Midnight’s Children vs The Tin Drum: Why Salman Rushdie owes a huge debt to Günter Grass
I was a little dismayed last week when Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children won another big prize. I have always thought it to be a rather overated work of literature, although I accept that many Booker lovers like it. My main objection, when I think about it, is that it is effectively a derivative work of Günter Grass’s The Tin Drum. I mean this in terms of style, structure, charactisation and plot.
I believe that Rushdie is indebted to Grass for the following reasons:
1/. Magic Realism: Both novels are said to be examples of Magic Realism. Previous to Grass, critics used the term ‘magic realism’ to describe paintings of the Neue Sachlichkeit. Grass’s novel invented a whole new genre of literary Magic Realism and so obviously Rushdie owes a debt to him for that.
2/. Structure: Rushdie is further indebted to Grass in the way that he ‘borrow’s the main structural device: using the private lives of both protagonists to reflect public events. To be fair, Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude also owes something to Grass in this respect.
3/. Oskar is born the day the Nazis come to power. Saleem is born on the moment of Indian independence.
4/. Both are unreliable narrators.
5/. Both are demonic children: Oskar claims he can break glass with his voice. Saleem uses telepathy. Oskar is a dwarf (or little person) – Saleem has nasal difficulties.
6/. Both believe that the man their mother is having an affair with is
really his father. Oskar believes that Jan Bronski (a Pole) is his father. Saleem believes that Nadir Khan (muslim) is his father. Significant because Oskar is German and Saleem is Hindu.
7/. In many ways The Tin Drum retells the days of Grass’s childhood in Danzig. In many ways Midnight’s Children retells the days of Rushdie’s childhood growing up in Mumbai.
Nathan, 
Aaron 11:42 am on June 5, 2009 Permalink |
I don’t recall (6) in the text of Midnight’s Children. The child swapping would fit, though, as both children have the blood of two political universes, and both are raised by a parent who isn’t necessarily his birth parent. I would say the clarity of the child swapping is analogous to the ambiguity in the Grass work.
Tanisha 1:16 am on June 9, 2009 Permalink |
Saleem is not Hindu in Midnight’s Children.
seandodson 1:57 pm on June 9, 2009 Permalink |
Really? Are you sure If not Hindu what was he then?
Everyman 5:10 pm on June 29, 2009 Permalink |
Muslim
mj 7:13 pm on August 27, 2009 Permalink |
Well, the problem with the british and colonial writing is that it tends to borrow, and then forget. Yes, midnight’s children owesa lot to tin drum, and rushdie, to be fair, has himself said that he learnt from tin drum. But remember, the granda of all is not Grass, but Borges, who, in a far better, meticulous, and artisitc way, produced the first actually magical realitic texts.
The broblem with magical realism of rushdie is, that it it too easy to costruct. It need nothing, not even a lyrical prose – it is a torrent gush, untamed, and stupid at most times.
Alberto 12:15 pm on September 18, 2009 Permalink |
Your take on this is interesting, although I don’t necessarily see the usefulness in finding out who invented magic realism and then assign to that writer the most supreme value. As mj has pointed out, Grass himself wasn’t free from the legacies of previous authors, and his fiction displays affinities with previous magic realist texts.
I find Midnight’s Children (and Rushdie’s writing overall) to be nothing but a joyous and generous admission of the important role played by the literary legacies of previous authors. And he makes this quite blatant. Trying to ascertain the value of his work in terms of originality is in a way undermining what he is trying to do: he’s reassessing Indian colonial and postcolonial history in a way nobody had done before. The elements borrowed from previous writers (Grass, Kafka, Forster, Kipling, Marquez) are all there, but despite his willing engagement with previous texts, he’s ultimately doing his own thing.
