Mend quickly, Hanif Kureishi
From My Beautiful Laundrette to The Buddha of Suburbia , The Black Album and beyond, the world needs Hanif Kureishi.
Hanif Kureishi at Edinburgh International Book Festival
Somewhere, on a shelf in my library is a copy of The Black Album, a paperback inscribed by its author, Hanif Kureishi, complete with dedication, a memento of a brief meeting after a book event at Edinburgh’s Royal Lyceum to mark its publication in 1995.
Hearing Kureishi, who remains an inspiration to this day and proved a hugely influential voice in my formative years, speak about his craft was enlightening and comfortably reassuringly.
The sincerity in his encouragement during the unhurried moments we chatted was something given, so it was with sone degree of shock and slowly dawning horror I stumbled across his Tweet of January 24, when it popped up in my Twitter feed.
The words were succinct. Since a Boxing Day fall in Rome, Kureishi, now 68, has been without the use of his arms or legs.
I can not imagine the trauma he must be experiencing. My mind refuses to acknowledge the possibility of being in such a situation as I type this on my phone, while common sense insists such twists of fate could visit any of us at any moment. As someone claiming an acute awareness of my morality and the fragility of the human body since I was a teenager, it’s anxiety inducing.
It’s almost impossible to believe what has happened to Kureishi, that vital, twinkling human being who, without knowing, was such a huge part of my formative years.
It was Stephen Frear’s Oscar nominated film My Beautiful Laundrette (sic), a ground-breaking coming of age story starring Daniel Day-Lewis and Gordon Warnecke as unexpected lovers Johnny and Omar (a fascist and a Pakistani), that first enticed me into the world of Kureishi.
If you get the chance, watch it. A stellar cast, story and realisation make it a work that continues to move me to this day.
Released in 1985, the 21-year-old me simply fell in love with the beautifully drawn characters that drive the action, co-existing together in a South London blighted by the corrupt dreams of Thatcherism.
When, some time later, BBC 2 (it could never have been BBC 1 back then, the story too daring On so many levels), dramatised his 1990 novel The Buddha of Suburbia, I was again spellbound, quickly adding the novel to my bookshelves alongside The Rainbow Sign, in which you’ll the screenplay of My Beautiful Laundrette.
The Buddha of Suburbia, the novel, won hands down naturally, taking me to places the TV dramatisation could only suggest.
And then came The Black Album (another triumph) as life… my life took me off in directions that left little time for reading; just a never ending chase to catch the next assignment.
Reading Kureishi’s post, may I call him Hanif please? It seems so much friendlier. Hopefully, he will agree as I always feel using surnames should be restricted to reports about the accused.
What I’m trying to say is that I still find Hanif’s current predicament almost incomprehensible. It must be unbearable and yet he continues to communicate as only a writer can, despite what is happening.
Let me digress: In 2019 (was it really nearly four year ago, Kevin?), I made a pilgrimage to Leeds Playhouse to see The Curve Theatre’s new stage production of My Beautiful Laundrette, which saw Gordon Warnecke return to the title that made him famous, not as Omar this time but as his Papa - none of us get younger. Focus Líam, focus.
Needing to understand more about what is happening at the moment, I scoured Hanif’s Twitter timeline. It’s terrifying yet reinforces the determination of the writer who can not type to write nonetheless. Paralysed temporarily, yes, yet that has not stopped him sharing words.
Regularly he posts to The Kureishi Chronicles from his ‘hospital bed’; a mix, in his own words of, ‘sex and drugs and music, TV shows and writers’, along with memories and ‘other matters’.
He also chronicles, in his occasionally irreverent but always sharp observations, where he finds himself today. Subverting the norm has always been one of the most attractive traits of his writing.
From the most desperate circumstance he continues to inspire, entertain and indulge his readers. So it’s only fair we should reciprocate that by reading his candid musings, refreshing repartee indeed.
Hanif gathers all his latest thoughts on Substack, which you can subscribe to here…
Please, do check it out and you may notice that his sign off has changed back from ‘In this shitty world’ to ‘Your loving writer’. That has to be a good sign. Surely. May the universe send him the love and strength he needs to mend, and mend quickly.
Speedy recovery Hanif, we really need more of your insight and positivity in this the ever challenging world.
©️ Líam Rudden Media