The situation, of course, is by no means simple since there has already been much violence done surrounding Satanic Verses. Starting eighteen years ago, there was a spate of riots, burning embassies, attacks on the novel’s translators, and, of course, the fatwa that, though thankfully did not ever come to death itself, meant the constant possibility of Rushdie’s own end for a good ten long years. I guess I’m trying to say that the actual material harm that has surrounded Satanic Verses came from both the insistence that the book be removed from bookshelves, and the responding insistence that book be continued to be published, or vice versa.

When asked how he felt about all that’s been done, Rushdie said that he can’t be responsible for the acts of madmen. This is, of course, undeniably true, but I can’t imagine that it’s easy for anyone to walk away from the idea that one’s own book has caused so much strife, and that his arrival on this conclusion was as simple as the manner in which he declared it.

In the same recent lecture (actually, it was more than a year ago, now) at the University of Minnesota, Rushdie made two separate, funny remarks, that have stuck with me since then. The first was an anecdote—he recollected a television interview of an imam who was reiterating all the reasons why Rushdie should be killed for writing Satanic Verses. When asked if he’d actually read the book, the imam supposedly smiled and said something to the effect of “no, because he wasn’t really much for books.” We all laughed with Rushdie at the absurdity of this man calling for a man’s death based on a book he hadn’t read.

The second one was just a pithy witticism—Rushdie asked us, riddle-fashion, what is the best way to not be insulted by a book? The answer—close it! Ha ha, we laughed, how true. How little a book affects us if we shut it.

But much later, the combined implication of these two remarks hit me—if I feel insulted by a book I haven’t read, shame on me for being hypocritical. If I feel insulted by a book I have read, shame on me for choosing to continue reading it and being hurt by it?

Rushdie, of course, has made no comments on the current controversy, except to say that he is humbled by the knighthood conferred on him. This is a fair position, for what can he say? For at least the last two decades, he’s been talking incessantly about the right to free speech (though, I feel I have to note, he has concentrated mainly on the right to make declarations and said little to nothing about two-sided debates), and once again he’s surrounded by people who strongly object to a book he wrote almost twenty years ago.

Obviously, knighthood isn’t actually an expression of free speech as much as a state’s approval of a man’s works. Still, how fair is today’s decision by “Hardline” Pakistani clerics who have bestowed upon Osama Bin Laden the religious order of “Sword of Allah” as a response to Rushdie’s knighthood? Is it a proportionate response? Unforgiveable?

Well, to be fair, there were about seven other people and I may not have been sitting the furthest away from him, but it was close. He had come to our school to speak, and as a recent member of the Forum Planning Committee, I snuck in on the pre-lecture dinner reservation. It would be an exaggeration to say that he and I had a conversation that night, but he did ask me once if I was the kind of Indian that wore a diamond on my forehead. And to prove my true appreciation for his writing, I had no sarcastic response for him.

His lecture was great. I remember him doing a bit about story arcs– the conventional arc, exceptions to the conventional arc, and the Kafka story arc, which is basically just straight descent. The rest of it is fuzzy. I remember that the hall was packed because there were students there from colleges in Alabama and Louisiana. There was a guy in the front row who asked Vonnegut what his favorite vegetable was, and Vonnegut started singing and left the stage mid-sentence and mid-song.

Nothing beats Welcome to the Monkey House, which is the first thing of his that I ever read. It’s possible that all the sexy stuff was what got me hooked when I was thirteen, but I’m sure that now that’s been replaced with a serious, mature understanding of his craft and socio-politics.

Who am I kidding? Long Walk to Forever is still my favorite because it’s a sappy love story.

I haven’t read his last few books, but I am sad that there will be no more.

You may have seen Hodgman as the winning, deadpan, occasional correspondent on The Daily Show. He’s also been recently immortalized as “PC” in the back-and-forth PC v. Mac ads.

The book, my friends Dan and Salma say, is hilarious. I’ve got my download, hopefully ready to make the long, long flight to India seem a little shorter. Read by the author!

Follow this link to iTunes free download.

Merry Krismix: For which I have Kris to thank. This is Kris’s half of our mix CD exchange, and compared to mine, it has a lot more, you know, mix. The 16 Horsepower, Go Team!, Asha Bhosle, and Gorillaz songs are my favorites. Plus, “Rudie Can’t Fail” reminded me that I need to pick up London Calling. (But the artist on the last song got cut off—who played “A Nervous Tic Motion of the Head to the Left”?) And Hank is on the cover. Thanks, Kris!

On the Waterfront: Kinda boring. Marlon Brando spends the whole movie looking like he just got struck in the face, so when he actually does get struck in the face, it’s really bizarre. The whole thing suffers from 1950s-brand soundtrack overload, where every emotion is cued by a string crescendo that comes through the speaker distorted.

Abbey Lincoln, Abbey Is Blue: I heard “Afro-Blue” on the Current a few months ago and had to check it out. The song, which has a great horn riff, outshines the rest of the CD, which is mainly supper-club jazz with sad melodies that would sound better if the accompaniment were louder in the mix. She has a great voice, though.

Victory at Sea, All Your Things Are Gone: Aimee Mann without the Aimee Mann. A couple of really good piano-pop songs, a couple of other songs that aren’t quite as good. iTunes, my good people!

Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being: So. Very. Boring.

Bo$$, Born Gangstaz: I’m writing (mentally) a post on why this is such a good album, but for now: It’s such a good album. I had it on tape (!) in high school, lost it for a long time, and just this week got the CD again. It holds up. It’s pretty violent, though—kind of hard to take in one sitting.

You’re all literary types—would you mind using the comments section to make some suggestions?