Perhaps the key to appreciating Rushdie is to recognise that, beyond his sources, he has many things to say about his chosen topics. In Midnight’s Children, Saleem is a Muslim, although his constantly debated parenthood links him to Hinduism and Christianity. (This is in itself a deliberate attempt at portraying the religious complexities of the country.) But Saleem self-identifies as Muslim, and is therefore part of a cultural minority in India, which is key to his character. The fact that you find the Hindu and Muslim faiths interchangeable possibly means (and I apologise in advance for making a strong point here) that you haven’t engaged that much with the content of Rushdie’s novel and have remained in the surface of form.
seandodson 10:42 am on September 19, 2009 Permalink |
No, it was just a long time since i read the novel. I don’t think the faiths are interchangeable. I still think he borrowed the architecture of Grass’s book.
moejay 1:51 am on October 23, 2009 Permalink |
god!!!! whats with the religion thing with the above commenters……
get a life people….
i think they did both a good job!!!! and thats that….
fdantia 4:35 am on November 15, 2009 Permalink |
When i first read midnight’s children back in the early 80′s I was most impressed by the structure of the novel. Later, when I read the Tin Drum, I was stunned by how much Rushdie had “borrowed” from it. The magical child, the change in the child’s power midway through the book, even details like the lover hiding under a woman’skirt, and also the seemingly brilliant black and green passage, all appear in the Gunter Grass novel. Yes, he transformed the context to the subcontinent, but that was a grafting of new flesh onto old bones. Creative, yes, (and I still love the book); but he should have been more explicit in acknowledging his debt to Grass. I’m surprised more has not been made of this. Everyone these days screams about “plagarism”at the drop of a hat, but this hat has had a pretty long ride.
Kara 11:49 pm on December 22, 2009 Permalink |
Thanks. Simply glanced through your post. did not have the time to scan the full thing. I subscribed to your rss feeds and trying forward to more.
Thumbu 12:38 am on May 2, 2010 Permalink |
I think Rushdie had acknowledged his debt to Grass with subtle clues within the text – as I remember, there’s a character named Oscar who turns up fairly early, and there is some parallel between three ‘drops of blood’ in both books. Rushdie was even more explicit in his essays. Nevertheless, ‘The Tin Drum’ is just a monster of a post-war allegory – the stunted, partitioned nation takes the form of a clairvoyant, child-like narrator – and it seems to make sense to think of Midnight’s Children as a sort of South Asian adaptation of ‘Tin Drum.’ Come to think of it, Oskar could’ve shown up in so many post-war, post-colonial states. I do know ‘A Prayer for Owen Meaning’ by John Irving (one of Grass’s students) was another novel that owes a lot to ‘The Tin Drum,’ but it doesn’t seem to follow the same themes of TD or MC.
Nathan 1:10 am on June 1, 2011 Permalink |
First, as someone who is a third of the way through the new translation of “The Tin Drum” (having read “Midnight’s Children” multiple times in the past few years), let me say that I, too, am struck by the similarities as I read the older work.
So a quick Googling of the two titles together led me here. I was expecting some discussion about the actual similarities and maybe some analysis.
Instead, what I find is a post full of inaccuracies (literary and historical) and which demonstrates no evidence of fact-checking, a task which anyone who calls oneself a journalist might think about engaging in now and again (and one which this Internet thing makes exceptionally quick and easy, so there’s no excuse). I am actually not particularly convinced that you have read either book.
Second, Rushdie has freely admitted that he, like most authors, molds structures lifted from his forbears into his own shape in his writing; furthermore, he has listed Grass as a big influence. So no one is debating that there are notable similarities. However, they are hardly the same book, are they? Both are solid literature masterfully written in their own right, and to denounce Rushdie’s work as merely a copy of The Tin Drum is doing it a severe disservice.
Thirdly, to take on the specifics in your list:
1. Yes. As discussed above. Fine so far.
2. True. However, these are hardly the only two novels who tell one particular character’s point of view of historic events. Concerning structure, you might also have mentioned the fact that both works are divided into Three Books of relatively equal length (which is actually probably more specific to these two novels in particular anyway).
3. Oskar is *not* born on “the day the Nazis come to power.” What day was that then? The rise to power was of course a gradual process and didn’t happen out of the blue on a specific day, so this is a patently absurd thing to say in the first place. Furthermore, Oskar was born in early September 1924. In 1924 the Nazis did gain seats in the government, but they were far from “in power” and Hitler was in jail; I can find nothing important that happened in September of that year. Getting back to your claim of specific days, perhaps the closest thing to a decisive *day* in the rise of the Nazis to power was the burning of the Reichstag building. That was in early 1933; Oskar would have been eight years old; his date of birth is nothing special historically. So, in this regard, the books are actually not connected at all.
