Book Review: Knife: Meditations After an Attempted Murder by Salman Rushdie
I’m about halfway through this book but I have some thoughts that can’t wait. Knife is a memoir of Rushdie’s recovery after a near-fatal attack by a knife-wielding assailant. It is deeply ironic that this happened at the opening of a conference devoted to safe spaces for writers at the Chautauqua Institute in New York. A twenty-four-year-old man rushed the stage and stabbed Rushdie fifteen times, leaving him near death. This occurred in response to a decades-old fatwa issued by Iranian leaders after the publication of Rushdie’s novel The Satanic Verses. Rushdie, who had long lived under the protection of security forces, had finally begun to feel safer and so was unprepared for this attack. (It is also ironic that after the attack, sales of The Satanic Verses skyrocketed.)
Rushdie was put aboard a helicopter and taken to Hamot Medical Center in Pennsylvania. He spent the following months in the hospital and in rehab. Eventually he recovered, but lost his right eye and bears deep scars.
Knife opens with the assassination attempt and goes on to describe the traumatic medical procedures Rushdie went through. He credits his loved ones, particularly his wife Eliza, his sons, and numerous friends and supporters, with keeping his spirits up and helping him to pull through.
The book raises deep moral questions about freedom, honesty, and the role of a writer in society. Rushdie is more well-know than most authors, of course; even President Biden condemned the attack and sent wishes for his recovery. But regardless of status or popularity, writers should not fear physical assaults due to the words they share.
But besides the lessons on freedom of expression, there is another message in Knife – one that touched me personally with great intensity. It has to do with recovery from traumatic experiences. Rushdie almost died and went through numerous prolonged painful procedures to stay alive. It took a great deal of grit, perseverance, fortitude, and foresight to reclaim his life. I reacted to the account of the stabbing attack in another way; somehow I related it to an emotionally traumatizing experience I went through several years ago and still have not got over. Sometimes it seems as if I am past it, but something reminds me of it and I realize that the wounds have not healed. Sometimes I wonder if they will ever heal. As I read some of the more traumatic parts of this book, I could easily picture my psychic injuries as metaphorical knife wounds that seem to be closing, but then something jogs my consciousness and they open up again. As I considered Rushdie’s fight for life, though, I thought that if he could recover, then maybe so can I – eventually, at least. The difference is that he is relatively wealthy and has an extensive network of people around him, while I often feel as if I am fighting my battles all alone, especially since my sons have all grown and gone off to other parts of the country. Still, the point is that regardless of individual circumstances, when we are wounded it is important that we fight for life.
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After many weeks, Rushdie was finally able to return to his own home. He credits being in familiar surroundings with hastening his recovery. And eventually, after a lengthy hiatus, he was able to start writing again. But before he felt able to resume writing fiction, he felt that he had to confront the book that became Knife.
One of the strangest and most discordant sections of the book is a series of conversations he imagines with his assailant. He really did want to meet his attacker, but that would have been impossible. Instead, he imagines several question-and-answer sessions and fantasizes about what his would-be murderer might have said. This is jarring, after the calm, thoughtful memoir tone of the rest of the book, but I think I understand where it is coming from. It is likely that during the traumatic circumstances of his recovery he might have played scenarios such as this over and over in his mind. But at the end of this section he comes to some pertinent conclusions about art: “The most important of these things is that art challenges orthodoxy. To reject or vilify art because it does that is to fail to understand its nature. Art sets the artist’s passionate personal vision against the received ideas of its time.” He goes on to say that art “accepts argument, criticism, even rejection. It does not accept violence.”
At the time of the attack, Rushdie was seventy-five years old. Near the end of the book, as he is recovering, he chronicles the deaths of numerous of his friends. Although he is an atheist, he admits that his recovery against such great odds was nothing short of miraculous. The conclusion he comes to is that he has been given a second chance at life, and he determines to make the most of it by continuing his writing work and seeking joy in each moment. I found this to be a wise conclusion. After all, life is a gift, and regardless of our circumstances, we can choose to wallow in our sorrows or try to make the best of it. In the end, for closure, Rushdie and his wife return to the scene of the attack. It is hard for them to be there, but it is a reminder that they have been able to overcome the experience and can get on with the rest of their lives.
Although this memoir is about a traumatic experience, it is also inspirational. After all, adversities are a part of life. They don’t always take the form of a physical assailant like they did in this case, but they are always there. This makes it imperative that we face them, deal with them, and overcome them, no matter what form they take. I am reminded of a memoir I read not long ago called Between Two Kingdoms: A Memoir of a Life Interrupted by Suleika Jaouad, in which, at the age of twenty-two, the author finds out she has leukemia and only a small chance of survival. Her life is upended, of course, and much of the story takes place in hospitals; but she perseveres and fights for her life. At the end she is finally released once again into the outside world, where she celebrates by taking a road trip in a camper van. A wonderful story. Rushdie’s is similar. The experience has changed him, but it has also given him a new, intense perspective of life.
