Victory City is a showcase for Salman Rushdie’s ability to create an entire new world in a novel – in this case an empire, spanning centuries, and to do it so convincingly that you are tempted to look it all up as though it is historical fact. I found his 2015 novel, Two Years Eight Months and Twenty-Eight Nights, as long and as wordy as its title. In fact, I cannot remember anything about it, other than that I did not enjoy it. However, Victory City gained attention after its publication this year, since it comes after the stabbing attack on the author in 2022, which cost him an eye and the use of one hand. So I thought I’d read it and see if, this time, I like it. I did – and below I explain why.
Exemplary story-telling
Firstly, Rushdie’s descriptions of the creation (from a handful of seeds) and growth, downfall and glory days of the imaginary empire where the story is set, are excellent – interesting, lyrical and convincing. I could visualize it as I read it. Also, the novel consists, for the most part, of old-fashioned, straightforward storytelling, which makes it easy to read. It’s a simple matter of beginnings, middles and endings.
The only complication is that it is structured to contain an internal narrative, or a story within the story. Victory City is framed as a fictional translation of an epic originally written in Sanskrit. The author of this embedded epic, the character named “Pampa Kampana”, is probably inspired by the historical princess-poet, Gangadevi (Ganga Devi). There are many allusions to this in the book (an image of her is in the featured image of this page).
Victory City – A Novel, by Salman Rushdie (Magical Fantasy, Historical Fantasy, Publisher: Random House UK; Publication date: February7, 2023; hardcover; 352 pages)
Embedded narrative
The narrator, who calls himself “the humble author of this present (and wholly derivative) text”, retells the writings of the heroine and protagonist, Pampa Kampana. She is given (or cursed with) a 247-year lifespan, by a goddess, after her mother dies. Every so often Rushdie uses this feature to move the story forward, to digress or to explain what would otherwise take too long to do:
“In Pampa Kampana’s mighty rediscovered book, the Jayaparajaya, which looks with equal clarity and skepticism upon both Victory and Defeat, the name of the advisor chosen by Bukka to deal with social and artistic matters is given as “Gangadevi,” who is described as a poet and the “wife of Bukka’s son, Kumara Kampana,” and who was the author of the epic poem Madurai Vijayam, “The Conquest of Madurai”.”
Victory City, by Salman Rushdie, p. 84
Gangadevi or Ganga Devi (“ganga” – Hindu goddess) was the wife of Kumara Kampana, the son of the Vijayanagara king Bukka Raya I (c. 1360s-1370s).
As always with novels set in non-English speaking places, I had a hard time with the names of the characters; for instance “Hukka”, “Bukka”, “Pukka”, “Chukka”, “Shakti”, “Adi”, “Bhagwat”, “Erapalli”, “Gundappa”, and “Gairi”, since I am not able to figure out whether someone is a man or a woman from their names. Sometimes I almost felt as though Rushdie was pulling this reader’s leg, especially with the names of the “-ukka” brothers who became the first rulers of Bisnaga. For all I know, maybe in India, Bharat, and Hindustan in the 14th century, these names were just normal. There definitely was a raya called “Bukka”.
Also, whatever you may think of the author, he does have a sense of humour and sometimes he is witty, even, I think, showcasing his skills with alliteration and word-play, for instance:
“His name was Kampila of the tiny principality of Kamili, “Kamila Raya”, raya being the regional version of raja, king. This second-rate raya had just about enough time on his third-rate throne to build a fourth-rate fortress on the banks of the Pampa river, to put a fifth-rate temple inside it, and carve a few grandiose inscriptions into the side of a rocky hill, but then the army of the north came south to deal with him.”
Victory City, by Salman Rushdie, p. 4
Slips in the style
On the downside: I do not know how one does pre-publishing edits in a manuscript by a writer who is as famous as Rushdie. But I must point out that the editors were remiss in quite a few places where, in strange and unsuitable segues, the style of writing suddenly switches. In this example, below, it changes into something that sounds like a 1980s TV police drama. This, for example:
“Haleya Kote shifted in his saddle uncomfortably. ‘I’m not a guy like our pal Ye-He here,’ he said. ‘I don’t meditate, or attend to the purification of the self. I’m not a wise man like Vidyasagar, studying the Sixteen Systems of Philosophy. I’m just somebody who accidentally became a friend of our dear departed king, a fellow who likes a drink from time to time, and who used to be okay in a fight. I’ve never been a woman. I don’t know if I’d take to it very well.” Pampa Kampana rode up beside him and said softly, ‘But you are also a man who does not deceive himself. You are not a fake. You know exactly who and what you are.’ ‘Yeah, probably,’ Haleya Kote replied. ‘I’m nobody special, I’m me.’
