Abandon: A Romance

Please don't waste your time on the mean spirited and the witless reviews below. Buy this book, imbibe this book, and make your own decision. But this reviewer, anyway, found Abandon to be exquisitely conceived and crafted, indeed an altogether lovely, work of literary Art. Iyer's vision and prose grows ever more subtle and refined, article by article, book by book.

Abandon is a novel that explores the results of mixing ancient mysticism with the rootless, multicultural modern world. This topic is also the subject of much of Pico Iyer's nonfiction, such as Video Night in Kathmandu and The Global Soul (I have read and highly recommend the latter). Iyer chooses Sufism, and the poet Rumi in particular to represent tradition in this somewhat dialectical novel. The opposing force, which consists of perpetual newness and impermanence is represented mainly by California, which Iyer sees almost mythically (as do many who arrive there from far away places). Abandon, of course, is (according to the cover) a romance, not a sociological treatise. However, in many respects, the romance takes a back seat to the more abstract questions which the book pursues. The rather star-crossed lovers of the novel are John Macmillan, an English graduate student living in California to study Sufism and Camilla, an enigmatic young woman who appears and disappears from John's life. Iyer makes a good choice in making Rumi John's specialty. For this Persian mystical poet is, according to the book, currently America's best selling poet; this is not hard to believe if you visit any large bookstore, not to mention any metaphysical or new age bookstore. This juxtapositioning of a mystical tradition that is steeped in introspection and mystery with modern mass culture is intrinsically bizarre, and Iyer takes this as his starting point for a rather bizarre love story. Camilla appears in John's life apparently at random, drawing him in with her contradictory need for and fear of intimacy. I have to confess that at times I found this part of the story annoying. John and Camilla repeat virtually the same scenes over and over many times; they become close then they part; they come together again and then quarrel for no good reason. Then they make up until Camilla becomes frightened again and leaves...Of course, many unhealthy relationships follow this kind of pattern. John and Camilla's interactions, however, are supposed to convey something much deeper than a mere dysfunctional relationship; I assume that John's ambivalent pursuit of Camilla is meant to mirror the Sufi's longing for God. Towards the end, this is actually illustrated quite nicely. The presentation of Sufism, the mystical sect of Islam, is also quite informative and interesting. There are numerous examples of Sufi poetry.There is also much international travel to places as diverse as Damascus, India, Paris and, finally to the heart of Sufism, Iran. John is lured to these places in search of ancient Sufi manuscripts which may or may not actually exist. All of this is fascinating, as are Iyer's ruminations on California as a place where people without roots seek new beginnings. What I most admired about this novel is what I perceived as a synthesis between the opposing forces of tradition and modernism (or postmodernism). At first, it seems that true Sufism is completely incompatible w

"The very nature of the investigation ... compels us to travel over a wide field of thought criss-cross in every direction. Thus this book is really only an album." - Ludwig WittgensteinIyer's new novel is a meditative work that challenges the reader to discover for him/herself the pattern that connects it all together. Form follows function. "The most interesting part of a story is the part we don't see at first, where all the clues are hidden." Yes, Camilla is annoying, but she is supposed to be! More than that, Iyer has lured his audience ("the blondes in the back row") with Sufism, when his real subject lies elsewhere. If you open yourself to Iyer's unique vision, you might be surprised where it leads.Iyer is a true "global soul" who projects the undercurrents of our times. Highly recommended to all poets and seekers.Caveat: the dialogue between the lovers is too uneven to give this book 5 stars.

It's a truism to say that the seeker must abandon his ego and identity, that he must become in essence "No One", before the door at which he knocks will swing open. But what awaits him behind the door? Is the seeker's path the road to Nowhere? Although ABANDON is essentially a novelization of this very question, Pico Iyer is too astute to venture a firm reply. "Poems are what we make of them," concludes the protagonist John Macmillan, a student of the mystical Sufi poet Jalaluddin Rumi. This convenient little formula sums up both everything and nothing, leaving the mystery intact. The question for Iyer's readers, therefore, is whether ABANDON has enough mystery in it to withstand the application of this same formula.The novel opens with an enigmatic meeting in Damascus between Macmillan and a tightlipped Sufi insider named Khalil. Macmillan seeks out this professor for his insights into the poems and for clues about the location of secret manuscripts. Khalil ostensibly tells him nothing, at least not about what he thinks he's looking for. Instead, Khalil asks him to deliver a gift to a "friend" in California. As one would expect, this apparently tangential mission ends up leading Macmillan to the very heart of his quest. "Sometimes you are inside a circle when you think you're outside it," a stranger informs him.In his travels (Damascus, London, California, Spain, Delhi, New Mexico, Iran), Macmillan winds his way through a maze that leads from Khalil's unlikely friend, Kristina Jensen, to an even greater mystery. It is not Kristina, but her sister, Camilla, who becomes the key to unlocking the relationship between Macmillan's academic obsession and his spiritual destiny. Camilla is the prototypical woman who fears abandonment and who does everything in her power to turn that fear into a self-fulfilling prophecy. She becomes an increasingly repellent character as the book progresses and it's never quite clear, on the surface of things, why Macmillan falls for her. On another level, however, Camilla represents his "shadow self" (her name, for example, is an anagram encoded Sufi-style in Macmillan's own). As such, she reveals the potential for the vulgarization of Sufi poetry read outside its proper religious context. After returning to California from Damascus, Macmillan finds himself drawn into the world of underground manuscripts protected by L.A.'s Iranian exile community. It's no accident that the novel is set in large part in California. Iyer spends much time ruminating over the differences between the New World and the Old -- and how the Old is born again in the New. California is like an "ancient version of Spain, done up again, brand-new", a place where "Moorish spirits hid out behind the muscle cars". "Much of the world, if looked at with certain eyes," he writes, "resembled a carpet with Islamic threads in every corner." Indeed, from the Shia mosque in Damascus to the Alhambra palace in Granada, from the Taj Mahal to the Spanish-style arc

Oh my. I read this book and immediately placed it among my top 10, all-time favorite books. And as I read it, I kept slowing down and slowing down, to make it last longer. It is wonderful because it has academic undercurrents -- I learned a bit about the Sufis and about Rumi -- and because of the beauty of Iyer's prose. His descriptions and observations of Santa Barbara and L.A. are original and precisely correct. The romance with Camilla is a real-life acting out of the abandonment of the Sufis. Camilla is whiny and insecure -- she is also mysterious and loving and beautiful. This will not be everyone's favorite book, but if you love poetry, and mystery (in the sense of awe and wonderment), and spirituality, and supremely good writing, you will love "Abandon."