Hanif Kureishi, chronicle of immobility

The great generation of British storytellers established in the 1980s included two representatives of Asian descent at the forefront: Salman Rushdie and Hanif Kureishi. Both now offer us two accounts of particularly dramatic experiences. Rushdie, in Cuchillo (Random House), recounted the assassination attempt against him and the difficult process of recovery. And this month we receive In Pieces by Hanif Kureishi (Anagrama, with a good translation by Mauricio Bach), another powerful autobiographical narrative.

Kureishi rose to fame as a screenwriter for Stephen Frears on two iconic films of the decade: My Beautiful Laundrette and Sammy and Rosie Get It On . He won the Whitbread Prize for his first novel, The Buddha of Suburbia . I spoke to him when he presented it at the then-vibrant British Institute in Barcelona (a side note: it's a shame how the role of these foreign institutes in the city's cultural life has become blurred, with the exception of the French one, and with the semi-disappearance of the once-thriving Institute of North American Studies).

⁄'In Pieces', dictated to his family, is a very remarkable book, which invites deep reflection while bringing smiles

Kureishi, who arrived through Anagrama (the quintessential imprint of the British "dream team") and Columna, tackled themes such as racial mixing, sexual indefinition, and the vision of a decadent and decaying Britain. He made liberal use of autobiographical material, which caused him problems: his father, who inspired the central character, went months without speaking to him. Years later, in another novel adapted into a film, Intimacy , he recounted how he had abandoned his wife and children, which generated the revulsion of his ex-spouse, who was unhappy with the portrayal.

On Boxing Day 2022 in Rome, Kureishi fainted and fell. Upon awakening, he felt a lack of coordination between his brain and the rest of his body. At the hospital, he was informed that he had suffered a hyperextension of the neck and immediate tetraplegia. He could speak but could not move.

The writer begins a long process of treatment and decides from the very beginning to share his story, dictating to his partner, Isabella d'Amico—granddaughter of the famous screenwriter Suso Cecchi d'Amico—or to his sons Carlo, Sachin, and Kier. "I'm determined to keep writing; it's never been more important to me than it is now," he says.

In 1997, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly was published by Jean-Dominique Bauby, a French journalist who, after a stroke, suffered from what is known as locked-in syndrome: the brain is conscious but the body unresponsive. Bauby, with admirable tenacity, dictated it by blinking.

Kureishi enjoys more autonomy than Bauby, and his work is more literary. He is quite a character, and the book reflects his pre-accident personality: a protestor, quick-tempered, highly ironic, always ready to argue about anything, like a good member of a family of Pakistani origin where the numerous uncles liked to debate for hours to prove who was the smartest.

The author makes no secret of his drug addiction, which he has shared with his children on more than one occasion, nor of his hectic love life, which contrasts sharply with the present. "Not having erections, feeling sexual arousal, or having any kind of fantasy is like being stripped of the driving force that has driven, harassed, and haunted you since adolescence."

He speaks on the phone with his psychoanalyst, with whom he has been for thirty years and who knows him "better than anyone." His ex-wife, Tracey Scoffield, generously joins the care team.

The story spans the Gemelli and Santa Lucia hospitals in Rome, and the Chelsea and Westminster, Charing Cross, and Royal National Stamore hospitals in Great Britain—he finds more human quality in the former—until he returns home. Doctors, nurses, physiotherapists, friends, and fellow inpatients parade through the pages. There are powerful paragraphs about the author's experiences: feeling one's own body as something alien and manipulable, the balance between misfortune and happiness, the dedication of some and the absenteeism of others, the hospital ward as an ecosystem. This is a very remarkable book, sincere to an unprecedented degree, that invites deep reflection while simultaneously sparking smiles.