One of my prized mementos from a career in journalism is a Viking Penguin press kit dated January 10, 1989.
The cover letter and the accompanying bio of the Viking Penguin author in question breathlessly recounted the controversial history of the writer and his works:
His second novel, published in 1981, so angered Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi that she sued! His third novel, from 1983, was censored in Pakistan! His latest novel was banned in October 1988 by the Indian government for the book's alleged offense to Islam! This dude is bad, he's hot and he's available for interviews! Sign up now for his big U.S. promotional tour, beginning February 20, 1989, in New York!
Salman Rushdie never made his tour to promote "The Satanic Verses." Six days before it was to start, Iran's Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini issued a fatwa, or decree, urging Muslims to kill Mr. Rushdie for supposedly blaspheming the prophet Mohammed in that 1988 novel. Mr. Rushdie, born in India but a resident of England most of his life, has been in hiding ever since that Valentine's Day six years ago. British police have been his bodyguards.
The writer recently came out with his first serious fiction since "The Satanic Verses," an uneven but often brilliant collection of short stories titled "East, West." Last month he completed a new novel, "The Moor's Last Sigh." There are no publicity departments working themselves into hyper-hype to push these new works. No need to. People who never read novels say they have heard of Salman Rushdie -- but only because of the death threat.
Most writers would allow as how they can live without that kind of notoriety. The question is whether Mr. Rushdie can live with it.
Other people linked to "The Satanic Verses" have suffered attacks. The novel's Japanese translator was knifed to death in 1991, the same year the Italian translator of the book was wounded in a stabbing. In 1993, the Norwegian publisher of the novel was shot, though his injury wasn't fatal.
Khomeini died later in 1989, but Iran has never rescinded his fatwa. Even if that were to happen, the likelihood is that numerous true believers would still see it as their mission to exterminate Mr. Rushdie. In that sense, he is a prisoner for life. He must be moved from safe house to safe house under Scotland Yard's protection, a hostage-by-fatwa, earthbound, stuck in the present -- in cruel contrast to the two main characters of "The Satanic Verses," who bounced so unpredictably and entertainingly through time and space.
Three years after the threat was made, an antsy Mr. Rushdie ventured out to press his case with Western governments. He asked for strong backing of two key points: Freedom of expression cannot be made captive to state terrorism, and Iran cannot be allowed to join the community of civilized nations until it drops the death sentence.
The response was generally underwhelming. The Bush administration, to its discredit, was left cold by Mr. Rushdie's plight. President Clinton met once with Mr. Rushdie at the White House, but no photographs were taken and no statements of support were released. Official U.S. thinking seems to be that it's pointless to stick out our necks for some pesky foreign writer when there are volatile, oil-rich, Islamic nations to appease. Such a stance from the world's greatest democracy can't be of much comfort to the lesser-known foreign artists who are threatened by their governments, and who, as Mr. Rushdie points out, lack the luxury of a private security force.
Somewhere along the line, Mr. Rushdie apparently lost patience with the words of government leaders. More to the point, he seems to have realized that control of his destiny is better left to his own words.
His return to the keyboard suggests he knows his best revenge against the fatwa and its proponents is simply to do what he does so well. That is, write and keep writing. He can strike back by using his intelligence, his wit, his humanity, his world-class talent to produce more and more works that will enlighten, entertain and infuriate for many years to come -- works of art to outlast not only the artist but also those who would destroy him.
Literary critic Edward Said has described Salman Rushdie as "the intifada of the imagination." The irony is that Mr. Rushdie's uprising against small, closed, fearful minds must be conducted from guarded safe houses. But better that way than not at all.
I= Patrick Ercolano writes editorials for The Baltimore Sun.