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I don’t remember finishing a book and being this angry. ‘13 Reasons Why’ shouldn’t exist. But it does. And that makes me sad and mad. Jay Asher has written about an important issue—suicide—in the most insensitive and ridiculous manner ever.

Before 13 Reasons Why, Asher apparently only wrote humorous books. He clearly lacks the flair and the maturity to write on serious issues—I doubt his humor is any better, going by his sensibilities as evident in 13 Reasons Why.  

The book got some really bad reviews—from BookTubers and reviewers I follow—but I still picked it up thinking it couldn’t be that terrible. I started it with an open mind, prepared to contest those who said the book glamorized suicide, or belittled a serious mental health problem. At most I thought Asher must have gotten some details wrong and readers and critics were being much too harsh on him.

But no. The book is awful.

Okay, I’m going to put my anger aside and try to be reasonable here as I calmly present my case as to why 13 Reasons Why belongs in the dumpster.

First, the very premise is flawed. Hannah Baker, a high school student, decides to commit suicide. Before taking the pills to end her life she records a series of audiotapes holding a few people accountable for her actions. The people she ‘blames’ for her not wanting to live anymore are students like her with their own problems. Why, if at all, Hannah’s problems are more important than the girl sitting next to her in class is not something Asher gives any thought to, thus making Hannah seem shallow and selfish.

Next, Hannah mails the tapes she makes to the first person on it with instructions to mail them to the person who follows the receivers’ name on the tape when he or she is done listening. And they can’t destroy the tapes because someone has the second set and they will be made public if the chain is broken. This just seems demented—like Hannah is spiteful and seeking revenge, like she doesn’t want people to live because she decided she wouldn’t.

Also, Hannah talking about what made her feel bad are everyday problems of a regular teenager. Besides rumors affecting people the way rumors can, nothing anyone did warrants any blame. If someone doesn’t respond to you the way you want them to, does that make him bad? And what’s with the narrative that bullying leads to suicide? It’s never that simple.

The ending of the tape—or Hannah’s story—is also problematic. Spoiler alert: Hannah goes to her guidance counselor as a last resort before committing suicide. He seems to have a genuine interest in her problems and wants to help her work it out. But something in her snaps and she bursts out of his office, despite him repeatedly asking her to wait. Hannah, running down the hallway of the school, looks back at the office door and when it stays shut and the counselor isn’t rushing after her, decides that she is done with life. Every scene seems superficial and stupid—and you can’t afford to do that when you have taken up a grave topic like suicide.

13 Reasons Why could have been a positive message about the importance of treating other people with kindness and realizing how your actions can affect others. What it is instead, owing to fickle writing and horrible character development, is a bitter suicide note where you feel no empathy for the victim.

Fiction

13 Reasons Why

Jay Asher

Published: 2007

Publisher: Penguin Books

Language: English

Pages: 288, Paperback

It has become a trend of sorts for government officials to write books after their retirement. The seasoned bureaucrats put their years of experience and expertise into writing. Nepal Ma Udarbad, Prayog Ra Parinam (‘Liberalism in Nepal: Experiments & Results’) is one such book written by former auditor general and finance secretary Bhanu Prasad Acharya.

The book is not just a record of the author’s experiences, as he clarifies in the introduction. Launched a few months ago, the book is a compilation of different dimensions of the country’s tryst with liberalism. The author also introduces to the readers semantic politics—an area that deserves more discussion.

There have been many debates about liberalism in Nepal. But there have been very few free and fair ones as people tend to interpret it in their own ways. We often hear that economic liberalism started in Nepal after the 1990 political changes has not benefited the country. The author subtlely poses the question of whether it is liberalism or its practitioners who should be blamed for its supposed failure in Nepal.

Acharya mostly treads on neutral ground. His experiences as the auditor general and the finance secretary are most impartially presented. Perhaps the book would have been more enjoyable had he also talked about some of his personal challenges. But he doesn’t, but neither does he resort to slandering or accusing anyone.

The book is divided into eight sections, with each except the last containing theoretical information. Before entering a subject, the author lays out historical evidence and theoretical background. He often quotes world-renowned economists, philosophers and politicians on most of the topics, which shows his skills as an investigator and researcher. The author's tireless work is also reflected in the list of references. Reading the 469-page-book is a breeze given its use of simple words and its easy presentation style, which should also make it useful for students.