3 (Continued). Furthermore, Oskar’s tale is one of someone who *witnesses* historic events (at least to the point in the narrative I have read). Rushdie takes this idea much further—Saleem claims that, because of his fated birth at the stroke of Indian independence, he actually *causes* events of national importance or claims they are designed to affect him personally. Oskar *experiences* the events before and during World War II; Saleem claims to *be* India. Are there comparisons to be drawn between the two novels in this regard? Of course! But these two approaches are really quite different in scope.
4. Very good—both are unreliable narrators. So is Humbert Humbert and any number of other famous protagonists. One of the earliest unreliable narrators I’ve heard referenced is in Collins’s “The Moonstone,” written in 1868. So… yes, good point in comparing the books, but, if your point is that Rushdie stole the concept from Grass, then, well, no.
5. Sorry, does “demonic” now mean “unusual?” While Oskar mentions Satan specifically, I almost certain Saleem never does. Both have unusual abilities, okay. But we sort of covered that with the “magical realism” bit. Furthermore, Saleem is but one of more than a thousand children born with magical powers. Also, I my nose runs a lot too—should I seek spiritual counsel? I was unaware that this made me unholy.
6. No. While you sort of have a point, you got this all completely wrong. Yes, both character’s mothers have affairs. Also, both characters are of uncertain parentage. However, Oskar admits himself that he is not sure whether Bronski or Matzerath is his father, and gives them both this title as he discusses them. Furthermore, while Mumtaz/Amina does have an affair with Nadir Khan, the man is impotent and so he is never candidate for Saleem’s father. Furthermore still, because of Alice Pereira’s bassinet-switching antics, Saleem is not Amina’s child anyway! It is true that Rushdie intimates that Saleem’s true mother did conceive with a man who was not her husband, but, again, you have gotten your details completely wrong. And while Oskar suspects he is Bronski’s child, Saleem has no such suspicion about his birth; the fact of his switched parentage is revealed outright and is a surprise to everyone.
7. My god, a semi-autobiographical novel? Something must be done!
Your list of seven points really boils down to two or three, and these are of a very broad facile sort.
So, to summarize: a small, sort-of “yes” to your general point, followed by a big fat “NO,” particularly in regard to the particulars.
I would have hoped someone who calls himself a journalist wouldn’t take even such casual allegations of plagiarism so lightly as to not do five minutes of research before presenting them. And people wonder why “journalist” is considered by so many to be a dirty word!
seandodson 10:36 am on June 1, 2011 Permalink |
Please, if you want to comment on my blog, could you try and be nice. All I was doing was professing an opinion. It might not be the same as yours, but I would appreciate if you could express your own views in a more collegiate fashion. I take it you wouldn’t go around someone else’s house and speak like that to their face.
Nathan 1:22 pm on June 1, 2011 Permalink |
Of course everyone is free to express an opinion! If you said “I don’t like Midnight’s Children cuz it’s too much like The Tin Drum” and left it at that, we could have a nice little discussion. Because, as I said, there are many comparisons to be drawn; they are clear for everyone to see.
However, you went ahead and wrote a list that purported to support your opinion containing factoids concerning the novels that were patently false, or, at best, fundamentally ill-informed.
As far as being collegiate, if I heard a professor (or indeed a student) use the same reasons you did to suggest that Rushdie was the Andrew Lloyd-Webber of literature, well, I would come back with the same arguments. And I would be absolutely right to do so; some would say that is the whole point of an institute of higher learning, and indeed the definition of “collegiate.”
Stating an opinion is fine; publish false statements and expect to be challenged. I don’t see how this any great revelation.
I didn’t point fingers and say “Nyah nyah, you’re a stupid-head.” What I did was point out that the majority of your argument was based on false information and that someone in your position should perhaps be more careful when they publish something to take a few moments and see if their information is something approaching accurate. I absolutely stand by this.
As for saying the same things in your house, well, I assure you I would still point out your inaccuracies, but I wouldn’t have let you embarrass yourself with such a long list before speaking up. I mean, conversation doesn’t work like that, does it? You’d have started the argument, I’d've pointed out your first inaccuracy, and you would have realized that perhaps you didn’t have enough background to speak as any sort of authority on the subject without a little further research. And we would have moved on to a different topic.
Sadly, no one was there while you were writing your article to suggest that maybe you should do some investigation before publishing something. That should be your job.
seandodson 1:39 pm on June 1, 2011 Permalink |
If you spoke like that in my house, I’d ask you to leave. And if you don’t alter your tone, I’ll delete your comments. Finally, and this will be my last word, I’d wait until you had read more than “a third” of the Tin Drum before you start accusing people of being inaccurate.
