There are psychological depths hinted at in this deceptively lightweight tale, as in Daru's teenage closeness to Ozi, his current love for Mumtaz as that of a man searching for a mother-substitute, and Mumtaz's own remoteness from her son. There are other dimensions too, yet very delicately sketched in, so that you can hardly fathom them. But then Mohsin Hamid's lightness of touch is throughout one of his great strengths.
The title refers to moths that burn themselves in candle flames. Several characters in this book, as the author points out, are candles and moths at one and the same time.
Hamid uses the technique of giving several of his varied cast a chapter in which they display their way of looking at things. These usually come up with surprises, information you wouldn't have guessed from Daru's narrative which forms the bulk of the novel.
The author's own insight into people he fundamentally despises is illustrated by the money-laundering Ozi's monologue of self-defense. As he insists, "You have to have money these days. The roads are falling apart, so you need a Pajero or a Land Cruiser. The phone lines are erratic, so you need a mobile ... Thanks to electricity theft there will always be shortages, so you have to have a generator. The police are corrupt and ineffective, so you need private security guards ... You accept that you can't change the system [so you] create lots of little shell companies, and open dollar accounts on sunny islands far, far away."
Daru, meanwhile, has fallen from air-conditioned to non-air-conditioned status. Despite being approached by a bright-eyed fundamentalist in a cinema, his drug habit induces him to team up instead with his dealer, a rebellious rickshaw driver, and a kind of overweight Robin Hood.
The decline and fall of a mere meritocrat in a world of privilege is the theme of this novel. That the poor die while the rich look the other way is its unblinking moral.
There are several Pakistani words in the book that are not explained -- instead, you get to realize what they mean as you read. This is admirable. The book, you feel, is not robbed of its distinctive aroma just to satisfy the laziness and sense of superiority of pampered Anglo-Saxons.
Mohsin Hamid's first novel is lean, caustic, ingenious, and unwavering in its ethical orientation. The moral compromises of the rich, and the pressures (economic, social and even sexual) on the poor, are memorably conveyed. Lahore's well-heeled denizens are not going to be granted much consolation, in the unlikely event of their needing it, by reading this sharp, pointed, and curiously compelling little story.
For your information:
Moth Smoke
By Mohsin Hamid
247 pages
Granta Books, Paperback
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