[Graywolf Press; 2012]

Sporting events have always existed, and for many of us they are nothing more than fleeting entertainment. But the high atmosphere of athletic greatness — the absurd talent of a single player — can possess a serious fan forever. Even if it’s an obsession with an obscure bowler who offered nothing more than an uncanny ability to hurl a cricket ball with such wizardry that his perfectly calibrated hang times made the ball appear to move slower than it really was. Or his nearly impossible (and illegal) double bounce ball that not only leaps twice but changes direction each time. These are the seemingly superhuman feats that can haunt a fan throughout his lifetime, as is the case of the prematurely aging and alcohol-soiled sportswriter W.G. Karunasena at the center of Shehan’s Karunatilaka’s rambunctious and big-hearted tragicomic novel The Legend of Pradeep Mathew. 

The elusive Pradeep Mathew, a brilliant but short-lived Sri Lankan cricket bowler, becomes the target of W.G.’s fascination while W.G. is working on a series of short documentaries about premier cricket players. For those not familiar with what a bowler does, or with the game of cricket for that matter, think of Pradeep as a baseball pitcher who threw half a dozen magical pitches and struck out most of those who faced him, but when he got lazy or indifferent had the potential to give up home runs. Years ago W.G. witnessed the glory of watching Pradeep bowl his miracle balls and is now compelled to search for him. Definitive facts are few, and stories of his performances are often exaggerated and inconsistent. Some ex-coaches and players vividly remember him. Others have no idea who W.G. is asking about. There are rumors of his bloated drunkenness, premature death, and horrific debts. W.G. even meets a woman claiming to be Pradeep’s sister, but it is clear she’s lying. Pradeep becomes a kind of mythological figure, a creature of W.G.’s own fantasy life who carries him above life’s doldrums.

W.G. has bombarded his body with alcohol for so long it’s finally slowing him down. A self-aware and unapologetic alcoholic, he works diligently, with a few off days here and there, on the book he wants to finish before he dies. His death, he believes and is told, is going to happen sometime soon. His devoted wife of forty years is always in the near background, reminding him to take care of himself, to get a check-up. His son, Garfield, is emotionally remote, has musical aspirations, and at one point runs off with his beautiful Muslim neighbor.

Karunatilaka is a masterful and entertaining storyteller. He deftly juggles the comic, the tragic, and the absurd in this bumbling, late-in-life version of a Bildungsroman, which reads like a coming-of-death story. W.G.’s witty insights and grumpy observations, and his forays with friend Ari Byrd, fuel amusing misfortunes that made me laugh on nearly every page. The tragic is everywhere, whether it’s W.G.’s own self-destruction, his dying guilt about his tepid relationship with his wife, or his portrayal of Sri Lanka:

Nations are prey to my genetic Murphy’s Law. Ideally, we Sri Lankans should have retained our friendly, childlike nature and combined it with the inventiveness of our colonisers. Instead, we inherit Portuguese lethargy, Dutch hedonism and British snobbery. We inherit the power lust of our conquerors, but none of their vision.

The fact that sports always get top billing is not lost here. Even on days when their country has suffered massacres and deaths in the war torn areas, Sri Lankans celebrate victories. “What is more important, Sport or Life? Stupid question.”

A book that’s essentially about finding a mysterious person must have a damn good ending. Through all of the hilarious episodes and characters that fill the middle part of the book, it was the ending I was most curious about. What if W.G. doesn’t find him? What if he does and Pradeep is disappointing? What if . . . well, no worries, because Karunatilaka expertly handles the conclusion of the book. While many readers will be satisfied with the ending, some may feel emotionally uplifted, others puzzled, and many perhaps, like myself, who have our own near-mythical ghosts, may finally embark on our own fantastical quests.


 
 
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