Acharya has done a good job of showing the relation between liberalism and its practitioners, and explaining the development of liberalism, the role of public and private sectors in liberalism, the politics of foreign aid, and public financial accountability.

In the second chapter the author discusses industry and trade under economic liberalization. The efforts of India and China in economic reform, experience of privatization and its weaknesses, and development of the private sector are also highlighted. The history of Nepal’s WTO membership is examined in detail, as are the ensuing economic reforms.

The writer has provided detailed information on foreign investment in Nepal, liberalization in trade and service sectors, and protection of intellectual property rights. Some other interesting topics include: the role of regulatory bodies, the parallel economy (black market), and dissatisfaction with liberal policy implementation. But readers may not find detailed information on these popular topics.

In subsequent chapters, the author discusses liberalization of the financial sector, bad debts, and donor interest. Contemporary examples help us understand about syndicates, revenue, and the efforts and challenges of liberalization in health and education.

Another strength of this book is the use of data. The author has ample statistics to back his arguments. He could have added his own ideas based on experience, but he doesn’t. Instead, he makes the book rich by combining various theories and facts.

There are two additional sections on the author’s experiences as the auditor general experience and while working in the Nepali bureaucracy. Although the information is useful, it has not been analyzed in connection with liberalism. Toward the end of the book, the author also discusses his experiences with former prime minister Marichman Singh Shrestha and former finance minister Dr. Yadav Prasad. They are interesting too albeit irrelevant to the topic at hand.

In the last part of the book, the author offers some suggestions. Emphasizing the importance of a liberal state, he suggests focusing on institutional development and state-building. He brings up general issues such as respecting a person’s merits, investing in education, and ensuring accountability. He emphasizes a change of mindset and going beyond conventional ways to understand development.

This book is a combination of in-depth research and experience. The simple presentation of different topics will be of immense help for all students of political economy. Educational institutions can use it as a reference for the study of political science and economics.

“Mrs. Serial Killer” is more than just a film; it’s a huge lesson for a Netflix noob. A lesson learnt the hard way by wasting 106 minutes of precious movie time, double the amount of energy suffering through it, and risking one’s sanity in the process. Written, directed, and co-produced for Netflix by Shirish Kunder, Mrs. Serial Killer is proof that not all films that make it to Netflix’s trending list or create a buzz on social media are worth watching. (So much for the habit of not reading reviews before watching a film! Our readers are strongly advised to dig up APEX reviews before watching anything.)

Mrs. Serial Killer tells the story of Sona Mukerjee (Jacqueline Fernandez), a distraught wife who decides to kill someone so that she can free her husband Dr. Mrityunjoy “Joy” Mukerjee (Manoj Bajpayee), an accused serial killer who is in custody. The logic, as suggested by their lawyer Brij Rastogi (Darshan Jariwala), is that if a crime is committed with the same modus operandi as the suspected killer in custody, the court will have to grant him bail and the case against him will weaken. So Mrs Mukerjee tries to become Mrs. Serial Killer, with twists and turns and an ex-boyfriend—Inspector Imran Shahid (Mohit Raina)—determined to stop her.

The idea itself is not as bad as the execution. Right from the beginning, which starts with Jacqueline’s close-up shots, the film begins to spiral. And it tanks so awfully that the audience is left with nothing to hang on to in this one-way roller-coaster that takes them to the very bottom of a pit where cinematic disasters like Mrs. Serial Killer rest in peace.

For lead actress Jacqueline—who’s probably never gotten the same amount of screen space in any of her previous films—this movie was a chance to prove herself as an actor. Unfortunately, the actress seems to lack acting chops and as we reflect on her past works, we cannot conjure a single valid reason why filmmakers would choose her for this important role. Not only does Jacqueline manage to make a mess of the already messed up screenplay with her unreadable facial expressions, her dialogue delivery also falters as the film progresses.