Victory City, by Salman Rushdie, p. 121
In this quote, “a guy”, “pal”, “a fellow”, “okay”, and “yeah” all seem out of sync with the setting of the story. It could have been; “a man”, “a friend”, “a person”, “all right” and “yes”. Am I being too picky? Probably. But this is the work of a world-famous author, practically begging to be picked at.
Sometimes the word choice is crude, and unsettling. Take the “f—” word, frequently used. According to the Google Ngram Viewer, this word did not come into common use until the 1970s. So it pops up in the middle of a character’s speech like an iphone in a Renaissance painting.
Feminist themes in a 14th century setting
The themes in the novel are current: Pampa Kampana is a heroine who has super powers, which her daughters inherit – the kind of super-powers that look like you’re doing wire fu in an action movie. She is the main source of peace, conflict and development in the magical city-state, “Bisnaga”, that she literally plants and then dreams and whispers into existence. The main conflicts arise over women’s rights, equal rights, the separation of religion and government, and the growth and demise of liberalism. Just like today.
“‘In the Bisnaga Empire,’ she said in her address to the council, ‘women are not treated as second-class. We are neither veiled nor hidden. Many of our ladies are persons of high education and culture. Consider the marvellous poet Tallapalka T. Consider the exceptional poet Ramabhadramba. Also, women take part in every action of the state.”’
Victory City, by Salman Rushdie, p. 94
While all the other details in the story are as old-world-sounding as in myths, legends and folk tales, these modern themes have been fitted into the overall narrative. Sometimes the words sound like they have been pulled from some current apocryphal story on a social media site:
“…the citizens of Bisnaga came before them with their various pleas, to be granted tax relief on account of the failure of the rains, or to be given permission to marry a daughter to a boy of a different caste, ‘because what to do, Your Majesties, it is love.'”
Victory City, by Salman Rushdie, p. 67
Pampa Kampana uses her magical skills to whisper into the ears of the rulers of Bisnaga so that they will institute women’s rights (such as having female professionals, and not burning wives on the funeral pyres of their husbands). In the story, the three daughters of Pampa Kampana are good, smart and powerful. Her three sons, whom she bans from Bisnaga, are jealous, mean and violent.
The tribe of wild lesbians (yes, really) who inhabit a magic forest like tree spirits, are all powerful and good, while the “pink monkeys” who invade the forest – a clear metaphor for white traders from Europe – are lying, insidious, war-mongering men. The good men in the story are enlightened, or strive to be, in this 14th century world : “‘I will try to become less bigoted and ignorant,’ Haleya Kote said. ‘Good,’ said Bukka Raya I. ‘See that you do.’ (p. 84)
If it all sounds too pat, be reminded that this is Fantasy and simplification of characters into genotypes and symbols is common in this genre.
Recommended?
I quite enjoyed the novel though I’d read about a quarter of the way through before I realized that I wanted to know what was going to happen. I suppose I found the subject and the descriptions quite exotic, considering that I know very little about the Indian subcontinent and its people, history or mythology.
Seeing as Pampa Kampana is a poet (as well as a heroine, a leader, a magical person, a statesman, a mother of six, and a gorgeous woman), the story contains quite a few songs and poems. I’d say they were so-so (sorry, Mr. Rushdie). One, about the pink monkeys, was not bad, and had me humming it to a little tune in my head:
“O the Monkeys are a-coming, they’re as pink as wagging tongues, And they’re not like any monkeys in any song we’ve ever sung. Not lithe or sweet or hairy, and as big as any man, O the monkeys mean to harm us, and to rule us if they can.”
And that about sums up my impression of Victory City: overall readable, interesting characters, excellent constructed world, reasonably engaging ideas, with high points in writing style here and there, but also some questionable word choices, and a couple of anachronistic concepts that seem a bit forced. Recommended? Probably yes. It’s Salman Rushdie after all. You could do worse.
SEVEN CIRCUMSTANCES 
Victory City is a showcase for Salman Rushdie’s ability to create an entire new world in a novel – in this case an empire, spanning centuries, and to do it so convincingly that you are tempted to look it all up as though it is historical fact. I found his 2015 novel, Two Years Eight Months and Twenty-Eight Nights, as long and as wordy as its title. In fact, I cannot remember anything about it, other than that I did not enjoy it. However, Victory City gained attention after its publication this year, since it comes after the stabbing attack on the author in 2022, which cost him an eye and the use of one hand. So I thought I’d read it and see if, this time, I like it. I did – and below I explain why.
Exemplary story-telling
Firstly, Rushdie’s descriptions of the creation (from a handful of seeds) and growth, downfall and glory days of the imaginary empire where the story is set, are excellent – interesting, lyrical and convincing. I could visualize it as I read it. Also, the novel consists, for the most part, of old-fashioned, straightforward storytelling, which makes it easy to read. It’s a simple matter of beginnings, middles and endings.
