bulging from their polyester saris gobbled down ...chicken as their undisciplined children chased each other..." They're filthy, their food is disgusting. One of them, born with the wrong number of toes on one foot, is "hideously deformed." And one of the most egregious passages in the book: "I guessed that he was a Marawari, a term used to describe businessmen...who are said to own half of India. ...Indians despise them as a class for their ...materialism and legendary stinginess. They are...the Jews of India."
I did enjoy some examples of his prose style because they were unintentionally comical: "An old mahout...was preparing an herbal mixture for the wounded elephant in the pot over the fire." How do you suppose they got the elephant into that little pot?
In short, if you love elephants and books about elephants, please do not choose this one. Mr. Hall's motivation may have been of the very best (his Author's Note, on the last two pages, is the only worthwhile part of the book), but it's poorly written and fairly offensive, plus it insults your intelligence. There are many beautifully written, informative books, such as "When Elephants Weep," by Masson and McCarthy, and "Elephant Memories" by Cynthia Moss. Please enjoy them!
A disappointment November 30, 2005
3 out of 4 found this review helpful
This is the kind of book I usually love, where a writer brings you into intimate contact with another human culture, and at the same time acquaints you with the behavior of a fascinating animal.
However, like other reviewers here, I found the prose clunky, shallow, and rather egotistical and condescending. Maybe that's due to the youth of the author.
There are occasional bright spots, where Hall weaves in information about Asian elephants, and historical and cultural information about the Assam region of India.
 A Great Book to About Assam and About Elephant Hunting February 6, 2005
2 out of 3 found this review helpful
It is a great travel book that, as one review says, 'wonderfully hits on all cylinders'; and I, being from the sate of Assam, can vouch for that. Mr Hall ventured into Assam, the remote North-East corner of India, and accompanied Mr Chaudhury, the Assamese Elephant Hunter in his wild journey across the roads and paddy fields of Assam. In the process, Mr. Hall not only gave a gripping portrayal of his close encounter with elephant hunting in Assam, a state famous for elephants from ancient days, but he also described about Assamese life and culture. He narrates his meeting with Mr Gaela, the greatest elephant catcher (bor-phendi) of Assam, in whose house he ate authentic Assamese dish, 'patot-diya-mas'(fish cooked in banana leaf). He also described his brief encounter with the some ULFA insurgents of Assam in its reality. Mr Hall did not forget to capture the scinic beauty of Assam. I liked his following narative which seem to capture Assam in its totality:
"Despite the staggering beauty and rich folklore, India's North-East is a part of the world avoided by even the most intrepid backpackers. As such there was little in my guidebook about Assam: it has been off-limits to tourists for many years. However it did say thay that the word Assam is derived from the Sanskrit word 'asama' meaning 'peerless'. or 'unequalled'. It was so named by the Thai or Shan invaders called the Ahoms who conquered the valley in the thirteenth century and loved it so much that they never left. I was beginning to appreciate why. Whenever I looked, the landscape was lush and green. Rickety wooden bridges spanned streams and brooks whose surfaces were covered with sweet smelling water lilly blossoms. Peepul trees, their branches straining under flocks of white birds that suddenly lifted intothe air at the sound of our approach, lined the road. In the distance, hills bristling with jungle rose up above the fields, mist crawling across the foliage and pouring down into the valley like amoke brimming off a witch's cauldron,"
Mr Hall is also keen to catch a lively conversation with Rudra, the betel nut chewing driver as noted in the following excerpt:
"Rudra, the driver of the Hindusthan Ambassador, had been chewing paan all night. He kept his stash in a stainless steel dabha, an Indian lunch box, in his glove compartment and periodically would ask me to take it out and open it for him. Keeping an eye on the road, he would first extract a lump of lime paste with index finger and smear it into the space between his teeeth and his bottom lip. He would then pop one or two choice chunksof betel nut into his mouth. Finally, uttering a satisfied grunt, he would start to chew.....By Indian stadrds, Rudra was a good driver - that is to say, we only came close to death once during more than six hours on the road....