But we cannot hold anything against her. She’s just a victim of wrong casting. However, the same cannot be said of veteran actor Manoj Bajpayee. A winner of multiple awards—including the coveted National Awards—in his almost three-decade-long career, Manoj bitterly disappoints. Granted that the writing and direction are below average, yet Manoj’s depiction of Dr. Mukerjee has to be among the worst performances of his career. He’s playing a simple-looking doctor who might be a serial killer in a film that is supposedly a thriller. But Manoj seems to have come to come to work unprepared and is confused how to project himself. Instead of getting into his multi-layered character, he seems to be mimicking a bad actor, trying to perform a role he doesn’t comprehend.

Indian television’s ‘Mahadev’ Mohit Raina is no better. The actor who became a household name with his portrayal of Lord Shiva in the “Mahadev” television series a few years ago, does not seem cinema-fit. Playing a character that has a reason to be constantly angry, to seek vengeance, Mohit seems unable to grasp the intensity with which he needed to portray police inspector Imran.

Bad writing, direction and acting are complimented by the mediocre background music. Surprisingly, Mr Kunder takes credit for music as well. Any movie fan will tell you that good background score is a must for a thriller. In this case, the music doesn’t build up any tension or create suspenseful, ominous moments. To cut it short, the background score in Mrs. Serial Killer is like one of the tracks people with Garage Band make, by arranging already available sound samples into a single track.

Who should watch it?

The beauty of Netflix is that it offers thousands of hours of videos from all around the world and as such Mrs. Serial Killer shouldn’t be on anyone’s list.

Rating: 1 star

Genre: Drama, Crime

Director: Shirish Kunder

Cast: Jacqueline Fernandez, Manoj Bajpayee, Mohit Raina

Run time: 1hr 46mins

The lockdown has had me browsing through my own bookshelf, looking for the titles I bought a long time ago but never got around to reading. Thankfully, we all have those. That’s how I came across ‘Drowning Ruth’ by Cristina Schwarz.

Unlike quite a few books that I pulled out of my bookshelf wondering why I had bought them in the first place, this one didn’t surprise me. It was an Oprah Book Club pick and had that famous orange and white ‘O’ on the cover. A friend, who is an avid reader, once told me that Oprah Book Club picks tend to have a particular style and storyline and that if you read one you, more or less, would have read them all. She had also mentioned that they are slow, sometimes agonizingly so.

I have to thank her for the heads up because I started Drowning Ruth prepared for a slow read that never picks up. And that was why I wasn’t disappointed. Most psychological thrillers are character driven and the plot doesn’t take centerstage. I had expected that but Schwarz goes a little overboard to hammer in the point that her characters have realistic motivations behind their actions and thus parts of the book feel a little repetitive.

The good thing is Schwarz is a skilled writer and she has crafted her characters brilliantly. You love them and hate them at the same time as you see yourself in them. The suspense part of the novel isn’t well developed. You understand what’s happening early on and that kind of takes away from the story. You are just waiting for what you already know to unfold.

Drowning Ruth opens in 1919, right after the influenza epidemic that followed the First World War. Amanda Starkey, a Lutheran farmer’s daughter who works as a nurse in Milwaukee, is seduced by a married man and finds herself pregnant. She returns to the family farm and, within a year, her sister Mathilde drowns under mysterious circumstances. When Mathilde’s husband, Carl, returns from the war, he finds Amanda has taken over his household and also has full control over his daughter, Ruth. To make matters worse, she will tell him nothing about his wife’s death.  

Though touted as a thriller, Drowning Ruth is essentially a portrait of the ties that bind families and sisters together and the dangers of keeping secrets. It’s about family, social obligations, the harrowing effects of guilt, and the extent to which we are willing to go to in order to protect ourselves and the ones we love. The mystery part of it is inconsequential. After all, which family doesn’t have its secrets?

About the author

Christina Schwarz is the critically acclaimed author of #1 New York Times bestseller and Oprah Book Club pick ‘Drowning Ruth’, as well as ‘All Is Vanity’, ‘So Long at the Fair’ and ‘The Edge of the Earth’. She has a MA in English from Yale. She taught high school English for several years before becoming a writer. Schwarz currently lives in southern California.

Fiction

Drowning Ruth

Christina Schwarz

Published: 2000

Publisher: Ballantine Books

Language: English

Pages: 338, Paperback