The only complication is that it is structured to contain an internal narrative, or a story within the story. Victory City is framed as a fictional translation of an epic originally written in Sanskrit. The author of this embedded epic, the character named “Pampa Kampana”, is probably inspired by the historical princess-poet, Gangadevi (Ganga Devi). There are many allusions to this in the book (an image of her is in the featured image of this page).
Embedded narrative
The narrator, who calls himself “the humble author of this present (and wholly derivative) text”, retells the writings of the heroine and protagonist, Pampa Kampana. She is given (or cursed with) a 247-year lifespan, by a goddess, after her mother dies. Every so often Rushdie uses this feature to move the story forward, to digress or to explain what would otherwise take too long to do:
As always with novels set in non-English speaking places, I had a hard time with the names of the characters; for instance “Hukka”, “Bukka”, “Pukka”, “Chukka”, “Shakti”, “Adi”, “Bhagwat”, “Erapalli”, “Gundappa”, and “Gairi”, since I am not able to figure out whether someone is a man or a woman from their names. Sometimes I almost felt as though Rushdie was pulling this reader’s leg, especially with the names of the “-ukka” brothers who became the first rulers of Bisnaga. For all I know, maybe in India, Bharat, and Hindustan in the 14th century, these names were just normal. There definitely was a raya called “Bukka”.
Also, whatever you may think of the author, he does have a sense of humour and sometimes he is witty, even, I think, showcasing his skills with alliteration and word-play, for instance:
Slips in the style
On the downside: I do not know how one does pre-publishing edits in a manuscript by a writer who is as famous as Rushdie. But I must point out that the editors were remiss in quite a few places where, in strange and unsuitable segues, the style of writing suddenly switches. In this example, below, it changes into something that sounds like a 1980s TV police drama. This, for example:
In this quote, “a guy”, “pal”, “a fellow”, “okay”, and “yeah” all seem out of sync with the setting of the story. It could have been; “a man”, “a friend”, “a person”, “all right” and “yes”. Am I being too picky? Probably. But this is the work of a world-famous author, practically begging to be picked at.
Sometimes the word choice is crude, and unsettling. Take the “f—” word, frequently used. According to the Google Ngram Viewer, this word did not come into common use until the 1970s. So it pops up in the middle of a character’s speech like an iphone in a Renaissance painting.
Feminist themes in a 14th century setting
The themes in the novel are current: Pampa Kampana is a heroine who has super powers, which her daughters inherit – the kind of super-powers that look like you’re doing wire fu in an action movie. She is the main source of peace, conflict and development in the magical city-state, “Bisnaga”, that she literally plants and then dreams and whispers into existence. The main conflicts arise over women’s rights, equal rights, the separation of religion and government, and the growth and demise of liberalism. Just like today.
While all the other details in the story are as old-world-sounding as in myths, legends and folk tales, these modern themes have been fitted into the overall narrative. Sometimes the words sound like they have been pulled from some current apocryphal story on a social media site:
Pampa Kampana uses her magical skills to whisper into the ears of the rulers of Bisnaga so that they will institute women’s rights (such as having female professionals, and not burning wives on the funeral pyres of their husbands). In the story, the three daughters of Pampa Kampana are good, smart and powerful. Her three sons, whom she bans from Bisnaga, are jealous, mean and violent.
The tribe of wild lesbians (yes, really) who inhabit a magic forest like tree spirits, are all powerful and good, while the “pink monkeys” who invade the forest – a clear metaphor for white traders from Europe – are lying, insidious, war-mongering men. The good men in the story are enlightened, or strive to be, in this 14th century world : “‘I will try to become less bigoted and ignorant,’ Haleya Kote said. ‘Good,’ said Bukka Raya I. ‘See that you do.’ (p. 84)
If it all sounds too pat, be reminded that this is Fantasy and simplification of characters into genotypes and symbols is common in this genre.
Recommended?
I quite enjoyed the novel though I’d read about a quarter of the way through before I realized that I wanted to know what was going to happen. I suppose I found the subject and the descriptions quite exotic, considering that I know very little about the Indian subcontinent and its people, history or mythology.
Seeing as Pampa Kampana is a poet (as well as a heroine, a leader, a magical person, a statesman, a mother of six, and a gorgeous woman), the story contains quite a few songs and poems. I’d say they were so-so (sorry, Mr. Rushdie). One, about the pink monkeys, was not bad, and had me humming it to a little tune in my head:
“O the Monkeys are a-coming,
they’re as pink as wagging tongues,
And they’re not like any monkeys
in any song we’ve ever sung.
Not lithe or sweet or hairy,
and as big as any man,
O the monkeys mean to harm us,
and to rule us if they can.”
And that about sums up my impression of Victory City: overall readable, interesting characters, excellent constructed world, reasonably engaging ideas, with high points in writing style here and there, but also some questionable word choices, and a couple of anachronistic concepts that seem a bit forced. Recommended? Probably yes. It’s Salman Rushdie after all. You could do worse.
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