By now, I was in no mood for conversation. All I wanted to do was sleep. I tried conveying this to Rudra, but even when I closed my eyes and pretended to snore, he kept up his one sided, tedius conversation. His main interest in life, apart from betel nut and playing chicken with oncoming heavt vehicles, was the vital statistics of Bombay's Hindi film actresses. The latest goddess to grace the Indian screen, Karishma Kapoor, had won a special place in his heart - and, no doubt in his fantacies.
"She is the most beautiful pearl of our continent!" he boasted, pushing the Ambassador into fourth gear around a tight bend.
He slapped me hard on the thigh and guffawed, grunting and breathing through his nose and mouth simultaneously, a feat that would have been remarkable had it not been so revolting.
"You should see her dance! Her legs go all the way up! And for her breasts - they are big! As big as mangoes!"
I reccommend this book to anyone who wants to know about Assam or wants to travel to Assam.
Rajen Barua, Houston, Texas
What a Strangely Pleasant Book,in a Grizzly Way October 5, 2004
0 out of 1 found this review helpful
A horrifing serial killer is loose in the north Indian state of Assam. He has claimed 38 victims. Horrible murders, all have literally been beat into pulp. Additionally,some are impaled-some receive a final crushed head. The killer is most cunning. He lays ambushes, he is even capable of tracking a victim to his home,destroying the house to make his kill. For some he will bury his evidence,others are left to rot so others will see what may await them. The populace is powerless to stop the killer and demand relief. The government decides that these killings will end. There will be no need for a trial. An execution contract is put out for bid. Who steps forward but India's greatest elephant hunter- Dinesh Choudhury. Elephant hunter? Yes, that's right, our serial killer is a terribly cunning and dangerous rogue elephant! Choudhury assembles a seasoned team including a war decorated Gurkha tracker and elephant professionals-mahouts- with their own trained elephants. While Choudhury has accepted the execution contract,he is not sure he will complete the killing. He wonders why the rogue is bent on this road of human destruction? Is it possible to reform the rogue..to separate him into the wild? If not, will he have the strength to finish the rogue before the elephant can kill him?Choudhury endeavors to learn the elephant's story and move toward a final decision all the while closing in on the killer. You see not only is Choudhury India's greatest elephant hunter but he also deeply loves and respects them all. To this strange crime story comes a British journalist-Tarquin Hall- our author. Indeed a strange tale,but true none the less. As the mystery unfolds,Hall fills in the atmosphere of the crime scene. He tells of Northern India, it's people,sights,history..just like a good traveloge. He also tells us much about elephants and what they mean to north Indians,so there's a little zoology. There it is.... a zoological traveloge murder mystery hunting book. I can't say I've ever read such an odd mix of ideas. But it all melds well and in the end it's a surprisingly pleasant read.
 Real life travel/adventure story reads like a novel October 31, 2002
3 out of 4 found this review helpful
As you can tell from my moniker, I am a lover of elephants. So it was with some trepidation that I bought this book (against my wife's advice) to read about a modern version of George Orwell's short story "Shooting an Elephant." Here, it seems that a rogue elephant has gone berserk in India and is killing a number of Indians for no apparent reason.The narrator, an AP reporter, catches up with the hunter who has been retained by the local government to kill the elephant. The hunter, Mr. Chowdhury, is, strangely, a lover of animals, especially elephants. There is some nice discussion of why he nevertheless takes tasks like this one. The book takes Hall (the narrator), Chowdhury, and others (mostly elephant riders) on a hunt for the rogue throughout northeastern India. They have a number of interludes, some of which are funny, others tragic, until the final confrontation. Along the way, we learn a bit about why the elephant was going berserk. Hall has a nice, unobtrusive writing style. It's not flashy, and he knows enough to let the narrative momentum carry the book, although he throws in occasional travel- or history-related discussions of the local Indian culture. For example, he recounts the myth of why the Indian god Ganesh has the head of an elephant. (The gods had to replace his head after an accident, and an elephant was the first creature they saw.) I was afraid that I would find this book incredibly sad and painful (see Barbara Gowdy's "The White Bone"), but instead, it was very saistfying. It's still sad about the rogue elephant, but maybe because it's not as senseless as poaching, the story, while sad, is understandable.
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