Nathan 2:59 pm on June 1, 2011 Permalink |
Well, I never claimed to know anything about how The Tin Drum eventually develops; if indeed it turns out that Oskar’s birth changes to a different date, etc., then I will come back when I’ve finished the book, and rescind the appropriate comments; I have no qualms admitting I am wrong when I am wrong.
Most of my arguments have to do more with Midnight’s Children (the work that you feel is the lesser of the two) though, and I have read that three (possibly four) times, so I think I’m pretty safe there.
But, if you’d like, I can return when I finish the Grass.
Until then, I only ask that this thread remains undeleted, so any interested parties (which I admit is probably very few!) can decide for themselves how nice I should have been.
Thanks!
Nathan 6:03 pm on June 22, 2011 Permalink |
Having finished “The Tin Drum,” I have returned as promised.
All of my criticism still stands; the last two thirds of Grass’s book did not refute the details that I mentioned.
So, where are we? Well, based on the criticisms in your list, we have two novels. Both can be categorized as magical realism, both contain real-life events from history, both have unreliable deformed narrator-protagonists of uncertain parentage who recount some autobiographical details of the books’ actual authors’ childhoods.
This is all true. But, as I’ve said, *most* books contain autobiographical instances (it’s that whole “write what you know” thing), and many many books contain fictionalized events from real history. So the list that remains seems perhaps a somewhat hollow basis for your accusation…
But, the thing is, you are right: the books do share many similarities. You just didn’t bother to seek out any details! In addition to everything I’ve already said, here are some more points worth discussion:
1. Structurally, I think one of the biggest similarities is the narrators’ free usage of both the first- and third-person, not uncommonly in the same sentence.
2. Both characters use “powers” to see back into their histories so as to tell their stories and preserve their existences for posterity: Saleem sniffs out the incidents of the past and preserves them in the form of chutney (as well as writing paper); Oskar drums up his past for anyone to hear in the present (and also uses writing paper).
3. Both narrators begin at least one chapter with a confessional that completely negates the climactic incident of the preceding chapter (in other words, this is an unreliable-narrator bit). This too may seem an over-generalized similarity, but the way this is done in “Midnight’s” really is strikingly similar to Grass’s work.
4. Both works have characters that can sublimate feelings and emotions into food: Matzerath makes feelings into soup; Mary Pereira and the Reverend Mother can both make emotions into foods of all kinds, which is a talent Saleem inherits (his ability to chutnify his past).
5. Trails of ants feature prominently in rather climactic death scenes in both works: Matzerath falls on an ant trail in the cellar after choking; a multitude of ants bite the dying Shaheed atop the minaret in Rushdie’s book.
6. Both novels use a color pair repeatedly: in “The Tin Drum” it is red and white; in Rushdie’s book it is green and black (which, coincidentally or not, are the opposites of red and white). Both books feature their respective pair of hues in vividly-colored “dream sequences.”
7. Both novels feature a shadowy pseudo-mythic character who looms in the background lending a sense of impending doom, and in both cases the character is female: The Black Cook (or “witch, black as pitch” in the old translation) in Grass, and The Widow in “Midnight’s”. The Widow turns out to be someone very specific, where the Black Cook is deliberately vague, but you can’t deny they are basically the same sort of idea.
So, as you can see, I don’t disagree that your general point is worth investigating! There are lots of comparisons to be drawn, and I have undoubtedly missed some. (I have little doubt that there have been any number of college Literature papers written on the subject!)
I personally feel that as a piece of work “Midnight’s” far exceeds any accusation of being “derivative,” but that’s not the point; armed with the details, it is a discussion worth arguing over! I just wanted to show how flippant your original piece came off, and point out that perhaps a writer like yourself should take a few moments to reflect on what he’s saying, and treat accusations of plagiarism (intellectual or otherwise) with a bit more reverence. (In other words, before you go calling someone else’s magnum opus “derivative,” maybe you should re-familiarize yourself with the work and make sure you’ve got your details right.) Publishing such an ill-considered list rather undermines any point you are trying to make, you know?
I regret if my tone has seemed unnecessarily harsh, but it is a serious subject and a serious accusation, and I (seriously) stand by my point.
That is all. I appreciate the opportunity to share my feelings on the matter. Thank you.