With Salman Rushdie in focus, readers are drawn to a novel that unfolds like a well-told story. It is the kind of book that pulls you in, makes you turn the pages with anticipation, and leaves you hungry to know what comes next. The release of the handbook recently reached bookstores in the United States and Spain, signaling a shift in how the author discusses his work. Rushdie himself notes that his subject may feel altered by recent events, yet the enduring theme remains unavoidable. He has long believed his stories are more compelling than his life, and he accepts that the world may disagree with that assessment.
The publication accompanies a broad profile and a companion podcast, marking Rushdie’s first public confirmation after the brutal attack he endured on August 12. That day, while preparing to speak in Chautauqua, New York, a young man named Hadi Matar, driven by radical beliefs, became central to a historic moment. The assailant acted under the shadow of a 1989 fatwa issued by Ayatollah Khomeini, a move that influenced many conversations around literature and power. The assault involved 15 stab wounds delivered in a span of moments that felt endless in the room.
Rushdie’s life was saved by a quick response from a firefighter and four medical professionals in the audience who moved to stop the bleeding. A rapid helicopter evacuation followed, and the author received care from an exceptional medical team during a six week stay in hospital. He feels fortunate to have survived what could have been fatal injuries. The physical toll was heavy, but the mind and spirit faced their own trials in the wake of the attack.
Post-attack resilience
The experience left him with lasting changes, including the loss of sight in one eye and a steady reliance on tinted glasses. Rehabilitation is ongoing. He works through challenges with his left hand, gradually regaining sensitivity in the thumb and index finger along with parts of the palm. Writing presents new obstacles, and handwriting remains a work in progress. He jokes that he is better than before, yet acknowledges the stark contrast with what happened. The humor is dry, but the honesty is evident.
The accompanying portrait by Richard Burbridge captures the eventful period in stark black and white. The image is powerful and intimate, revealing the inner landscape that followed the public exposure. The photograph, initially posted to a social media account, later drew attention for its stark honesty about a life altered by violence. The emotional temperature of the moment remains difficult to close, and the healing process continues at a measured pace.
Sleep, once a simple gift, became fragile. Nightmares persisted not only about the attack but about other fears that followed. Rushdie has turned to therapy, confronting what he saw and the emotional residue that lingers. He describes the experience of writing as a slow return to form, sometimes feeling like a void where words must be coaxed into existence. He admits that the process is imperfect, with days when nothing seems to come together and drafts that feel empty or unsatisfactory. He keeps at it, deleting old lines and starting anew, still searching for a voice that feels true to his current self.
In public reflections, he finds a single target for blame in the moment: the attacker, a young man whose motives remain unclear. Rushdie has stated that the full story may unfold with time, and legal proceedings continue as the accused faces charges connected to the assault. The case is moving through the judicial system as it gathers facts and context around what happened that day.
A new chapter for the writer
The forced pause has prompted a pivot in Rushdie’s approach to writing. This new phase looks toward a work that centers on a focused, intimate universe rather than sprawling, panoramic narratives. He speaks with a lighter touch about a project described as an eye story, a phrase that plays on language and insight. The aim is to explore a concentrated world that reveals larger truths through careful, precise storytelling rather than sweeping scenes across many settings.
There is also a clear artistic motive to reflect on the reasons behind creating art. In contrast to earlier efforts that sprawled across cultures and generations, this new book will invite readers into a closely observed microcosm. It is a deliberate shift toward a more intimate and introspective form, inviting readers to witness the craft up close and to consider how a single perspective can illuminate a broader human experience.
Forward-looking spirit
Rushdie emphasizes that the path forward is not about resignation. The question is whether he is ready to travel or to step into new environments. His stance is not about fear but about preparation and resolve. He asserts that staying present is a form of resilience, a determination to press on rather than dwell on the past. Gratitude remains a dominant feeling even as the memory of the trauma lingers.
Reflecting on his move to New York in 2000, he recalls a life change that came with no regrets despite the risks. He was away from a city that offered both protection and pressure, a decision that shaped his sense of safety and vocation. Looking back, he acknowledges the long arc of more than two decades since the fatwa, noting that much of his life as a writer has unfolded in that interval. He insists there is no room for regret, even as the journey has included both triumphs and wounds.